01-12-2011, 03:04 AM
The door clicked in place behind Jarka. It was likely to be the last time she ever exited Jimmy’s Fine Eats Restaurant. A ragged sigh escaped her lips as she rested her back against the door before sliding to the ground. What do I do now? I had finally found a purpose. A goal. A mission. A half hour passed while she sobbed in that position, clutching her parcel to her chest. It was at this point that she noticed two pairs of feet planted firmly next to her.
Black suede loafers next to sassy black pumps. The loafers belonged to a man in a flashy business suit with a power red button up shirt and patterned tie. The pumps resided on a surprisingly bedraggled looking woman with cascading pink hair. Both looked strangely familiar.
Jarka squinted her bloodshot eyes before the realization emerged in her bleary consciousness. “You’re that guy! From the news! And you-” She pointed at the woman.
“You’re his date from the other night!” The woman blushed, nearly blending into the locks framing her face. “Well, sir, you date too young, but at least you stick with them.”
The man laughed heartily, toeing the fine line between natural and trying too hard. “Well, this place charmed us. Do you mind if we dine in again, Miss...”
“Veselyova. Easier if you just call me Jarka. And, I wouldn’t mind, but we’re closed now.”
The woman looked concerned. “Closed? So suddenly?”
“The boss is joining the military. We’re a small place, so that’s pretty much it for staff.”
The man shook his head. “It really is a shame. You had some excellent pancakes. It was lovely meeting you, Jarka. We’ll be on our way.”
As the couple’s footsteps began to fade away, Jarka leapt to her feet. “Hey, guys! Wait up!”
Turning to face her, the man raised an eyebrow at his companion before letting forth a silky, “Can I help you?”
“Listen. As of thirty minutes ago, I’m twenty-something, unemployed, and living with my parents. I can’t fight. I mean, I know some basic self-defense, that’s it. But I can cook. I can cook damn well. If you get me a roof over my head, I would love to offer my services to Earth’s Combined Militia.”
The woman slid her hand into the crook of the man’s elbow. “I am pretty hungry, and it feels like, well, forever since I’ve had a home cooked meal.” Her sugary pout was even enough to make Jarka weak at the knees.
The man extended his hand. “Roy Munin. This is my assistant, Victoria. As for that roof over your head, well, if you don’t mind my associates, then I would be proud to offer you a room in our place.” His current smile was the first genuine expression Jarka had seen him make.
After a moment of hesitation, Jarka returned the handshake. “Sure, why not. How bad could they be?”
Black suede loafers next to sassy black pumps. The loafers belonged to a man in a flashy business suit with a power red button up shirt and patterned tie. The pumps resided on a surprisingly bedraggled looking woman with cascading pink hair. Both looked strangely familiar.
Jarka squinted her bloodshot eyes before the realization emerged in her bleary consciousness. “You’re that guy! From the news! And you-” She pointed at the woman.
“You’re his date from the other night!” The woman blushed, nearly blending into the locks framing her face. “Well, sir, you date too young, but at least you stick with them.”
The man laughed heartily, toeing the fine line between natural and trying too hard. “Well, this place charmed us. Do you mind if we dine in again, Miss...”
“Veselyova. Easier if you just call me Jarka. And, I wouldn’t mind, but we’re closed now.”
The woman looked concerned. “Closed? So suddenly?”
“The boss is joining the military. We’re a small place, so that’s pretty much it for staff.”
The man shook his head. “It really is a shame. You had some excellent pancakes. It was lovely meeting you, Jarka. We’ll be on our way.”
As the couple’s footsteps began to fade away, Jarka leapt to her feet. “Hey, guys! Wait up!”
Turning to face her, the man raised an eyebrow at his companion before letting forth a silky, “Can I help you?”
“Listen. As of thirty minutes ago, I’m twenty-something, unemployed, and living with my parents. I can’t fight. I mean, I know some basic self-defense, that’s it. But I can cook. I can cook damn well. If you get me a roof over my head, I would love to offer my services to Earth’s Combined Militia.”
The woman slid her hand into the crook of the man’s elbow. “I am pretty hungry, and it feels like, well, forever since I’ve had a home cooked meal.” Her sugary pout was even enough to make Jarka weak at the knees.
The man extended his hand. “Roy Munin. This is my assistant, Victoria. As for that roof over your head, well, if you don’t mind my associates, then I would be proud to offer you a room in our place.” His current smile was the first genuine expression Jarka had seen him make.
After a moment of hesitation, Jarka returned the handshake. “Sure, why not. How bad could they be?”
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]
If life gives you lemons, hand them to me!
I've got a great recipe for lemon meringue pie.
If life gives you lemons, hand them to me!
I've got a great recipe for lemon meringue pie.