Post by Emily on Nov 6, 2015 16:45:20 GMT -8
CAST: Derrick Storm (uncheckedhonor@aol.com), Molly Star (flashofthroat@aol.com)
SUMMARY: Derrick shows us just how much of an awkward dweeb he is with women and manages to drop his father's name in the right ear at the same time.
TW: painfully cheesy boyhavior
[Molly] Under normal circumstances, a lull in business between late lunch and early dinner might be a welcome thing for a one-woman crew, but as she pulled a rag down the long counter in front of her in counterclockwise circles, Molly had her eyes on the front door. A silent prayer to deities unspecified willed the little brass jinglebells tied to its pull to dance. Joe's had been a South Bank staple since the 1970s, but history did not current profit promise. Lulls in business made her nervous. On the bright side, she hadn't had much time to wallow in grief. She was too busy for it. A heavy sigh sent a fringe of raven-black bangs askew over her forehead, and it didn't really matter that such things made her look younger than she was. She would have looked younger than she was, anyway. There had always been something innocent, something timeless about her, something ethereal in the way the tall, willowy creature moved. Grace lived in every distracted pause and in the quiet smile she offered a departing man with a cheeky leprechaun grin and a snow-white horseshoe of hair. "Same time tomorrow, then, Angus? Don't you stand me up," she teased. "Or I'll tell your missus about us, I will." He chuckled and tipped his cap to her before leaving her alone in the too-big-empty but not-really-very-big-at-all cafe.
[Derrick] There was only one place around his little apartment that he had found, where he could get himself a decent cup of coffee. That would be Joes. Though, he had admittedly never met a Joe, at Joes. It was where he had met Tucker, the guy who had invited him to that weird pagan ceremony out in the woods, where things had just been a little too creepy for his comfort. Of course, it was also where he'd met that girl who'd caused him some serious sexual discomfort, with just the brush of her finger ... god, was he losing it? Slipping through the door, and causing that little bell to jingle over his head, he didn't slow as he moved through the tables, and sitting areas towards the counter. Large shoulders, and broadly muscled chest wrapped in just a skin tight black Under Armour style shirt. His lower legs, wrapped in black jogging pants, and finished off with a pair of sneakers. His strong left arm, bared of any sleeve, had an elastic cell phone holder, with his cell playing some sort of music that pumped through earbuds, and vanished directly into his brain. Slowing, only as he approached his target, he'd give the girl behind the counter a broad grin, from under that thick, if well trimmed beard of his as he started to speak. "Howdy." He'd wait, like a civilized barbarian for her to greet him as well, before he started in on his short, and simple order. "... can I have a large black coffee, with five sugars?" Big, wolfish grin, showing lots of those pearly whites. "Please?"
[Molly] "Hello," offered the soft-spoken Brit. Her cheeks appled with amusement. Howdy. Okay, cowboy. Her slim, long-fingered hands were given a precursory push down the sides of her body, leaving clean shadows of damp behind them. She'd tossed her rag back under the counter where it belonged just the moment before. "Are we talking normal large or comically large? I can do either." It was half a joke and half not, as evidenced by the jam of her thumb back toward the wall of coffee cups behind her. Some of them had been purchased years ago, some yesterday. Some were donated; particularly the ones with dirty humor and curse words on them. And their sizes were anything but uniform. "Unless you'd like it to go. I'm afraid that the people who make paper cups and plastic lids insist on doing business in regular millilitres." Molly moved for the pot of drip she'd recently refreshed, a dark eyebrow raised at the bearded grinner in expectation of his response.
[Derrick] Derrick reached up with one of those large hands, to pull the small buds out of his ears. Draping them over his shoulders, as he followed her movements with his deep set gray eyes. His hand meanwhile slipped towards that phone, to pause the music that was playing through the headphones. Those deep and stormy grays moved to run over the wall of coffee cups, as if seeing them for the first time. "Oh. Umm... I normally just get a to go cup... but I'm seriously tempted with that comically large offer." There was a chuckle from deep in that well muscled chest, and he let his eyes drift back from the wall, towards the young woman behind the counter with a half smile tugging at his lips. "I guess I'll take a regular large for now ... and I'll come back up, if ... when, I need a top off." Strong hands moved towards the front pocket of those jogging pants, and fished out a leather bill fold. Opening it to drag out some of the brittish money, without actually understanding the exchange rate. It exposed the american military ID in the clear plastic covered slot, and he left the wallet laying on the counter, as he waited to exchange coffee for cash. A good old fashioned drug deal.
[Molly] "Good on you," Molly piped up with an approving nod. "There's something to be said for ceramic and a few moments alone with a real cup of coffee. I've heard it helps a person remember where they are, as opposed to being hyperfocused on where they're trying to get." Ah, java philosophy. Even at five feet, ten inches, she had to rise up onto the balls of flat-shoed feet to snatch up a cup that she'd decided was appropriate for him after having caught sight of the familiar layout of his identification. Clearly not the first she'd seen. It didn't take her long to fill up the cup and hand it to him, handle first. Either she was used to the heat that a fresh cup of joe brought to the party and it didn't affect her, anymore, or she was just unfailingly considerate of others. It was anyone's guess. "Sugar is on the counter," she nodded toward an old fashioned sugar container, the kind you find in old American diners. "And I'll take two of those, if you don't mind." The index finger on her free hand pointed at the smallest denomination of Euro in his wallet -- the bronze and silver coin marked with a large number one. Now, how had she known that he probably wouldn't have any idea what to hand over? Lucky guess? Experience, more likely. The coffee cup that Molly handed Derrick, I should add, was printed with a vintage Captain America logo.
[Derrick] It wasn't entirely Derrick's fault that when she turned, and had to reach for that coffee cup, that his eyes sort of wandered. They were back where they were supposed to be, when she'd turned back around. But he was still looking away from her, a little ashamedly for a moment or two. "Well, I know where I'm at ... I've got no idea where I'm headed." Derrick gave a chuckle, and when she handed off that coffee cup, he turned it slowly so that those gray eyes could look over the symbol on the cup with an appreciative grin, and a slow shake of his head. The coffee cup was settled to the counter, so that he could lift that wallet up, and fish out three of those coins she had mentioned. "Well, I'm glad someone here understands the plight of the lost, and confused." Derrick's grin returned full force under that dark beard, well trimmed as it was, and his gray eyes went back to her own as he handed over the coinage. Once that'd been done, he went ahead and stuffed that wallet back into his pocket, and turned to glance where she had indicated for the sugar container. "... and my favorite super hero cup to boot." It wasn't busy, or he'd have already moved, to let the next customer step forward, and place their order. Instead, he sidestepped a little, and started adding a ridiculous amount of sugar to that black liquid. "... who's yours?" He arched a brow, and glanced back towards Molly. "... favorite super hero, I mean."
[Molly] She hadn't noticed the little field trip Derrick's eyes had taken down the backside of her body, of course. She was busy. Still, if she seemed at all familiar to him, there were probably reasons for that, and they probably had to do with his private internet browsing habits. Her slim frame, her doe eyes, her sweet face; she heard it all the time. 'You look so much like...' But few ever finished the sentence or told the truth about who they thought she looked like for fear of being found out... normal. Like everyone else who has ever Googled a pin-up girl. Convenient -- for her, anyway. If she didn't look at all familiar to him, good. He wouldn't ask. She wouldn't lie. Molly shook her ponytailed head. "Lost and confused? But you've just said that you know where you are. Which is it going to be? Oh, thank you," she pulled half a smile onto her face to echo her thanks for the extra Euro. It got tossed into a nearby cup that said 'leaky roof fund' and the other two got tossed into a cash register that was probably a relic from the 1960s, drawer bumped closed with a denim curve. "I thought you might be a Captain America kind of gent. Something in the eyes, there." She lifted the first and second fingers on her right hand and sort of waved them from left eye to right and back again. "My... what? Oh, my favorite superhero? Mm. There are so many." She fussed at a display rack of various treats while she thought it over, at some point remembering that Derrick would need a spoon to stir all of that sugar into his coffee with, and extending one to him blindly without ceasing her work. "I suppose I like Agent Carter, though she's not a superhero, not exactly." Molly tapped the temple of her forehead twice. "I like her chutzpah. Maybe she'll let me borrow it, some time." Take on the world. Get out of town.
[Derrick] It wasn't Derrick's fault. Okay, well he could take some of the blame, but men were just hard wired to glance at things they liked, and in those jeans, there was no way he'd been able to stave off that quick glance! However, he did not seem to recognize her. Though, would he have been brave enough to have leaned over the counter, and downright asked her about her past endeavors with cameras, and undergarments? Probably not. Derrick was the kinda guy who would literally charge a gunman, and he had, more than once ... but when it came to flirting, and finding a girl, things got a lot trickier. Maybe it was the years he had spent humping through the deserts of the middle east, with just other guys for company. Perhaps a general lack of experience in the relationship department. It was up for debate. What wasn't however, was that she probably was on his search history, and he didn't even know it. "Well, I know I'm in London... and I know I'm in the only place around that makes a decent cup of coffee ... other than that ... it's kinda up in the air ..." Chuckling to himself as he set the sugar cannister back down, and glanced about with those deep stormy grays for a spoon, or stir sticks. Only to have his eyes catch the extension of her hand, and that spoon she was offering him. Large called hand extended outwards, and took the spoon with a quick; "Thank you." Before he was stirring up all that melted sugar, turning the coffee into a syrup laden sludge that would doubtless kill him one day. But he looked like he worked out ... at least four times a day, with those arms. Lifting the cup to his lips, while he listened to her explain her choice, he grinned a little and swallowed down that sweet, dark deliciousness. The cup was lowered, and he sighed contently as it's bottom was set back to the countertop. "Mmm... well, I hear that England's the best place to find a dance partner." Oh, the innuendo, the Captain America and Agent Carter reference! One gray eye shot her a wink, and Derrick turned with his coffee in hand, to start heading towards that couch he had seen before, because honestly that had looked so very comfy, when he'd been here before.
[Molly] Four times a day is a little excessive, don't you think?! Who is this guy, Gaston? "Oh," Molly laughed, making connections that her player hadn't made before choosing Agent Carter for her. It just seemed like a natural choice, okay? All of my characters have favorite superheroes. Still, who isn't amused by a little innuendo? "Oh, clever." Her laughter, like everything she said, was a vocal exhalation; easily ignored or spoken over. Easily unheard. It came paired with a gleam that warmed wintery eyes, if only until it subsided. Away he wandered, and she let him, glancing over only a time or two in case he was the sort that would wait to catch her eye before speaking up to ask for something.
[Derrick] Derrick's arms only looked like they worked out four times a day, honestly how could anyone work out that much? Twice was hard enough! So it was that Derrick had deposited himself on that sofa, and had leaned back into it's soft cushions. Sipping at that ceramic mug, and forcing himself to slow down, and enjoy the little things in life for a few minutes. Honestly, since he'd gotten to London on the search for his father ... he hadn't actually searched for his father. It was just all paperwork, and finding a job, and what not. So maybe now that he had all that settled, he should begin with the whole reason he'd chosen to come to London in the first place. The thought seemed a solid one, and he contemplated it, while continuing to sip his coffee, unable to keep from glancing towards the pretty thing behind the counter whenever he thought she wasn't looking. Honestly, she did look kind of familiar ... maybe she'd been here the day he had been? No. He'd have remembered her ... or would he, with that Freya girl dominating his mind that afternoon. The thought caused him to shake his head, and sigh a bit. Completely unable to believe her mun hadn't made the Captain America, Agent Carter reference on purpose.
[Molly] Honestly, I was going to choose Jean Grey, but Jean suits one of my others much better. Carter was the first strong, silent female Brit I could think of! In the interest of full disclosure, Molly had been there, the night that Freya worked her succubus mojo on Derrick. She'd just been hiding behind a red curtain that separated public space from the Employees Only back, trying not to have a panic attack. If it weren't for Tucker and Andy, she might be in a lot more trouble than she was in, businesswise. At least those two knew how to take apart the espresso machine when it jammed. Coffee and people had never been her thing. Just look at her; quiet, perfectly content to busy herself with work that she could have been paying a teenager minimum wage to do. Would anyone ever guess that she owned the place? She wouldn't have. One of Derrick's wayward glances and one of her attentive ones sort of crashed in the middle of the room that separated them. Molly's chin ticked to the left with a silent question.
[Derrick] Oh, right. The one that Tom had been trying to get with, Shawn had forgotten all about that little episode, with everything else that had been going on. Derrick's gray eyes had met with her own fathomless depths, and he'd maintained eye contact for just long enough to make it obvious he was staring, before his lips curled into a little bit of a smile, and he looked away. Eyes dropping down to the ceramic cup in his hands, as he had the decency to blush just a little bit underneath that dark beard. Lifting the cup upwards to take a swallow, to help hide his embarasment at having been caught. Honestly, Derrick needed to get out more, and maybe get a little bit of practice at the whole flirting thing. He did have a phone number to call, that Freya had given him ... though, it would apparently reach someone else, he didn't know that yet. She had seemed to have a boyfriend, but hey ... maybe she had friends! Fuck Derrick you're pathetic sometimes.
[Molly] The one Tom struck out with miserably. The spectral bastard hadn't even been able to ruffle her feathers, let alone her knickers. Molly's silent question hadn't gotten an answer. Instead, she'd been met with an awkward gaze that was seconds too intimate to be a want for coffee, which left her a little confused as to how she should proceed next. At least he had the beard to hide it; the flush of cool pink that colored her fair face was front and center with nothing to mask it. She cleared her throat. "You'll let me know if there's anything you want, won't you?" Freya was definitely the girl to call for flirting. She had sex for breakfast; she knew how to flirt. So did Mira, whose number Freya had given Derrick in lieu of her own. Molly? ... only if you're young enough for the free hot chocolate or old enough for the senior discount.
[Derrick] Right. Anything he wanted ... Derrick glanced back over towards her, when she had put that question out there. His brows raising skywards, as he let those deep grays roam back towards her own. Watching her for a half second, he couldn't help but lean forward, and set the cup of coffee down onto the coffee table that was presumably matched with that sofa. Then Derrick was leaning forward, and rising upwards onto the balls of his feet. "Well, actually ..." He spoke up as he crossed the predominately empty coffee shop, and headed back over towards the counter. "... I was thinking I could use something to nibble on ..." Oh, that sounded wrong, since he hadn't even glanced towards the snack case. However, he quickly justified that! Eyes darting away from her, and towards the patries she had been rearranging. Looking them over for a second, before letting his eyes drift once more back towards Molly. "... and, maybe someone to enjoy them with?" Oh, Bold! Now, let's see how the defense responds...
[Molly] What an awkward back-and-forth. She'd been talking about things like, you know, that top-off he'd mentioned earlier, or... "You didn't have to get up," her soft laughter made yet another appearance. Something to nibble on, indeed. "I don't exactly have a throng of other customers up he ---..." Oh. Oh, he wanted company, too? Molly would have had a difficult time denying him that, given the statement she'd made not two seconds earlier. They were quite literally the only two in the cafe. A brief smile darted across her face. "I suppose I could take a little break, if a chat is what you'd like, though... I'm not terribly chatty. I'll do my best to entertain you," she promised. Her left hand trailed the counter behind her as she moved toward the half-door that separated the counter from the public, nudging it free with a thigh so that she could pass through it. She paused in front of the pastries, ultimately choosing the same one she always chose; cherry, iced. Expectant blue-green eyes blinked up at Derrick as she waited for him to make his selection. Once he had, she was sinking into the far corner of the sofa he'd decided to take up roost on. "I'm sorry that it isn't livelier in here, for you," Molly murmured an apology.
[Derrick] Score! Derrick grinned broadly behind those dark whiskers. Gray eyes following her movements behind the counter, and moving to get that half door for her as well. After all, he was nothing, if not a gentleman. One large hand grabbed hold of it, after she'd nudged it with her thigh. Swinging it open, and then letting it close once she was free of the back area. Derrick followed her path with those eyes, and grinned a bit as he moved along behind her, stopping just long enough to grab a blueberry pastry, with icing as well. Once that had been accomplished, Derrick would turn and follow her back towards that couch. Depositing himself in the opposite corner, so as not to crowd the pretty, dark haired girl. "Hrm? Oh, no no. I wasn't implying that at all ... I was just saying that maybe it'd be nice to have a cup of coffee with you..." Derrick gave a lazy shrug of his shoulders, and shifted a little to half face her, folding one of those legs under the other in his twist. "I mean, I don't know a lot of people here yet ... and you're really pretty ... and apparently a fan of Marvel ... so ... tell me more about you?" Derrick, stop talking. Bite down on that blueberry danish, and shut the fuck up.
[Molly] The girl thing sitting across from him had pulled both her knees up into her chest and looped her arms around them to tug at the cellophane corners of the wrap around her pastry. At a slight angle, her profile was in three quarters, highlighting the curve of her cheek and the bow of lips painted classic red. Either she had a thing for red, or for cherries, or maybe for both. An introvert -- and maybe just a little too worldly for one made of all things innocent and magic -- through and through, Molly rarely assumed that her company was genuinely desired by others, so it surprised her when it was. Oh, the violent fuschia that took over for the flush of pink in her face with Derrick's compliment. Pretty wasn't one she got, often. In fact, most of the ones she got weren't really very complimentary at all, but rather... sort of rude. "I don't know very many people here, yet, either," she confessed, finally managing to get at a piece of her pastry and sticking her thumb in her mouth after it to lick the icing off. "I just... ah, moved back." There was more to that story, a person could bet. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling overhead and let them wander back down to Derrick gradually, catching on bits and bobs, shine and color. The cafe was eccentric, to say the least. "To run this place. London was home, and here I am. I'm afraid I'm no Grand Budapest Hotel; I'm sure you have better stories to tell. Why the pond-hopping? Are you on holiday?"
[Derrick] Derrick saw the way that her cheeks went red, and he sort of understood a little bit better the circumstances they were both facing. It was the sort of thing that made a man braver, when his compliments, and flirtations weren't just shrugged off by the attractive barista, who honestly looked a little too good in those jeans she was wearing. However, while she'd gotten herself comfortable, and started in on that cherry pastry, Derrick did likewise with his own. Chewing on that bit of blueberry heaven, and grinning as she started speaking. "Oh, so you're the boss here then?" His grin shifted, and he draped an elbow on the back of the couch, shifting ever so slightly, so that he could reach that cup of The Captain America special. Sipping at it, and listening to the rest, before nodding ever so slightly. "Uhm, no, I'm not on holiday ... it's a pretty long story, but the short of it is that my mom came over, back in the eighties with the Boston Popps, and she got pregnant. So I grew up without a father, and she passed a few months back. Now, all I've got is the city of London ... and Alistair Byrne ... whom, I have not been able to find, anywhere..." Well, he hadn't been looking really hard yet. But the perusal of the phone book hadn't wielded results! So he shrugged those broad shoulders, and took another swallow of his coffee, looking away from her, and down towards that cup as he spoke. "But you're plenty fascinating. What'd you do before you ran this place?"
[Molly] Her face contorted with a grimace. "Can we... not... use the word 'boss?'" Boss. It wasn't something she'd ever wanted to be. Her heart beat too wild, too free for workplace heirarchy on even the smallest of scales. The first time Tucker had called her 'boss,' he'd run and gotten a chair to put behind her because she'd gone so pale he thought she might pass out. Piece by small, torn-off piece, her pastry began to disappear at a leisurely pace. "Mm. I'm sorry to hear about your Mum. That must have been rough." She reached an absent hand out to slide from masculine wrist to elbow along the arm he'd made cozy on the back of the sofa. Compassion was never something she thought about; it was just something she did. The name Alistair Byrne, however, inspired her to pull her hand back rather quickly once she realized she'd overstepped a boundary. There were several Byrnes that frequented Joe's, and it was possible that most were coincidental Byrnes of no relation to Derrick, but Alistair; she knew him personally. He'd been a friend of her father's. Dare she say so? Molly suddenly lost her appetite, folding cellophane over what was left of her pastry and setting it aside. "Oh, nothing, really," she summoned, somehow. "Dabbled. Traveled -- inexpensively, mind you. Glamor was certainly not in my budget. I was almost sure one of the hostels I stayed in had fleas. Couldn't sleep a wink," cue nervous laughter.
[Derrick] When her fingers had slid over that well muscled forearm, Derrick's eyes had lifted back to her own features, and he smiled a little, and gave a lazy shrug of those broad shoulders. "Thanks. It was a time coming, and I got out a month or two before she went, so we had time ... she just, didn't tell me anything until the last few minutes ... and then I think she wasn't really aware she was doing it ... apparently I kinda look like him though." Another of those shrugs, that had broad shoulders rising and falling as he watched her. Oh, Derrick knew when he struck a nerve, and the sudden shift in her had been noted, but he wasn't sure if it was because he had inquired farther into her past, or because of his fathers name having been spoken. Honestly, either caused a pique in curiosity, and so he'd pay closer attention to the cherubic features as he laughed at her joke. "Oh, I'm familiar with bad accomodations ... I've spent more than my fair share of time dealing with sand fleas, and scorpions, and snakes ..." Derrick hefted that cup, and took another swallow of the coffee, before continuing. "... then there were the guys shooting at me." Sly wink, to accompany her nervous laughter, as if they weren't a worry of his. Finally, he just couldn't stand that nagging feeling that he had seen her somewhere before, and he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "... Sorry, I just ... I feel like I recognize you. Something about your eyes. I know that sounds, totally cheesey ... and, I am totally cheesey..." Cue Derrick's own nervous laughter, as he looked down from her features, and at the cup resting on his knee, thumb idly running the rim, as he tried to think of something maybe a bit less corny, or invasive to talk about with her.
[Molly] "Do you always keep such... lovely company?" the pair of dark-lashed eyes behind her knees asked facetiously. He'd served; she knew that he meant to describe conditions east. "Sand fleas, guys shooting at you. I can't imagine why you'd have any trouble at all making friends here in the UK." Again with the winking. It amused her moreso than charmed her, but there's a certain charm in being amused, isn't there? Winking is harmless. At least he admitted to being cheesy in the moment after that. Molly's one hundred thirty (maybe, if her jeans and her shoes are wet) pounds shifted uncomfortably under Derrick's apprraising gaze. She was definitely hiding something. Multiple somethings, actually. "I hear that a lot," she tried to explain it away. "Old soul, and all. I look like someone to everyone." And you do look like Alistair Byrne, she added silently, to herself. Younger, of course. Lighter eyes. Same shoulders, same jaw, same facial structure. Perhaps the old man was right. Perhaps were he forty years younger... "Though it is nice to feel familiar with someone."
[Derrick] "Well, what can I say, I'm not normally as lucky as I am right now." That grin was nothing but boyish, as he paid her another compliment, this one more genuine than anything else he'd said, aside from the pretty comment he had made earlier. Derrick would shrug those broad shoulders again, and he glanced about the coffee shop, before looking back at her again. "I've made a friend, I think ... Tucker, he took me out to this pagan holiday thing last week. It was ... awkward." Laughter spilled forth again, and he lifted that cup, using it to force himself to stop talking, and not make himself look like he was an idiot. However, sipping at that coffee, he would set the mostly empty cup back down on the coffee table, before popping another bit of that danish between teeth, and chewing. Eyes on her, while he chewed, because damn if he didn't feel like he honest to god had seen her before, and recently too! However, Derrick's gray eyes got large suddenly. Swallowing, he lifted his free hand, and bopped himself on the forehead, before extending that hand towards her. "Fuck me, where are my manners ... I'm Derrick ... Derrick Storm." Bond, James Bond.
[Molly] This guy is so full of... "Ah, Tucker. Tucker is a good ki --- young... man." It gave some hint as to her age, that. She was older than Tucker was. "I'm sure he meant well, taking you there." Especially if you're Byrne. Especially. Oh, keep staring, Derrick, but we're not giving it away in the first scene. Were she skirted, the large tattoo on her left thigh would give her away immediately, but it's autumn in London. Long pants FTW. She reached across the couple of feet worth of space between the two of them to shake his hand. "Molly Star." Stella, if you're nasty.
SUMMARY: Derrick shows us just how much of an awkward dweeb he is with women and manages to drop his father's name in the right ear at the same time.
TW: painfully cheesy boyhavior
[Molly] Under normal circumstances, a lull in business between late lunch and early dinner might be a welcome thing for a one-woman crew, but as she pulled a rag down the long counter in front of her in counterclockwise circles, Molly had her eyes on the front door. A silent prayer to deities unspecified willed the little brass jinglebells tied to its pull to dance. Joe's had been a South Bank staple since the 1970s, but history did not current profit promise. Lulls in business made her nervous. On the bright side, she hadn't had much time to wallow in grief. She was too busy for it. A heavy sigh sent a fringe of raven-black bangs askew over her forehead, and it didn't really matter that such things made her look younger than she was. She would have looked younger than she was, anyway. There had always been something innocent, something timeless about her, something ethereal in the way the tall, willowy creature moved. Grace lived in every distracted pause and in the quiet smile she offered a departing man with a cheeky leprechaun grin and a snow-white horseshoe of hair. "Same time tomorrow, then, Angus? Don't you stand me up," she teased. "Or I'll tell your missus about us, I will." He chuckled and tipped his cap to her before leaving her alone in the too-big-empty but not-really-very-big-at-all cafe.
[Derrick] There was only one place around his little apartment that he had found, where he could get himself a decent cup of coffee. That would be Joes. Though, he had admittedly never met a Joe, at Joes. It was where he had met Tucker, the guy who had invited him to that weird pagan ceremony out in the woods, where things had just been a little too creepy for his comfort. Of course, it was also where he'd met that girl who'd caused him some serious sexual discomfort, with just the brush of her finger ... god, was he losing it? Slipping through the door, and causing that little bell to jingle over his head, he didn't slow as he moved through the tables, and sitting areas towards the counter. Large shoulders, and broadly muscled chest wrapped in just a skin tight black Under Armour style shirt. His lower legs, wrapped in black jogging pants, and finished off with a pair of sneakers. His strong left arm, bared of any sleeve, had an elastic cell phone holder, with his cell playing some sort of music that pumped through earbuds, and vanished directly into his brain. Slowing, only as he approached his target, he'd give the girl behind the counter a broad grin, from under that thick, if well trimmed beard of his as he started to speak. "Howdy." He'd wait, like a civilized barbarian for her to greet him as well, before he started in on his short, and simple order. "... can I have a large black coffee, with five sugars?" Big, wolfish grin, showing lots of those pearly whites. "Please?"
[Molly] "Hello," offered the soft-spoken Brit. Her cheeks appled with amusement. Howdy. Okay, cowboy. Her slim, long-fingered hands were given a precursory push down the sides of her body, leaving clean shadows of damp behind them. She'd tossed her rag back under the counter where it belonged just the moment before. "Are we talking normal large or comically large? I can do either." It was half a joke and half not, as evidenced by the jam of her thumb back toward the wall of coffee cups behind her. Some of them had been purchased years ago, some yesterday. Some were donated; particularly the ones with dirty humor and curse words on them. And their sizes were anything but uniform. "Unless you'd like it to go. I'm afraid that the people who make paper cups and plastic lids insist on doing business in regular millilitres." Molly moved for the pot of drip she'd recently refreshed, a dark eyebrow raised at the bearded grinner in expectation of his response.
[Derrick] Derrick reached up with one of those large hands, to pull the small buds out of his ears. Draping them over his shoulders, as he followed her movements with his deep set gray eyes. His hand meanwhile slipped towards that phone, to pause the music that was playing through the headphones. Those deep and stormy grays moved to run over the wall of coffee cups, as if seeing them for the first time. "Oh. Umm... I normally just get a to go cup... but I'm seriously tempted with that comically large offer." There was a chuckle from deep in that well muscled chest, and he let his eyes drift back from the wall, towards the young woman behind the counter with a half smile tugging at his lips. "I guess I'll take a regular large for now ... and I'll come back up, if ... when, I need a top off." Strong hands moved towards the front pocket of those jogging pants, and fished out a leather bill fold. Opening it to drag out some of the brittish money, without actually understanding the exchange rate. It exposed the american military ID in the clear plastic covered slot, and he left the wallet laying on the counter, as he waited to exchange coffee for cash. A good old fashioned drug deal.
[Molly] "Good on you," Molly piped up with an approving nod. "There's something to be said for ceramic and a few moments alone with a real cup of coffee. I've heard it helps a person remember where they are, as opposed to being hyperfocused on where they're trying to get." Ah, java philosophy. Even at five feet, ten inches, she had to rise up onto the balls of flat-shoed feet to snatch up a cup that she'd decided was appropriate for him after having caught sight of the familiar layout of his identification. Clearly not the first she'd seen. It didn't take her long to fill up the cup and hand it to him, handle first. Either she was used to the heat that a fresh cup of joe brought to the party and it didn't affect her, anymore, or she was just unfailingly considerate of others. It was anyone's guess. "Sugar is on the counter," she nodded toward an old fashioned sugar container, the kind you find in old American diners. "And I'll take two of those, if you don't mind." The index finger on her free hand pointed at the smallest denomination of Euro in his wallet -- the bronze and silver coin marked with a large number one. Now, how had she known that he probably wouldn't have any idea what to hand over? Lucky guess? Experience, more likely. The coffee cup that Molly handed Derrick, I should add, was printed with a vintage Captain America logo.
[Derrick] It wasn't entirely Derrick's fault that when she turned, and had to reach for that coffee cup, that his eyes sort of wandered. They were back where they were supposed to be, when she'd turned back around. But he was still looking away from her, a little ashamedly for a moment or two. "Well, I know where I'm at ... I've got no idea where I'm headed." Derrick gave a chuckle, and when she handed off that coffee cup, he turned it slowly so that those gray eyes could look over the symbol on the cup with an appreciative grin, and a slow shake of his head. The coffee cup was settled to the counter, so that he could lift that wallet up, and fish out three of those coins she had mentioned. "Well, I'm glad someone here understands the plight of the lost, and confused." Derrick's grin returned full force under that dark beard, well trimmed as it was, and his gray eyes went back to her own as he handed over the coinage. Once that'd been done, he went ahead and stuffed that wallet back into his pocket, and turned to glance where she had indicated for the sugar container. "... and my favorite super hero cup to boot." It wasn't busy, or he'd have already moved, to let the next customer step forward, and place their order. Instead, he sidestepped a little, and started adding a ridiculous amount of sugar to that black liquid. "... who's yours?" He arched a brow, and glanced back towards Molly. "... favorite super hero, I mean."
[Molly] She hadn't noticed the little field trip Derrick's eyes had taken down the backside of her body, of course. She was busy. Still, if she seemed at all familiar to him, there were probably reasons for that, and they probably had to do with his private internet browsing habits. Her slim frame, her doe eyes, her sweet face; she heard it all the time. 'You look so much like...' But few ever finished the sentence or told the truth about who they thought she looked like for fear of being found out... normal. Like everyone else who has ever Googled a pin-up girl. Convenient -- for her, anyway. If she didn't look at all familiar to him, good. He wouldn't ask. She wouldn't lie. Molly shook her ponytailed head. "Lost and confused? But you've just said that you know where you are. Which is it going to be? Oh, thank you," she pulled half a smile onto her face to echo her thanks for the extra Euro. It got tossed into a nearby cup that said 'leaky roof fund' and the other two got tossed into a cash register that was probably a relic from the 1960s, drawer bumped closed with a denim curve. "I thought you might be a Captain America kind of gent. Something in the eyes, there." She lifted the first and second fingers on her right hand and sort of waved them from left eye to right and back again. "My... what? Oh, my favorite superhero? Mm. There are so many." She fussed at a display rack of various treats while she thought it over, at some point remembering that Derrick would need a spoon to stir all of that sugar into his coffee with, and extending one to him blindly without ceasing her work. "I suppose I like Agent Carter, though she's not a superhero, not exactly." Molly tapped the temple of her forehead twice. "I like her chutzpah. Maybe she'll let me borrow it, some time." Take on the world. Get out of town.
[Derrick] It wasn't Derrick's fault. Okay, well he could take some of the blame, but men were just hard wired to glance at things they liked, and in those jeans, there was no way he'd been able to stave off that quick glance! However, he did not seem to recognize her. Though, would he have been brave enough to have leaned over the counter, and downright asked her about her past endeavors with cameras, and undergarments? Probably not. Derrick was the kinda guy who would literally charge a gunman, and he had, more than once ... but when it came to flirting, and finding a girl, things got a lot trickier. Maybe it was the years he had spent humping through the deserts of the middle east, with just other guys for company. Perhaps a general lack of experience in the relationship department. It was up for debate. What wasn't however, was that she probably was on his search history, and he didn't even know it. "Well, I know I'm in London... and I know I'm in the only place around that makes a decent cup of coffee ... other than that ... it's kinda up in the air ..." Chuckling to himself as he set the sugar cannister back down, and glanced about with those deep stormy grays for a spoon, or stir sticks. Only to have his eyes catch the extension of her hand, and that spoon she was offering him. Large called hand extended outwards, and took the spoon with a quick; "Thank you." Before he was stirring up all that melted sugar, turning the coffee into a syrup laden sludge that would doubtless kill him one day. But he looked like he worked out ... at least four times a day, with those arms. Lifting the cup to his lips, while he listened to her explain her choice, he grinned a little and swallowed down that sweet, dark deliciousness. The cup was lowered, and he sighed contently as it's bottom was set back to the countertop. "Mmm... well, I hear that England's the best place to find a dance partner." Oh, the innuendo, the Captain America and Agent Carter reference! One gray eye shot her a wink, and Derrick turned with his coffee in hand, to start heading towards that couch he had seen before, because honestly that had looked so very comfy, when he'd been here before.
[Molly] Four times a day is a little excessive, don't you think?! Who is this guy, Gaston? "Oh," Molly laughed, making connections that her player hadn't made before choosing Agent Carter for her. It just seemed like a natural choice, okay? All of my characters have favorite superheroes. Still, who isn't amused by a little innuendo? "Oh, clever." Her laughter, like everything she said, was a vocal exhalation; easily ignored or spoken over. Easily unheard. It came paired with a gleam that warmed wintery eyes, if only until it subsided. Away he wandered, and she let him, glancing over only a time or two in case he was the sort that would wait to catch her eye before speaking up to ask for something.
[Derrick] Derrick's arms only looked like they worked out four times a day, honestly how could anyone work out that much? Twice was hard enough! So it was that Derrick had deposited himself on that sofa, and had leaned back into it's soft cushions. Sipping at that ceramic mug, and forcing himself to slow down, and enjoy the little things in life for a few minutes. Honestly, since he'd gotten to London on the search for his father ... he hadn't actually searched for his father. It was just all paperwork, and finding a job, and what not. So maybe now that he had all that settled, he should begin with the whole reason he'd chosen to come to London in the first place. The thought seemed a solid one, and he contemplated it, while continuing to sip his coffee, unable to keep from glancing towards the pretty thing behind the counter whenever he thought she wasn't looking. Honestly, she did look kind of familiar ... maybe she'd been here the day he had been? No. He'd have remembered her ... or would he, with that Freya girl dominating his mind that afternoon. The thought caused him to shake his head, and sigh a bit. Completely unable to believe her mun hadn't made the Captain America, Agent Carter reference on purpose.
[Molly] Honestly, I was going to choose Jean Grey, but Jean suits one of my others much better. Carter was the first strong, silent female Brit I could think of! In the interest of full disclosure, Molly had been there, the night that Freya worked her succubus mojo on Derrick. She'd just been hiding behind a red curtain that separated public space from the Employees Only back, trying not to have a panic attack. If it weren't for Tucker and Andy, she might be in a lot more trouble than she was in, businesswise. At least those two knew how to take apart the espresso machine when it jammed. Coffee and people had never been her thing. Just look at her; quiet, perfectly content to busy herself with work that she could have been paying a teenager minimum wage to do. Would anyone ever guess that she owned the place? She wouldn't have. One of Derrick's wayward glances and one of her attentive ones sort of crashed in the middle of the room that separated them. Molly's chin ticked to the left with a silent question.
[Derrick] Oh, right. The one that Tom had been trying to get with, Shawn had forgotten all about that little episode, with everything else that had been going on. Derrick's gray eyes had met with her own fathomless depths, and he'd maintained eye contact for just long enough to make it obvious he was staring, before his lips curled into a little bit of a smile, and he looked away. Eyes dropping down to the ceramic cup in his hands, as he had the decency to blush just a little bit underneath that dark beard. Lifting the cup upwards to take a swallow, to help hide his embarasment at having been caught. Honestly, Derrick needed to get out more, and maybe get a little bit of practice at the whole flirting thing. He did have a phone number to call, that Freya had given him ... though, it would apparently reach someone else, he didn't know that yet. She had seemed to have a boyfriend, but hey ... maybe she had friends! Fuck Derrick you're pathetic sometimes.
[Molly] The one Tom struck out with miserably. The spectral bastard hadn't even been able to ruffle her feathers, let alone her knickers. Molly's silent question hadn't gotten an answer. Instead, she'd been met with an awkward gaze that was seconds too intimate to be a want for coffee, which left her a little confused as to how she should proceed next. At least he had the beard to hide it; the flush of cool pink that colored her fair face was front and center with nothing to mask it. She cleared her throat. "You'll let me know if there's anything you want, won't you?" Freya was definitely the girl to call for flirting. She had sex for breakfast; she knew how to flirt. So did Mira, whose number Freya had given Derrick in lieu of her own. Molly? ... only if you're young enough for the free hot chocolate or old enough for the senior discount.
[Derrick] Right. Anything he wanted ... Derrick glanced back over towards her, when she had put that question out there. His brows raising skywards, as he let those deep grays roam back towards her own. Watching her for a half second, he couldn't help but lean forward, and set the cup of coffee down onto the coffee table that was presumably matched with that sofa. Then Derrick was leaning forward, and rising upwards onto the balls of his feet. "Well, actually ..." He spoke up as he crossed the predominately empty coffee shop, and headed back over towards the counter. "... I was thinking I could use something to nibble on ..." Oh, that sounded wrong, since he hadn't even glanced towards the snack case. However, he quickly justified that! Eyes darting away from her, and towards the patries she had been rearranging. Looking them over for a second, before letting his eyes drift once more back towards Molly. "... and, maybe someone to enjoy them with?" Oh, Bold! Now, let's see how the defense responds...
[Molly] What an awkward back-and-forth. She'd been talking about things like, you know, that top-off he'd mentioned earlier, or... "You didn't have to get up," her soft laughter made yet another appearance. Something to nibble on, indeed. "I don't exactly have a throng of other customers up he ---..." Oh. Oh, he wanted company, too? Molly would have had a difficult time denying him that, given the statement she'd made not two seconds earlier. They were quite literally the only two in the cafe. A brief smile darted across her face. "I suppose I could take a little break, if a chat is what you'd like, though... I'm not terribly chatty. I'll do my best to entertain you," she promised. Her left hand trailed the counter behind her as she moved toward the half-door that separated the counter from the public, nudging it free with a thigh so that she could pass through it. She paused in front of the pastries, ultimately choosing the same one she always chose; cherry, iced. Expectant blue-green eyes blinked up at Derrick as she waited for him to make his selection. Once he had, she was sinking into the far corner of the sofa he'd decided to take up roost on. "I'm sorry that it isn't livelier in here, for you," Molly murmured an apology.
[Derrick] Score! Derrick grinned broadly behind those dark whiskers. Gray eyes following her movements behind the counter, and moving to get that half door for her as well. After all, he was nothing, if not a gentleman. One large hand grabbed hold of it, after she'd nudged it with her thigh. Swinging it open, and then letting it close once she was free of the back area. Derrick followed her path with those eyes, and grinned a bit as he moved along behind her, stopping just long enough to grab a blueberry pastry, with icing as well. Once that had been accomplished, Derrick would turn and follow her back towards that couch. Depositing himself in the opposite corner, so as not to crowd the pretty, dark haired girl. "Hrm? Oh, no no. I wasn't implying that at all ... I was just saying that maybe it'd be nice to have a cup of coffee with you..." Derrick gave a lazy shrug of his shoulders, and shifted a little to half face her, folding one of those legs under the other in his twist. "I mean, I don't know a lot of people here yet ... and you're really pretty ... and apparently a fan of Marvel ... so ... tell me more about you?" Derrick, stop talking. Bite down on that blueberry danish, and shut the fuck up.
[Molly] The girl thing sitting across from him had pulled both her knees up into her chest and looped her arms around them to tug at the cellophane corners of the wrap around her pastry. At a slight angle, her profile was in three quarters, highlighting the curve of her cheek and the bow of lips painted classic red. Either she had a thing for red, or for cherries, or maybe for both. An introvert -- and maybe just a little too worldly for one made of all things innocent and magic -- through and through, Molly rarely assumed that her company was genuinely desired by others, so it surprised her when it was. Oh, the violent fuschia that took over for the flush of pink in her face with Derrick's compliment. Pretty wasn't one she got, often. In fact, most of the ones she got weren't really very complimentary at all, but rather... sort of rude. "I don't know very many people here, yet, either," she confessed, finally managing to get at a piece of her pastry and sticking her thumb in her mouth after it to lick the icing off. "I just... ah, moved back." There was more to that story, a person could bet. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling overhead and let them wander back down to Derrick gradually, catching on bits and bobs, shine and color. The cafe was eccentric, to say the least. "To run this place. London was home, and here I am. I'm afraid I'm no Grand Budapest Hotel; I'm sure you have better stories to tell. Why the pond-hopping? Are you on holiday?"
[Derrick] Derrick saw the way that her cheeks went red, and he sort of understood a little bit better the circumstances they were both facing. It was the sort of thing that made a man braver, when his compliments, and flirtations weren't just shrugged off by the attractive barista, who honestly looked a little too good in those jeans she was wearing. However, while she'd gotten herself comfortable, and started in on that cherry pastry, Derrick did likewise with his own. Chewing on that bit of blueberry heaven, and grinning as she started speaking. "Oh, so you're the boss here then?" His grin shifted, and he draped an elbow on the back of the couch, shifting ever so slightly, so that he could reach that cup of The Captain America special. Sipping at it, and listening to the rest, before nodding ever so slightly. "Uhm, no, I'm not on holiday ... it's a pretty long story, but the short of it is that my mom came over, back in the eighties with the Boston Popps, and she got pregnant. So I grew up without a father, and she passed a few months back. Now, all I've got is the city of London ... and Alistair Byrne ... whom, I have not been able to find, anywhere..." Well, he hadn't been looking really hard yet. But the perusal of the phone book hadn't wielded results! So he shrugged those broad shoulders, and took another swallow of his coffee, looking away from her, and down towards that cup as he spoke. "But you're plenty fascinating. What'd you do before you ran this place?"
[Molly] Her face contorted with a grimace. "Can we... not... use the word 'boss?'" Boss. It wasn't something she'd ever wanted to be. Her heart beat too wild, too free for workplace heirarchy on even the smallest of scales. The first time Tucker had called her 'boss,' he'd run and gotten a chair to put behind her because she'd gone so pale he thought she might pass out. Piece by small, torn-off piece, her pastry began to disappear at a leisurely pace. "Mm. I'm sorry to hear about your Mum. That must have been rough." She reached an absent hand out to slide from masculine wrist to elbow along the arm he'd made cozy on the back of the sofa. Compassion was never something she thought about; it was just something she did. The name Alistair Byrne, however, inspired her to pull her hand back rather quickly once she realized she'd overstepped a boundary. There were several Byrnes that frequented Joe's, and it was possible that most were coincidental Byrnes of no relation to Derrick, but Alistair; she knew him personally. He'd been a friend of her father's. Dare she say so? Molly suddenly lost her appetite, folding cellophane over what was left of her pastry and setting it aside. "Oh, nothing, really," she summoned, somehow. "Dabbled. Traveled -- inexpensively, mind you. Glamor was certainly not in my budget. I was almost sure one of the hostels I stayed in had fleas. Couldn't sleep a wink," cue nervous laughter.
[Derrick] When her fingers had slid over that well muscled forearm, Derrick's eyes had lifted back to her own features, and he smiled a little, and gave a lazy shrug of those broad shoulders. "Thanks. It was a time coming, and I got out a month or two before she went, so we had time ... she just, didn't tell me anything until the last few minutes ... and then I think she wasn't really aware she was doing it ... apparently I kinda look like him though." Another of those shrugs, that had broad shoulders rising and falling as he watched her. Oh, Derrick knew when he struck a nerve, and the sudden shift in her had been noted, but he wasn't sure if it was because he had inquired farther into her past, or because of his fathers name having been spoken. Honestly, either caused a pique in curiosity, and so he'd pay closer attention to the cherubic features as he laughed at her joke. "Oh, I'm familiar with bad accomodations ... I've spent more than my fair share of time dealing with sand fleas, and scorpions, and snakes ..." Derrick hefted that cup, and took another swallow of the coffee, before continuing. "... then there were the guys shooting at me." Sly wink, to accompany her nervous laughter, as if they weren't a worry of his. Finally, he just couldn't stand that nagging feeling that he had seen her somewhere before, and he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "... Sorry, I just ... I feel like I recognize you. Something about your eyes. I know that sounds, totally cheesey ... and, I am totally cheesey..." Cue Derrick's own nervous laughter, as he looked down from her features, and at the cup resting on his knee, thumb idly running the rim, as he tried to think of something maybe a bit less corny, or invasive to talk about with her.
[Molly] "Do you always keep such... lovely company?" the pair of dark-lashed eyes behind her knees asked facetiously. He'd served; she knew that he meant to describe conditions east. "Sand fleas, guys shooting at you. I can't imagine why you'd have any trouble at all making friends here in the UK." Again with the winking. It amused her moreso than charmed her, but there's a certain charm in being amused, isn't there? Winking is harmless. At least he admitted to being cheesy in the moment after that. Molly's one hundred thirty (maybe, if her jeans and her shoes are wet) pounds shifted uncomfortably under Derrick's apprraising gaze. She was definitely hiding something. Multiple somethings, actually. "I hear that a lot," she tried to explain it away. "Old soul, and all. I look like someone to everyone." And you do look like Alistair Byrne, she added silently, to herself. Younger, of course. Lighter eyes. Same shoulders, same jaw, same facial structure. Perhaps the old man was right. Perhaps were he forty years younger... "Though it is nice to feel familiar with someone."
[Derrick] "Well, what can I say, I'm not normally as lucky as I am right now." That grin was nothing but boyish, as he paid her another compliment, this one more genuine than anything else he'd said, aside from the pretty comment he had made earlier. Derrick would shrug those broad shoulders again, and he glanced about the coffee shop, before looking back at her again. "I've made a friend, I think ... Tucker, he took me out to this pagan holiday thing last week. It was ... awkward." Laughter spilled forth again, and he lifted that cup, using it to force himself to stop talking, and not make himself look like he was an idiot. However, sipping at that coffee, he would set the mostly empty cup back down on the coffee table, before popping another bit of that danish between teeth, and chewing. Eyes on her, while he chewed, because damn if he didn't feel like he honest to god had seen her before, and recently too! However, Derrick's gray eyes got large suddenly. Swallowing, he lifted his free hand, and bopped himself on the forehead, before extending that hand towards her. "Fuck me, where are my manners ... I'm Derrick ... Derrick Storm." Bond, James Bond.
[Molly] This guy is so full of... "Ah, Tucker. Tucker is a good ki --- young... man." It gave some hint as to her age, that. She was older than Tucker was. "I'm sure he meant well, taking you there." Especially if you're Byrne. Especially. Oh, keep staring, Derrick, but we're not giving it away in the first scene. Were she skirted, the large tattoo on her left thigh would give her away immediately, but it's autumn in London. Long pants FTW. She reached across the couple of feet worth of space between the two of them to shake his hand. "Molly Star." Stella, if you're nasty.