[ p ] i am a professional flirt i promise

[ p ] i am a professional flirt i promise Aug 6, 2015 3:31:47 GMT -5

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Post by haus on Aug 6, 2015 3:31:47 GMT -5

"But what does art even mean," Jonah said, in the process of stuffing another macaroon into his mouth. "I've been doing it for the last five or six years of my life and I just don't know. I don't think I ever knew, for crying out loud." He was sitting in his favorite café, in a call with one of his acquaintances from art school— one he wasn't particularly close to or anything, but if someone was going to subject themselves to Jonah's blithering, he wasn't gonna stop them now or ever.

His pal's icon flickered on his holographic display, emitting from his phone which sat on the table. "Well, I mean, did you read the text—"

"—did you read the textfiles, dude? Don't fuck with me. No one reads the textfiles because it's a bunch of old, smelly men trying to dictate what art is. And you know what? I think it's bullshit."

"—Nero would have something to say about that."

"Yeah, well, Nero's kind of a dick. No offense, but they're cold. I never really liked them."

Jonah sighed. He absolutely detested art school. Actually, he hated school in general, and despite being a pretty bright student, he almost constantly played hooky as much as he could get away with. And they were still sending him scholarship money? Either he was ridiculously talented (unlikely) or they had money to spare.

His pal on the other line seemed a bit distracted— Jonah could make out another voice from the background noise, distinctly amorous in tone. There was a whisper, then a laugh, then Jonah furrowed his brows a little, looking around to see if any small children were around.

"Who's that? Your next big mistake?"

"—Aw, shut up. I gotta go, alright? Some shit just came up."

"Sure," Jonah said. There was no hiding from him, though. He always knew what was up. "Catch you later, Peter."

And with that, his chat client automatically closed, and Jonah stretched a little in his chair. At least now he could enjoy his macaroons in peace, and in his favorite café too— Black Milk. Owned and operated by the sweetest, swankiest lady he'd ever met. Lain had everything going on in all the right places and some part of Jonah kind of wished he was young enough to be adopted by her— after all, she claimed she would've if he wasn't already a legal adult.

But Lain wasn't here to make small talk today. That was kind of a bummer.

But. There was a new face on the block. Jonah blinked, straightening himself up as a blond boy walked past him carrying a tray of food, waiter uniform donned.

Oh. He was cute. Oh boy.

Jonah cleared his throat a little, waving the guy down. "Excuse me? Could I have some more water?"

His glass was half full. This did not phase him. "And, maybe another order of fresh strawberry macaroons?"

Jonah smiled, trying to turn his charm up to eleven, mentally writing off all his other plans for the day because today, Jonah Grey was going to go home with this stud's name or die trying.

[ p ] i am a professional flirt i promise Aug 6, 2015 19:25:47 GMT -5

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Post by trace on Aug 6, 2015 19:25:47 GMT -5

It was a pretty good day at Black Milk ー there weren't too many patrons, the tips were great (even though he had no need for the money, receiving a nice tip and kind words was always a pretty cool bonus), and there was the irresistible scent of warm baked goods in the air. So in other words it was a typical day at Black Milk, at least during this particular time slot.

He was currently carrying a tray of soft flaky croissants (they were divine ー and much better than the kind he loved to make, which was saying something. Trace loved him some baking) to a cute little group of three friends who hadn't seen each other in months and so planned today's get-together. Laina's place was just such a great hub of good times and conversation and it felt like anyone who was anyone knew about Black Milk and the wonderful treats (and proprietor) laying in wait for those who ventured inside.

Table 3 would soon need the bill, he was waiting on a double-double, and the pink-haired guy in the corner was still complaining to his friend about his art school troubles. I feel you, sister, he thought, displaying one of his more charming smiles as he placed the trio's delicious treats in front of them. "Bon appetit. Just flag me down if I you need absolutely anything, okay?"

Sometimes he liked to go over lines while buzzing around the café. Not because he was short on time or they were difficult or anything ー it came with the territory. It was really more of a personal multitasking challenge ー and though that wasn't actually a thing according to scientists, he thought he did a bang-up job of flashing those pearly whites while mentally sobbing over his dead lover's body, or whatever the day's sides called for him to do. So take that, scientists.

Today wasn't much of a run over lines kinda day, though... He felt like enjoying the ambiance of the café and the conversations that the patrons were having.

Oh, there was pink-haired dude waving him down. "But of course," he replied, carrying the customer's glass to the counter to refill it. While he was there, he picked up the freshest batch of perfectly round and delicate macarons and placed them in one of the café's cute little plates. "Enjoy," he said, setting the plate and water down in front of the artiste. "And if there's anything else I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask."