✄---onexone---||shipwrecked & ｎｅｉｇhｂｏｒｈｏｏｄ↬

[quesadilladude]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxOriginally, humans were four-legged creatures, but were deemed too powerful,
and split into two beings, according to the myth of creation. Then god, guilt-ridden and culpable,
devised soulmarks, a sort of 'ink-like' marking that appears roughly at the age of seventeen,
to better identify their soulmates, as a gift. Post-meeting, life became a cluster of optimistic-events.
The guy proposes eventually, you have that ugly kid you've always wanted, maybe a chihuahua.
Sick. Hallelujah. Congrats. It's not like science has a better answer, anyway.
However, it wasn't always the case: sometimes love has a funny way of screwing things up royally.
Silas is holding his breath. Ezra couldn't think of anything more cliché.
In a twisted fate of events, they are brought together by the Bluebird Coffee Shop,
and thrown into the merciless riptide of everyday life.
It wasn't supposed to be this hard, this star-crossed and flawed.
Could time erase what was written in the stars?

[quesadilladude]

✄---
┏--xxxxxx-----┓
name ezra gage huxley
nickname ezzy, he hates it, goes by ezra
age eighteen
birthday august 17th
birthplace buffalo, new york

any pets? white pitbull named mae
car 67' ford mustang fastback
parents trent and hannah huxley

hair&eyes black hair, coffee-brown eyes
orientation gay, unaware of it
main traits unassuming, deep, reflective,
delightfully awkward, hot-tempered,
a horrible liar, dry sense of humor, quirky

likes his little sister, horror movies, stray dogs
dislikes umbrellas, country music, pizza bagels

┗--xxxxxx-----┛

[shipwrecked]

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____________________________for each other_______

name; silas tomas hanson
nickname; si
gender; male
orientation; gay
age; 17
birthday; december 14

parents; marina knight, gabriel hanson
siblings; talia hanson
slight history; grew up in poverty, dealt with
intense bullying his entire life, is anxiously
awaiting the day he'll meet his soul mate

looks; chestnut brown hair, hazel eyes, 5'10, slightly
lanky, dimpled smile, unique tattoo on his wrist
personality; witty, intensely mysterious, passive aggressive,
thoughtful, passionate, intelligent, optimistic, stubborn
likes; soft indie music, books, cats
dislikes; shouting, snow, lies

______________________________would fix me_________

_____________________________________________________________regardless, we're soul mates____________________

[quesadilladude]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxWherever this guy is, I hope he's damn happy about showing up twenty freakin' minutes late on his first day. Bluebird's often morbidly quiet in the mornings, especially being that it was seven am on a Tuesday, but that same slumber-like allure never lagged on past ten, when the doors would flood in a variety of peculiar regular individuals, ranging from the commonplace bearded hipster to the couples, most of which I presumed 'mates, who awkwardly slobbered and spoon-fed one another like morons. Being the cashier, naturally, I sat silent for a decent portion of the day, and then faked a smile if anyone happened to come in. It was simple, definitely monotonous, yet simple. Absentmindedly, I plugged in a pair of salmon earbuds the color of cat-vomit, blasted Lithium by Nirvana in an attempt to drown out the nagging indie white-noise they called music, and pulled up the sleeve of my gloves, simply to examine my soulmark, which happened to be itching like hell. I never really wondered about my soulmate (although, I typically pictured a short and pretty ginger girl with almond-shape eyes the color of olives) yet sometimes, I would allow myself to lapse into a daydream, of literally nothing sans that dimpled smile. Originally, the first time it came into the back of my mind, it was a snapshot of teeth, but gradually, it managed to graduate into a full-blown grin. How adorable. (I'll have you know that was sarcastic.) Today however, was no exception, and The Damn Smile burned annoyingly intense in the back of my mind if I dazed off enough to allow it. Honestly, the whole 'soulmark' ensemble sounds like bull, being that my parents weren't even soulmates to begin with (I guess that might explain the divorce, but nonetheless, they made it a decent five years or so, so who am I to argue?) and got temporary tattoos re-done every year for my own sake before they split. Charming.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxBluebird, if you chance upon it, becomes gradually more charming the more you stare: muddled clouds of ivy spiraled up the walls and spilled over into the cobblestone alleyway where I'd often venture during my lunch break, sunflower arrangements tied with sprigs of lavender lightened every table, and porcelain animals lay scattered around the shop, often deer or rabbits. Might I add, the chocolate croissants were stupidly good and made the entire store smell like some kind of quaint Parisian bakery, and were probably one of the reasons I applied for the job in the first place. Secondly, I'd say it was that thing they call Darcy Gallagher, who's been my substitute for a best friend ever since Elliot moved up to Maine with...Eleanor. I pulled a frown, in remembrance of the long days I spent with Elliot on the docks, messing around with my dog and laughing like kids.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx" What are you, some kind of atheist? It was Christmas yesterday, damn it! I wanna see some holiday cheer or I'll give you something reasonable to mope about." Declan, that demon of a manager, screeched from the back, pulling my attention back to reality. I hate that guy, seriously. He smiles more than a twelve year old cancer patient. I sighed wistfully, observing the clock as the hands inched forward. For some reason, I could feel the boredom aching in my bones. If this guy doesn't show up soon, I swear.

OOC: ;u; I was wondering if you wanted to continue OOC chat on this thread or over pm or...? Either way's cool with me. c:
Troyler, Coliver, and Sterek tho...awoakpwdop*dies on keyboard*
I don't think I've ever seen Big Brother, but I've totally heard about it. What's it about? :P

Sorry for the shot post, by the way! c:

[shipwrecked]

Sometimes I desperately wanted to punch my self hard in my idiotic face, just so I could feel some sense of victory that I had knocked at least an ounce of sense back into my brain, and right now was one of those vital moments. Currently, I was running through down town Buffalo, my hair sticking up haphazardly thanks to the whole wind and exertion combo, to get to my brand new job at a quaint little coffee shop named Bluebird. I had walked in a few days ago looking for a place to escape my mother's vicious interior designing lectures and her constant nagging about how I needed to learn the correct shades of blue, when I had been sought out by a smiley manager named Declan. "I've never seen you in here before, I'm Declan, welcome to Bluebird." Then one smile had led to another and I was offered a job. I don't really understand the logistics of it or how it exactly happened but maybe it was just fate's hands at work. Or maybe I can just be intensely charming with men to some degree when I want to be. I'll go with that one.
Of course little did Declan know upon offering me a job, that I was the tardiest human being known to man. I had even known the night before that there was no way in hell that I was going to wake up on time for my new job, regardless of how many alarms I set. You'd think that being new to town would at least temporarily change my attitude towards arriving on time, but as I bumped into an overflowing New York trash can, spilling its contents in my wake, I realized that was never going to happen in my lifetime.
Finally I turned a sharp corner and there squeezed between an office building and a cobblestone alleyway was Bluebird. I hurriedly fixed my hair with my slender fingers and smoothed out the wrinkles on my long sleeve navy blue (yes mom, it's navy blue) shirt and made my way towards the entrance. What I hadn't expected as I reached for the door was for my vision to flicker sudden images of coffee brown eyes and an echo-y sound of a man's voice to fill my ears. I felt a wave of dizziness fall over me and I leaned against the brick wall for support as I tried to regain my composure. What just happ- I pulled up my sleeve and gently touched my soul mark, it was tingling, practically having a seizure. My heart suddenly began to beat faster at what this could mean but I just ignored it and pulled down my sleeve roughly, pushing the door to the coffee shop open.
Inside it smelled just as amazing as the last time I had been there, like chocolate croissants and lavender and coffee grounds. I didn't really have any time to enjoy the sights and smells though before I was pulled behind the counter by a not-so-smiling Declan. "You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago Silas. I gave you this job because you seemed like an upstanding young man when we spoke. I can't have my workers showing up willy-nilly whenever they want, this is a business," he rambled, but I was still stuck on the whole use of the word 'willy-nilly'. "But," I tried to interject, but he didn't want to hear it. "I don't want to hear any excuses, I don't have time. Go talk to Ezra behind the register, he'll be training you," Declan stated walking away in a hurry to probably get no where. "Oh and don't forget to smile," he shouted behind his shoulder going into a back room.
I came to a conclusion in that moment that I was going to hate him and he was going to hate me and that I was going to get fired. I pushed that thought away for the time being and turned around to find the cashier named Ezra already looking directly at me with eyes that said I'm-going-to-murder-him which was completely understandable considering the circumstances. Wow, two enemies in one day, high five Silas, good going, you are the real MVP.
I held out my hand to him, "Hi, I'm Silas. . ." I didn't really know what to say, I could try apologizing but I assured myself that it would do nothing to fix the situation. I exhaled deeply and decided to just be upfront about it, "Look man, I'm super sorry I'm late and I know you hate me already and this whole spiel right now is all for not so, uh, just teach me what I got to do and I'll do it." I offered a weak dimpled smile to deflect his unamused stare hoping that I could at least get on friendly terms with him.

{OOC : this is longer than I wanted it to be. . .oh god haha .__. }

[quesadilladude]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxHow absolutely charming. I narrowed my eyes in a peculiar manner, as if attempting to steal his soul through my gaze, and then drew in a labored breath. I couldn't quite place it, but something about that stupid grin of his made me want to keel over and hyperventilate, and the feeling made me increasingly uncomfortable. "Yeah kid, I read the name-tag just fine, but thanks for the help. I'm Ezra, and I'm typically early, unlike you. Look, I don't need your pathetic, jack-arse of an apology, all I need is for you... " I crossed my arms defensively, my eyebrows knitted in obvious suspicious as I motioned to a prehistoric coffee-machine that worked a good 65% of the time. Declan shot me a look, and I ignored it promptly in favor of the venom burning through my soulmark. Part of me was inclined, if only for a fleeting moment, to rip my gloves off hastily and search every girl's arm in the entire café, due to the intense burning, but I left them secured on reluctantly. Up hers, if she believes I'll fall into her arms at a moment's notice, like some type of dog. I belong to none other than myself, no exceptions and no outliers. "...to make a freakin' cup of coffee. Latte means add milk, cappuccino means a bit of milk, use soy, watch the shots, always ask if they take cream, oh, and whatever you do, don't jack up the temperature unless the customer's a jerk. If you screw something up, apologize like you mean it. This isn't Starbucks, so if they ask for a Frappuccino, they can't have it."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxI was going to ask him to smile, it being the unspoken motto and all, but I decided it was better not to endure a similar experience again. Restlessly, I flipped on the machine from the back, buzzed with a curious drunk-like state, and then waited patiently until it filled up the majority of a standard, medium cup, and then handed it to Silas. In retrospect, 'handed it' wouldn't be correct precision-of-language, considering it soaked the front of him and basically ruined any chance I had at being friends with this kid. As I came to, I realized that I had literally just spilled a good 7/8s of it all over that navy-blue shirt of his with a maddening amount of stupidity, and all I could do is stand there and try not to laugh uncontrollably. I pulled some napkins from off a nearby table and offered them to Silas submissively, shaking my head. Ugh. " Yikes. Dude, I am so sorry, I didn't mean...to do that, like at all. It was totally- well, considering that this was basically your introduction to the place, just know that I usually don't spill coffee on employees." I acknowledged awkwardly, ignoring the horrible tension that filled the room as every single head turned. I felt the blood drain from my face as I faced Declan, who narrowed his eyebrows condescendingly, his face drooped with a frown I seldom saw. This freakin' job, man.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxImmediately, I felt a strong obligation to offer him my jacket, and I nearly did so, but then stumbled for a moment, hung up on the syllables that wouldn't form in my mouth correctly. This kid probably hated me, like would most likely would want to brawl it out on some street-corner if his job wouldn't be on the line, and I probably hated him too in some peculiar sense, and now I wanted to offer him my jacket like some kind of prince of England? Without thinking, I followed my instincts on auto-pilot and snatched my extra jacket from a brass coat-hanger, some fur-lined parka I kept in the off-occasion of snow I deemed suitable for the massive amount of coffee that was beginning to cool, and forked it over, an apologetic smile plastered on my face. Chivalry be damned, I just couldn't even help it. What am I getting myself into?

[shipwrecked]

Ezra continued to glare at me with his piercing brown eyes. My mind was still trying to comprehend whether I found him intimidating or amusing, in any case his eyes continued to squint at me as if he was looking far off into the distance for something. I let the small smile that was on my face droop into a thin line once I realized he was in no mood to get to know me or hear me out. I waited until he was done sarcastically making me feel like the world's biggest moron to offer, "look I said I'm sor-" but he never stopped his coffee mantra and ignored my second offer of an apology and continued to explain the ins and outs of coffee, which to be honest I zoned out on for a couple reasons.
One, I was clenching my fists tightly and trying to appear like my soul mark wasn't having these strange tickling spasms that were slowly driving me insane. I nonchalantly let my eyes wonder around the small shop, eyeing up every guy in the place. I mean at least I assumed my soul mate would be a male since gay was how I proudly and openly identified as and I hoped fate or destiny or whatever higher being was in charge of that life altering soul mate crap didn't pull the world's cruelest joke on me and make my soul mate a girl. That would be just my luck. Two, I was preoccupied by the most obnoxious thought that Ezra was annoyingly attractive. To give a better definition, I think of annoyingly attractive as the guys that don't realize they're attractive and don't use it whatsoever other than to be annoying, and to make it a thousand times worse they're usually straight and it kills every homosexual male in the vicinity. So all in all attractiveness was wasted on Ezra and it was currently distracting me because I hated it and him. Three, I was already aware of how coffee worked so I didn't need to listen to a word he said which was a relief because I was too preoccupied by reason one and two.
"Got it," I felt another sharp pain in my wrist again and this time I was positive he had noticed me wincing. I tried playing it off, "Sorry, I uh twisted my ankle on the way here, you know with the whole running to get here on time thing..." Ezra blankly stared at me and I smirked, "And you don't care, I'll shut up now." Ezra turned his back to me and filled up a cup of coffee. Okay maybe I could make it through this job. I can deal with my co worker and manager despising me, all I have to do is serve coffee, this will be eas- my inner pep talk was interrupted with the splattering of coffee all over my shirt. Ezra over apologized and I could tell that it hadn't been on purpose which was the best news I could get, because the last thing I needed was an angry co-worker attempting to burn my flesh off with coffee constantly.
"It's fine really," I breathed, looking down at my soaked shirt, "I prefer my coffee worn." I chuckled, flashing another smile in his direction, hopefully he enjoyed some sort of wit because it was the only thing I had going for myself. He handed me a stack of napkins and I graciously accepted them. That is, until my hand made contact with his and he shocked me. Literally, an electric shock had gone through my hand. I pulled back from his warm touch, "Um, thanks," I muttered, ignoring the obvious even though on the inside I felt like I was dying. "Seriously it's not a big deal, it was an accident and I hated this shirt anyways, I've been meaning to find a way to destroy it." I smirked.
While I cleaned up the bulk of the mess, Ezra walked off and came back with an extra jacket. He handed it to me and for a moment I forgot how to function. Maybe he wasn't the biggest jerk on the planet. He was just the second or something. . .or maybe he was actually a nice guy and I was just over judging him. I swallowed the lump sitting in my throat."Thanks, it's nice to see that you don't completely hate my guts." I admitted, hoping it would make the situation a little less awkward. I pulled on the jacket, instantly amazed by the way it smelled, it was scented with the smells of the shop from sitting inside for so long but it also had a hint of some sort of cologne that Ezra must wear. I was startled by how much I loved it and I tried to appear like it wasn't bothering me in a I'm-attracted-to-the-way-you-smell way, because Ezra didn't need to know I was gay just yet, it always ruined relationships with people. Always.
Once the mess was cleaned up, and the marble floors were back to being so shiny the artificial lights bounced off of them, I got in place in front of a register and went about what was now my job. There really wasn't anyone here except for a few fellows in a corner who had been served a while ago, and I felt my soul mark begin to itch uncomfortably again.
Suddenly my cell phone rang, The 1975's song Robbers playing as my ringtone, I dug for it in my back pocket and backed away a bit excusing myself. I glanced at the caller, 'MOM', what could she possibly want now.
"Hel-"
"Si, macaroni orange or deep carrot orange?" My mom's voice rang out through the receiver louder than I wanted. I gave an apologetic glance at Ezra who was eyeing me up yet again. Geez, this guy probably wants to murder me.
"Mom, I don't have time right now. I'm at work," I enunciated each syllable in hopes she'd get it.
"Macaroni orange or deep carrot orange?"
I sighed, "For what?"
"The neighbors in the apartment next to ours want new curtains. They want something fun and your dad and I are stuck between colors."
I saw Ezra still watching me from my peripheral vision. "Mom. I. Am. Working."
"Macaroni orange or deep carrot orange?" She really didn't give up without a fight.
"Deep carrot orange," I mumbled embarrassed that she was my mother.
She didn't even have the courtesy to say goodbye, instead she just hung up on me. I quickly placed my phone back in my pocket hoping Declan hadn't caught me. I stood awkwardly at the register for some time before I turned to Ezra.
"My mom's an interior designer," I said matter of fact, "not insane. She always feels the need to ask my opinion on color palettes and teach me about the art of placing sofas, so I deeply apologize for her...deeply. I won't answer my phone again. Especially if it's her."

{ OOC: I don't really know where to go from here, just trying to get them to talk. . .if you have any ideas feel free to make them happen. c: }

[quesadilladude]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxI chuckled at his comment about wearing my coffee, as stupidly adorable lame as it was. As soon as my fingers brushed up against his hand, which was an awkward thing to be noticing with such intensity in the first place, I felt roses bloom in my cheeks, and I cast my eyes down sheepishly to avoid him...noticing or anything similarly horrifying. Declan raised an eyebrow condescendingly, his un-screw-withable vibes and razor sharp jawline shooting daggers from across the room as he snickered knowingly. He turned and left out the back door to his office to count checks, to my insatiable relief. If anything, he was an intuitive, and nosy as hell, like it was his righteous business in the first place to know the all the unspoken-secrets of the universe or some other sappy s*** like that. Luckily for me, he much preferred to keep to himself, and was elusive when it counted.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxDeep carrot orange? Involuntarily, I smiled distractedly, the corners of my mouth upturned in a strange sense of admiration as if stuck in a nonchalant daydream. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was transfixed by everything that fell out of his mouth, hanging off of every word even from a sizable distance. I cleared my throat, pulling back into reality, and then nodded in agreement. " Yeah, fair enough. I can take over for a bit if you need it."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx" Bet you missed me, Ezzy!" Freakin' Darcy and her fake British accent. She bust through the door with an unexplained smile so face-splittingly wide and artificially sweet that wanted to puke. Her get-up was shocking as usual, nearly burning my innocent eye-sockets: a pepto-bismol colored fur coat to coordinate with her aggressively fuchsia hair, silver leopard print leggings with rips up the sides, all paired with ribboned chestnut Uggs. Simply stated, she was basically the modern reincarnation of Effie Trinket, and most notably the epitome of embarrassing, but somehow even more infuriating. I glanced sideways at Silas, communicating all my annoyance into a simple expression. " Who's the total babe? Get his number for me, love." She whispered snakily into my ear, sending a wink at Silas and grinning as if she thought it to be the cleverest thing in the world. Trust me honey, it's not. Her focus took a sudden 180°, and she suddenly propped her elbows on the table for emphasis on her next statement, her voice hitting a high-shrill as she picked up on my uninterested smirk. " No need for the melancholy, babes! When's your shift over?" I eyed her suspiciously, drawing swirls on the countertop with my finger. Considering that she was already intent enough to show up during my work hours, I managed to reason that she probably had something to say. Her voice dropped, and she leaned over the a display case of fig and anise muffins enough for me to be able to gag on her apricot perfume. I tuned her out willingly, her voice as unintelligible as radio static. " Oh the irony, you'll love this bit I found out on Phillip Valianhart, you know, that thug that's dating Lydia from Ibiza, he's chea-"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxI stopped her promptly, rolling my eyes back into my skull in a teenager-y fashion. " I get off at four-fifty, and there's no way in hell I'm ditching, so I'd appreciate it if you took off. Darce, it's like eleven. What are you even doing here, anyway?" She shrugged, in a typical sense, and then huffed audibly loud, swung a glittered handbag over her shoulder, and pivoted out the doorway, horrendously offended that I wasn't drooling all over and her 'world-stopping gossip' or something along those lines. If I wanted to puke earlier, that was quite literally nothing compared to how thin she wears after ten minutes of Darcy-inspired drama.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx" Well, well. Au revior now, Mr.PMS. I'm off to shop for the both of us. Call me if you lighten up a bit dear, I'll stop back at five." She offered, waving her arms up dramatically before vanishing in an unsightly flutter of pink fur. I groaned in exchange, and reluctantly returned to shelving pastries, attempting to waste the hour I had left until lunch break with as much light work as I could. In an attempt to fill the void of silence with conversation, I turned to Silas for a moment and met his gaze before continuing to shelve a decently large coconut cupcake I'd been eyeballing the entire morning.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx" She totally reminds me of Effie Trinket."I added miserably as she drove past the storefront, honking the horn of her like-wisely fuchsia mini-cooper. " Except, like, way more touchy. Just ignore her if she shows up again, she'll only leave if you make a special point not to ask her to go."

OOC: Ugh, same. cx I really suck at plots, so sorry in advance if I just go off into some random sub-plot thingy or something because I get distracted hella easy, but I'll try to stick with our plan, with Darcy blackmailing Ezra and everything. Let me know if I'm rushing, I also tend to do that sometimes. ;u;

[shipwrecked]

I side eyed the most flamboyant female, scratch that, flamboyant person I have ever encountered from my place behind the register, and I have met a lot of peculiar dressed gay men in my life time but nothing came close to Ezra's over the top lady friend. I was startled by the fact that someone like Ezra hung out with a girl who's style icon was most likely Lady Gaga or Elton John, since he gave off an air of normal and she gave off an air of. . .clinically insane. I let my eyes wonder back to my own station, there was no need to be overly nosy and judgmental, it wasn't like Ezra hadn't just heard my mother vivaciously exclaim shades of orange through my cell phone. I had no room to talk about bizarre people, I was born into a mad house. I let my slim fingers slide across the ancient cash register, picking up dust from between the crevices, attempting to zone out and not listen to the whining of Ezra's friend but it was a nearly impossible feat.
I couldn't help but pick up on the barely audible whisper she breathed into his ear about me being a 'babe' and wanting 'my number.' I made an effort to look her in the eyes and send some sort of mental communication that I wasn't interested but it didn't seem like she picked up on the hint and she continued to throw me what I assumed was supposed to be a flirty wink. I felt myself frown at my lack of telepathy skills and how awful I was at looking 'gay.' I was dreadfully terrible at it.
After she whined some more about Ezra having to work and the fact that he wasn't listening in on her TMZ style gossip, she twirled out of the coffee shop, leaving glitter in her wake and I couldn't help but feel amazed that she was a real human being living on planet Earth. I feel bad for her soul mate. . .
Ezra made small talk with me and I smiled at the thought, "She does remind me of Effie Trinket," I chuckled, "Or a hybrid of Effie and Lady Gaga. Yanno' I honestly didn't expect you to be the feathered boas and glitter type." This guy was full of surprises.
We made very little small talk from there, just a few comments about coffee preferences and which jack arses deserved a boiling cup of coffee to the face. Everything picked up around 10 and we completed orders almost like robots except with smiles plastered on our faces. It was the simplest job in the world and we worked quite well around each other and everything ran smoothly.
Until of course, my mother came in hauling orange curtains, wildly searching the shop until she caught my eye.
"Oh no," I mumbled under my breath. If I wasn't going to get myself fired due to my tardiness it was going to be because of my deranged mother.
"Si! You have to see these with your own two eyes. I just feel like the phone does no justice to the colors and you won't answer my calls anyways!" She exclaimed loudly, so loud all of the customers were staring at her.
"Mom, I have a lunch break in like 5 minutes, can't we do this then?" I asked through gritted teeth, hoping she'd get the whole I'm-not-in-the-mood-to-have-a-conversation-about-curtains feel I was going for.
She clapped her hands together, one of the curtain rods clattering to the floor in her efforts to be excited. "Oh good! Come home for lunch and we can discuss some more details about their apartment," her eyes caught Ezra's and her own lit up, twinkling with excitement. "Who's your friend?"
"He's my co-worker not my-"
"Hello young m-" she read his name tag and continued, "Ezra, would you like to join my son an I for lunch. I'll make sandwiches and I have a bunch of cookies I just baked at home and it will be splendid. It will be so much fun."
I held back the urge to shoo her. I offered another apologetic look to Ezra, trying to communicate mentally yet again that he was more than welcome to turn down her offer. I was actually hoping he would, I didn't even know the guy, I knew his name and that was about it.
My mother looked at him insistently as I bit my lip causing it to bleed. This was a disaster.


(OOC: I think we should definitely try to take the plot slowly and have them get to know each other before the blackmailing happens and such, so I hope you don't mind the direction I'm going to take them c: )

[quesadilladude]

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxMs.Hanson seemed to throw the world slightly off its axis with her whirlwind of an entrance, unapologetically loud and...well, quite frankly, brash would be a better word for it. However, er, brazen, she may be, in retrospect, anything trumped Darcy's offer of Phillip-inspired gossip. Phillip's charm was equivalent to that of a potato, he was balding in the awkwardest of spots, and he was more boredom-inducing than a documentary on Abraham Lincoln. Call me a killjoy, fine, but I'd rather hang from a tree than hang out with that fuchsia obsessed she-devil. You could've offered to me to go to Hannibal Lector's house for dinner and I might've just taken you up on that offer simply to escape her clingy talons (and believe me, they're quite literally talons), and I totally wish I were kidding. Judging by the look Silas just gave me, I picked up on his complete embarrassment, and nodded knowingly. " I'm his co-worker. Ezra Huxley, pleasure to meet you, miss." I was still hung up on her casual use of the word 'splendid' before I addressed her offer, my eyebrows furrowed slightly in contemplation. I was now at a crossroads: I could commit social suicide and kick his mom out, or I could agree. I never really can say no, can I? " I guess if you don't mind or anything, I'd like to tag along in five minutes or so, once our shift ends. Sandwiches sound-" I almost said scrumptious, but then caught myself. It would've sounded forced, I reasoned, but I felt instinctively polite, being that she was Silas' mother and all, but maybe my use of 'scrumptious' would've given off some intelligent vibes or something? It could make me sound like I'm forty-seven and I'm totally not, is that weird that I think it will? Perhaps, I'm overthinking this a bit much. Maybe, I'm not thinking about it enough. Jesus, I felt as if I was suffocating in a shroud of awkwardness. " ..fantastic." Briefly, I smiled politely in her direction, pulling at the sides of my gloves as my mind ran in circles like a rabid dog, being careful to only tug on my left hand, as...I guess we both know what's on the right.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx" Would you like some coffee while you wait, or anything, Mrs.Hanson? Honestly, it's to die for." Calmly, I pulled the lever and set the coffee machine into motion, regardless of her response, as someone was bound to order a refill eventually. Although I wholeheartedly admit that Mrs.Hanson's presence made me feel as if I was constantly being surveyed by the president or something, the final five minutes of the shift were increasingly easy-going, and before long my anxiety had melted like some weird metaphorical iceberg. In a way, our shift was almost some kind of peaceful coexistence, with Silas running the register and myself whipping up orders, and I found it a nearly likable experience, despite the venom-like feeling that burned into my soulmark unforgivingly, as if it demanded every fraction of my attention at every given point of time. Whatever. Declan offered screamed a half-hearted goodbye from the storage room, signaling the welcomed end of our shift, and I sighed contentedly, taking in a deep breath of earthy coffee-grounds. Considering the whole 'deep-carrot-orange-ordeal', I felt painfully underdressed in my uniform (sans the red plaid Converse, which I adored to no end, as they were a gift from my brother) and promptly untied my apron, revealing a simple black crew-neck t-shirt and standard khaki jeans. My eyes flickered to Silas, a smirk plastered on my face in the usual fashion. As much as I wanted to deny it, his mother was entertaining in an unorthodox sense, and part of me was unavoidably curious as to what extent her peculiarity went, and another part simply wanted to figure out why I was even curious about these stupid things, when earlier today, I'd probably would've cared less if she waltzed into the store.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx" So...do you guys live nearby? I'm assuming we're walking, or?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. I imagined Silas' mom driving some kind of 'deep-carrot-orange' Fiat. Then I imagined Silas in it with his mom. Then I imagined all three of us crammed, and I couldn't help but cringe. On second notice, if I can survive this, Darcy's just the anti-pasta. If I can survive this, by default I'm practically inhuman. If I can survive this, maybe things might become more bearable.