Post by Richard Stock on Mar 4, 2016 1:57:06 GMT -8
"What would you like, then?" Richard then asked, silently pleased.
Four kinds of cold cut meats (chicken, beef, turkey, ham), a thicker form of bread (he'd made a stop at one of the nearby Japanese marts), the tomato sliced on site, four kinda of cheeses (this time Gouda, Swiss, cheddar, and blue). Lettuce leaves for crispness, salt and pepper just in case, the reusable dispensers with liquid condiments (mustard, ketchup, mayonnaise), butter for the bread if so desired---Richard assembled it all, adding extras, checking if she wanted extra sliced, none of something, a specialty cut.
He'd follow her dictation after his prompting, the air about him changing as they did. At the end of it, she thanked him.
The Englishman still wished he could had an accessible stove on site.
"You're very welcome," he'd reply in deadpan. He himself then joined in on it, making a sandwich for himself and drinking tea. It wasn't quite lunch, but the reprieve was welcome and this Youthberry was rather rejuvenating for the young British kid. 'Damn its price to hell, though.'
They finished up their food and Richard would practice receiving the cup from SJ, even if it was on the table next to her. A lot of what he felt with her was... learning not to rush or take shortcuts. It really put into perspective how much he acted in his own interest for speed. It was actually a little unsettling to try to be so relaxed... or as relaxed as his assignment with her allowed her to be.
"So, what's up with this school?"
"Well, delinquency.
"School for juvenlie hall kids,
"Constant violence---"
---The loud voices of three boys broke the silence of the empty cafeteria. All around the same height with a good half-foot on Richard, they swaggered in, two of them looking pretty beat-up. They were probably ditching class.
His voice was a bit higher-pitched and shrill, as though he practiced screaming in an emo-band. No ones eyes really seemed to look into his.
"I dunno, hombre. No comprendo a lot of this shit that's going on, so I usually stick with my 'cuz. We go out to parties with the family, we check out the chiquitas... and if someone tries to fuck with us, the whole family's there, so, y'know---I wouldn't have even bothered with the punkass.
"Sorry about your shit, though, there was like... quatro... no, five of them."
For the pale-skinned Latino, "Pablo," he had a few cuts around on his arms and face. He kept making slurping noises, his voice rhythmic with a quick staccato. He sounded almost fluent in English, still reverting back to a few Spanish words. He just kept sucking the blood back in, like it would go straight back into his veins.
...His voice almost sounded familiar to Richard...
"Yeahyeahyeahyeah. Had to save both of your sorry asses. You guys owe me big time---not. HAHAHAHAHAHA. That's why you should always be carrying, though, bitch," the last one would shove the first with the butt of his metal pipe, "'Cause now, Pablo's all beat to shit and bloody. Y'know how hard it is getting close to his family just to fuckin' visit, you prick? Be grateful!---not, I would've done it anyways."
The last boy had the deepest voice, muffled slightly by the air filter mask he was wearing. He came in with a metal pipe that he liked to rattle and hit every other table with that they all walked by. His personality was a lot more cocky and vulgar than the other two and seemed to be the lead of their little group.
"Anyways, I need you two to ma---hey, the FUCK, Pablo, I thought you said the cafeteria was empty!"
"...SJ, we should go," the Englishman quickly said standing up and picking up his satchel. He chicken-winged his right arm like he did last time for her to grab onto, and she seemed to have a pretty good idea of where he was typically...
"Yeah, yeah, I'll take care of it. Pandejo."
Hurried steps rushed into a dash their way as the Latino charged down the aisle of tables.
OOC: All of the NPC Teenage Thugs' Stats are set to 10.
Four kinds of cold cut meats (chicken, beef, turkey, ham), a thicker form of bread (he'd made a stop at one of the nearby Japanese marts), the tomato sliced on site, four kinda of cheeses (this time Gouda, Swiss, cheddar, and blue). Lettuce leaves for crispness, salt and pepper just in case, the reusable dispensers with liquid condiments (mustard, ketchup, mayonnaise), butter for the bread if so desired---Richard assembled it all, adding extras, checking if she wanted extra sliced, none of something, a specialty cut.
He'd follow her dictation after his prompting, the air about him changing as they did. At the end of it, she thanked him.
The Englishman still wished he could had an accessible stove on site.
"You're very welcome," he'd reply in deadpan. He himself then joined in on it, making a sandwich for himself and drinking tea. It wasn't quite lunch, but the reprieve was welcome and this Youthberry was rather rejuvenating for the young British kid. 'Damn its price to hell, though.'
They finished up their food and Richard would practice receiving the cup from SJ, even if it was on the table next to her. A lot of what he felt with her was... learning not to rush or take shortcuts. It really put into perspective how much he acted in his own interest for speed. It was actually a little unsettling to try to be so relaxed... or as relaxed as his assignment with her allowed her to be.
"So, what's up with this school?"
"Well, delinquency.
"School for juvenlie hall kids,
"Constant violence---"
---The loud voices of three boys broke the silence of the empty cafeteria. All around the same height with a good half-foot on Richard, they swaggered in, two of them looking pretty beat-up. They were probably ditching class.
"---And so I said to him to give me his money---he lost Chuck's bag which had a lot of pricey shit in it and I kept Chuck off his fuckin' back. What's the big deal wanting a reward, amiright?"
His voice was a bit higher-pitched and shrill, as though he practiced screaming in an emo-band. No ones eyes really seemed to look into his.
"I dunno, hombre. No comprendo a lot of this shit that's going on, so I usually stick with my 'cuz. We go out to parties with the family, we check out the chiquitas... and if someone tries to fuck with us, the whole family's there, so, y'know---I wouldn't have even bothered with the punkass.
"Sorry about your shit, though, there was like... quatro... no, five of them."
For the pale-skinned Latino, "Pablo," he had a few cuts around on his arms and face. He kept making slurping noises, his voice rhythmic with a quick staccato. He sounded almost fluent in English, still reverting back to a few Spanish words. He just kept sucking the blood back in, like it would go straight back into his veins.
...His voice almost sounded familiar to Richard...
"Yeahyeahyeahyeah. Had to save both of your sorry asses. You guys owe me big time---not. HAHAHAHAHAHA. That's why you should always be carrying, though, bitch," the last one would shove the first with the butt of his metal pipe, "'Cause now, Pablo's all beat to shit and bloody. Y'know how hard it is getting close to his family just to fuckin' visit, you prick? Be grateful!---not, I would've done it anyways."
The last boy had the deepest voice, muffled slightly by the air filter mask he was wearing. He came in with a metal pipe that he liked to rattle and hit every other table with that they all walked by. His personality was a lot more cocky and vulgar than the other two and seemed to be the lead of their little group.
"Anyways, I need you two to ma---hey, the FUCK, Pablo, I thought you said the cafeteria was empty!"
"...SJ, we should go," the Englishman quickly said standing up and picking up his satchel. He chicken-winged his right arm like he did last time for her to grab onto, and she seemed to have a pretty good idea of where he was typically...
"Yeah, yeah, I'll take care of it. Pandejo."
Hurried steps rushed into a dash their way as the Latino charged down the aisle of tables.
OOC: All of the NPC Teenage Thugs' Stats are set to 10.