take these broken wings and learn to fly

[ruinedu2.livejournal.com]

Who: "Fauxlivia" Dunham and you.
What: Coffee.
Where: Mog Hill, Queequeg's.
When: Veerdi (or any given) morning.
Warnings: None as of yet. Probably language?

Olivia would like to be one of those people waiting at the door when Queequeg's opens at 7, but in good conscience, she can't bring herself to add to the rush when she hasn't got any place to be in the mornings just yet. She waits a respectable hour before making her way from her room at Valhalla Inn to the sunken ship motif'd coffee shop.

It's become a bit of a game, ordering a coffee with the instruction surprise me. Sometimes this turns out to be a pleasant surprise, and those combinations she writes down for later reference. Sometimes she discovers that she should stick to what she knows. Today she's fortunately enjoying the results of flavour roulette, her hands wrapped around the hot beverage, a contented smile on her lips after a tentative sip. Out on deck, the warmth of it is appreciated.

Comments

[thenormalsquint]

With a glint in her eye, Angela makes a beeline for a table off in a corner that's out of the way but still attention catching just in case. Her luck holds out on at least one thing today because just as she's about to pull out a chair to sit, somebody--hopefully a potential paying person--is waving her down.

"I also take money," she answers with a smile that broadcasts "Of course!" Hey, closed mouths don't get fed.

[ruinedu2.livejournal.com]

Money Liv has got. Not in spades, but she's got it. She gets up from her table to approach Angela's instead, where she sets down her coffee so she can reach into the back pocket of her black cargo pants and procure her wallet. "Can you work from a photograph?"

[thenormalsquint]

"I definitely can." This is the second time somebody's asked her to refer to a picture when doing a sketch. Somehow, it seems normal to Angela. When in a place where you know no one and miss the people you do, a little extra something to stare at might help.

[ruinedu2.livejournal.com]

The wallet is flipped open so she can work free a photograph of herself wearing a dark bathrobe and a tired smile while holding an infant who's been turned outward for the benefit of the camera. "I know it's a bit small, but is it clear enough to work from?"

[thenormalsquint]

Angela carefuly reaches for the photograph, giving it the utmost respect because it's clearly means enough to Olivia and who is Angela to degrade that?

"I've worked from less," she says with a comforting and reassuring smile. Less would be the top of a skull, but there is no need to mention that. "I only have a pencil with me so I'm not going to be able to color it in. Right now, anyway." There are options to fix that later, but for now, Angela settles in to begin working.

"Do you want an exact copy?"

[ruinedu2.livejournal.com]

"Doesn't need to be." The photo is relinquished without reluctance. "Doesn't have to be colour, either." She smiles a little in spite of herself, fondly. "That's my son, Henry." To say she misses him would be both obvious and an understatement. "It'd be nice to have another picture of him."

[thenormalsquint]

"I don't blame you. He's a cutie. Mini-heartbreaker," Angela assures Olivia, letting her know that is absolutely no problem in multiples. She sets the picture to lean against her coffee cup, a fine place for her to work from. "How old is he?"