It was rather scandalous, the things women discussed when they got together. Hinata had no idea that this type of conversation happened outside of the house. It was also scary to know how detailed and personal some were, and while in such a public setting too!
The desire to turn the cafe music up was strong, but there was a rule against it due to complains in the past. The heiress sighs while reaching for her cup of coffee. A long slow sip just as her attention turns towards the ringing bell above the door. Swallowing thick at the view of a very familiar man.
‘Ka..kashi..??’ she inwardly notes.
He looked so different.. but the same somehow.
Pushing off her stool and towards the front counter, never taking her eyes off him. Even when he became the topic between the group of nosy females.
A smile tugs at her lips, “I hope you’ve arrived well, Kakashi Sensei.” Lids drop as the Hyuuga bows her head.
ARMAND GAUTIER WAS suffering from airsickness. He had a deep - seated fear of flying that stemmed from an excessive love of himself and his life and that, combined with the turbulence usually found off the coast of Greece in summer, had made him violently nauseous.
He was a tall, ascetically thin man with scholarly features, a high forehead and a perpetually sardonic mo--
He had read something like this once before, he could feel it tugging at the seams of his subconscious with every passing word.
Sydney Shelmon was it? Kami, nothing could fill the void left behind by Jiraiya sama’s genius. Flipping the book shut, he pushed open the door with a clothed shoulder and stepped inside, breathing in the wonderful aroma of caffeine among other baked goods.
The once-Jonin had gotten used to this realm somewhat, odd enough as it was. A part of him would still crave the occasional nuance of a familiar face or two - not that he hadn’t seen a few per se, such as the annoyingly recognizable pseudo-Uchiha he had almost encountered at the University the other day.
Almost. Letting the book cling to pallid digits by his side, Kakashi paused in front of the front counter, mismatched hues taken slightly aback at the greeting before promptly widening a fraction.
--Dark hair, the unmistakably demure aura of the only Hyuga he knew capable of it, along with the honorific--
It couldn’t be. Placing the book on one of the barstools lined in front of the counter, the elder speculatively tapped his clothed chin, “Maa, correct me if I’m wrong, but we know each other from before, don’t we?”
vaporwave
2087
theartofmadeline
