Familiar Faces | Percy & Kasem
In the almost manic pace of the past few years, certain things that had once been a treasured part of Percy's life had fallen by the wayside. Coffee shops had lost their appeal for obvious reasons and all things considered, she much preferred to spend the down time she did get being lazy at home with James or Steve or (ideally) both. An afternoon of Mario Kart and Mass Effect Multiplayer or really bad 80's films was better than pretty much anything else she could do with that time – no contest. But this weekend had been one of those rare occasions when both boys were out of the country. She was far too pregnant to be much use in the field and while she'd be running intel from home for James when he landed, she still had roughly eighteen hours to kill before the earliest she could possibly receive that call.
She'd done all the usual things – had a nap (or at least had given having a nap her best possible effort) put on a film, tried (and failed) to cook something for lunch, even made it through the backlog of work from last week as well as a sizable head start into next week's load – and had finally come to the end of her rope. As someone who lived for moments of silence in her otherwise hectic life, it was particularly disorienting to find that she couldn't stand one more minute of it today. She'd dressed down in leggings, boots and a jumper that would have drowned her utterly if she hadn't been five billion years pregnant; her hair she swept into a lazy herringbone braid that fell over one shoulder. With the addition of a knit beanie clinging to the back of her head and a pair of large black glasses, she was virtually incognito; no one would look twice at the tiny pregnant hipster with her big fair trade bag slung over one shoulder as she trudged through the grey, wet Sunday morning sidewalks.
There was a little place in the Village that she liked still; it was, first and foremost, a bookstore, but the lovely couple that ran it – a Thai and an Indian woman – served coffees, teas and assorted treats to their customers who wanted a quiet place to curl up and lost themselves for a few hours. Percy had stopped in a few times for a cup of Masala chai to go and had often admired the way they had managed to make the atmosphere simultaneously peaceful and cozy. Today, she decided, would make a wonderful day to try it out for herself.
She spent a few moments conversing quite happily with the woman behind the counter – the Thai wife who had been pleased almost to tears when she had a customer ask for her favorite drink politely in her own native language – while her tea was prepared, soothed and oddly touched by the unashamed concern for her health and by the old world remedies for many of her baby-induced ills offered almost eagerly. When her drink was ready, Percy took it to a quiet armchair in the corner near the large front window, settling it on the antique end table before curling in the oversized plush monstrosity and pulling her tablet full of e-books from her bag. She took notice of company only in a peripheral sense; old habits died hard deaths (especially those learned out of self-preservation) but this was a public venue and to assume every sound was an imminent threat would have been foolish in the extreme. Still, there was something about the figure browsing the bookshelves nearby that tickled at her memory until soon she was forced to set her tablet in her lap and turn her focus to the Rolodex of names and faces flipping behind her mind's eye. It went at an incredible speed, but there really were an obscene number of faces to go through; chance encounters happened so very often after all, but she'd get there – she knew she would.
