twenty-seventh breath ✧ action

[musubi]

[Dreams? What dreams. Isamu hasn't been having any dreams. Certainly not the nightmarish kind taking place in a demon-infested, post-apocalyptic world that seem real enough to keep him from wanting to sleep ever again. And he certainly hasn't been avoiding doing just that for the past couple of days, trying to go about his daily routine as if he isn't a disturbed wreck.

Okay, no. All of that's a lie.

He's just lucky he hasn't broken any dishes yet, and he almost spilled a whole tray on a customer earlier. The key word being almost. He isn't ready to lose his job just yet.

It's just business as usual at the Baratie, and he won't hear you argue otherwise.]

Comments

[touchofrogue]

[It's not too long before she'll try to catch his attention - because she still has half the cake (almost painfully sweet, but just what she needed right now) - but is out of coffee.

...and there's a pressure in the back of her head about - something that she can't afford to look at too closely. These dreams she'd been having... she hadn't always been herself in them. But who would do such horrible things to a little boy?]

[ingrate.livejournal.com]

[He comes back over, arms crossed over his chest.]

What can I do for you?

[touchofrogue]

[She taps the side of her mug.]

Refill?

[ingrate.livejournal.com]

On it.

[He walks off and comes back a moment later with a pot of coffee, which he sits in front of her after pouring.]

Knock yourself out.

[touchofrogue]

[She looks from him, to the pot, and then back to him.]

Ya sure about this?

[She is not that well off, dude.]

[ingrate.livejournal.com]

Oh I'll make a note every time you refill. It's just easier for me this way.

[He smirks.]

[touchofrogue]

Heh - an' here I thought you were doin' something nice.

[ingrate.livejournal.com]

Well I'd hate to have you make that mistake.

[touchofrogue]

Oh, I sit corrected. [She takes a sip of her coffee. Smirks.] They could charge ya for this, ya know. Putting an unlimited supply in front of a junkie.

[She shakes her head, makes a tsking sound.]

[ingrate.livejournal.com]

Guess I just can't help taking risks for a pretty face.

[touchofrogue]

[Instant lineface. And although Rogue doesn't physically retreat, she does a good job of shrinking in on herself. Her shoulders hunch protectively - but she bites back the sharp retort.

She'd been enjoying the banter, it was a pleasant distraction from her thoughts. So she doesn't want to get rid of him just yet.]

Your boss must be rubbin' off on ya. Gonna start twirling around in a minute too?

[ingrate.livejournal.com]

Hey. I'm nothing like that dork. I have some style.

[touchofrogue]

Sure. [And she takes another sip of her coffee.]

[ingrate.livejournal.com]

Sanji's ancient, anyway. Like a whole year or two older than me. Geez.

[He grins as he folds up some menus.]

[touchofrogue]

An' that clearly disqualifies him from style.

[No, it's the twirling and hearts that does that, Rogue.

Still. He's not the one she's mocking here.]

[ingrate.livejournal.com]

Clearly.

Actually, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. I'm beat.

[touchofrogue]

Hmm. [Having trouble sleeping?

Except that's none of her business. So instead she just twists the coffee pot handle so it's pointing in his direction.]

Coffee?

[ingrate.livejournal.com]

[He waves off the question.]

I'll get more later.

[touchofrogue]

[A shrug.] Suit yourself.

[And she starts in on her chocolate cake again. It's rich, and delicious, and exactly what she needs right now.]