โย ๐'๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐รฉ ;
rockcitychicโ
โI knew better than to believe the forecasts,โ Rustboroโs most prominent citizen scoffs under her haggard breaths, ducking between the awnings along the main streets of Aquacorde. The chances of precipitation had looked so slim, according to Hoennโs leading forecaster, that the brunette took quite a few liberties when packing her luggage for her Kalosian retreat.ย
However, what with the current onslaught of rain from the heavens above, Roxanne ponders that the man may have chosen the wrong professionโฆ
โWhen will I learnโฆโ she berates herself, rhetorically.ย
It it isnโt that she dislikes the rain, per se - itโs cleansing elements tend to relax her generally-uptight exterior, softening her shell with something as simple as the white noise accompanying a consistent downpour. But, any sort of field work will have to be postponedโฆย indefinitely.
Coming upon a quaint coffee shop, the young woman notices the aroma of a lit cigarette. Finally, at long last. The presence of a fellow human. She nods slightly in the direction of the person of interest, peering curiously into the cafรฉ that looms beyond him. A soft, goading glow emanating from beyond the fogged glass. Preparing to continue her aimless waltz around the otherwise deserted streets, she stops mid-step upon his rousing greeting.
โbonjour. venir pour un cafรฉ ?โ
Roxanne blinks, perplexedly, giving off the impression of a Deerling caught in headlights. Her analytical mind flurries between a multitude of topics, on a minute-by-minute basis at that - but linguistics are up alley on a distant street separate from the hub of her strengths. Why did I not brush up on the native tongue before making this trip, sheย begrudgingly laments.
โJeโฆ je ne c-comprendsโฆ pasโฆ?โ A flush of red uncertainty stains her cheeks; fundamental to her rigid personality, that appearing inept at anything -ย even slightly -ย sends the girl down a spiral of humiliation. The hardenedย geoarchaeologist was, uncharacteristically, at a literal loss for words.
โ -ย ย ย ย ย a soft blush glows underneath the young womanโs cheeks; the warm pink, he finds, is striking against the endless, encompassing cool blue and grey.ย โ je ne c-comprends pasย ? โ he peaks an eyebrow at her uncertainty, the stutter in her claim. a foreigner? calem doubts sheโd recognize him, and he sighs as a thank you. a polite chuckle brews in his throat. he flicks his dead cigarette onto the wet pavement.ย โ would you like to come in? for coffee ? โ calem says, his voice nearly drowned out by the tapping rain. he doesnโt wait for he reply before he pushes the glass door open; the bell above it chimes ย โ come on. itโs on the house . โ
