mountains beyond mountains,

[hungrylike]

So, yeah, like, this place has all sorts of things, more'n I thought there'd be of what I was looking for, but there ain't any people I seen yet. Anybody around out there? Me, I'll be in the cafe, I guess. I'm brilliant with burgers.

Comments

[sebastard]

I think there are a few anybodies around. You're the first I've seen, though.

((OOC: And just for the record, we'll say that Sebastian's going for one of the elegantly pretty, fishy outfits today, something soft and sundress-y and vaguely reminiscent of this. JUST FOR FUTURE REFERENCE AND ALL THAT.))

[hungrylike]

Really? Great, that. I'll fix you up something, if you like, and you can meet me where all the food's at. If- if you like, of course.

[sebastard]

Well, aren't you a lamb? I am getting hungry. I'll see you in ten minutes.

[hungrylike]

A burger or fish and chips? There's all the fixings, here.

[sebastard]

Fish and chips!

[Things Sebastian hasn't eaten in a while for the win, kids.]

[hungrylike]

You got it!

[And so Tom sets about making fish and chips until someone-- anyone-- arrives. He's wearing this (minus the vampire), though his jacket is draped over a nearby chair, so he looks more like this (minus the corpse).]

[sebastard]

[Sebastian wants to make a good entrance, since this is the first one he's gotten a chance at--the fellow's right, there aren't a lot of people about. So some powder and a few touch-ups to face and hair later, a pretty ginger walks into a bar Tom's restaurant. Sebastian heads towards the kitchen, glancing in towards the...oh, the skinhead who's making his lunch.

Well, he'll have to play this one carefully, won't he? Pretty and coquettish and perhaps making more of an effort to pitch his voice than usual.]

I hope you're the bloke who promised to make me fish and chips, or I've got the wrong shop.

[hungrylike]

[Tom turns and smiles, earnest and guileless. He wasn't expecting a nice lady, but then again, he's not really sure what he was expecting. Best not to judge.] Oy, you're just in time.

[He fiddles with the food a bit, and puts it unceremoniously on the nearest paper plate.] There you are.

[sebastard]

[Oh, that smells really good. And looks really good. Also like it might be too hot to pick up. Sebastian goes hunting for a fork--it's not how you're supposed to eat fish and chips, but he doesn't want to get grease all over his fingers.]

This looks really lovely, thank you. D'you work here?

[hungrylike]

Aw, no. But I work in a cafe, back home. [He looks around, smiling, awed.] This place's just like it, really. I mean, except, the one at home's on a street corner.

[sebastard]

Yeah? [And Sebastian takes a careful bite of the hot fish. And then another. He gestures to it with the fork.] This is brilliant.

[hungrylike]

Yeah, uh. Working there for a while... [He watches the girl eat a bit, and then steps out to hold out his hand with obvious enthusiasm.] I'm Tom.

[sebastard]

How nice. [And Sebastian shakes his hand, fairly firmly.] I'm Viola. Nice to meet you, Tom.

[sebastard]

So they chat and have a nice time, and eventually they part, and Sebastian goes home. He's got classwork to do and a date at a pub to get to, and it's all very exciting--such is the glamorous life of a Bush-Kennedy.

He comes back another day, a week later, and decides to see if the bookshop in the hotel has copies of the plays he needs to read for school. He's dressed in jeans and a shirt this time, hair just a bit unkempt, but still as ginger as a sunset. And at the moment, he's taking the long way towards the bookshop, dawdling and window-shopping through the shopping level.

[hungrylike]

Tom, meanwhile, has through all of this come and gone as he pleases. He rarely wants to be alone, puppydog as he is, but it's a good place to change, and a good place to get something to eat, and spend lunch breaks. Right now, a half day past the new moon, Tom is trying to work the remains of the wolf out of his system. It's better to be clear-headed in times like these.

So Tom takes his time in the shopping centre, clearing out a place for himself in its empty halls. He's set the chairs and tables aside, and is making good use of a punching bag, his shirt and jacket draped over a nearby table.

[sebastard]

It's rare that Sebastian runs into anyone else on these jaunts--usually, he's got the place to himself--and so he's always a bit intrigued when someone else comes across his path. He sees a figure boxing well before he's in proper earshot, when he glances up from a set of pearls that might look lovely with his green velveteen dress.

A fellow boxing is usually all right in Sebastian's book. You watch the man punch a bag, and if he doesn't seem like he'd welcome your kind of attention, you pretend you're a weakling who longs to be strong like that, and suddenly he's willing to tell you all about protein shakes and bodybuilding. So Sebastian makes his way over--they can at least try chatting about the day.

As he approaches, Sebastian starts to recognize that bald head. Shit, shit, shit. That's Viola's friend at the chip shop, who was nice to her but won't necessarily be to Sebastian. Well, maybe he should keep walking after all, maybe that'll keep the bloke from noticing--and then Sebastian yelps in pain, his face stinging. In his concern, he managed to walk himself straight into a map of the hotel.

[hungrylike]

Tom is stopped immediately short by an unexpected noise-- was that human? Tom whirls around quickly to investigate, pulling a stake out of his pocket just in case. He sees someone, a man, could be dangerous, but it looks mostly like he's walked into one of the guide-maps. Still, clumsy vampires exist, it doesn't mean they aren't dangerous. He calls out, "you alright?"

[sebastard]

Sebastian's too blinded by bright stars of pain to be dangerous at the moment. This is hardly new to him--even the specificity of having walked into a map of shops at the mall isn't a unique occurrence in his lifetime, though the last time it happened, he was eight--but it's still bloody painful. He covers his smarting cheekbone with one hand and waves the other vaguely in the direction of Tom's voice. "Yeah--yeah, 'm all right."

[hungrylike]

Cautiously, slowly, Tom walks over to the map and the man behind it. "You sure?" He's still holding his face from the looks of it, and Tom smiles, because that's just kind of silly. "Walked right into it, didn't you, there?"

[sebastard]

"Yeah," Sebastian says sheepishly. He tips his head down a bit as he shrugs, letting his hand drop from his cheek, and wonders whether Tom here's any good with faces. "Bit clumsy. It happens."

[hungrylike]

Tom is leaning down a bit-- with a bit of an edge, and seeing how he's just a bit shorter than this bloke already, he can just see his teeth. "Better watch out where you're going, eh?"

He stands back, and holds out his hand in front of him for a shake. "'M Tom. You new, or you have a key already?"

[sebastard]

"Guess so," Sebastian answers. There's no dislodging Tom, it seems like, so he'll just have to take his chances. He doesn't fancy having to try and outrun him if he decides he's in a mood to try punching something other than a bag--but he's been nothing but friendly so far. Perhaps it's time to take the risk.

Sebastian takes Tom's hand and shakes it, suddenly thankful that he did his nails up in clear varnish yesterday instead of red. "Sebastian. I've got a key. Suppose you're, uh, not new, either."

[hungrylike]

Tom gives a good, strong handshake. Not on purpose, he just doesn't know how else to do it. This is how McNair taught him. Also, to always be friendly and polite. "I been here a while. Gone home in between, though." He keeps on smiling, and finally gets a good look at Sebastian's face. "Oy, you look familiar. You from Barry?" His expression brightens visibly at the suggestion, not that it was particularly dark before.

[sebastard]

"London," Sebastian corrects him, then remembers that Viola had also said she was from London. Didn't she? It was suddenly difficult to recall--he hadn't known that he was going to have to remember all that small-talk for later. And the strength of Tom's handshake really wasn't reassuring him at the moment.

But lots of people were from London. Surely it'd be all right, especially if he redirected the conversation a bit. "Where's Barry?"

[hungrylike]

Lots of people are from London! The thought doesn't cross Tom's mind. "Wales," he says. "Barry Island," he says. But he isn't to be deterred. Tom isn't particularly good with faces, but he knows so few that he tries to keep track of them. And this one is familiar. "I didn't stay in London proper when I was there-- you do much camping?"