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@sawyerfallan
F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender is the Night
Susane Colasanti, When It Happens
Charlotte hadn’t been expecting such a blunt response and it caught her off guard a bit. She had almost certainly looked like a spazz, but it took a special kind of person to blatantly state that out loud. She felt even more ridiculous and, based on the heat that had suddenly hit her cheeks, she could guess she was probably blushing now in embarrassment. Fantastic. Sarcasm often evaded Charlotte, but she had a feeling that the girl’s next offer was not a genuine one. “N-no I’m… thank you again.” She was having primary school flashbacks, stuttering around girls who intimated her.
It wasn't hard to tell she'd embarrassed the other girl. Or at least made her feel awkward. Which hadn't been her intention at all. Although concern about how the other blonde felt about her wasn't anywhere near her list of things to worry about today, she couldn't help but feel a small tug at her heartstrings as the girl stammered. The tug, of course, came after the small feeling of pride she always got after feeling particularly in control of a situation. Wether the stuttering was due to what Sawyer had said or who she was wasn't certain, Sawyer Fallan always like to consider herself a big deal - often to a fault, but she would never admit that to anyone. Taking out a pen from her purse she said: "I could sign something for you, if you'd like but make it snappy. I'm looking for a book and I've spent enough time in this bookstore lost for my liking."
"I wish, I had a few people in my mind that didn’t let me sleep really." he rubbed his eyes a little bit more, too sleepy to realize he wasn’t making any sense to her as she was clueless about his disorder. The very few that knew about those ghost personages that appeared to him were his parents, Mr. Ettiore, his co-worker Paul, his friend Maddie and his girlfriend Michi –it was hard to keep the voices a secret when in a relationship–.
"But there could be other reasons worth staying awake, a good book for example, sometimes you never notice the time flying away and when you least expect it it’s already morning"
A few people in my mind that didn't let me sleep really. That could mean a number of things, but Sawyer wasn't up to the task of figuring it out. Instead she let herself believe it was all about simply thinking about people, going over past conversations and trying to figure out how to be more witty, ect. Anything about a disorder didn't cross her mind. After all, everyone must be perfect people. Mustn't they? As the topic turned to books her interest dropped. Thinking about acts and people, now that was information worth prying out of someone. A good book? Now that was a story to put one to sleep. The last book she had ever read must have been years ago. Unless scripts or magazines count, Sawyer wasn't much of a reader. She preferred more visually stimulating entertainment.
"I suppose I should have assumed you were one of those people. You do seem to work here after all. I don't think I've ever found something that doesn't involve human interaction that makes me loose track of time and stay up all night without realizing it."
She had seen the taller blonde approaching in her peripheral vision, but had assumed she would simply walk past. Suddenly Charlotte was being nudged to the side and the contact jarred her, surprise-induced fear coursing through her. Even though it quickly became obvious that this woman was just trying to help Charlotte still took a step back, putting some more distance between them. Her heart was still hammering in her chest, but relief was quickly washing over her now that she knew the girl meant her no harm.
Charlotte waited while the girl inspected the book, feeling suddenly self-conscious of her decision. The Elegance of the Hedgehog was a critically praised novel and nothing about it should inspire embarrassment, but she couldn’t help but wonder if this girl was judging her choice. When the other woman handed the book over Charlotte smiled tentatively. “Thank you. I probably looked like a prize idiot trying to retrieve this.”
"Yeah. You did. Why asking for help or looking for a stool didn't occur to you I don't understand, but hey - it's your choices." Sawyer had never heard of the book the girl picked, but she didn't really care about what the other girl wanted to read. That was between her and her bedside table. This week wasn't turning into a good week. It was one of her bad weeks, one of the ones where anything could trigger her and she didn't want to do anything for anyone. And yet, when the other girl needed help, Sawyer felt like she didn't have a choice expect to help her. "Anything else on the top shelf that you need? Or can I go and be assured you won't spend the next hour or so jumping or stacking books so you can create a ladder?"
"Forgive my appearance, I haven’t had a blink in two nights. But you didn’t need that information, yeah, I’m sorry. Uh… Oh yes, welcome to Un Punto in Time, I mean, in Tempo. How can I help you?"
He said while struggling a yawn, it was hard but he managed to keep it in looking up at the new customer.
"Something fun at least keeping you up?" Sawyer asked him, taking in his scruffy appearance. Talking to whomever this boy might be would certainly be more interesting than actually searching for a book in this bookstore. She wasn't even sure what she was looking for in the store if she was being honest. "That should be the only excuse for a missed night of sleep."
She stared down the book above her for a moment, calculating the best plan of attack. It shouldn’t have been surprising that the one thing she had entered the bookstore to buy was currently sitting on the highest shelf in the row; that was just the way her luck seemed to work. Charlotte glanced around for a stool but saw none and, not wanting to bother anyone else, decided to instead stretch up on her toes and attempt to reach it on her own. At 5’3” her fingertips were just brushing the spine and after a few swipes she had only managed to push it back even further on the shelf, a frustrated sigh escaping her.
Of all the places to look for Sawyer Fallan, a bookstore wouldn't even make the top twenty. And yet, here she was, wandering through the shelves looking for a particular book. It was one her therapist had recommended when she bothered to visit him, but now, months after her last session, she had decided it was finally worth getting the damn book. Maybe it would help. She couldn't imagine how that'd be possible, but apparently reading sometimes did. So a bookstore it was. The system slightly foreign, she wandered lost for some time before getting close to the section of books she desired.
Just as she rounded the corner, Sawyer found a small blonde practically jumping for a book. She looked rather foolish and Sawyer just stood back silently snickering for a few moments until it got too pathetic to bare. Standing at nearly six feet, or five foot eight, it wasn't hard for Sawyer to collect the book from the shelf. "Here," she sighed, nudging the poor girl out of the way and taking the book off the shelf. She looked it over a few times before passing it off. "I'm assuming this is what you were trying to get."
"Sure, no problem…" he replied. He hadn’t really noticed how the clumsy stranger looked, but he could tell she had a pretty face and very blonde hair. Her sunglasses and the air about her made her seem important, for whatever reason he couldn’t figure out. "I personally go with plastic bags, although I know it’s not very environmentally friendly." He gave a sheepish grin.
"Plastic bags are much easier. True," she admitted. Reusable bags seemed like a much easier choice, They can obviously be used multiple times, are often larger, and hurt less when they have heavy objects inside, but a hole in a reusable bag makes them completely useless. "But this just seemed like such a good idea," she lifted the bag up and looked down to it. "The hole was completely unpredicted. I guess reusable bags aren't all they're advertised as." She shrugged. The errands hadn't been something she'd wanted to do anyway. If she walked all the way back home, only to have most of the things fall out of the bag that would just teach her brother a lesson. "Maybe the environment can just go screw itself while I double bag my heavier items instead of trying to fit them into this thing."
"I’d definitely go with fruit. Flowers? Naw, no. Traditional, but cliche. A wreath of roses can’t fill the emotional void, but, ah, chocolate covered strawberries? That’s the real way to go, huh," he grinned, pointing outward with his chin. His step-mother had always made a habit of sending food to families dealing with loss rather than flowers; comfort, she’d said, was more easily accessible on a plate than in a vase.
The cigarette between her fingers hadn’t bothered him, though the longer he stood with the smoke, the stronger his own nicotine buzz became. He made a mental note to pick up a pack on his way home. “They, you know,” he spoke, reeling his attention back to the conversation at hand, “It depends on the context. However, it’s generally when someone is implying a relative truth or common perception surrounding a particular issue. That issue now being, you know, talking to yourself.” Vinny’s shoulder lifted in a shrug, his eyes squinting as he racked his brain. “Ah, well, it’s been proven to improve your attention span, as well as memory. It helps to shake off stress, blow off steam, understand your thoughts better. Definitely a lot of pros to talking to yourself,” he concluded.
'So, what are you scouting for? Some big picture, or something on the independent side?' The topic of his film perked his steadily declining energy level upwards several notches. “It’s an independent film, but we’re funded through a decently well known production team. I’m only out here making notes, for now, my actual scout’ll be here soon with the rest of the crew to double check and lock.”
She liked his logic. Fruit versus flowers seemed like a no brainer - obviously flowers - but she was being swayed. Chocolate covered strawberries can solve nearly anything really. Sawyer had heard once of a bouquet of flowers made entirely out of different designs in fruit, both normal and chocolate covered. "Huh - I like you logic, Although it's not just the fruit, I'm sure the chocolate really helps make people feel better too."
Sawyer also liked to consider herself relatively clever. She was someone who knew a lot and made decisions quickly, but the more he spoke to her, the more lost she seemed. Business meetings were one thing. She could understand what was going on with her career, but his small lecture on who they were was difficult to follow. Too many large words, but she couldn't let herself seem like she was falling behind. Quick witted, that's how she wanted to seem. "Oh of course. They how could I forget about them. They do come in handy. I wouldn't have known about all those pros. Seems a little strange that there are so many pros, but I'll believe you."
The talk of film always interested her. From how they were made and being in them, everything was interesting. If she wasn't already making a good career out of it, she'd have gone to school for more acting classes. But she's already making enough without university so what would be the point? "Sounds exciting. Have you worked with the production company before? So are you the director or producer of this particular work?"
'Yeah! Place with upstairs an' downstairs. I gave up on rememberin' th'name, mostly 'cause I ain't even sure it's got one. No neon signs or nothin', it's just kinda open sometimes,' Jasper shrugged. He was aware of the looking over, but decided not to mention it, letting himself be sort of analysed— or, at least, that was what it felt like. He was used to it, anyway. 'No, no! I know the difference, see, 'cuz a penny is a hundred of a pound, like there's a hundred of 'em in a pound, but cents is a hundred of a dollar. I even know that cent is a hundred in Latin! That's jus' cuz I knew a real clever guy way back when. He was pretty cute an' pretty nice an' all, except he went all Legally Blonde on me. Which was fuckin’ rude.’
Sawyer didn't reply for a moment. She wasn't really sure what to say. This boy worked at a place that was 'just kinda open sometimes', and it didn't seem weird to him. He didn't even pause to consider that most people might think it was weird that he couldn't remember the name of the place he worked that didn't really seem to be a business. Of course, some places like that are cool. They're the secret clubs of the world that people just don't know about - like the bar in Seattle that's hidden inside another bar - but this one didn't seem to be the same thing. "So you just kind of work in a place that seems like a bar and give people alcohol, but maybe it isn't a bar since you can't seem to remember a name or schedule?"
Nothing made sense. There was something about a penny and a pound, and a reference to Legally Blonde that she didn't understand. Did the boy stalk him to university? Did he stalk the boy? The questions she could ask, but instead she kept to herself were nearly endless. "Right... Well as long as you're certain of the difference between the penny and the pee. Or whatever it was we were actually talking about before."