sweethymns | OPEN RP POST QUATRE

[The clothes are definitely modern, and therefore it's hard not to think that they're odd, but once he puts them on and glances at the mirror, he finds that they're... strangely suited to him. He straightens the collar of his jacket, one hand plunging experimentally into a sleeve.]

...weird.

[When he's done, he approaches her at the front door, looking vaguely uncertain.]

So where we going?

Cafe.

[She pockets her phone and opens up the door. Outside, it's still a little grey, but slowly warming up. Amelia's house is isolated from the other neighborhoods, but the walk to town isn't too bad. Her house is surrounded by a flower garden and it's easy to see that it's well taken care of, especially the roses.]

The place I go to makes coffee better than I can.

[Amelia looks at Booker dressed up and smiles slightly.]

Good. Looking good, I mean.

[He has to admit that coffee sounds good right about now. He takes a glance outside, not sure what to expect. There's a flower garden -- hers, he assumes -- and it lends to the sight not being as jarring as he thought it might be. All-in-all, it's actually peacefully looking.]

Coffee's a little stronger than tea. We're getting there. [A half-hearted attempt at a joke, and he blinks when she compliments him. He doesn't know how to take it (he feels weird dressed this way), but he'll take her word for it.]

Thanks. Same could be said for yourself. [Dressed up for... a day on the town, he supposes?]

Ah. Thanks.

[If she's trying to hide that she's pleased by his compliment, she's not doing a good job. But it makes her seem nicer, like a little more human with that reaction.]

Here, this way.

[And out they go, down the path. There's a few street signs and cars parked on the side. She talks while they walk.]

This town is called Blackgale. It's been my home for a while now. It's not as big as come other cities in this century, but it's a good place.

[Amelia might be an unusual woman, but Booker amusedly thinks to himself that she reacts to compliments much like a normal one.

He shoves his hands in his jean pockets as he follows, maybe only a step behind and to the side of her. The fresh air feels nice in his lungs, and he makes a note to take deep breaths, a calming habit of his.

He listens, and can't help but eye the decidedly modern-looking cars as they pass.]

Blackgale, huh? It looks nice and peaceful. [But Booker knows looks can be deceiving -- Columbia was a prime example of that. Of course, he doesn't expect Blackgale to be the same way. (At least he certainly hopes not.)] How long have you lived here?

It's been over ten years now. I work at the local high school as a teacher.

[As if on cue, a passerby waves at Amelia with a greeting, Hi, Miss Steinbeck. She jumps as if not quite used to it, but she manages a friendly wave back before continuing on.]

So people know me.

[Booker looks at the passerby with the vague curiosity of someone who obviously isn't from around here. He takes a mental note of Amelia's last name, if out of nothing more than habit.]

Is that what you were doing in the kitchen? Work? Looked like a stack of papers a mile high. [Teaching-related, he assumes.]

Mm hm. I teach literature. Or basically, I talk about books if we want to be simplistic about it.

[BUT SHE LOVES BOOKS OK]

But since it's 2014, that means there's a lot of books from the past that are worth talking about and making a study out of. I'm quite a big reader myself.

And likely a lot I've missed since 1912.

[Not that Booker was ever as big of a reader as Amelia, but he is passingly curious about what's transpired between then and now, in this world.]

The kids like you?

Somehow, I manage. I'm liked enough. Every teacher has a rough start and I definitely had it rougher than most.

[Because she's so weird, her adjustment to being around people showed back then and it still does. Before it was definitely a detriment and she couldn't call herself someone who had instructional control. But years passed, her determination never wavered, and one way or another, while Amelia Steinbeck wasn't the favorite teacher per say, the kids would say there's something comforting about her presence, as if the town wouldn't be the same without her.]

I'm tough though.

[Now they're crossing the street and after one more street to cross, they'll be in the downtown area where all the shops are. There's some people outside, walking their dogs, or going to jog early in the morning. Honestly, it's a pretty nice town? And normal?? Mostly????]

I'd like to think that teachers have got a rough job to begin with, so toughness is a prerequisite. I don't got the patience for other people's kids.

[He knows himself well enough to admit to that much at least.

As they get closer to downtown, the feeling of being out of place begins to creep onto Booker again. It's a nice place to be sure, but the architecture is weird, the signage is foreign, and the technology is sometimes overwhelming. He tries not to let it show too much.]

[Amelia glances over at Booker every now and then, to see if this 1912 man is doing okay. He's steady on his feet and seems to be taking in the sights just fine. The streets of Blackgale are probably eerily modern to someone like Booker, but the streets are decorated with pots of flowers, and even more roses. It grounds this time a lot more with its color and life.]

Have you been to California before? And by before, I mean... You know.

Edited 2016-09-17 04:54 (UTC)

[He shakes his head.] No. I ain't ever been that far west in the States before. [He watches as another car drives past, a little weirded out by its sleek design.] Not 'til... now. I lived in New York for a time, before-

[Well. Before Columbia. Before all of this.]

...Before here.

Ah, an East Coaster.

[She says this wryly, almost playfully.]

Well, thankfully for you, as a teacher in this state, I am well versed in the history. You can ask me anything about it too.

[why do you sound so proud... There's some chattering on the opposite street, some families, a Hispanic one, a Korean couple with their baby in a stroller, an everyday scene.]

I will say, that our weather in the winter is the best.

Edited 2016-09-17 05:06 (UTC)

I guess you could say that. [His own grin is lopsided, as anyone could tell if they listened hard enough to his speech Booker grew up in a more southeastern area of the country. But he had come to think of New York as his home, despite spending some of the rougher years of his life there.]

I'll be sure to ask if I want a history lesson, Miss Amelia. [This time, her name is stressed in such a way a student would speak to a teacher, a small tease.]

Why's winter the best? You like the cold?

Edited 2016-09-17 05:10 (UTC)

Well, it's chillier, but it doesn't snow here. The weather on this side is different, so some years, we'd get a lovely day of sunshine even during Christmas.

[They're at their destination, a cafe called The Dark Beanstalk. It's quaint inside and the smell of coffee is strong and the seats and atmosphere is inviting.]

Take a seat. I'll get us some coffee.

That's the opposite of what I'm used to. Christmas in New York is just a blanket of white, and you're lucky if you don't gotta shovel half of it out of your way.

[Booker eyes the name of the cafe with interest, not sure what to think of it. The interior is definitely a coffee house atmosphere -- something else that the man isn't used to. It's a bit beyond his time.

He nods at her and while Amelia goes to fetch some coffee, Booker decides to slide into a nearby booth. He figures it'd afford a bit more privacy, depending on what she wanted to talk about. He raps his fingers on the surface of the table as he waits.]

[The service is quick, mindbogglingly so. She comes back with a tall mug of black coffee for Booker and for herself... Well, she basically has a frappuccino, ice cold, and topped with whipped cream and the works.]

Here you go. Yours is hot, so be careful.

Edited 2016-09-17 05:24 (UTC)

Thanks.

[He takes the offered cup, inhaling the scent of coffee. Plain black is his preferred kind, and he can't help but raise a brow at Amelia's cup of... fluff.]

I like sweet things.

[SHE SEES THAT LOOK BOOKER]

[Not even bothering to hide that look, nope.]

Got enough coffee in your sugar, there?

[Honestly, that should not even be called coffee.]

It's mint flavored.

[THAT'S NOT THE QUESTION HERE?? She's stirring it up indignantly.]

And besides, warm drinks are for evenings and cold drinks are better for the daytime to keep someone awake!

[what is this child logic]

[He looks at her with a whiff of disbelief.]

I never heard of no one drinking a nice cup of cold coffee in the morning, Red. Have you?

[DRINKING HERE, except using a straw in this case and stubbornly looking to the side before muttering.]

Oh, as if I haven't heard that before.

[That being, "Red," of course.]

[Taking a sip of his own coffee, you know, the kind normal people drink.]

What, you don't like it?

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