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BOBBIN, abigail ([info]trophy) wrote in [info]valesco,
@ 2008-05-20 19:40:00


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Entry tags:sebastian goldstein

WHO?: Abigail Bobbin & OPEN.
WHAT?: A chance meeting.
WHERE?: Fratelli Camisa, Diagon Alley.
WHEN?: Around 3:30PM.
WHY?: Because.


The sun was bright, the tea was remarkable, and Fratelli Camisa was quiet. That wasn't to say that the place was void of people, no, it was more to say that the people occupying the place were less boisterous and obnoxious than the average person might be. Of course, there had been more than a few times that she'd ventured this way and come across characters far too colorful for her liking, but this was not one of those times. Fratelli Camisa normally attracted a more upscale crowd, and it was only that upscale sort of crowd that Abigail allowed herself to associate with. She sat at a small table near a large window overlooking the street, basking quite comfortably in the warm sunlight and sipping daintily from her teacup. Today had been absolutely marvelous so far. As bored as she often complained she was, she was more often than not occupying her time usefully.

Or, well, her definition of usefully. Abigail spent her days making allies and figuring out how to next redecorate her house. They'd only just moved in, it seemed, but Abigail had already changed schemes at least six times. If it had been necessary for her to obtain a job, she'd have definitely been best suited for interior decoration. Idly, Abigail flipped through a decor magazine on her table, taking careful consideration of everything she saw. Even if she didn't find herself especially fond of what she saw most of the time, she knew that she might find herself inspired by small ideas. Right now, her husband was hard at work with her father crunching numbers somewhere and Abigail could hardly be bothered with helping out as far as that went. Designing the store? Sure, leave it to Abigail! Work out the monetary details? Not so much her thing. Still, her job was never done, at least not on the home front.


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[info]sebclicks
2008-05-21 04:49 pm UTC (link)
He had to make one of the toughest decisions, honestly, how could someone expect this of him? Sebastian sighed, and finally, finally let out, "Strawberry filling."

Ah, yes. He did love these...pastries. Sebastian had no idea what they were called, just that they had strawberry (or peach, ugh it was such a hard decision!) filling and he could eat a dozen of them. And it was the perfect snack for his surprise visit to St. Mungo's, timing himself perfectly with Mackenzie's lunch break. Of course, he'd asked her five times this morning when her lunch was, and what kind of sandwich/lunch meal she was in the mood for, so Sebastian didn't think it would be that much of a surprise. But he could fake it and milk it for what it was worth.

"Thanks!" he said, taking the bag with the pastries in one hand and then the tray of iced coffee (tea apparently just did not keep a healer as energized as this kind of drink) in the other. Of course, Sebastian didn't have the best of balance, and the drinks began to tip over immediately, so he dropped the bag to the floor to grab onto the trays, letting out a breath as he found his footing.

He straightened out, then looked for the bag. Where...where could it have---oh! He must've kicked it, it was underneath that woman's table...oh, Sebastian recognized her from school, a year younger than him and Mack, but he couldn't recall her name.

"Excuse me, Miss?" he started, shifting the drinks in his hand as he came over. Sebastian didn't think that crawling under her table without permission would be the best thing to do.

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[info]trophy
2008-05-21 09:41 pm UTC (link)
Luckily enough for Abigail, as she sipped her tea and turned the pages of her magazine, she was blissfully unaware of a person she would have been incredibly displeased about being forced to share the same oxygen with. But the ruckus, of course, caught her attention. Startled, her attention jolted to the source, all but forgetting about her magazine. Her hand rested idly upon the open page and she looked dumbfoundedly at Sebastian Goldstein for hardly a moment before that dumbfounded expression switched to one of disgust. No, Abigail couldn't really tell for sure whether this man or his blood traitor wife was worse.

The bag slid under her table and she ignored it, lowering her gaze back down to her magazine. Nothing of his was hardly worth her attention. She pretended to be engrossed in what she was reading until she was so rudely interrupted. Abigail lifted her gaze as though she were being interrupted by a homeless man and her eyes said as much. Eyeing him disdainfully, she sniffed and pushed the bag out from under her table and towards him with the toe of her pointed high heeled shoe. Though she had intended to go back to reading and sparing him no more of her valuable time, she couldn't help but look at the drinks somewhat nervously. She shifted in her seat and scooted just a slight bit out of what she considered to be the possible line of fire.

Forcing her eyes to turn back downward to her magazine, she said simply, "I might consider a new pastry, if I were you." But she wasn't him, thankfully, and she would definitely never eat anything that had fallen to the floor, whether it was in a bag or otherwise. Still, she didn't believe he would have the same standards.

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[info]sebclicks
2008-05-21 11:15 pm UTC (link)
"Excuse me?" Sebastian repeated, eyebrows going high as he bent to pick up the bag. Was...she serious? He looked from the woman to the bag, and then back to her, wondering if something had gone wrong with the bag while it was on the floor. Sebastian didn't really put much thought behind it has he placed his drinks on her table (on the other side, at least, he wasn't that rude) and reached into the bag.

No, they looked all right. Nothing was squished, thankfully, because he really hadn't wanted to spend anymore money. Mackenzie wasn't a big time healer yet, he wasn't a famous photographer yet, so it wasn't as if he could just go spending sickles and knuts like it grew on trees.

Though, they did live in a castle. Not many people could say that.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked, rolling the top of the bag and moving to pick up the tray of drinks.

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[info]trophy
2008-05-22 02:41 am UTC (link)
Though she felt his questioning eyes on her, Abigail pretended to remain oblivious, continuing to occupy herself with her magazine. For emphasis, she flipped the page. If he didn't get the message that she was through with the niceties yet, she just didn't have any idea what else she'd have to do. Of course she didn't have any intention on clarifying! It was hardly worth the trouble.

Sebastian set the cups down on her table and her spine stiffened. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she opened them and looked at the cups again, as though she wished that they'd have been gone by the time she reopened them. That, at least, would account for the feeling of disappointment that rushed through her, anyway. Lifting her gaze, she fixated her eyes on Sebastian's hands, which were overturning pastries, before forcing herself to look at his face. "It was on the floor," she said flatly, her upper lip twitching ever so slightly. Dropping her eyes from his face and back to the pastries, she looked at them as though they had suddenly sprouted mold and opened her mouth as though she wanted to say something else, but instead waved her hand dismissively and looked back to her magazine.

"I'm sure it's just the same to you. Enjoy."

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[info]sebclicks
2008-05-22 03:49 am UTC (link)
He froze in place for a second, trying to take in her words fully and correctly before letting his mind react to this perfect stranger. It was on the floor (which, it wasn't, they were in a bag, meaning that they didn't touch the floor) so he should get a new one, but apparently she believed that he would eat things off a dirty floor.

Wow. What a bloody bitch.

"I have no idea what you think gives you the right to speak to me that way," Sebastian said quickly, not stopping his shoulders and head from moving along with his tone and words. He was over all a very happy, fun loving guy, but his temper was shorter than a matchstick, and this bint had no reason other than just being, well, a bint to even speak to him---and here he thought he was being friendly,

"But I suggest you get off your high horse before you cause some real trouble." Sebastian scoffed and shook his head, beginning to maneuver his belongings again. Imagine if she ran into some death eater who was thirsty; there was no way they'd take kindly to her tone.

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