This a post where I'll RP anything with you! Got a scenario in mind? I'LL DO IT. If you wanna chat IDEAS.GIF, contact me at sweethymns or my AIM (rainsweets). I also have LINE as maiscribbles. Have at it!
[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.
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.
[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, 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.
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.]
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.]
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.]
[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.]
[Outside on one of the lampposts across from the cafe, there's a crow that has landed on top of one. Oh, two, three, five... Amelia's trying not to give them attention, so she just replies to Booker.]
I feel like at some point, everyone I've met has called me that though. It becomes rather trite.
[Booker's definitely not looking at any outside lampposts, so this new development completely escapes his notice for now. He's content with drinking his coffee.]
If you don't want me to call you that, then just say so. [He'll quit. He's not that big of a jerk.]
[Wow, make her seem like the immature one, she's 66 almost 67 years old here. That sates her though and she takes another sip of her drink before continuing on.]
Well... You can do that much since I let you have the spare bedroom.
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Is that what you were doing in the kitchen? Work? Looked like a stack of papers a mile high. [Teaching-related, he assumes.]
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[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.
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[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?
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[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????]
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[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.]
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Have you been to California before? And by before, I mean... You know.
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[Well. Before Columbia. Before all of this.]
...Before here.
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[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.
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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?
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[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.
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[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.]
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Here you go. Yours is hot, so be careful.
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[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.]
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[SHE SEES THAT LOOK BOOKER]
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Got enough coffee in your sugar, there?
[Honestly, that should not even be called coffee.]
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[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]
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I never heard of no one drinking a nice cup of cold coffee in the morning, Red. Have you?
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Oh, as if I haven't heard that before.
[That being, "Red," of course.]
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What, you don't like it?
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[she's gonna drink her frapp like all the cool hip kids do]
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I feel like at some point, everyone I've met has called me that though. It becomes rather trite.
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If you don't want me to call you that, then just say so. [He'll quit. He's not that big of a jerk.]
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Well... You can do that much since I let you have the spare bedroom.
[so there she wins]
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He makes a "tch" noise, but it's an amused one.] Guess you got me there.
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