[ Texting is kind of a new thing. He spent a lot the turn of the millennium around analogue clocks in a dying business that was being ushered into its grave with digitisation of time. And then not even that. Who wears watches, anymore?
Likewise: being asked out for a beer is a first, enough that his cellphone rests burning in his hands for a few seconds, stared at quizzically, before; ]
( oh shit he said yes usually she goes in cocky and over the top and it leads her to an inevitable but very comfortable point of deciding that either the person is humourless and not worth her time, or remembering that she's a dickhead and not worth the other party's time. )
I mean, we could go rob a bank and hijack some cars to spice things up, if its a little lacking.
it's like you have standards, or something. Dunno yet. Thinking about checking out this place near the beach in Heropa. I hear they've got this Cuban style rum bar that's meant to be pretty good.
[ It's getting late by the time Sarissa has made her way to their shared destination to discover that Gabriel is already there. The bar opens out to permit the cooling night air, and he is seated a little precariously on wooden railings that define the edges of the open deck. At 6'2", wolfishly lanky limbed, there's a lot of him to account for, but feet hook in solidly, freeing his hands so that he can fuck around on his phone while he waits.
Defiant in black despite most people's tendency to dress in colours that don't actively absorb the heat, unadorned save for a wrist watch that ticks perfectly on time. He has also achieved some black-rimmed prescription glasses, at least one degree more stylish than the pair he left in another dimension.
He's listening to the oddly soothing sound of pool balls clacking like marble off one another from within, inaudible to those without super-sensitive hearing. ]
( Ah, wooden railing perching, one of her favourites. She contemplates several courses of action;
1. surprising him 2. clambering up next to him 3. waiting until he notices her
Sarissa decides, ultimately, on being moderately smooth. Rolls her shoulders, leans her neck to the side for a satisfying crackle, and smoothes her hands over the messy bun that her hair is pulled back into. She doesn't care about impressing people, it's just that she really cares about impressing people. She's in jeans and a sleeveless shirt with some oddly retro, fashionably faded out logo on the front.
When she approaches, finally, she's clears her throat quirks her brow, amused, and rolling a little pink mini-umbrella that she pilfered from a passing waitress between her fingers. )
It'd be too much to open with another knock-knock joke, right?
[ In the world, in general. Gabriel steps down from his perch without an excess of grace. He only ever moves with certainty when he is certain. He's not exactly sure about what to do about this woman, inviting herself into his proximity. He idles his phone, turning it around in his palm as he sweeps a look over her as he says; ]
I think you missed an opportunity for a 'walks into a bar' one, anyway.
[ He nods towards, you know, the bar. Raises a querying eyebrow. Shall we? ]
( Somehow she has slipped into both "sarcastic and too cool" mode as well as "slightly ridiculous nerd" mode, which might actually be her true form. Please tell no one. The point is that she nods, we shall, and starts to wander in that direction. )
An Australian and an American walk into a bar— and it's really impressive they both hit it, considering the height difference?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text.
text.
text.
though, incidentally, Sarissa is also available at this number.
text.
text.
she's trapped for all eternity in the land of shitty knock knock jokes
text.
Is this a social call?
text.
Technically it's a social text. I was thinking of getting beer and trying not to get in a fight. Want to tag along?
text. 1/2.
Likewise: being asked out for a beer is a first, enough that his cellphone rests burning in his hands for a few seconds, stared at quizzically, before; ]
Where's the fun in that?
text. 2/2.
text.
usually she goes in cocky and over the top and it leads her to an inevitable but very comfortable point of deciding that either the person is humourless and not worth her time, or remembering that she's a dickhead and not worth the other party's time. )
I mean, we could go rob a bank and hijack some cars to spice things up, if its a little lacking.
text.
Re: text.
text.
Where am I tagging along to?
text.
Dunno yet. Thinking about checking out this place near the beach in Heropa. I hear they've got this Cuban style rum bar that's meant to be pretty good.
text.
I can be in Heropa.
text.
Nice. In an hour, maybe? Meet you by the beach?
text.
text.
text → action.
Defiant in black despite most people's tendency to dress in colours that don't actively absorb the heat, unadorned save for a wrist watch that ticks perfectly on time. He has also achieved some black-rimmed prescription glasses, at least one degree more stylish than the pair he left in another dimension.
He's listening to the oddly soothing sound of pool balls clacking like marble off one another from within, inaudible to those without super-sensitive hearing. ]
ten years late, cinnamon rolls of penance
1. surprising him
2. clambering up next to him
3. waiting until he notices her
Sarissa decides, ultimately, on being moderately smooth. Rolls her shoulders, leans her neck to the side for a satisfying crackle, and smoothes her hands over the messy bun that her hair is pulled back into. She doesn't care about impressing people, it's just that she really cares about impressing people. She's in jeans and a sleeveless shirt with some oddly retro, fashionably faded out logo on the front.
When she approaches, finally, she's clears her throat quirks her brow, amused, and rolling a little pink mini-umbrella that she pilfered from a passing waitress between her fingers. )
It'd be too much to open with another knock-knock joke, right?
offers pumpkin spice lattes of retribution
[ In the world, in general. Gabriel steps down from his perch without an excess of grace. He only ever moves with certainty when he is certain. He's not exactly sure about what to do about this woman, inviting herself into his proximity. He idles his phone, turning it around in his palm as he sweeps a look over her as he says; ]
I think you missed an opportunity for a 'walks into a bar' one, anyway.
[ He nods towards, you know, the bar. Raises a querying eyebrow. Shall we? ]
A FEAST FOR BROS
( Somehow she has slipped into both "sarcastic and too cool" mode as well as "slightly ridiculous nerd" mode, which might actually be her true form. Please tell no one. The point is that she nods, we shall, and starts to wander in that direction. )
An Australian and an American walk into a bar— and it's really impressive they both hit it, considering the height difference?