@beadcnovan reacted on discord for a starter!
The Jukebox Cafe was decidedly uncrowded that particular morning, but Mason wasnβt surprised seeing as most people were likely already at work for the day and it was still too early for them to be on their lunch break. Heβd been practically forced from his apartment earlier that morning with a demand that he stop cooping himself up inside his room, so Mason had taken up refuge in the cafe instead. While he appreciated the sentiment and worry being expressed towards him, he did have work to finish by the end of the week and so heβd also brought his laptop with him. Currently, he was holed up in one of the booths in the back corner of the cafe, out of the way of any other patrons.Β
Heβd ordered a coffee β double shot of espresso, heβd been fighting off sleep deprivation for two days already β when he first arrived to keep the staff at bay while he worked. Now, it sat cooling by his elbow barely touched. Heβd been so absorbed in his work that the drink was left completely forgotten once heβd gotten started.Β
He distantly registered the sound of the cafe door opening, but paid it no attention. He only paused a few minutes later, when he heard a familiar-sounding laugh. Fingers frozen over his keyboard he looked up, glancing around the cafe for the source. It was probably nothing, he was only close with a few people in LA, honestly, but he couldnβt help but feel like he knew thisΒ person, this laugh. His eyes caught on a girl standing at the counter, talking to a barista. He blinked several times, as if that would dispel the image. Before his mind could even catch up to what was happening, his mouth was moving, βBea?β It was said quietly, barely mutter, filled with disbelief.Β
it was unusual for bea to be awake before noon, even more so to see her out of the house ( since days at crashing corners hq seemed to begin after 2pm ), unless, of course, she never went home in the first place. the evidence was there β the smudged eyeliner, bedhead, wrinkly t-shirt that clearly didnβt belong to her, but had instead been picked up from last nightβs companionβs bedroom floor ( it was a few sizes too big, with the words β certified boob inspector β written across her chest, and stuffed into a skirt that was too tight, short, and shimmery for the daytime ). bea had just rolled out of some strangerβs bed, and stumbled into the jukebox in her four-inch heels, which had already lost their nighttime luster.
she leaned on her counter, charming her way to a free cup of coffee with a coquettish smile and a generous laugh when the barista offered some sorry attempt at a joke she pretended she hadnβt heard at least a hundred times. her head rolled back, eyes fluttered closed, her hand placed lightly on her chest as an airy chuckle left her lips. she made it into an art. the way she looked at him when her eyes reopened, eyelids heavy as she let out the smallest sigh to punctuate her laugh. it was this or going home, and she still hadnβt learned to work the coffee pot on her own.
while she waited, she caught on to the sound of someone saying her name. although it was soft, only slightly above a whisper, she heard it. the sound came from behind her, so she couldnβt see its source, but she knew that voice. the last time she heard it, it was just like this. she couldnβt see his face either, but she could hear the shock and heartbreak in it. she spun around, and sure enough, there he was. β mason, β she breathed out. the irony of their reunion didnβt escape her. β hi. β