2019-03-22 - Disney Princesses

It takes approximately forty-five minutes for Violet to work up the nerve to send a text to Alex. This wasn't her preferred method of communication, but most people didn't like it when you invade their minds. And Alex seems to really enjoy texting. So, bite the bullet sweetheart and type out your desires.

Violet: Hi Alex. It's Violet.
Violet: Do you like coffee?
Violet: to drink.
Violet: I mean, do you like to drink coffee?

Okay, maybe that was a bit excessive.

Yeah. Alex loves texting. It's totally his favorite thing. He spends a while just on the [...] after that series of messages.

Alex: Hello, Violet.
Alex: I think coffee is great.
Alex: Why? [...]
Alex: Do you?
Alex: Like to drink coffee?

PUT THE PHONE DOWN NOW ALEX.

Violet: Actually I prefer tea.
Violet: [...]
Violet: I have tea at the coffee place sometimes though.

Alex: Interesting.

Fuck it.

Alex: Do you want to have tea while I have coffee at the coffee place at the same time?

Violet: [...] There's a nice table by the window.
Violet: I usually sit there and work on a puzzle. It would be nice to have company.
Violet: [...] Do you think you can work on a puzzle and drink coffee at the same time?

Alex: Yes. Where is the coffee place?

Hold on. He knows how to use Google!

Alex: Is it this one? [link]
Alex: When do you usually work on puzzles?

Violet: Yes that's the one.
Violet: Does [insert time here] work for you?
Violet: Or maybe [this time?]
Violet: Or maybe closer to lunch?
Violet: I can be flexible.

Put down the phone Violet! Okay just one more text.

Violet: I would've said yes even if you couldn't drink coffee and puzzle at the same time. Just for your information.

Jesus, let's hope their multitask game is a lot better than THIS.

Alex: [...]
Alex: [...]
Alex: [... omg let a man get a word in here]
Alex: [... SERIOUSLY]
Alex: About noon? Do they have food there?

Regardless of the answer, he's going to show up anyway, so why bother asking? It's just a matter of whether or not he shoves a hospital cafeteria sandwich into his face as fast as humanly possible before he comes to this coffee shop, or he pays $49 for a sandwich when he gets there.

Violet: Are you sure?
Violet: Okay, noon works.
Violet: Yes, there's food. Not sure about egg salad on wheat with cottage cheese. But there's food.
Violet: I think they have a menu online.
Violet: Nevermind it hasn't been updated since 2017.

Dear God, somebody take this girl's phone away!

Violet: okay see you at noon, Alex!

There will be no more texts from Violet, thankfully. But she does show up at the coffee shop at 11:45 a.m., dressed in a white blouse tucked into a knee-length dark turquoise skirt embellished with maroon and sky blue quail that's belted at the waist. Overtop the blouse is a rusty orange cardigan, the sleeves of which she rolls up to her elbows upon entrance into the shop. Her shoes are worn ballet flats. Her frizzy blonde hair is swept back into a loose ponytail this afternoon.

Thankfully, the table by the window was not taken. So assuming he also didn't show up 15 minutes early? She was going to take up her vigil there.

Alex: Yes, I'm sure. I will see you at noon.

And then stop answering texts. Because work. Or because that's as good as it's going to get.

Alex would probably prefer to be fifteen minutes early, but he has the kind of job where he can't just be like CLOSED and go hide. He also has the kind of job where he shouldn't just be leaving in the middle of the day, but you know what? That's what interns and residents are for, and he has a pager, so they'll be fine. So he rolls up on his bicycle, locks it - because a coffee shop in Washington state is bound to have a bike rack out front, he can't be the only one - and starts to check his only slightly damp reflection in the front window. Then stops, because on the other side of the window sits Violet, so he waves to her, instead. And says 'hi' but through the glass, so she can see that but not hear it.

Then he comes inside.

The coffee shop.

Not Violet.

But maybe later.

There was quite a bit of whispering going on all of a sudden in the coffee shop. Violet pretends not to notice, but they aren't being very discreet. //Who is she even pretending to be waiting for? It's not like anybody's coming to see her. What a joke!// and so on and so forth. But Violet sits, perching on the edge of the chair by the window, one leg crossing over the other with her ballet flat dangling on her toes. And she waits, her phone out on the table, occasionally tapped to see the time, half expecting a text to come through to tell her nevermind. She wouldn't blame him, of course.

But there was no text, and right around noon according to her phone clock? She sees the blur of a bicycle and a damp man coming to check his reflection in the glass. A smile fits upon her face as she lifts a hand and wiggles her fingers at him, saying 'hi' back through the glass a little too loud, which means she gets a look from one of the baristas. It's a look that quite promptly turns to Alex when he comes inside of the coffee shop and Violet gets to her feet.

"Hi Alex," she smooths her hands across the front of her skirt. "You rode your bike here?" It's not like she didn't just SEE him riding his bike here.

Alex is unaware of the whispering. That's one of the benefits of not being a proper psychic: happy oblivion. So he sheds his nice coat that he got back and is very happy about, smooths his tie, and enters with a smile that's confidently pretending that texting with Violet hasn't been agonizingly awkward. "Hello, Violet. I did," as if this is some sort of fancy trick, this bike-riding thing. "My car is currently sitting on a truck in a snowstorm in North Dakota." He shrugs about it, like that's just one of those things that happens to people.

"Do you want something?" He means to eat and drink, not just like 'from life in general,' as the question is coupled to a lift of his chin toward the front counter.

"Oh," Violet replies with a look cast out the window again, up to the gloomy clouds that hang overhead and spit rain down. "I hope you get it soon. Your car, I mean. It can't be fun to have to ride your bicycle in the rain." A pause as she flicks her bottom lip thoughtfully with the nail of her index finger. "I bet you could attach an umbrella to the seat. I have a few at the shop that might work." It's something to consider, and she shrugs her shoulders after it's said and done, looking back to him with a faint smile to answer his question with a simple: "Yes." And then she shuffles forward on her ballet flats to peer up at the menu.

"I always get the same thing when I come here. Ginger peach tea," she mentions to him and to the girl at the cash register. "And a cinnamon roll?" Then she tips her chin expectantly at Alex, whilst she puts her hand into the pocket of her skirt (because her skirt has pockets) to retrieve her wallet. "I can pay this time. Since I owe you for lunch."

"I don't like to drive," Alex shares readily. There might have been more to that thought, but he never gets back around to it, too busy looking over at Violet with amusement brightening his eyes while she goes on about attaching umbrellas to bicycles. "I'd need some sort of rudder system, or one good breeze..." He trails off into a low whistle, the sound of him getting swept away on an umbrella-bike-ship, his hand skating upward through the air, then waving to his imaginary, disappearing self. And then that hand is landing on the edge of the counter, and he smiles at the girl behind the register.

Who blinks at these two. No, she gawks at these two. Like, is this Violet's cousin or is he a mental patient or...? "And a coffee, please. And some sort of sandwich." He should have looked before he got here. "That one." He taps the rotatey-sandwich thing. And is old-fashioned so, "What if I pay for lunch, and you can put a tip in their jar?"

It earns him a light laugh, Violet putting her knuckles up to her lips to hide the smile that brightens as she watches him imitate his bicycle-umbrella-ship. But behind her glasses, her eyes are wide and amused, a far more crystal blue than they usually are. "That would be a sight to see," she says pleasantly, and then promptly blinks at his offer to pay for lunch.

"Oh, are you sure?" her pale brows come together in a furrow. "You've already gotten me lunch once. I don't want it to seem like I only came out with you for free food," she notes, and though she's quite serious? She ends the statement with a very soft laugh. "But if you want, I won't argue. Thank you, Alex." She opens the wallet anyway, to tuck a few dollar bills into the tip jar, even though the gawking girl really deserves nothing at all. But Violet just feels awful for skimming the surface of that girl's emotions, and feeling the confusion that rapidly gives way to something else when Violet talks of buying her lunch once before. Was that.. no, it can't be.

Jealousy?

It means Violet stands there with a suddenly bewildered expression as she looks to the barista, completely not understanding.

"Hmm. Imagine how I'd feel, though." The him that's sailing off on this terrible airship they've just invented, the him that he's squinting at for a second longer before Alex turns his focus down in time to catch those especially bright eyes of hers. Which is why he smiles at her, entirely at her. There's just a nod for the remnants of the who's-paying issue. Also, "That's not what it seems like," he assures, and pays for lunch without much care for how the barista is feeling.

Like, that sounds callous, but he's here to have lunch with Violet. Not the girl behind the counter. So she can be jealous, but she still better get them their order, snap to it, sweetheart.

"So tell me about this puzzle, Violet." While they loiter and wait for their order, and he looks toward the table she's staked out, taking clues from afar. "How many pieces is it?"

Oh, she notices the smile, the one that's just for her. Even though she's completely taken aback by the barista's feelings on the matter, Violet notices that smile, and that means her face is about to break out in those horribly ugly red splotches. She ducks her head, touching her fingertips to the heat on her cheeks, and laughs a little. "Okay, okay. But you should still let me buy lunch for you another day," she murmurs, turning to lean the small of her back against the lip of the counter where they wait for their order.

Thankfully, the change in subject to puzzles distracts her from the jealous-feeling barista and the shy embarrassment she was drowning in. She flicks a glance over to the bookshelf and points for his benefit. "They have a lot. Puzzles and board games. I like board games, but I never have anybody to play with. Well, I did try with Alice once, but she got very upset with me when I won," she rambles on. "You can pick a puzzle? I can bring everything to the table," since the barista was dropping off their shit.

Alex doesn't say no to having lunch bought for him. Like, not specifically. "The next time that we have lunch, we can talk about who's going to pay." He will. But check it, that was both of them being super-smooth, and he acknowledges their collective coolness with a quick brow-twitch while taking a few backward steps toward the bookshelf with the puzzles and the board games. "What are the odds," he muses on his way, turning around after those first few steps, "that all the pieces to all the puzzles are actually here."

Alex must be willing to take his chances, since he sifts through the boxes there. No Smurfs (he doesn't want to invite the height comparison, tyvm), no Suffolk County landscape (where even is that?), no solar system orbital charts (the other characters are worried about orbits, not these two), ah. He shakes the box, makes the pieces rattle in the cardboard, and intends to meet Violet back at their table, sliding the box down as if triumphantly; he has accomplished a thing. Disney Princesses, Violet. They are going to spend the next hour+ putting together Disney Princesses.

That was super-smooth, and Violet spends a good fifteen seconds with her cheeks all aflame thinking about next time while she scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip and watches him head to the metal bookshelf. Then, she remembers she has a job to do, so while he's shifting through the various puzzles, she's bringing over the coffee and tea and other items, setting them down at the table by the window. By the time he arrives with his prize, she's seating herself upon the edge of the chair, tucking her skirt under her properly.

She regards the puzzle with a slow upward arch of her golden brows above the frame of her glasses, a dimpled smile easy to form. "Disney Princess, hmm?" she looks back up to him, those eyes crystal-clear again. "Now I know you're a dad," she says with a quiet laugh, a statement which proves that the whole smooth 'buy you lunch next time' thing was a complete fluke. But, she keeps on going: "Who is your favorite?"

"In my defense, I was really leaning toward Ninja Turtles. But. My puzzle game," is almost as awful as his text game, "is rusty, and that seemed like a lot of green pieces to sort through." Alex doesn't seem to mind being called a dad; like, she's not wrong, so it hits him like a compliment if anything, and he smiles-and-nods through it. He moves a few things around on the table to make room for the puzzle, setting his food and drink over here, and reaching across the table to hook the picture-lid on the top of the empty third chair, so now they can see it while they work.

Hissing across his teeth thoughtfully, "You really ask the tough questions, Violet. My sisters watched The Little Mermaid on tape so many times that the tape got warped by the end, so I might be over Ariel." Plus, redheads are fucking crazy. "So I think I'll have to go with Tangled? Rapunzel and that frying pan." He whistles, hard to tell if he means 'that shit is hot' or 'go girl-power.' Maybe both? He looks at the puzzle pieces, starting to fan them out on the table, "Also. Gentlemen prefer blonds." Quick glance at Violet...'s ponytail.

"At least you didn't go for the Snoopy. How boring," Violet remarks as she shifts her tea cup out of the way (after scooping the bag out of the water, now that it's properly seeped). She helps to flip the pieces over while they talk, lifting her gaze every so often to smile across the table at him. But then he knocks it out of the park with that 'gentlemen prefer blonds' smoothness, and she briefly tucks her face into her palm as she laughs. "I hear we're supposed to have more fun," she says once she's gotten over the giggles. "I'm not sure if that's the truth. I always wanted to be a brunette," she shrugs.

But it makes sense in the context of her next statement: "Mine's Belle." Her favorite Princess, she leans to tap the pretty brunette bibliophile in the golden-yellow dress on the box. "Is that a bit too on the nose? I just really wanted her library," she laughs, taking a quick sip of her tea before she goes about trying to find the edge pieces. "I do think I would've made a very good bookshelf in the enchanted castle. Or perhaps a desk, one of those antique roll-up sorts."

"Wait. Hold the phone here." Alex drops the two pieces of the puzzle he was holding, turning at the waist to look back over toward the bookshelf, betrayed. "There was a Snoopy puzzle?" The 'ffff' sound that follows would probably turn into the F-word if he let it, but it ends without finishing the syllable, and he turns back to pass sad-seeming eyes across Violet's. "Another time." He pushes a couple pieces Violet's way, they belong on that edge (or are upside-down; could be upside-down; they'll figure that out as they go).

Probably he also sips coffee in among all this, or takes a bite now and then. He's just about to ask a baffled 'why' would she want to be a brunette when, "Hmmmm, I can see that, then." He starts putting all the yellow-dress pieces over by Violet, too. "Not some lovely curio cabinet, then? Or is that also too on the nose?" Beat. "Or a nice vase of flowers? Violet." He looks studiously at the puzzle and does not smile and think he's funny for making a joke she's probably heard like a jillion times in her life.

Hold the phone? What was this, 1997? Violet's eyes widen, but there's an amused glint in the crystal depths as he laments his puzzle decision. "There was one when I checked last," she says, focusing in on his sad eyes that encourages her to do a very brave, bold thing - she sneaks her hand across the table, and gently pat-pats atop his own. "It's okay. There's always next time," she says encouragingly, curling her fingers whilst they are still atop his hand so that they brush in a feathery-light manner across his skin. And then she immediately jerks her hand away and gets focused on putting together the frame of the puzzle.

"Oh, no. No, absolutely not," she says with a shake of her head about being a vase of flowers, her nose scrunching up. "I'd want to be something sturdy and useful. I'm not fit to be something that is delicate and admired," it's one of those things that's said without much thought, a kind of knee-jerk reaction to his words. As she makes a face, she clicks a few puzzle pieces together. "What would you be?" she asks, peeking up at him again.

Alex turns his hand juuuust a little, brushes his thumb along the underside of Violet's palm, and then promptly resumes being very interested in piecing together Disney princesses. This piece right here is Ariel, he knows her, she's going over there, he will be putting together Sleeping Beauty, who also happens to be blonde. Alas, Rapunzel didn't make the cut for this particular puzzle. There's a quiet, "I beg to differ," but he buries most of that in a sip of coffee, then hm? Oh, "I always liked the candle-guy." Whose name he absolutely knows.

"He had the best song. Be our guest, be our guest," he'll hum that for a bit, you're welcome for the ear-worm. At least he sings prettily. "And he rescued the French feather-duster. Tres romantique, n'est pas?" See? He totally knows Lumiere's name.

Please excuse Violet while she melts into the chair and becomes a puddle beneath the table. If the brush of his thumb wasn't enough to set her heart racing, the quiet words did her in, even if they were half buried in his coffee. And poor Violet, it suddenly felt like someone's cranked the heat up in this silly little cafe where the barista and half the patrons were still gawking, and while his head was down? She totally fans her face with a quick flick of her wrist.

"Hmm?" It's a hum on her lips which are wet with a quick swipe of her tongue, an unsteady smile growing crooked on her features. "Oh, you mean Lumiere. Oui, c'est tr�s romantique," she slides easily into the French; she'd probably do well in Paris, even if her pronunciation needs a bit of work. "You'd make a good candlestick. I would make a terrible feather duster," she laughs, not necessarily meaning to connect the two. She was working on Belle now that the frame was mostly complete, clicking the pieces together. "You have a... handsome singing voice, Alex."

This is news to Alex: "You speak French?" Not that she was about to dissolve over there. Face-to-face? He seems to be... well, he's putting together a Disney princess puzzle over coffee, so doing WELL might be an overstatement, but the awkwardness isn't molasses-thick. Anyway, he's very openly hopeful, leaning toward Violet's side of the table and everything, to ask back, "Habla espanol?" Now she has to crush his dreams 'cause her sheet says she doesn't. 🙁

Talk of feather-dusters and nice singing voices will wait. DOES SHE SPEAK SPANISH?!

There's a blink at the question. "Yes," err. She wrinkles her nose. "I mean. Oui!" she laughs lightly, trying to focus more on the puzzle-building and less on the melting. Which is very very hard, when he keeps turning the discussion around on her. Didn't he see she wanted to talk about him? But there's that hopeful leaning towards her, and she bites her bottom lip, looking very disappointed when she shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry," it was tragic, see it in her eyes! But what was even more disappointing: "Alice does, though."

Well, the yes-oui thing was cute enough that Alex will recover from his absolute heartbreak that she speaks French but not a useful language that other actual Americans speak. (Wait till he finds out about the Latin...) "Don't be," sorry. That's a knee-jerk, falls out of him immediately. He puts a couple pieces together, but Violet is really doing all the heavy lifting when it comes to assembling these princesses; he's quite good at organizing the pieces, though, these ones go over here and these ones go over here. Which isn't a metaphor or anything, he's just happy to watch her making the picture. "So. If I said something to you in Spanish, you wouldn't know what it was." But Alice would. He ignores that. "But you could answer in French." He goes, "Hmm. Interesting."

Score one for Alice, is the dull thoughts filtering through Violet's head. Curses for not picking up an actual useful language! She digs at the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth as she tries to focus on building Snow White now that Belle was complete. Maybe she really did like darker hair. She leaves the blondes for him, whilst poor Ariel is on her own. No one wants to put the crazy redhead back together (too bad Logan isn't here, he loves trying to fix crazy redheads).

"Why is that interesting?" she asks, tipping her head to the side but keeping her eyes down on Snow. "What would you want to say to me in Spanish? Because if it is to ask for directions to the bathroom or the library, you best ask it in English," she jokes.

Alex, in his best overdone, Learn to Speak French voice, "Ou est la bibliotheque?" Beat. "But I don't know how to say left or right, so you best answer it in English." His index finger does little circles on the table around a puzzle piece, indicative of the path he'll wind up walking if he follows directions en francais. The piece he's pretending to walk around is part of Princess Aurora, so he puts her face on for her, lovely. There's no answer for why it's interesting, but there is a contemplative squint at her about what he might say in Spanish. "Depends. Is it going to get translated," since his finger's not lost any more, he will just reach across and tap her on the temple lightly, careful not to hit the frame of her glasses instead, "because that will definitely have an impact."

"Ohhh, that's very good!" enthuses Violet, in her best 'should've been a Kindergarten teacher' voice. She even claps her hands together, before there's a light laugh and she goes back to finishing off Snow White. "Directions are easy," she replies, before slowly blending back into French. "La gauche," she points left, "La droite," she points right. "However," she holds up a finger, "La bibliotheque est en ville," she smiles, then adds with a tip of her chin. "Downtown."

With Snow White complete and fit into her place upon the frame, Violet takes a momentary break for a bite of cinnamon roll and a sip of tea. Tea which is nearly spit back out into the cup when he reaches across the table to tap at her temple, the simple touch sending a weird jolt of electricity through her. She manages not to completely gross everybody out and instead swallows the drink heavily, eyes widening like a scared doe as she looks across at him. "I won't ask her. Not if you don't want me to."

Like a prize pupil, Alex beams for the praise and dips his head, thanks teacher~, and does try to attend the French words that follow. But mostly he's just looking at Violet while she's laughing and clapping, and he clears his throat, repeating gauche and droite and izquierda and derecho and left and right, "It's too much, Violet." He pretends to rub his own temples, so overwhelmed, unaware of how narrowly he avoided getting tea spat all over himself.

Which would suck. His shirt would not appreciate it.

From rubbing his head, it's easy enough to drop his elbow on the edge of the table, his chin onto his palm, and says in his (like, absolutely first-language) Spanish, "Abejitas de oro buscaban la miel. Donde esta la miel? Esta en la flor azul, Isabel, en la flor..." Pause. Hmm. "...violeta."

[Now google it and see if you can figure that shit out, cuz I know what it says, sucker.]

There is a brief span of time where Violet feels insanely guilty for promising not to tell her sister. She did not like keeping secrets, especially not from the one person that she was closest to. But then Alex was speaking Spanish to her and all those bad thoughts sort of fly right out of her head. She leans forward, folding her forearms on the table (careful not to disturb the puzzle pieces) and stares at him, truly captivated. But it is the end - her name on his lips, Spanish-style, that brings a dazzling dimpled smile to her lips.

"That's beautiful," she breathes, and then pulls back, straightening. Get it together, Violet, you're making a damn fool of yourself. "Miel means honey in French. Is it the same in Spanish? 'Le vie est une fleur dont l'amour est le miel'," she murmurs. "Victor Hugo. He wrote the Hunchback of Notre Dome. And Les Miserables, of course."

No no no, don't get it together. Alex likes eye contact, it's important to him, but he drops his for a second to catch the flash of those dimples, then promptly returns them to hers. He was already kinda leaning forward, onto his chin, but he does it a little more - till she goes and straightens up, gdi. It's an affirmative, "Hm," this time, the back-half of an mhm, as in 'yes, it means the same thing in French.' He has only the vaguest notion of what she said back in French, ventures with a squint, "Yes, I also like to be alive and in love and have honey?" No? Probably that's not what Victor Hugo was driving at.

"Federico Garcia Lorca," if they're giving credit where credit is due. "With a little license." They're doing a puzzle. He only remembers this because now his elbow is on a couple pieces, so he has to try to figure out where they go and stop looking at Violet. "I like listening to you speak French. It's - " Don't say sexy. She'll probably die. " - excitante."

Oh, believe you me. If there's anything Violet's figured out about Alex, it is that he loves his eye contact. And it wasn't that Violet didn't like making it - it was just gazing too long was like staring into the sun. If staring into the sun made somebody feel faint and fluttery and lightheaded. So she meets his gaze, but only for a moment, before she drops her attention back to the scattered puzzle pieces. His translation of the poem leaves her laughing though, ponytail swaying as she shakes her head. "Close," she glances up, teeth against one corner of her bottom lip, the other corner lifting in a hint of a smirk. "Though I hear there's quite a bit more to life than love and honey," she remarks.

She would have been fine leaving it at that. Look, she was already back to the puzzle, fitting pieces together. She was good at this, though he was certainly helping, and now all the pretty dark-haired princesses were complete. But then he has to steal her attention again, damn him to hell, and speaking of excitante, her breath catches. "Oh," she says, her voice pitching up and then down again, a bit of a squeak. She meets his eyes just long enough to say: "Listening to you speak Spanish is very.." Ahh! "Charmant."

Alex tilts his coffee cup, gives it a glance, and answers the love-and-honey comment with a mild, "A bit more, perhaps." He's not drinking that coffee, it's cold now, so he puts the cup back and holds his fingers a little bit apart and looks through the gap at Violet. "But isn't all the rest just fluff and filler? Love. Honey. Puzzles? Sounds fulfilling."

Wow, they're super-good at puzzles. Mostly Violet. He's put Aurora together almost entirely, but the pieces of the pink dress are still jumbled, so he kind of nudges them together idly, wearing a satisfied little smile, charmant, he can guess. "Who was it that ran off with Prince Charming? Snow White or Cinderella?" He glances back over to Violet, wearing an intensely thoughtful frown, taptapping his finger on the unassembled pieces of Ariel to add, "At least her beau had an actual name." Let's just don't get into the fact that she GAVE UP HER VOICE for a man.

"Is that what it would take for life to be fulfilling to you? Honey, love and puzzles?" It's not critical, but an honestly curious sort of statement, the tip of her head and the subtle raise of her brow over the frame of her glasses suggesting as much. But she doesn't look him in the eye, she wasn't about to fall into that trap again, she might never get out of it if she does.

Instead, she extends a hand to his side of the table while he's busy nudging pieces instead of actually putting together the DAMN PUZZLE, her fingers close to his own as she helps. "I think it was the both of them, actually. Different princes, same name. Do you think they were brothers?" she jokes, flicking a glance to Ariel and just sighing. "Eric was rather dashing," she admits.

Alex honestly thinks about that for a second before committing, "We had probably better put music on the list. Someone to talk to." The list is growing, so he cuts it off there, with an apologetic sigh-and-shrug combination. "Maybe I'm not the simplest of creatures after all." With his wool pea coats and his silk ties and his egg salad sandwiches, but at least he's aware of it. "And what," turns you on, "makes you happy, Violet? Tea and puzzles and...?" He squints speculatively, like he's looking for clues from her person while he waits.

Also, this is not going to help the puzzle-building at all but, after a couple pieces get snapped into place, he turns his hand, moves his index finger a very very little bit, just enough that the knuckle of it brushes along the back of her hand. Like, hi, these two hands should meet, can his come over there? Not the best time to be all bringing up two-timing but - "Unless they were the same guy. Maybe that's why he doesn't have a name, Prince Infidelity. He probably has a wife in Nebraska, too."

Violet quirks a pale-gold brow as he thinks through the question and begins to add layers to the list. Not too many layers though, not nearly enough to be thrusting the question back onto her and expecting some kind of elaborate answer. She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, thoughtfully worrying it as she considers. "Books," she decides. "And candles, pretty scented ones. Oh, and .. old things," she tips her chin into a nod, just about finished with her list when he scrapes his knuckle over the back of her hand and makes the tiny hairs there stand up on edge. Her focus drops, her gaze on that sneaky finger as she adds something else to her list.

"But new things, too, I think." It is said so quietly, the words could barely be considered a whisper. She's captured a puzzle piece but now her hand stills, just faintly trembling underneath his own. It was an absolutely terrible time to bring up two-timing, though perhaps Violet finds relief in the laughter that escapes her. It certainly makes her appear a touch lighter. "And two children and a dog," she tacks on, "And that is precisely why you shouldn't marry the first prince you meet."

Alex poses. Suck it.

"Candles," repeats Alex, goshdarnit, how did he forget to put that on the list?! He nods about old things... and also new things, and carefully liberates the piece that Violet is holding on to. It doesn't fit where he puts it, which is just whatever the nearest place is, but he mashes it with his thumb, YOU LIVE HERE NOW PUZZLE PIECE SO JUST ACCEPT THIS. There, he settles his hand around hers, palm to hers, fingers around the back of her hand, thumb skating across the back of hers, distractedly circling the ridges of her knuckle. He's a handsy guy. Gravely, just ignore the particular brightness of those dark eyes, "New things are important."

This is going to make the puzzle just impossible; he glances at it once, and decides it's dead to him, attention settling entirely on Violet now. "I don't have a wife in Nebraska," he shares quickly. "And only one child. And no dog. Just putting that out there. Do you?" He could change up the genders, but just rolls with, "Have a wife in Nebraska?"

"Mhm," Violet hums about the candles, sawing her two front teeth over her bottom lip as she fiddles with the piece of the puzzle in her hand. It was almost as if she didn't know where this piece went, even though it very clearly went over there, to finish off one of the Princess' smiling faces. When he frees it from her hand, her fingers rub together instead, just to keep them occupied. It was good that he settles his hand when he did; it left her little time to yank her hand back to the safe side of the table - her side - and instead makes her feel so damn lightheaded that she couldn't think of stealing her hand away. Her breath quickens, her eyes widen, and her face surely must be on fire because it was so damn hot in this coffee shop.

What was a puzzle, even? Violet's forgotten, and with the way her lips are moving and creating soundless shapes, it may be that she's forgotten words too. She's all but ignored the particular brightness of his eyes though, because her attention was squarely on their joined hands. "Hm?" Not an answer to the question that's directed to her, no that answer comes out in a thoughtless rush: "No. No wife. Just a sister upstate." A pause. "And a cat."

To the list of life's necessities, "Can we add a good gin-and-tonic?" He starts to recount, lightly tapping his thumb against Violet's like this is perfectly normal and happens all the time. "Where does that put us? Love and honey, puzzles, music, candles, conversation," he pauses to take in a deep breath, "tea and books. New things. Old things. And gin-and-tonic." His eyes widen comically by the time he pushes out the end of that list, blowing out the tail end of his caught breath. "Did I miss anything?"

He's looking at her looking at their hands, which probably doesn't do much to help with the blush-face, but he seems to find it as charming as an unpretty blush can be. "What's your cat's name? And can we lump him in under 'love,' or do we have to enumerate? Because I have six sisters, two brothers, parents, a child..." Another breath is going to have to go out of him and keep that first one company.

Oops, he lost her on the gin and tonic. At least, her nose crinkles up and she forgets about their joined hands for just a moment to look up into his eyes and make a face. "I like sweet wine," she replies, then loses her thoughts again when his thumb taps out a beat upon her skin. It quickens her pulse, which was so very off-rhythm with his own steady tapping, but.. she's no longer still, at least. Slowly, surely, her fingers come to life, feathering over his skin. "Big bathtubs," she murmurs, "And bubble bath." It makes her smile, the dimples in either cheek deepening, as she looks back to their hands once more.

As to the cat? "Blue Bell. She's a ragdoll cat, prettiest blue eyes you'll ever see," she mentions, and then looks startled when he talks about his gigantic family. That lifts her bright blue eyes right up into his own. "Eight siblings? Wow. Christmases must be impossible," she quips, though there's a touch of melancholy in her voice when she adds: "I only have Alice."

It's a skeptical, "Hmm," this time. And Alex leans away a little, not so much as to dislodge the hand that it only took him like fourteen hours to get around Violet's, but enough to make the point that he's regarding her intently for a moment after that sweet-wine comment. "Before you go making faces, Violet, have you ever had a very good gin-and-tonic? Try it in your next bubble bath, you may convert." He breathes in at the stir of her fingers (and maybe also 'cause now he's thinking about bubble baths with Violet, BAD ALEX), holds it a moment, and lets it out around an answering smile that he's not even going to pretend doesn't exist; she has made him happy, he is okay if she is aware of this.

As if he could put away the melancholy for her by being especially pleasant, he laughs at the Christmas quip. "It's a - " MADHOUSE was the original word. He slides around that one with only a beat. " - n adventure. My mother won't speak English, my father still pretends to not understand Italian, and I think I have twenty-two nieces and nephews now."

Pause for a moment and imagine tentative, blushing Violet in this chaos. Alex is. It makes him clear his throat amusedly.

Violet cants her head to one side and then the other at his skeptical look, faint amusement mixed with sincere doubt about his love for gin and tonics. "I don't think I have," had a very good gin-and-tonic, or perhaps even a mediocre gin-and-tonic, as she snags one of his fingers with a curl of her own to give it a squeeze. "Are you offering to make me one?" On the heels of the 'try it in the bubble bath' comment of his own, it may sound like she's trying to marry those two thoughts. But come on, this is Violet, she's barely gotten comfortable with this handholding thing; she's definitely not yet at the gin-and-tonic-in-the-bathtub-with-Alex level of thinking.

His laughter about Christmas provides a nice distraction though, especially at the thoughts of idyllic happy families. Her own was quite the disaster, it was hard for her to imagine the kind of adventure that Alex seems so pleased about. "That sounds very exciting," she replies, and then flinches just a little as she adds: "And loud." It makes her laugh though, still quiet but vibrant, happy but still not trying to draw any attention to herself. "Do you know how to speak Italian, too?"

Is he offering to make her one? "Oh, absolutely." In the bath, not in the bath, Alex will play that one however it comes. Except, with a glance around, "They probably don't have the very best gin here. So we should probably plan that for some other lunch." You know, the ones where Violet thinks she's going to get to pay. For a dude that basically just told her he has a gigantic family full of Catholics and probably immigrants (i.e., probably not known for being progressive). Anyway, he adds slyly, "Though it's really more of a dinner drink."

As for Italian, he shakes his head quickly and assures, "Enough to not get lost in big cities, and to be reasonably sure if my mother's about to smack me. Though even then..." He teeters his not-holding hand, and is looking at that teeter briefly when - like this just occurred to him, at her comment about the noise, "You know, I wonder if that's why Sophia wanted to move so far away." He looks at Violet, as if for inspiration, and decides that's "Interesting. Does it trouble you in crowds?"

"Mm," to the fact that the coffee shop would not have very good gin, though the smile she wears lessens some. "I don't.. really like the bar in town. So.." she waves her free hand through the air with a dismissive flick of her wrist. It almost ruins this beautiful future moment, but he saves the day by mentioning dinner - and so, with a quick nip to her bottom lip, she offers: "I could always buy you dinner next time. Instead of lunch." She was holding fast to this.

But then the conversation shifts, and she studies him for a longer moment. "I'd like to hear it. You speak Italian, I mean. I bet you are better at it than you think," she says, then shifts to the edge of her seat at the talk of noise, giving her head a shake. Her voice drops to a low murmur, "I can't hear what people are thinking, remember? But what they are feeling.." she whistles out, quiet but sharp. "That can get intense. Depending on the moment."

If she doesn't like the bar in town, "Then we shouldn't go there." Alex stays with her through the lip-bite, waiting to see if she comes out the other side unscathed... and she does! He brightens, tacking on, "For this dinner." That Violet thinks she's going to buy, she's so precious. <3

It's the closest thing to chagrin that Alex has evinced - except that one time that Violet was like HERE FEEL ALL MY EMBARRASSED FEELS!!! - when he dithers before admitting, "It's really bad," of his Italian. "I know all the curse words, and the days of the week, and how to say clean up your room?" That's what he says, in Italian, with a Mexican accent. "To save you the trouble, now I'm feeling embarrassed." With a quick wink that says otherwise. "I can't imagine having to cope with what you do. It must be tempting?"

"There are a couple of good restaurants in town," Violet offers with mild trepidation, but hey. She's slowly warming up. It must be all that hand holding that is still literally setting her entire face on fire. I used literally wrong just for you 😉 "Or, well. It depends on what you like. Obviously there's the diner, but that's.." she wobbles her free hand in the air. So-so. "The food used to be really good there. But then Logan's wife died and he got fired, I think, that's the gossip in the town anyway, and now he runs the bed-and-breakfast," and there's Alex's 15 second history lesson on Gray Harbor, all in a rambling rush. "I bet you get really good breakfast though," she adds with a small smile.

She leans into the table, elbow up and cupping her chin and cheek with her spare hand while he goes on about his Italian, her eyes bright when he finally says something. Her expression says what her lips will not: that was sexy. But the thought makes her shy again, lashes lowering as she looks back to their joined hands, and she brushes the pad of her thumb over his skin, getting a little bolder with the touches. "Tempting? I guess," she has to consider this. "I try not to listen a lot. But it helps to figure out what people want when they come into my store. I've at least figured out how to recognize the people who just come in to see if I should be upstate with my sister." There's a scrunch to her nose and a quick shake of her head at that. "But like here, for example?" she tips her head to the side, as though she were listening for something. "I think the barista wants your phone number. Because she keeps looking over here, and every time she does? She gets really jealous." A pause. "Which is very... strange."

There remains suspicion in Alex's sideways look when Violet mentions the dead wife again. He confirms her guess about breakfast - "Absolutely top notch." - and so wants to ask about this wife situation, like it's written all over the way he leans forward and tilts his head into the unasked question. But gossip... it's so unpretty. Through all this, there's the steady taptaptap with the pad of his thumb against the side of hers, finally stilling when hers moves against his, that's pleasant, he'll quit thinking about the dude with the confusing marital situation.

"Do people really do that to you?" It's not as pleasant a thought, and he squeezes her hand with his own, looking over at the barista like she specifically is guilty of this crime. "Perhaps," he demurs, "she's just really in to puzzles." And now that he hates her for a thing she didn't actually do, he goes all-in and, when he's absolutely positive that she's looking, leans across with his unheld hand, brushes hair off her cheek that's not even there since hers is in a ponytail, and tips a kiss sudden against her cheek.

And from now on, he gets boogers in his coffee.

Violet meets Alex's sideways look with perked brows - she's not privy to his internal thoughts, of course, and she wasn't about to skim his emotional surface. That feels wrong on far too many levels. So she's got no idea that he's questioning Logan's marital status, rolling her shoulders in a quick shrug. The hand holding was pleasant, and Violet was actually starting to relax and enjoy herself.

Until Alex questions her again about what people do to her. Then her shoulders straighten, some visible tension there. "It's not really a big deal. I'm getting used to it. They don't feel good about it. Not all of them, anyway. They're just.. curious." Here was Violet, defending an entire town of assholes, while she looks aside to the barista. "Maybe," on the puzzles. "She certainly can't be jealous of me, I'm pretty sure she's just jealous that you're..."

Words fail her, because she does look back to him and knows exactly what he was going to do. It's like everything happens in slow motion - he leans across the table, and her cheek flares with heat where his fingers brush. Then his lips make contact, and BANG! she gets so excited, she smacks her knee on the underside of the table, rattling the coffee and tea-cups and sending a few puzzle pieces flying onto the floor. "Oh!"

Alex does not insist that these people are horrible for coming in to gawk at the person he's trying to make into his girlfriend. (NB: His first girlfriend in EIGHTEEN YEARS.) That's what the cheek-kiss was for, and why his lips linger against her cheek longer than is strictly necessary for what is otherwise a wholly chaste display of affection. They'd probably hang out there longer - and might even take a tour over to kiss her on the lips - if she hadn't gotten skittish and decided to take her nerves out on the table.

He freezes for a second, lips still close, and sends side-eyes to the flying puzzle pieces. Too bad he's not telekinetic and could just pick them up with his mind. "Oh," he repeats with a quick, warm chuckle while he leans out of his chair. And finally will have to let go of Violet's hand, though not without one last squeeze before he rises, reporting back, "It's just Ariel." While he gets out of his chair entirely, coming around the table to crouch and collect the scattered bits of redhead, sliding them back up next to the box. "Can I walk with you back to your shop?" he adds while he's down there, looking up above the horizon of the table to catch her eyes with his hopeful ones, please?

"Oh, oh gosh. I'm so sorry," Violet wasn't hyperventilating (yet), but her breath was coming quicker after that smack of her knee into the table. And she's thankful when he releases her hand so that she doesn't have to yank it out of his grip - not because she didn't want to keep holding onto him, but because she wanted to rub at her now sore knee, wincing with embarrassment. "You just.. caught me by surprise, and are you sure you meant to do that?" Like maybe he was suddenly pushed by some invisible force which sent him over the table and put his lips onto her cheek. Stranger things have happened?

She keeps rubbing at her knee as he starts to collect the pieces of Ariel scattered across the floor, and maybe that bitch should've grown some legs and been useful for once. But she was watching him, wide eyed and lashes fluttering, as he looks above the edge of the table with those hopeful eyes. She just wanted a peek, it was very unfair but she just needed to know - was this something genuine? Or was this their version of some sick, twisted game?

But there was nothing. That hardly ever happens, where she feels like she's pushing against an invisible wall. Chances are hard to take, and this was a big one. But those eyes, they were hard to resist. And so while he's still down there, pieces of a broken redhead in his hand, she does the stupidest thing ever. She twists in her seat, lays her hand on his cheek, and touches her lips to his.

Alex doesn't know about psych(ot)ic red-heads and their ability to mind-shove people into getting black eyes, so his question is an honest one: "Is that the sort of thing that a person can do without intent?" Behind the hopeful eyes, gears turn... but fail to engage, because Alex came from normal parts of the country, where there's nothing that makes people accidentally kiss someone. No, wait, one gear clicks - alcohol! - but he doesn't even have time to formulate some clever quip about his utter sobriety because yay!

Wait. First. He has no idea that Violet's trying to poke-and-prod at his emotions. We can just chalk up that mental wall to reflex, to making sure your daughter doesn't find out some shit she doesn't need to be knowing. Now back to yay!

Alex is surprised, yes, but it's the good kind of surprise. He was just about to climb back to his feet, having caught up all the pieces, but this takes precedence, so he stays awkwardly on one knee, rests one hand on the arm of her chair to brace his forward-lean into that kiss. Since she almost died when he touched her hand, he's not going to press his luck and get too randy, but his lips part a little, just barely tasting her lower lip between his with a very low, very intrigued hmm. He should probably be breathing, but he forgets to do that (so doesn't fog up her glasses at least), and has to breathe in hugely at the tail-end of that kiss.

Violet will almost certainly answer his question later. Just as soon as she's able to remember how words work. But right now? Her lips were a little busy, and her head was more than a little floaty, and her lashes flutter and fan out as her eyes sink shut and she forward-leans at the same time that he forward-leans. Which only means that her lips press a little firmer, her breath hitching so that they part as his part, and there's a very faint sound of absolute delight that is positively ruined by the sudden

SMASH! of a coffee cup upon the floor, from the barista who looks over at the exact wrong time (for her).

It's enough to startle Violet out of the moment, her cheeks burning as she jerks back and her eyes flare open wide. She lifts her hand to cover up her mouth, but she can still feel the heat of his lips on hers even though the moment was over. "I think.." Breathe, Violet. "I think it would be good if you took me back now."

No matter how much Alex wishes that barista would die in a fire right now, he still manages to say quietly, "Next time, we'll leave her a big enough tip to cover the cost of the cup, hm?" And he smiles up at Violet with a little thread of apology in there, like he's somehow at fault for the interruption - which, like, if you distill it down to its simplest terms, he technically is. Or his gene pool is. Anyway, he holds the apologetic smile for a second, then uses the hand on the arm of her chair to stand up, reaching across with his other hand to collect his long-neglected coat.

"I think that you're right, Violet. I also think," and he offers the chair-hand to her, another sort of 'please?' look - since the first one worked like gangbusters 😃 - concluding his thoughts in a little low-voiced Spanish. There's no one to translate it for the player, so he nicely volunteers, "I'll tell you what I said on the walk."

Because she'll die if he says it in here, promise.

"It's really hard to believe that you're actually real," Violet says in a breathy whisper, as he gets to his feet and says the things that he says. She lifts her gaze to follow him as he stands, a touch hesitant when he holds out his hand .. but she lays her palm in his, and gets to her feet with a quick swipe of her skirt to make sure it falls properly with her change in position. They didn't put the puzzle back into the box, which is going to bother her later, but right now? Right now, she wanted to get outside.

And not just to hear the translation of what he mumbles in Spanish. Although that was certainly a motivator. She keeps her hand in his and lets him escort her outside. "I'm sorry about that," she says once they were out in the fresh air, brows furrowing. What was she apologizing for? The kiss? The barista dropping the cup? "I really am not usually this.. forward, and you have been very nice to me."

Okay, so see? Alex is thoughtless enough to leave dishes and a puzzle all over a coffee shop table, so some underpaid barista has to clean it up - while grousing that Violet Whitehouse was kissing the shrimpy doctor.

There's a little mental map-making when he glances at his locked bike; they're on Maple, her shop is downtown, the hospital is on the other side of the park, she's holding his hand, the bike is going to be in the way, "I'll circle back for that." Also, "Don't be," sorry. He has a sideways smile for her while the walk and assures, "You're easy to be very nice to. And kissing you was very nice, so it all works out. I'll keep being very nice if you'll keep kissing me?" It's the wheel-and-deal smile from the very first time they met, he trots it back out presently.

"Are you sure?" Violet says of the bike, the corners of her lips twitching like they were about to frown but weren't ready to commit to it yet. "I could just walk you back to the hospital, instead? I mean I assume that's where you came from, since you look so handsome. Not that you don't always look very handsome! This is just.. work handsome, and.." Stop, Violet, Jesus. Her cheeks were splotchy-burning again, worsening as he talks about continuing to kiss him. But that smile, it was hard to fight against.

So she tips up on her toes to peck a kiss to the very corner of his mouth, offering him a faintly crafty smile as she pulls away. "Okay," she says. It's that simple. "Are you going to tell me what you said in there?"

Alex looks handsome. All the qualifiers that Violet rambles on to the end of that still leave him with the same response. He straightens his tie and says, "Thank you." That it earned him another kiss, albeit a small one, is just gravy - the kind of gravy that makes him smile with that corner of his mouth, ignoring the whole issue of his bike and the hospital. He is walking her to the shop, that is just how this is going to go, and hold her hand the whole way. And answer, "Yes," for telling her what he said in there.

But not till they get to the exterior of the shop, where he can stop, drawing on her hand so hopefully she stops, too. Or else dislodges her shoulder (so plz just stop). He turns to face her then, and carefully reaches to remove the glasses off her face with his empty hand, holding them by the side so as not to get his fingerprints all over them. "I said," while looking at her without the glasses, and it sounded smoother in Spanish, so he dithers a moment about the translation, "that the only thing lovelier than looking into your eyes is seeing them closed to kiss you." Okay, it sounded pretty smooth in English, too.

NOW KISS.

It didn't matter that he was going to make her wait until they got all the way to the store before he gives her an answer. Because Violet was walking on air, and the walk feels far too short, because before she knows it? They are there at her door, and she knows this afternoon was coming to an end. At least she stops when he pulls on her hand, turning towards him so that her shoulder wasn't dislocated in the process.

Then he was drawing closer, and removing her glasses - and this isn't exactly a pretty Hollywood moment, alas, she actually needs those glasses to see? Which means she squints as they are removed, though at least not into thin slits; she wasn't that blind, and he was close. And getting awfully closer, too, or maybe that was her leaning towards him, drawn in by those smooth, sweet words that make her toes curl in her ballet flats. "Oh," she takes a breath, "You're too sweet to be real, Alex," she whispers. But there was no room for a response, because she was putting her hand on his shoulder and leaning up to fit her lips to his again. And this time, she doesn't run away into the shop.

Alex isn't even gonna try to follow up that line with anything other than the kiss that it totally earned him. He has her glasses in one hand and her hand in the other, but still, he manages - with the glasses-hand - to tip his thumb under the very end of her chin, kind of angling the glasses out over there where they're not directly in the way. There's a little more searching in that second kiss, a little more time taken, but it's not a 'slam her against the door, let's bang' moment.

And it leaves him smiling against her lips at the end, pressing his one last time softly - with a look at the closed eyes, the lashes on her cheeks, which deepens his smile momentarily. Then, just as carefully as he removed them, he sets her glasses back on her nose for her, leaning away enough to make this possible, brushing hair across her ear for her once they're resettled. He should have a smooth line ready, but nope; he'll just stand here and make sure she can get in the door okay.

Violet's breath was a little shaky, and it may be obvious to him that she was trembling; but she lets him take all the time that he wants, her lashes lowering over those bright (albeit squinted) blue eyes upon first brush. The hand at his shoulder rises, a feathery stroke of her fingers against the side of his neck before her open palm settles on his cheek, soon after his own thumb comes to tip under her chin, and the next hitch of her breath leaves her lips parting against his own. She wanted to kiss him until her knees stop wobbling, but that was probably never going to happen, so perhaps its a good thing that he parts when he does.

She doesn't open her eyes again until she feels the weight of the glasses on her nose, the brush of his fingers against her reddened cheek, and her the smile that forms on her lips is a shy one as she eases herself back. There's one last stroke of her fingers against the line of his jaw before she moves her hand to push her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. "I.. Thank you," she murmurs, before she reaches for the door to pop it open. But she wasn't watching what she was doing, because her attention was on him, and so when she turns to disappear into her shop? She bangs her shoulder right on the doorframe.

"Oh! Wow, I'm okay! I'm okay!" she insists, and then hurries on in to die a little.

Yeah, it's a good thing that Alex didn't bring his bike down here. There's no way he'd be riding off in his current state. The walk back to pick it up will do him good. Even after her little door-crash there at the end, he needs - like - at least two blocks to cool down.