Lunch for... Two?

[Rhiannon Kaelyn Webb]

Rhiannon loved New York. She didn't honestly think she could live anywhere else. More than the city, she loved her brother and uncle, and definitely couldn't live without one or both; which was why she was probably not going to get up and leave the Big Apple, permanently. A vacation, work related stint here and there, but she would always return to New York. Unless Reese moved away. She was close to her brother, with a family like hers, they had to be. Thankfully, they had their uncle to have some sort of a parental figure. Her family life may not have been what every young child hopes for, but it was good, and Rhi couldn't deny that.

She sighed happily as literally skipped through Central Park. She was going to visit her uncle at his place, pick up some art supplies that he'd picked up for her. Even after all these years, Nate still picked up odds and ends for her if he happened to see something he knew she needed. Wasn't he just the bestest uncle ever? Rhi stopped and moved to the side of the pathway at the ding of her Blackberry. In her head, she sang Teeeeext Message! SHe would ahve said it out loud if she hadn't been alone, but because shew as, she said it in her head instead. Her brother always said she was different, and therefore perfect for what she did, but Rhi liked to believe that everyone did that, just not out loud as she did.

Afeter checking the message and sending a quick reply back, she sat down on a near park bench. Her uncle was officially running late, and wouldn't be at his place when she was supposed to meet him. That was fine, she was close, but she was closer to the Boathouse Cafe. They had some good food, and she hadn't eaten yet, hoping to grab some lunch with Nate. Rhi shoved her phone into the bottomless pit she called a purse; she could keep tossing things in there, without ever really knowing what was in there, but find what she was looking for instantly. Then she stood up, brushed off her skirt and tights, and continued towards her new destination.

She wasn't exactly dressed for the winter weather, she rarely was. Being a born and raised New Yorker, she was used to the cold temperature that her dear city fell too in the winter months. She still had the outerwear necessities, hat, mitts, coat and scarf, but her actual clothes would definitely be considered spring-y. That was quite alright with the petite ginger. And she thought let them stare to whoever happened to glance her way with a stunned expression on their faces. Smiling to herself about that, Rhi entered the Cafe and waited to be seated. Ater a moment of just standing there, the hostess escorted her to a charming two person table by a window with the fountain in view. She removed her coat, slipped on the back of the chair and tookher seat.

No one who knew her would ever call her that prim and proper Upper East Side Princess, but she did have a habit of presenting herself that way thanks to all that her mother drilled in her head when she was little. She looked through the menu as she waited for her waiter or waitress to come to her table. There were so many different things on the menu, she really couldn't decide what she wanted but she had it narrowed down to three things; a caesar salad with grilled chicken, fetticine alfredo, and some chicken dish she couldn't pronounce if her life depended on it. She'd probably go safe with the salad, in the end anyway, but she enjoyed the internal debate. With the menu in one hand, Rhiannon removed the cap she has almost forgotten on her head and shoved it into the purse she'd set ont he floor by her feet. the waiter finally came and Rhi ordered the salad with a soda. So, now she just had to sit back and enjoy the view.

_{[TAG] OPEN
[WORDS]682
[LOCATION] BOATHOUSE CAFE
[CLOTHES]WISH WE WERE KIDS AGAIN
[LYRICS] WHOA IS ME//DOWN WITH WEBSTER
[NOTES] KIND OF BLAH... LOL}[/size]

[Dawson Trent Naylor]

Today had been a quiet day so far for Dawson. There was no abseiling, no classes, no parkour events, nor any of the skating variety. His next charity event was over a month away thanks to the hectic Christmas rush meaning that he wouldn’t be in New York for most of the holiday season.
Christmas was a big deal for his family and whilst he loved spending time with them and catching up with his old high school friends, he missed the hustle and bustle of New York and the bright lights of the city that never sleeps.
He loved Fairbanks and he loved Alaska, but it was so vastly different to New York. The peace that came with being at home was nice, welcoming and Dawson would never tire of falling asleep to the sound of a roaring fire instead of sirens and heavy music. Both homes appealed to his senses, but when he was home, he actually had to somewhat listen to his parents and respect their wishes, which usually meant toning down his daredevil ways and acting like most other twenty three year old Alaskan males, which also meant that he’d spend a lot of time with his dad and brother chopping wood and doing repairs around the family home before Christmas day itself arrived.

There was one very good thing about this living arrangement; it meant that come New York’s version of winter, Dawson was one of the few people who didn’t complain about the cold or the slushy snow; in fact, he was one of the first people to offer to clean out the parking spaces at the back of his apartment building and he was always ready to dig out a car when the storms got too bad for the city folk to handle – and he did it all in just a t-shirt and a light sweater. The cold didn’t faze him, not here, and he spent a lot of time quietly chuckling about those who did stand at the bus stop, shivering and moaning about the declining temperature.

However, today had been a fairly mild day in Dawson’s eyes and he hated being stuck indoors, even when he had things to do like wrap Christmas presents and clean. It was a little after 10am when he decided to head down to Central Park, guitar in hand for a few hours of charitable busking. It was near Christmas and the children’s hospital always needed new toys this time of year; Dawson had a small fund kept hidden away in his room, ready for his annual toy raid for the kids. He did it without fail every year and he’d probably still be doing it long after he had kids of his own…if anyone was insane enough to grant him offspring. There was an amazing sense of achievement, of accomplishment, when he gave to charity and seeing the kid’s faces light up when the toys were handed out was better than his own Christmas’ put together. He rarely mentioned all of this to anyone though, he didn’t believe that charity work was something to boast about or preach about, so silently he placed his guitar case on the ground and pulled out his ‘baby’, strumming away as he began to play and sing an acoustic version of ‘Billionaire’ just because it was stuck in his head since the radio that morning during his shower.

A few coins dropped into his case and he smiled in thanks, adding a slight nod of acknowledgement. Song after song, he continued, rather enjoying himself a little too much and really letting loose with the music. His throat was starting to dry up though and he realised that he had foolishly forgotten to bring a bottle of water out with him that morning. No need to panic though, as the Boathouse Café was just a little along the path now. He quickly packed his guitar away, fishing out the coins and popping them into a small leather money bag before briskly strolling to the Café.
Inside, he dodged the host and tried to act as though he was looking for someone. He hated being waited on and he really only wanted a glass of water, but sitting alone made him more fidgety than normal, so this was the best way to avoid everything. His eyes fell on a girl sitting by a window, enjoying the view of the fountain and he weaved around the other tables to get to her. He cleared his throat softly, hoping not to startle her. “Hey, you mind if I sit here? I hate sitting alone, normally.”

[/color] He flashed a cheeky little grin at her, hoping that it would make him seem like less of a creep for randomly approaching her.
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/justify]

• • •

TAGGED! Rhiannon <3
WORDS! 833
OUTFIT! Hot Threads
LYRICS! As The World Falls Down- - - David Bowie
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Rhiannon Kaelyn Webb]

Rhiannon didn't like eating alone, she did it, when she was finally forced out into the light of day, but she didn't like it. At home was a different story, it was usually the only option. When she was out, she usually called or texted a friend and saw who could do lunch on short notice. Of course, this time of year, it was difficult to even get a hold of someone, let alone find out if their available for a meal. It was okay, though, Rhiannon usually took it all in stride. Plus, with no one around, she could take out her sketch book and draw while she ate, or draw while her food sat on her plate getting cold and uneaten. Sitting there now though, she almost wished she'd gone to her favourite little diner by her SOHO apartment. The entire staff knew her there and half the time didn't even bother bringing her the food she ordered when she had her sketchbook open, they just cooked it and put it right into a take-out container for home. They just kept her swimming in coffee and water and let her work. It must be pretty sad when an entire diner knows you better than your own parents.

The snow that was on the ground was just a light dusting and it made Rhi smile and think up imaginary worlds and the characters who would be perfect for them. It made her want to take her sketchbook out, and although she had it, she'd made a bet with her brother that she wouldn't take the book out at all during the day. As good of a liar she was, she couldn't keep a damn thing from him or their Uncle. So he would know immediately if she'd even touched the book. No, it was going to stay where it was, in her bag, under the table being kicked softly by her swinging foot. She had her phone sitting precariously close to the edge of the table, within easy reach of her settled seat. She thought it was rude to have your phone on the table when you were with people, and it was ruder when you answered it and didn't even bother excusing yourself. But since she was alone, it didn't really matter. The waiter came back with her soda and she thanked before taking a sip. She set it down again and leaned back in the chair, more relaxed than she'd been before.

Her attention was elsewhere, not even really on the view anymore. Her clever artists' mind had run off to what her brother liked to call Rhiannonland, where the sky was pink, the flowers were made of candy and superheroes and villains were real and fought on a day-to-day basis. Rhiannonland was a wonderful place that the young red head's mind loved to drift off to. It sure beat the death and devastation of the real world, where muggings rarely got solved, natural disasters were almost as frequent as trips to the dentist and true love was the stuff of fairytales. Rhi may have carved her name in the woodwork on the real world as a young artist and intelligent business woman, but she was also a bit of a romantic. She wanted a fairytale to come true for her. She sighed happily, blissfully unaware of the reality of the world outside her little bubble. At the soft sound, Rhiannon turned her head slowly, thinking it was the waiter. When the ginger haired man came into focus, it took her a second to remember that her waiter was a brunette and in proper uniform.

She smiled, actually happy that someone had the same feeling as she did. She really did hate being alone in eating establishments. She sat up straighter and waved her hand towards the empty seat welcoming him. "Of course. I hate sitting alone, too." She waited until he sat down before extending her hand, a stupid move but she had to gather her wits, as they had seemingly disappeared there for a moment. "I'm Rhiannon," she said, giving him her full first name, something she always did. Her name wasn't usual, it was unique and unusual and she loved it. And she wasn't shy or afraid to meet new people. When she finally did manage to get her behind out of her studio, she loved running into complete strangers- not physically, and just starting up conversations with them. It gave her ideas and it always had her mind working double time trying to figure people out. Normally, when she met someone new, she'd try and put them in the role of innocent bystander, superhero or evil villain; then she'd give the character a new name, either partially or wholly and then set them up in some made up world to see how well they'd fare in her creations. Some might think she was crazy if she ever told anyone besides her brother that, but it really made sense when they knew how she earned a living; a good living at a young age.

_{[TAG] Dawson <3
[WORDS]850
[LOCATION] BOATHOUSE CAFE
[CLOTHES]WISH WE WERE KIDS AGAIN
[LYRICS] WHOA IS ME//DOWN WITH WEBSTER
[NOTES] <3 <3 <3}[/size]

[Dawson Trent Naylor]

Dawson was the kind of guy who made friends easily. He had a good heart, the confidence to strike up a conversation with a total stranger on the subway and he was the kind of guy to remember a face, if not a name. It was all part of his usual charity gigs, when he needed to try and convince complete strangers into giving to a good cause; there were more losses than wins, but Dawson was never disheartened, knowing that there were people out there who would help and who would listen to what he had to say.
Right now though, his charity work had nothing to do with his lunch of water. He wasn’t the kind of guy to bring it up at every moment of every day and he hated people who did that. Well, maybe he didn’t hate them; that was a little strong, but he certainly found himself irritated by them. It didn’t matter who you were or what you really did to get the money, just so long as the charities got it and something good came from it in the end.

Right now, he was just about grabbing a drink and hopefully befriending the girl who he chose to approach. It wasn’t really surprising that out of everyone in the café he picked a young woman who was clearly alone; that was all part of his helpless flirt persona that he often struggled to leave at home. He’d flirted with his manager and with some of the older women at the hostels where he was volunteered once or twice when they needed the help; he’d never meant to, but the words and implied innuendos had escaped his lips before he was able to stop them and before long, they were looking at him with strange eyes that unnerved him. One woman had once even tried to come onto him by ‘examining the detail’ in his tattoo on his arm before moving her lips to his neck, catching him off guard and prompting him to scream like a five year old little girl who had just found a spider crawling along her leg.

However, he never approached the table with those intentions either, but he also couldn’t promise that he would keep everything he said on the casually innocent side. There was a demon in him that overthrew this charitable guy and turned him into one of the guys in the clubs who would flirt with every girl in a sexy black number that came his way. He blamed the alcohol, but no one ever bought it. It was just who he was and more than once he’d been confronted by the angry, defensive boyfriend who had threatened to inflict so much pain on the ginger man that he’d be unable to smirk that ‘seedy smirk’ of his. Personally, Dawson believed that he was far from seedy, but those guys didn’t care to hear it. It wasn’t that he was a player or a cheat, but whilst he was single and not dating anyone, he didn’t see the harm in…sampling what was on offer. However, that was rare, usually, even though his flirtatious tone haunted him and those around him like Jacob Marley haunted Scrooge.

Dawson tried to keep his mind away from that though as he moved to the table and asked the girl the question that may even earn him a new acquaintance or may send him out the boat house café in a hurry, if she happened to be one of them paranoid girls who would scream something about being attacked or about him being a creep, causing a scene that Dawson did not want to stick around to see the ending of. Needless to say, he hoped it was the first option, and luckily for him, when she responded, it seemed to be!
“Thanks. Plus, I hate them fussing over you when you’re alone. Like you’re either about to hold everyone hostage at gunpoint or break down and cry over a croissant ‘cause you’ve had a hard break up or something.”

[/color] At least, that was what Dawson believed flickered through the minds of the waiters when someone came in alone and remained alone. He reached up to move a chunk of ginger hair from his eyes, careful not to mess the rest of his hair up when he did so. He blinked at her outstretched hand and then moved to turn it, so that her palm was facing up to the ceiling. Then, he gently brought his hand down on top in a general ‘high five’ gesture. “I’m Dawson, minus the creek.”[/color] He told the same silly joke about his name before wondering if he should explain why he refused to shake her hand in the conventional fashion. “I only shake the hands of my dad’s friends and I don’t like them all that much.”[/color] He offered, hoping that it would suffice.
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/justify]

• • •

TAGGED! Rhiannon <3
WORDS! 861
OUTFIT! Hot Threads
LYRICS! As The World Falls Down- - - David Bowie
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Rhiannon Kaelyn Webb]

Rhiannon usually made at least one friend on her trips outside her little layer. She didn't leave her apartment very often, being stuck in her studio working, but when she did, she enjoyed meeting new people and trying to work them into her next comic or a different story entirely. She didn't tell many people about her occupation just in case it somehow managed to get back to her parents. All hell would break loose then, and she didn't not look forward to the day that she finally told her parents about what she'd been doing since she was sixteen. They'd probably show her picture on the five o'clock news with the headline parents didn't approve of daughter's artistic career so they shot her. Okay, so it wouldn't go so far, but they would disown her on the spot and probably never say another word to the bottle ginger again. Good thing she'd saved almost all of the money she'd earned from the time she started at Marvel, or she'd be screwed. Her parents would cancel the credit cards they'd given her that she rarely used- unless she had to shop for a gala or fundraiser or something she didn't care about. If it happened to be a charity or fundraiser she did approve of, she spent her own money on her outfit so her parents had no say.

This guy, he looked familiar, but she couldn't place him. Of course, she said that about half the city some days. She really needed to get out of her apartment more often than just trips to pick up more supplies, take-out runs and meetings with her editors. She sighed, knowing she really needed to get a serious grasp on life. After all, who really sat around their house all day besides those who were Agoraphobic? Those people were understandable, but when you did your job at your own pace? Not so much. She couldn't help but realize that every time she did finally leave her house. And then conveniently forget it once she was safely locked behind her apartment door; when she remembered to lock it, that is. For someone so smart, she really was pretty stupid. She would strike up a conversation with anyone while she was out. Rhi was really quite naive; after all, she was only eighteen. But she was also a great judge of character, so she never spoke to anyone that gave her the creeps.

This boy sitting across from her wasn't a bad guy. He'd probably turn out to be funny, too. Definitely a charmer, she could see it in his eyes. Rhi nodded, agreeing with him but knowing that for some reason it was different for girls. They could walk in almost anywhere, sit down and eat by themselves and all the wait staff would do was check up on them more often. Or maybe that was just her. Of course, she didn't go out very often, and when she did, she was rarely alone, usually having her brother or Uncle with her. So, when she did have to eat alone, her waiter would stop by her table just a little more often than the tables with two. Maybe it was there way of flirting while they were on the clock, maybe they felt bad for her having to eat alone, she couldn't have guessed which, but she didn't really care either way. Really, it almost annoyed her that they stopped by more often. It was difficult to enjoy a meal when you had someone asking to refill your drink or how your meal was every ten minutes. "I don't understand either, why they don't just leave you alone and watch from afar. Seriously, if you were going to hold everyone hostage, would you really sit down to eat first?" She asked, actually wondering about the answer to that question.

Her brow quirked up as she watched him turn her wrist before high fiving her hand. She chuckled at the gesture, before letting go the polite demeanor and laughing outright at his introduction. "Pleasure, Dawson, minus the creek." She nodded at his explanation, understanding complete. If it weren't drilled into her pretty little head, she'd probably do something equally nerdy. But, unfortunately, she'd only been out from under her mother's scrutiny for a short while, so she was still trying to sort herself out. She figured it would take a couple more months, before she really came into her own. "That makes sense. I'm still trying to get to that point, myself." she said, saying more than she normally did about her background to, well, anyone.

_{[TAG] Dawson <3
[WORDS]772
[LOCATION] BOATHOUSE CAFE
[CLOTHES]WISH WE WERE KIDS AGAIN
[LYRICS] WHOA IS ME//DOWN WITH WEBSTER
[NOTES] <3 <3 <3}[/size]

[Dawson Trent Naylor]

Truthfully, Dawson didn’t have a clue what he would do with his life, which was a rather bad thing considering his time at college was almost over. He did what he could do best, which was maths and fundraising, but he didn’t know how to combine them to make a decent career his parents could be proud of. Dawson loved his family and wouldn’t change them for the world, but he hated being the child who they lowered their expectations for. His parents were always celebrating lower grades with him when his sister got a pat on the back when she got straight A’s. Maybe he wouldn’t be a rocket scientist and maybe he wouldn’t have an office job, but Dawson loved numbers and could make something from that when words got the better of him. He’d fundraise for the rest of his life and continue with his charity work, but he needed money of his own to support himself and maybe, at some point down the line, a family.

He’d never been able to picture himself as a family man, but then Dawson was the kind of guy who lived in the moment. He didn’t really plan ahead and he didn’t have a daily routine either. He just did what he liked when he felt like it, so long as it fitted in with the important things he had in his life, like college and work. Most mornings though, he woke up, looked out of the window and then followed his heart for what he craved to do. Today, he had fancied busking in the park for one of his charity funds. Tomorrow, he may decide to climb the side of a building and spend the day abseiling across the city before a short stint hosting at the Gotham Comedy Club; the liveliest place in the city where hardly anything terrible happened, aside from a poor comedian dying on the stage in front of an unimpressed audience.

Dawson shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and slipped it over the back of the chair, looking around the café at the rest of the people who were enjoying their lunch. He didn’t really think that this café was the best places for a funny show, slapstick, sarcastic or banter; the people here were far too relaxed to appreciate a comedian starving for work and hungry to make it to the big time, on a large stage with people who paid money just to see them. It was a dream Dawson saw most nights when he was in work and some of them were there week in and week out with a small but loyal following who rarely missed a show. Those were the nights Dawson enjoyed playing the host and he got to join in some of the banter with his own jokes and charismatic ways to introduce the acts he knew well enough to share a drink with after the show ended and before the bar closed for the night.
“Ah, but if you got hungry after taking this place hostage then you’d be in a bit of a pickle. You’d definitely need to eat something first, though I doubt you’d be planning on a dramatic hostage situation that ends in a hail of bullets.”

[/color] He spoke, keeping his voice quiet so as not to freak anyone out; the last thing he wanted was a panic on his hands and people thinking his guitar case was concealing a weapon of some kind.

He studied her carefully, wondering if she was a freshman. She certainly held the air of someone finding their feet in the city for the first time. Dawson had been the same when he had arrived in New York and it had taken him most of his freshman year to really feel like he belonged and find his feet in the world without his parents around to hold him up whenever he tripped over his own mistakes. It was a step everyone took at some point in their life and Rhi certainly wasn’t alone in all of this, if that was the case. “You’ll get there soon enough, I’m sure. It’s one of them stepping stones everyone goes on, blah, blah, blah.”[/color] He said with a soft smile, overdramatically gesturing with his hands.
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/justify]

• • •

TAGGED! Rhiannon <3
WORDS! 706
OUTFIT! Hot Threads
LYRICS! As The World Falls Down- - - David Bowie
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Rhiannon Kaelyn Webb]

Rhi smiled, considering that situation. A hail of bullets, maybe that’d go over well in one of her comics. But then, she rarely used bullets or guns for that matter in her work. Mostly it was all bow and arrows tucked into a quiver and sharp, shining swords that would sooner kill you than knight you. Her work wasn’t based in the times of great Kings and round tables of knights just waiting to serve their King. It was present day stuff, more or less, but it had a wonderful old time twist. “I don’t know. I mean wouldn’t the bad guys have the foresight to eat before they went to rob a place with a potential hostage situation? Or really, even to rob a place, you wouldn’t want your stomach going all tiger on you and growling. That would seriously mess up your cred, or I’d think it would anyway.” She kept her voice low as well, but not because she thought anyone would be stupid enough to eavesdrop on their conversation but because it sounded so much more real almost, definitely more plausible if they were hushed. She could only blame her over dramatic imagination for that one. She grabbed her drink and took a sip as she watched Dawson speak. She liked watching people speak and often sneaked into lectures at the University to watch the guest lecturers talk; that was how she’d met Phoenix the first time, she knew after being informed, by him about a dozen times. Maybe it was the artist in her, but watching people talk always seemed to make it easier to draw people’s faces. The way their faces changed when they were passionate or when they were just bored to tears about something and just droned on. She smiled, setting her glass down again. “Hopefully this is one stepping stone that's pretty easy to face and adjust to," she said, ignoring the fact that she knew it wouldn't be. At least, it wouldn't be easy when her parents found out the truth.

Rhiannon felt like she knew this guy; like she’d seen him around somewhere. And it wasn’t just one of those feelings because she lived in New York City and every “face” seemed familiar in some way. She really felt like she’d met him before and just couldn’t place him. Of course, that wasn’t saying much, considering her personality. Rhi was a forgetful person, she tended to meet someone and then as soon as they left her sight, they were forgotten once again. She knew how frustrating it could be for people she’d met a dozen times before and just never remembered. But her mind was always on her work. Hell, she’d met Phoenix a dozen times before she had actually remembered his name! Of course, Phoenix wasn’t exactly what Rhi’s parents would deem “normal” so he had been pretty cool with her forgetting his name. Hell, the onetime they’d ran into each other at some coffee place, or at least she thought it was a coffee place, he’d laughed off her forgetfulness and told her she’d remember him eventually. She must have run into him another couple times before she actually remembered his name without support or help.

So to feel like she’d known this guy from somewhere, it had to have been something serious; like one of the events her parents forced her to attend to make nice to people who were too stuck up to actually get down and dirty helping people and just offer to send cash in their places. Rhiannon had never really liked those people. She would have much rathered going to the soup kitchen or the community garden and digging around in the dirt than attend those stuffy dinners and luncheons to coax people into giving tax deductible donations. She sat back, thinking about it all. She could have been mistaken. In fact, she hoped so, because she really didn’t want this guy to be one of those guys. She leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her cupped hands, her lunch completely forgotten in front of her. “I know this will probably come across rather awkward or come on-ish, but I know you from somewhere. I’m sure of it,” she said, honestly. Rhiannon had never left like lying was a good thing, although she was currently living the biggest one of all; telling her parents she was at school while she’d spent the tuition money on an apartment in SoHo.

_{[TAG] Dawson <3
[WORDS]779
[LOCATION] BOATHOUSE CAFE
[CLOTHES]WISH WE WERE KIDS AGAIN
[LYRICS] WHOA IS ME//DOWN WITH WEBSTER
[NOTES] Eep! I'm sorry!! <3 <3 <3}