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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Jul 9, 2014 0:49:38 GMT -5
”Oh, Cyrille. You’re just full of bright ideas, aren’t you?” The boy thought to himself, rubbing his temples as to calm his nerves. Cafes were nice places. Cyrille remembered frequenting a local one when he was younger, as France had no shortage of cafes. Tea was also nice, which was basically the reason for cafes being so nice. It was difficult to get good tea anywhere but a cafe. So going to a cafe to get tea was a good idea.
Or at the very least it would have been if the boy had traveled back in time four or so years. For he was in a maid cafe. The role of a maid was something females tended to favour. People going to a maid cafe generally went to see cute girls prance about in cute outfits. But that was not why Cyrille had come. Other than for the tea, he figured this would make for an excellent method of training. Mental training, of course. Females were scary to Cyrille; and that often got in the way of doing what heroes generally do. How could one save the damsel if they were more scared of her than the dragon that was holding her captive?
So, to try to begin to combat the fear Cyrille found himself in a maid cafe. The idea was that he could mostly ignore the girls. There shouldn’t be too many, after all. The clients to these places tended to be male. Even so, he was rather on edge. He had managed to order tea without too much of a hassle, as the girl who took his order didn’t insist on getting to close or making him make eye contact with her. She didn’t comment on his obviously nervous, fragmented speech either. Though, he supposed that was her job. Incidentally, said waitress’ shift had apparently ended as she left soon after. That was a shame. She was at the very least less scary than the type of girl who pried at why he seemed so nervous.
Cyrille’s right hand was trembling. It was rested on the cup holding the tea, while the other left hand slowly stirred the tea. As much as Cyrille wished to take a sip of the tea, as to calm his mind further, he was far too shaky to do so. The boy’s legs seemed to frequently change position, and he looked to be clenching his teeth together. His eyes, however, focused on staring at the tea as to stop them from darting around.
”The tea will get cold before I can even drink it. I haven’t had tea in so long, too... Well, I suppose I don’t really need to move the cup to drink from it... As silly as it might look I don’t particularly care about what people think about me. Specifically people who’d care about such things.” As he thought this, Cyrille carefully placed the spoon down on the table, and slouched his body down until his mouth was level with the teacup. Then, he slowly took a sip from it. A rather lovely taste. It was rather soothing, causing the shaking to slow greatly, becoming not more than an occasional twitch.
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Cecil Amier
Weapon
Demon Butterfly Swords
All the world's a stage, and I the leading actor
Posts: 46
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Post by Cecil Amier on Jul 11, 2014 19:22:34 GMT -5
"Show time," Cecil uttered underneath his breath, hyping himself up for his first proper day on the job. He absorbed what he could from the exhaustive orientation he had to go through upon being hired, but even then, there's nothing comparable to first hand experience. He grabbed the final piece of his outfit and turned it over in his hand; a headdress, a frilly, frilly headdress for him to put on his head. With great trepidation he put it on, careful to not disrupt his hair style. He stood straight up, and looking in a mirror, he adjusted his expression to something accommodating, cheerful even. It didn't quite come naturally to him, but he was basing his performance off of someone he knew quite well: his sister. He thought so long as he kept in mind how Abigail would act or speak, he could pull this off. He was likely gravely over estimating his abilities.
Why he was doing all this was likely a question one would ask him. His employer had done so, and some of the other employees had done so as well. Would it not be easier to simply serve as a waiter? Well, yes, but that was hardly the point. A true thespian does not simply take whichever role comes easiest to them; that's how people get type-cast, after all. Granted, this wasn't a play, an actual theatrical production. But, where others saw only the mundane, Cecil saw opportunity. Opportunity to refine his skills.
Besides, the maid outfit was simply cuter.
Another maid came in, intent on telling Cecil her shift was over and that his was beginning. She stalled briefly upon seeing him however, as if though her brain didn't immediately recognize him. Cecil thought he pulled off the maid look quite well; his facial features had never been rugged or traditionally masculine in the first place, and he knew quite well how to put on makeup without overdoing it, thanks to both his father's and sister's influence. His "Adam's apple" was hardly prominent at all, too. He took her hesitation as a positive sign, and politely thanked her for the notification, before heading out to start doing his job proper.
His name-tag read "Cecilia", and he quickly found an older customer in need of being served. They seemed like a fine chap, and Cecil promptly took his order; however, something seemed... off. The person seemed to be leering at him the entire, and even after turning around he couldn't help but feel... watched. He ever so subtly looked behind him to confirm his suspicions. What a creep.
Whilst walking to get the creep's order, Cecil spotted another customer. One who was acting quite odd. They seemed to be just sitting there staring blankly at their beverage, until they slouched over to sip from it. What were they, an animal? Just bring the darn cup up and sip it like a civilized person. Of course, he didn't even once consider that this particular customer might have some sort of disability that prevented such motor functions. And they technically didn't, but Cecil still should've considered that as a possibility.
But, no, he decided it was his duty to butt in. This was a public space, such awkwardness was distracting! He tapped the guy's shoulder, "excuse me, sir. Is there an issue of some sort here?" He said politely and in a slightly higher pitch than his typical speaking voice, as part of the act.
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Post by Jo Workmann on Jul 30, 2014 22:52:12 GMT -5
Hunger.
Quite a motivating factor, especially for the young Workmann. While it couldn’t have been too late in the day, she couldn’t quite pinpoint the time when she had last gotten food. She had gone to shopping district for just this reason. Food. Delicious food. It would have to be meat. Nothing was better than meat. Food-wise at least.
Her feet seemed to get heavier with every step, the laughing sun’s rays beating down on her jacketed body. Still clinging to her normal outfit, the denim of her jeans covered her legs, the black top held securely by belts, and the white and red jacket was in place. Of course, this was hot as balls. Sweat slowly covering the girl’s face, she pulled her right hand up to her forehead to wipe it away. She needed somewhere with food and air conditioning.
That’s what brought her to this maid cafe. Really… she hadn’t quite paid all that much attention to what it was. ‘Cafe’ caught her eye, she assumed that meant food. Jo didn’t expect the sight of girls running around in maid outfits. Having walked through the door to the building, she found herself lowering her right hand back to her side and her eyebrow slightly lifting.
What in the hell?
Her first thought was that she had walked herself into one of those men’s establishments. Odd, odd places. But… she might as well ask if they had some steak here. Steak was oh so good and would hit the spot right about now. Money could be an issue, but not a big one. Who needed to eat for the rest of the week when one had steak today? Future Jo might be angry…
Spotting what she could only assume was a waitress, Jo took off after the woman. No matter who tried to speak to her or get in her way, Jo had her target in sight. Some poor gal with a ‘Cecilia’ nametag. Nearing the woman, she had just lifted her right hand to grasp the girl’s shoulder when Jo paused. The girl was talking?
They both had stopped, right beside another guy’s table. Odd colored hair… What was with all this oddity? It never ceased. Then she smelled it. That weird odor. She remembered her father on the phone…. someone telling him to use tea and honey… That was the smell. Tea. It wafted the senses and left a sort of pit in her stomach. Such an odd smell.
Wrinkling her nose slightly, Jo’s attention off the waittress and onto this drink, Jo slid into the seat across from the white/pink haired male. Leaning across the table, her hands folded on top of the other beneath her chest as she leaned over, she got her face decently close to the cup so she could make sure that was what it was.
Confirming her suspicion, Jo looked up. She didn’t move right away, her eyes scanning the guy’s face. She hadn’t heard the question the waittress had asked, hadn’t really cared if he had answered either. What was concerning was… Why was he drinking tea?
“Are you sick? Because there’s no real other reason why someone should be drinking this shit.”
The matter of fact tone of her voice was a bit surprising if one knew her normal demeanor. One to tend to kid and tease, she was actually a little bit concerned or curious. A single male, drinking tea, with nothing else, was strange to her mind. By now she had leaned back. Sitting in her own seat, her upper body now leaning more back and away. Her fingers were now laced, hands behind her head. Letting her feet slide forward for counter balance, she may have grazed the table. Or his leg. Whatever.
“I need a steak.”
Her attention was slightly gone. It was hard to focus on one thing when she was so hungry… Even if the smell of the tea did put off her stomach a bit, it wouldn’t last very long.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Jul 31, 2014 0:06:07 GMT -5
Tea was such a nice beverage. It was so very soothing. Cyrille quite enjoying things that soothed. Of course, it’d be much better if he had picked a nicer location. Even with the tea soothing his nerves slightly, the boy just couldn’t help his nervous twitching. It was only a matter of time until one of the waitresses asked him about it. Troublesome. So very, very troublesome. But, oh well. There wasn’t much he could do about it. Best to just man up.
Such an act was, of course, easier said than done. Cyrille felt a tap on his shoulder, and as he suspected a maid had come to check on him. He probably looked like an idiot, sipping his tea like that. But, he’d look like even more of an idiot now, as the boy had gone pale simply by the realization that a female had just touched him. Alas, it was a bit difficult to run away in such an environment, so he’d just have to deal with this girl. <<”Non, non! Je me sens pas bien aujourd'hui! Peu importe, je voudrais être laissé seul, s'il vo-”>> Cyrille cut himself off as he realized he was speaking in his native tongue. He did that quite often in a panic, forgetting that he wasn’t still in France, though that extreme accent hid how shaky his voice was somewhat. Changing to english, of course, would make his voice sound extremely shaky in comparison. The boy quickly shook his head and brought a hand to his face as to hide behind it somewhat. ”Apologies. I’m not used to speaking in english. I am fine, I simply wish to be le-”
Cyrille was cut off yet again, but this time it wasn’t by himself. It was instead by a boy who had brought himself obnoxiously close to Cyrille. Not only that, but he then proceeded to insult Cyrille. Well, not really Cyrille himself, but more his choice in beverage. Did this boy know nothing? Tea was one of the best beverages in existence, if not the best. The boy had asked him if he was sick. Technically he was, but in a more mental sense. Perhaps saying such a thing would get the waitress to go away. Surely she had better things to be doing. Worst case scenario; he’d be asked to leave and never ever have to come to this god forsaken cafe ever again. ”Uh, yes, actually. I’m simply not feeling the best today.” He said, desperately trying to force a sheepish smile across his obviously terrified face.
”You really are a terrible liar, you know.”
That voice rang through Cyrille’s head so very loudly. It had been so loud that his head now hurt, though perhaps it had been doing that already. That voice always spoke the truth. Cyrille was a terrible liar, but he wasn’t really lying, was he? Didn’t matter. He’d have to get a way out of here, already. ”Anyways, I best be going now!” He said quickly, getting up from his chair. Before leaving, of course, he put down his payment on the table. Far too much for what he had ordered, but that didn’t matter. He just wanted to leave. ”You can keep the change.” With these words, Cyrille begun to head for the door.
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Cecil Amier
Weapon
Demon Butterfly Swords
All the world's a stage, and I the leading actor
Posts: 46
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Post by Cecil Amier on Nov 3, 2014 1:25:47 GMT -5
Cecil's eyes dilated at the patron's sudden French. Cecil's father had taught him a bit of the language, but he never bothered to study it in any depth and was unaccustomed to listening to it spoken at such speeds. Regardless of what the silver haired boy actually said, the way he said it was peculiar. Rather rushed and irregular delivery; they were clearly uncomfortable to some degree.
From behind Cecil, another customer had arrived, and quickly took a seat opposite the guy. This one seemed rather androgynous, at a glance. But, taking into account the approximate thickness and form of the clothing visible, he determined quickly that the body underneath was likely feminine. For a moment, he thought perhaps the silver haired patron had been waiting for this person, and that was the source of his unease.
That assumption didn't last long; additionally, Cecil's tolerance for this new person was quickly shot in the foot by their disparaging remark towards tea! Why, tea had a lovely aroma, one that even Cecil's sub-par smelling could appreciate. It was one of the main perks to working this job, honestly.
Whatever disgust and/or animosity Cecil held towards the awkward, uncomfortable man were at the moment being redirected towards this new customer. How dare she! Or at least he assumed they were a she. But, how dare she! She walks into this establishment, insults their tea, and then demands, of all things, a steak? She didn't even ask if they served steaks, she just flatly stated she needed one. How presumptuous of her!
"Steak is not on the menu, ma'am." He said, still higher pitched than usual, but strained under growing ire. Cecil actually didn't know if they served steak or not. He presumed no. Very presumptuous, Cecil was. But, even if they did serve steak(which they in fact did), Cecil hated this louse's guts far too much already to even think of serving her.
The French guy, on the other hand, was trying to make a quick escape. Cecil's attention snapped back on him. Cecil still hadn't quite figured out why this guy was acting so peculiar. Just not feeling well? Feh, no, that wasn't quite right. He seemed more terrified than sick. Why on Earth could that be? Very suspicious. Did this person bear some sort of guilt; that they were afraid of being caught in the act of something dubious? That was an interesting thought. Likely not true, but interesting. And Cecil cared more about whether or not a possibility was interesting than if it was plausible.
This guy had to stick around until Cecil could rule out that possibility. The patron left a generous amount on the table to pay for his tea. Cecil was totally willing to forsake that money, as all tips were gathered up and split between the servers anyway. "Sir, wait a moment!" He said, picking up the money. He cut in front of the bloke's path to the door, "you seemed to have paid far too much for your tea! Would you not rather at least get something else to go?"
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Post by Jo Workmann on Nov 5, 2014 17:41:43 GMT -5
Jo distracting Cyrille and his speaking went unnoticed by Jo. In those few seconds, she was thinking about the tea. Not about the pink guy right then. He would have his turn. That was for when she looked at him specifically and when she leaned back. Her suspicions were confirmed yet again when the boy stated that he wasn’t feeling the best today. He looked strange. Like someone was tearing his skin off but he was trying to look happy about it.
Strange strange people in Death City….
Steak is not on the menu, ma’am.
What? Surprise came in two waves 1. Jo had forgotten about poor Cecilia for a brief moment. That pink haired guy and his tea got her all distracted. 2. Who didn’t have steak on the menu? Obviously she would just go get them some meat and ask them to cook it. That shouldn’t be a big deal. Really… now where would she get a st-
The words and his preparation for motion hit Jo at the same time. Up from her seat as quickly as Cyrille was, she watched him more closely for what he might do. Sick people shouldn’t be running about. He had to drink that damn tea! It seemed that the waitress also wanted the guy to stay. Seeing as the no steak waitress was going to stop him, there was no reason for Jo to cut off his path. Instead, she remained on the other side of Cyrille. A pink haired guy sandwich basically. Waitress - pink hair - Jo. Man… she was hungry. People sandwiches…
Seeing as the male hadn’t made it too far, Jo was around her chair in a heartbeat with her hand firmly on Cy’s shoulder.
“Drink your tea. And make sure you have lots of honey. That’s what you need.”
Her normal grin was back. Mocking and with a smile, though Jo would never release him until he turned back towards his seat, her grip on his shoulder would tell him that much.
Turning her attention to the waitress who had cut off her new acquaintance, Jo never ceased grinning.
“Cecilia! Ask if they’d cook me a steak if I brought them meat and get some soup for the pink haired one.”
Chuckling a bit as she spoke, she would give a quick jerk on Cyrille’s shoulder if he hadn’t decided to move yet. If for some reason he had felt he could shrug her off earlier, she would grab his damn arm and drag him back to his tea.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Nov 5, 2014 19:05:49 GMT -5
French was a pretty fast language. It was generally spoken faster than english because of how the words flowed together. English was just a bit choppier. Or at least, that’s what Cyrille thought. That being said, Cyrille had rushed his french words so much that he didn’t even remember what he had said after he had spoken them. Yes. He did that when he was panicking. Like now. Now was a good time to be panicking.
Cyrille would have been happy to know that this “Cecillia” did not hate him that much when compared to the new customer. Of course, he didn’t care all that much about what someone who terrified him thought about him. At all. Now was just... getting away from this place as quickly as he could. Then he could go and hide under his blankets. Those were warm.
The waiter told the new customer that they did not serve steak like he had asked. Huh? Cyrille was certain he had seen that on the menu. This place served lunches and steak was an easy thing to make that you could charge a lot for, so of course they served it. That being said it wasn’t like he was just going to speak up and say that. He was far too quiet in general for that, and given the circumstance he’d sooner die than break character so significantly.
For a moment, it looked as though Cyrille was going to get away. But maybe he had talked to loudly because the girl’s attention locked on to him as he tried to flee. Gah! Couldn’t he just leave?! Surely that wasn’t too much to ask. The waiter girl had stepped in between him and the door. He couldn’t just run past her. Push her aside? No, that’d draw too much attention. Oh dear, his puppeteer must have really hated him or something...
Cyrille took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Damn grigori soul had yet to do a god damn thing about what was happening. ”No, that’s alright.” He managed to speak, deliberately very slowly so his words didn’t get all messed up.
Before he could successfully say that he’d be going now and walk around the annoying waitress, something grabbed poor Cyrille from behind. He immediately tensed up and froze as he listened to Jo’s words. Judging by the guy’s grip it didn’t seem like he’d be letting go any time soon. Hah... That would be funny if it wasn’t so annoying. Cyrille had no choice but to turn back around. He noted the mocking grin. Maybe it’d be a better idea to beat this guy up instead of take his shit.
Cyrille wasn’t like that though. He had been defeated. He sat down where he had before and glanced at the cup. Damn... And he was so close too. For now he just kinda stared at the cup. Well, at least the waiter might have been going away soon. This guy he could deal with, despite the mocking grin.
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Cecil Amier
Weapon
Demon Butterfly Swords
All the world's a stage, and I the leading actor
Posts: 46
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Post by Cecil Amier on Nov 18, 2014 21:33:37 GMT -5
Cecil's lips curled ever so slightly as the silver-haired man conceded to stay. Fantastic. Cecil was going to find out what this guy's deal was. It was really only his first day on the job, but he was already determined to alleviate the humdrum of merely serving his customers. No, Cecil rather fancied the concept of using this position to people-watch.
However, to Cecil's sensibilities, not every customer could be worth the interest. Like this woman insisting on having steak. Cecil never understood the appeal of steak. It was just a slab of meat, It was, to the theatrical-minded boy, the laziest and mundane of meals to both cook and to eat. So, that inevitably led him to conclude that this girl was boring and no fun. Perhaps he was wrong; perhaps she had her own eccentricities.
For the moment, though, Cecil just wanted her to leave. And, she had an excuse to do so, at least temporarily. Perfect. "Very well, ma'am. If you must be persistent, I can check," he replied, smile on his face but an ever so slightly hidden inflection of passive aggressiveness.
Cecil excused himself from their presence with a small bow of his head, and turn about on his heel. He made sure to flourish the twirl of skirt just a bit more than necessary, for wholly his own benefit and satisfaction. His thoughts shifted to what exactly he would tell his manager in regards to the steak; best to spin it positively, he figured.
In the kitchen, Cecil calmly confronted his boss. "Sir, it appears we have a very particular customer; they insist on bringing their own raw ingredients for us to cook. I see no harm in it; the customer will be satisfied, and we save a bit of money."
His manager raised their eye brow inquisitively, and brought their hand up to their chin. Cecil continued to smile, trying his darnedest to be charming. The manager seemed content with the conclusion they came to, waving their hand and giving Cecil clearance.
Cecil clapped his hands and merrily chirped, "thanks, boss! You won't regret this, I assure you!" He was certainly laying the enthusiasm on thick: channeling his sister's mannerisms. He proceeded to get some soup, and to return to the table.
Before serving the man, Cecil addressed the hungry gal. "You can go ahead and get your steak to bring to us, ma'am." That was all the attention he paid to her; his attention shifted right back onto the suspicious man. Cecil exaggerated his lean forward over the table, padded bosom and all, as he set the soup in front of man. Cecil took the opportunity to give him a good look-over: his clothes, his complexion, body language. Any sort of revealing tell about the guy, Cecil was bound to notice. "Anything else I can get you sir?"
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Post by Jo Workmann on Dec 14, 2014 19:04:29 GMT -5
Pink hair was moving back to his seat. Awesome. Taking the seat across from him again, Jo placed her hands on the table and drummed dully on the surface with her middle fingers. Listening as attentively as she could when the waitress addressed her want for steak, she said she would check. Even more awesome!
Her fingers still drumming against the table, the grinning female looking towards Cyrille again as the waitress retreated to ask whoever about her steak. It was turning out to be a pretty good day so far. Even if this poor guy was sick.
“You really should try to chin up and drink tea with honey. Honey is good for the throat. Tea, disgusting as it is, is good for the body. And a little positivity is good for the soul.”
Her grin on her own face, she didn’t falter for a moment. A slight pause and then the girl continued on.
“At least that’s what I’ve always been told! I’ve found I’m in pretty decent shape so far.”
Her expression now held more encouragement than mocking, her own way of being comforting to someone. Her last words barely out of her mouth before the waitress returned again, her stomach grumbled at the word steak. Her fingers halting their drumming, she leaned back in her seat and placed her hands behind her head. She could get her steak. Wonderful. But… that would take so long… Mulling this over in her mind, Jo had to battle whether her preferences or her hunger would win out. Steak was so filling, so good, so fun to slice into and chomp away at. But… that would mean another fifteen minutes running around and ten minutes waiting… possibly longer.
In her own mental battle, she missed the next few seconds of play-by. Her attention coming to the present, she saw the waitress leaned over the table towards her new found acquaintance. Her hand moving towards the packets of sugar, she grabbed one and brought it to her again. Her grin having dissolved a bit in her thoughts was now slowly creeping back. Shaking the sugar packet between her pointer finger and thumb at just the edge of the packet, she spoke with authority to try and catch the girl’s attention.
“Cecilia? Do you know why people shake their sugar like this?”
Using both hands, she shifted her grip on the sugar packet so she was holding the complete opposite side between her finger and thumb. With one good flick of her fingers, she shook the packet once towards Cecilia.
“Cause if you shake it like this it gets everywhere!”
The shake movement having been completed as Jo spoke ‘this,’ sugar went flying from the packet. Seems, when she had grabbed the small packet of sugar, she had torn open the one side, attempting to keep it hidden as she shook it the first way.
Chuckling to herself, she set the paper on the table.
“Cajun chicken sandwich for me. And try to keep your boobs out of it.”
With a wink, Jo showed off her own somewhat aggressive side to the waitress who didn’t seem to appreciate Jo over the pink-haired man. She couldn't put her finger on it... but... this girl just reminded her of gals from her old school. They just tried to hard. Funny that she wouldn't know it was Cecil trying to be a girl that Jo was noticing, instead of flirting as she assumed.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Dec 14, 2014 20:27:28 GMT -5
The boy who had insisted on Cyrille staying had decided to begin going freestyle on the table like it was a drum. That was just lovely. The reason it was so lovely was because Cyrille was beginning to develop a headache. Not a severe one, yet, but this was something he’d much rather avoid. Well, this whole ordeal was to be fair. Cyrille let out a mental sigh of relief as the waitress left to go to “check” if it was alright for the boy to bring in a steak for them to cook for them. Weird, weird. He still could have sworn he had seen steak on the menu. Cyrille shifted his eyes to glance at the menu that he had left open on the table to see if he was lucky enough to have it on the page that featured meats like that. No, he wasn’t. It was on the sandwich page. In any case, there was a sandwich with cheese and steak on it, so they probably sold regular steak too. This waitress seemed to be not as experienced as the nice one who had been serving him earlier. There was also something off about her. She seemed just a bit sadistic in the way she insisted on Cyrille staying there even though he looked obviously not well. To try to calm his nerves, Cyrille begun to stare at a dark swirl in the wooden table that caught his interest just enough for him to be ok with staring at it for the next year he’d be forced to stay in this god-forsaken restaurant. Staring at the swirl did not turn out to be something that Cyrille could do forever, though. The boy across the table from him spoke up. Cyrille paid the words not much heed. Honey in tea. He preferred sugar, but honey could be nice too. But, wait a minute... How the heck did this guy know anything about tea?! He said he hated te- Oh, there was the answer. Someone had told him that. Or were they told about the positivity being good for the soul thing? Cyrille wasn’t quite sure. Both were probably true. Positivity was a bit hard though. Good thing it seemed as though a powerful body was more important than a powerful soul given current circumstance, so Cyrille simply nodded in response. It was only a moment later when the waitress had walked up again. Cyrille forced his eyes even farther down towards the table so that there was no way he could get a look at her. Unfortunately the girl decided to address Cyrille. Formality, probably. He was a customer too even if he really didn’t want to be. Cyrille begun to speak in a voice that was not much more than a whimper, greatly unfitting of someone so muscular like him. ”N-no...” His words were quieted by the sound of the boy talking. Cyrille wasn’t sure if he should be relieved that his pathetic whimper was pretty much impossible to hear as it had been cut off, or ticked because he’d probably be asked again. The other customer was talking about sugar. Cyrille could not see what he was doing because the table just seemed so much more damn interesting than what was happening with these two crazy people right now. From how they talked, it seemed as though the boy had spilled sugar everywhere. Why...? Cyrille couldn’t fathom why, honestly. He didn’t care. He just needed to find a way how to get out of here, but that was pretty damn hard when he was staring at a table.
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Cecil Amier
Weapon
Demon Butterfly Swords
All the world's a stage, and I the leading actor
Posts: 46
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Post by Cecil Amier on May 12, 2015 23:00:58 GMT -5
This silver-haired boy was definitely made uncomfortable by Cecil's presence. He had noticeably tensed when he had came back to the table, after all; the girl at the other side of the table didn't seem to illicit quite the same response. Perhaps it simply was a matter of personal space that made this guy upset.
That was boring.
Or maybe it was because Cecil was a maid? He could certainly understand why a single individual would feel trepidation about being in this cafe of all places. After all, the majority of the customers here were losers. Boring, lonely losers. Or so Cecil assumed. This was only his first day here, after all. But, he was awfully judgmental.
Cecil concluded that that must have been the source of his evident fear. The fear of people finding out he was a lonely loser who goes to maid cafes. Either way, this dude was starting to bore him. How disappointing.
"Then enjoy your soup, sir," he piped up with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He straightened back up into his typically perfect posture, when the other customer called for his attention. What was this girl prattling on about sugar for? Why was she shaking it? Wh-why on earth did she spill it all the table for? What was this annoying girl's deal?
Cecil's jaw slacked agape at the shameless display. He uncharacteristically stammered for a moment, caught in utter surprise by her flippant mess-making. Didn't she have a steak to go get? Now that sugar was everywhere. What a total mess. Who'd she think would have to clean that up?
Wait. What was her deal?
It simply wasn't typical to do such a thing! And to do it with such an attitude!
Oh, now the girl had Cecil's interest. And ire. But, he was willing to put off reprimanding her for the moment. That was likely for the best, in terms of his career. Yelling at a customer likely wouldn't ingratiate him to his employer.
Cecil tugged at his collar, composing himself as best he could. "Ha-a, yes, one moment, ma'am. One cajun chicken sandwich. But what of that steak you had wanted? You've reconsidered, yes?"
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Post by Jo Workmann on Jun 24, 2015 15:10:48 GMT -5
Pink/silver/white/whatever head certainly didn’t seem too interested in anything people said. But it didn’t seem to be a mean or bitter thing either. Was he just that extremely uncomfortable? Maybe sad? Possibly the whole sick thing? Did people still go out when they felt sick? Well…. Jo really wondered if people unlike her went out when they didn’t feel well.
With her sugar trick done, and no one amused, she brought her attention back to the one that had pink in their hair. It baffled her why no one thought her sugar joke was funny…. even when she had flung it straight at them. No one batted an eye. Man these two were disconnected from planet earth!
“Get some damned honey in your tea.”
She had heard the guy say he didn’t need anything else. Why ignore her perfectly good advice? Didn’t she seem to be in prime condition compared to his whimpering self? Her tone would be hard to pinpoint for someone who didn’t know her. Elias would full well know that she was toying with him, trying to ‘force’ him to do something but also laughing on the inside. The smirk on her face would make that a little obvious, even if her voice was more stern than normal. But this kid… if he didn’t look up, how would he know?
Back and forth, back and forth.
That’s right, the waitress had spoken to her again. Looking to Cecil, Jo’s face blanked for about a second, trying to replay the words in her mind. What had she said? Then it hit her. Her poor delicious steak.
Any malice over her thinking Cecil was trying too hard or whatever nonsense was completely gone. A joyous grin overtaking Jo’s expression again, her attention on the waitress Cecilia was completely positive.
“Sacrifices had to be made! Hunger over preference. Watching over this sorry soul so he doesn’t infect his sickness into everyone around him. So it seems I need a sandwich and honey!”
It almost looked as if Jo would laugh at herself any moment. She was indeed amused with herself, even if she didn’t know why. The thought of food perked her up, as well as not being the one who had to be ‘taken care of.’ Besides. These two were just a pile of insanity. She pretty much had to be amused.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Aug 17, 2015 16:15:54 GMT -5
Cyrille didn’t particularly care what one would think of him for being here, or for being so noticeably tense here. Any situation they could guess at was probably better than the reality. Or at least a bit more reasonable and less pathetic.
No matter, he wasn’t the type to bother with what other people thought of him.
Soup. Right. Soup. He had soup now. Cyrille didn’t want soup in the slightest, he felt ill and eating wasn’t the best idea when one wasn’t feeling too hot. At least in this case, but he could at least appreciate the boy’s sentiment. Though, he’d probably be forced to pay for both that and the thing the other guy was ordering. He didn’t really care, but would really rather not. He didn’t exactly have money to burn.
And now he was being yelled at to put some honey in his tea. Even if the circumstances were different, he’d probably dislike how obnoxious and loud this guy was. And, even given the circumstances, he felt bad for the worker. Even if she was overstepping her boundaries a bit too.
He decided it best to just do as Jo had said and put some honey in his damned tea. It wasn’t a big deal. The table had honey already on it (like most at cafes did) and it wasn’t like he was unfamiliar of the taste. His mother had always been harping on them to use honey instead of sugar since it was healthier or something. Though they never really listened.
Those thoughts were nice to recall. So much so that Cyrille regained a slightly better grasp of his surroundings. Hm. Was his “companion” being referred to as “Ma’am”? He looked at them for a moment. Honestly, it could go either way. He wasn’t sure. But, the person next to him didn’t get a reaction that they would if they looked terribly feminine, like the maid did for example. Too bad most girls didn’t have short hair and other somewhat masculine features.
”I don’t...” Cyrille begun to protest the words Jo was saying. Infecting an illness to everyone else... Nah, he wouldn’t wish this upon his worst enemy. Well, actually his worst enemies he might, but not the average person. That being said it wasn’t like it was contagious or anything.
They also said that they needed honey, probably not noticing that it was in the little cup thingies they had for milk and butter too. Was that uncommon maybe? They always had that back at home. Well, to be fair, he/she might have just not seen it. Didn’t really matter. Surely the maid would know. Cyrille was enjoying attempting to vanish with all the shenanigans going on around him too much to actually speak up.
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