You call this Coffee ?! |Open

[Zaeric Blackwood]

It was a nice Saturday, warm, bright, the kind of happy spring day that just begged you to go outside. Zaer had seriously been considering staying inside and just chilling in the air conditioned lounge, but his little spark of adventure bugged him. So, dressed in a blue tee covered in black designs and jeans, he had grabbed his keys and decided to head to the mall. At least there would be air conditioning there, and the windows could give him all the sun he neded without the overheating.

He had walked around for a few minutes, not really sure what o do even. It was about mid-morning and the mall was slowly filling up. He thought he saw he a few people he recognized from the school, but just kept going on his way. He didn't want to bother anyone. Zaer noticed how people temded to travel in packs kind of, especially the girls. What was it with that? Did they feel the need to giggle all at once everytime someone funny passed. Zaer just shrugged internally.

Finally he decided to turn into a Starbucks that was there. The smells were really good, and he was pretty happy. His mom had sent him a bit of extra cash this week for allowance, and he was being careful. Even so, a little bit of coffee couldn't hurt, right? He ordered something plenty sweet and full of caffeine, then sat at one of the tables just out of reach of the sun. He couldn still feel it's warmth pouring through the glass window, and it made him just comfortable. From one of his pockets he pulled out a small book, deciding to read for a few and maybe move on. The sun glasses he had were pushed up on top of his head, and he took a drink of the coffee.

Which was terrible. How could you even call this coffee? It tasted like......like swampwater. He could make better cofee asleep. Instead of saying anything he sighed and went back to the book.

[Annabelle Coronova]

The only place around here, with an exception to the wholly-reliable-except-on-Sundays old art supply store down the road and not far from campus was the inconveniently distanced shopping mall filled with hundreds of materialistic females mostly, and some men as well. But that's where her paints were, in one of their 'craft' shops where they sold quite the variety of items, from cloth fabrics to cookbooks and sand art to what she actually needed, paints and painting supplies. Perhaps she'd get lucky and actually find some other fine art related things there too, like some new charcoals, thick erasers, perhaps even some thick and textured pad paper for her charcoal sketches or some watercolor paper. No doubt, it wouldn't be the most exceptional quality to build her portfolio on, but she was desperate. After all, you really can't make a painting with nothing to paint it on..

Reluctantly, she pulled her bike out of her room and down the hallway, hopping it down the stairs of Hammel's grand staircases, luckily there were only two of them that she had to worry about. With the last five pounces from the bikes two wheels, she mounted it and set off in the direction of the mall, her bag in the basket of the mint green street bike that she had since built up from when she had bought the dingy thing at a garage sale. It squeaked a little at the joints, but it was nothing a bit of WD40 couldn't fix. Now only about ten minutes and she'd be there. In and out as soon as possible that was the goal.

---

She had locked up her bike to one of the thin, cheesy columns that somehow found a way to support the mass building, though after brief speculation, she was nearly sure it was just a decoration, an unnecessary flourish to the already fat building. Adding columns didn't add class to the off-white block of a warehouse. Rolling her eyes and grabbing her bag, Bells walked into the mall through the double doors, determined to find exactly what she needed, and just in the nick of time as well. Thirty paces forward, one turn to the left, and then to the right, and right around the corner was the craft store. She grabbed a mini basket, and looked to the signs to direct her in the direction of the art supplies. In the very back of the store, a direct opposite position than the entrance, Bell found what she was looking for. Quickly, she scanned through everything from Crayola crayons to wax and color paints to the more advanced stuff. It was in the next aisle over, and after wowing the prices they stuck on the generic brands of watercolor paper, she decide to only grab one from here, as she'd get the rest later on a different day when the art shop was open, found some useful erasers, and skimmed the area for anything else that she'd possibly need for this day. She had muse, alright, and felt that it was a day wasted if left unused. She'd just have to sacrifice the few dollars that she did have to get her raw materials.

Within about five minutes, she filled the mini basket half way and headed towards the cashier, where she hastily made her purchase, stuffed all of her goods in her bag, and headed back towards the entrance of the mall from where she came from. This meant walking past the food court, filled with a blur of noise and faces and people offering free samples of chicken teriyaki. She would take a sample of those, getting the most she could from this trip, but nothing more, she promised herself. There was food at home, she could make it for cheaper than it cost here.

Well, so much for that. After the big bite of chicken, she became thirsty, and knowing that she'd be biking home, it would be difficult to either carry a drink with her as she went along the bumpy streets and sidewalks but it would also be annoying to have a dry mouth for that long. She succumbed to the society in which lived for instant gratification, and shuffled over to Starbucks, eyes to the floor. She hated places like this, chain coffee houses, if you could call them that. They looked more like an aesthetic venue than an actual coffeehouse, looking for a generic appeal that would attract thousands. What it did lack was quality, most of the time, creativity, and individual appearance. But it was only a tea. She would get her Tazo tea and leave.

Waiting for two people to order their mocha-choca-frappo-no-cream-soy concoctions, she ordered a small mint hot tea, the women behind the machine smiling, perhaps because she didn't call the drink size by the correct name, but really? Was that a tall drink? No. That was a short stubby and fairly expensive cup of hot water with a branded tea. Far too overpriced, but she was thirsty and shoveled the coins and crumpled dollars out of her back pocket, shoving them at the cashier. Telling her to keep the few cents of change, this time Anna was given what appeared to be a real smile, and waded over to the group of people that were waiting for their drinks. Hers came first, surprisingly enough, although it was't nearly as difficult to make. She grabbed a biodegradable sleeve from the counter of addable condiments, squeezed some honey into it, and made her way blindly towards a seat near the window. She always chose seats by the window. Putting her stuff down, she at in the chair, bobbing her leg up and down, as if impatient for the tea to cool. She didn't want to be here, after all. She'd rather go home and get started.

Looking around, Annabelle found mainly dismay in the people, other than the boy that her eyes finally reached, with a disgusted face that looked revolted at the cup of coffee in his hand. He was reading a book, and it seemed that he didn't want to say anything, so he just put it down and went back at his literature. She smiled and whispered, mainly to herself, "That's why you don't go to chain coffeehouses. They forget how to make coffee." Trying to show that she wasn't really talking to him, she went to peel the steamy lid off of her cup, letting full wallops of steam billow into the air, hoping it would cut both the steeping and cooling time in half. She went to her bag next, pulled out the plastic covered paper, and started to peel it off.

[Zaeric Blackwood]

Zaeric heard a voice near him and looked up to see a girl. Her hair was a light white platinum color and her skin a kind of pale porcelain, a really fair, pretty color. Her concentrated eyes were a kind of grey color. She was a rather short person, but a petite kind of girl who looked like she was definitely athletic. Something about her made him think she was someone creative, whether it was the way she carried herself in general or the way she moved. She just seemed……… artistic. This was proven moments later when she pulled out a pad of paper and started to unwrap it. She had a kind of radiance around her that Zaeric decided he immediately liked. He put a book mark in the poetry book and picked up the horrid coffee, deciding maybe he should socialize. Besides, it couldn’t hurt too much right? Anyone who would walk the mall and not be in a gaggling giggling group was definitely someone worth talking to.

Zaer took his things and moved over to the table she was at. He had a feeling that she really hadn’t meant for him to hear her comment, but hey, he was just a little bored. He had figured that there wasn’t as much to do here as he had thought. Seeing as he usually was only here for very short amounts of time he had never experienced this sheer amount of boredom. Really, it was amazing how boring things could get around here. Well, maybe talking to this nice lady will brighten up my day. Maybe it will make up for the horrible coffee they serve here. I swear, I will never buy coffee here again. Steam was billowing from her drink, and he flashed a genuine grin when he walked up.

“ I’ll remember that if I ever come here again.” He replied jovially. He took a slow breath, unsure why he was nervous. Usually he wasn’t nervous around people at all. Then again, maybe it was because she seemed like the kind of person who didn’t expect him to be ‘one of the cool kids’.
“ Would it be okay if I joined you?” He asked in a lever tone, masking the nerves.