Jennifer doesn’t MIND at all, but she FEELS as if this young woman DOES, and in a way, that’s concerning. Her own younger years had their FAULTS, but they weren’t terrible, and at the very least, her mother had ALWAYS been there for her. Of course, they hadn’t been very close, and they still aren’t- in fact, now it’s probably LESS so- but still, she’d always known that it was ALRIGHT to ask for help. She’d always KNOWN it was alright to find someone to vent to, and her mother had always been willing.
SEVERAL of her friends now had not HAD such a luxury. Herb is one. Bailey is as another. To some extent, so is Mr. Carlson. Jennifer is always trying to BE there for her friends, always trying to SHOW them by example. In some ways, it has worked- all of them ALWAYS hurry to be there for her (well, for the most part), but she can’t seem to get them to UNDERSTAND that it goes both ways. It always seems that it takes a bit of PROMPTING from her- sometimes more severe than other times- to get them to do it in the REVERSE.
And, perhaps to her own EVENTUAL detriment, though none that she sees on her CURRENT horizons, she’s always willing to take on another. She’d like to help ALL of them- she’s going to. It’s just going to take some time, is all. And that’s alright too, because she’s willing to WAIT just as long as it takes. For ALL of them.
❝Good! That sounds PERFECT. I think I
might KNOW the one you mean. It’s a
LOVELY place, really.❞
She SMILES, accepting the proffered hand WARMLY.
❝JENNIFER MARLOWE. It’s wonderful to meet you.❞
She doesn’t PILE on any sort of unnecessary enthusiasm, but it’s still CLEAR that she means it, as she turns to FOLLOW the girl in the direction of the coffee shop.
Jean leads the way inside and finds them a table near the window, where the sunlight filters inside and adds a soft golden glow to the atmosphere. The sun makes Jean feel more comfortable. Warmth, heat, those are things that she understands. Her core is made of fire, and the sun is made of the same stuff. Some people are made of stars, but Jean had always sort of been one in many regards.
Funny it was, how difficult the stars could be to reach for.
When a waitress comes over, Jean decides to forego the coffee, and orders a chai. She had been raised by the son of English immigrants, and tea is like breathing for them. It was a habit Jean, in turn, had inherited. It is one of the many things she likes to hope that she's gotten from her foster father. And one of the few things that he had gotten from his own parents.
“Really, I shouldn’t be upset about it,” she says once they’re settled properly. "My parents gave me up a long time ago. I haven’t seen them since, and I don’t really want to. But there’s something about blood, I guess. It makes you always wish it would work out for the best, even if there isn’t really a best left to go back to.”
Jean looks up at Jennifer, lips folded in for a moment before she speaks. “Have you ever been happy, happier than you ever were before -- but there’s a part of you that’s still sad? A part that might never be anything but sad?”
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