W.E.: Test Drive Prompts

[bjornwilde]

 So I got to sleep in but the Weekend Edition still needs to happen!

Since it is app time, how about folks tag in for prompts and fill them with any pup they are thinking of app'ing or wish they could app. If that is too structured, just tag in with the pup and see if anyone wants to try out a thread.

ETA: Tag in with your approved pups for prompts as well or tag new pups. Far be it from me to exclude folks. =]

Comments

[27yrsandwelldoitallagain]

Audrey is smiling in spite of herself.

In spite of the solid wall of Nathan Wournos. Whether that's his shoulders walking in front of her, or the way he can stare at something on his desk and never give her more than 2-3 words answers without looking up. In spite of the whole bit of his tone, she's questioning whether she's actually hearing or not, just imagining.

She turns back to the bar, considering nudging him with an elbow. But she settles easily, for forgetting that thought entirely. Raising her drink, and saying, amused, angelic, maybe even a little complainingly teasing, before she takes another drink. "We really need to work on your recreational skills."

[dont_feel_it]

He waits until his coffee appears, along with a tiny crockery creamer and a bowl of sugar cubes, before he responds.

"I've got hobbies." Informed, while he pulls the mug towards himself, considers the steam rising from it thoughtfully, and decides on the addition of a dollop of milk, stirring it in with more concentration than is really required for fixing a mug of coffee.

He hates burning his tongue. It makes everything taste strange for hours.

It gets blown on, anyway, when he lifts it for a sip, raising mild eyebrows at her over the porcelain.

[27yrsandwelldoitallagain]

He's so careful about it. Precise. Intense. Nothing looks like it's chance consideration. That half warily uncertain, half have endured this ritual a thousand mornings over look, that is being given with the intensity that belongs to paintings and crime scenes at such a small thing as his coffee cup. Before he's lifting it with something that looks like barely there resignation to whatever it will be.

Tying into knots that bundle of nerves in her stomach that wants to make this careful, studied, barely revealing look on his face away. The feeling that doesn't leave her, especially when he's raising his eyes over the cup at her, like it all never happened. Mild and clear, still as part of a drab, dry comment about hobbies having anything to do with relaxing off the clock.

Martini's don't really go well with coffee, but that's the last thing Audrey's thinking when she lets go of her martini glass stem and holds out her hand for his coffee cup, right? Even when she smiles, wanly, replying. "Well, there isn't a golf course or an art studio here, so you'll have to try something new at some point."

[dont_feel_it]

He's used to it.

There are a thousand tiny ways a person can accidentally hurt themselves throughout the day, if they can't feel their body interacting with anything. They can burn their tongue on too-hot coffee, cut themselves slicing tomato, catch a finger in a door, step on a nail.

And never know a thing until someone pointed it out, or until they saw blood.

It's annoying, but he's learned how to live with it, mostly; is cautious about things most people take for granted, relies on four other senses to get him through the day without needing to be hospitalized, or scolded by Eleanor, so it's with a certain degree of resignation that he lifts the coffee to his lips, knowing that even if it is too hot, it'll probably be fine -- until Audrey holds out her hand, unquestioning, like he'll just hand it over.

After a second's pause, he hands it over, watching her instead of the rising steam.

"You think this place doesn't have a golf course?"

Surely the beach, the stables, the baseball field and the shooting range don't need to be listed off as other things he wouldn't have expected a bar to have.

[27yrsandwelldoitallagain]

The cup is hot. Not burning, but warm enough she thinks about it, which makes her look at his hands as he's letting go of the cup. Just for a second, before she's lifting it. Thinking about how Nathan makes her think about a lot of things she didn't. Things she takes for granted that he wouldn't.

"Haven't seen one yet." Goes with lifting the cup and taking a sip. And coffee really does not go with a dirty martini. But she's still got taste buds, even if they are confused tastebuds.

"It's good," gets interjected when she's holding it back out to him. Even when she continues on, like it wasn't anything.

"I did see a baseball field last time I was here. Maybe they have some sort of team you could join? From all across the universe." Yeah, that part still sounds a little ludicrous to her. Even sitting here.

[dont_feel_it]

"Thanks."

Accepting the mug back, and taking a sip without pausing, acknowledging the thing she didn't. It's a strange feeling, being sure, instead of not knowing whether he needs to wait for the drink to cool off or if it's gone ice-cold from being overly patient.

He kind of likes it.

Shoots another sidelong look at her, before turning to check out the door that leads to the lake, the field, the woods.

"Baseball's a start."

[27yrsandwelldoitallagain]

Audrey leveled him a look that was one part amusement and one part affectionate consternation.

"Nathan Wournous plays baseball?" She picked up her drink, asking over it. Teasing, without ever getting into the thanks or anything. It's not important. She's glad to help. They're partners right. And it's so much interesting to be getting something new and unexpected out of him.

Choosing something equally as outlandish, to keep pushing. "What's next? Don't tell me. You secretly play the violin, too."

[dont_feel_it]

He meets her amusement with a steady gaze, unfazed by the teasing, though his mouth moves a little. He hides it with another sip of coffee, holding the liquid in his mouth an extra second too long, wondering what it must feel like, imagining the warmth, the slosh of water, the sensation to go with the taste and the weight of it against his tongue.

He gets nothing, though, so just swallows, and considers his response.

"You don't grow up in a town as small as Haven and not play baseball for at least a little while," he points out, setting the mug back down on the bartop with a faint clunk.


The part about playing violins just gets an enigmatic half-smile, a maybe lift of his eyebrows. A second's glance down at the surface of his coffee gives him a moment's thought before he looks back up at her with: "You telling me you play something, Parker? Musical interests part of your big-city skill set?"