Post by KENNEDY LINDA RAMONE on Feb 27, 2013 1:40:55 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 366x; height: 190px; padding: 10px; background-color: #dcd4c7; border: #eae4d8 10px solid;] AS YOU'RE NOT. AS I WANT YOU TO BE The sound of Kennedy's heels could barely be heard over the sound of the raging wind swooping through the skyscrapers, the bleak grey clouds threatening to open and pour out snow at any given moment. She wasn't sure exactly why she was so intent on seeing him, seeing as how not only had he lied to her, but he wouldn't have even told her the truth about who he was had someone else not accidentally caught him in his lie. Still, she found herself making her way to one of the only Irish hangouts that she knew of, hoping that if she sat around long enough avoiding the cold and getting her fix of caffeine that maybe he would appear. This was getting ridiculous, honestly, that she couldn't get a male out of her head, and even more ridiculous that she was out in this type of weather just to pretend that she wasn't, in fact, thinking about him at all. By the time that she had arrived at the coffee shop and pushed the door inward, the tips of her fingers had already gone numb and began to turn a shade of bright pink to match the hue of her windburned cheeks from the distance it took her to get from the Charlie to the shop. Moments later she was sitting with a Cappuccino, pressing her fingertips up against the hot ceramic surface in hopes that perhaps she would get the sensation back. It may have just been because of the relief from the cold, but for some reason her drink smelled especially delicious, like if she inhaled long enough it could thaw out her insides and perhaps bring her back to a relatively normal body temperature. A torn apart copy of the Boston Globe lay scattered across the table completely out of order and covered in rings of coffee from people who had sat there before and not bothered to clear it away before settling in. There was even a crossword puzzle that had yet to be finished staring up at her with a blue pen beside it, some of the ink smeared from the drops of coffee that had spilled to the surface. Picking up the pen, she pressed the top inward with the pad of her thumb and stared intently at the clue for number seven across. It might as well have just asked her how a raven was like a writing desk, because quite frankly she just didn't know. It wasn't wise, really, for Kennedy to appear so public in a place that was so obviously Irish, with her father being under criminal investigation for suspicious activity and all, but still she never really did seem to care what was best for appearances. She adjusted the knit hat on her head and glanced around the room observing all details, from where each individual was sitting to what they were wearing...what kind of mug they were using, what shoes they were wearing. You could tell a lot about a person by the shoes which they wore, and Kennedy was rarely spotted wearing a set of shoes that didn't have a heel that could also double as a weapon if the need came about. For a few minutes she found herself lost in the analysis of shoes, trying to figure out where people were coming from and where they were going simply by their footwear until the door opened once more and she found herself anticipating, glancing over only to find that an unknown male had wandered through, almost mousy in a sense. She watched him with curiosity right up until he had taken a seat at one of the few vacant tables and opened his mouth to order. Her eyes widened just slightly as she looked to the waiter to see if he had noticed what she had, and sure enough he was looking skeptically at the male before he went into the back to supposedly prepare the order. Kennedy could tell just by the look on the waiter's face that he was wondering the same thing that she was, what was a Russian doing here? Honestly the girl had no idea why she felt so inclined as to help this boy, but she pushed herself up off of her seat and made her way to his table, standing in front of him and trying to muster up a friendly sort of smile. "Hey...are you lost?" WORDS: SOME . TAGGED: LEV . THIS POST IS SHIT |