2011 05 31: Coffee and a Date

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Mission Name: Coffee and a Date
Date of Mission: May 31, 2011
Locale: Starbucks

Lance runs into Jezebel… again. This time at her work.


Lance Jezebel

The dinner crowds are trickling from mere coffee shops to places more suited for their needs — like the diner across the street for example. There are a few business-types just getting off work who are being waited on diligently by two of the other staff members of the coffee house, but not Jez. She seems to be on break right now, still wearing her ever-present uniform. She sits at one of the small tables with her feet propped up on the chair across from her. She's eating a double bacon cheeseburger from aforementioned diner across the street, along with a small basket of fries and a cup of Coke. No one is daring to say anything to her about the fact that she's brought outside food in — perhaps the somewhat pissed look on her face gives them pause, or maybe since it's New York, no one really cares. There's a newspaper spread out in front of her, focused on the obituary section.

As the dinner crowd trickles in, Lance is among those coming in. He moves in with a group of other businessmen, though from the way the others are talking amongst themselves, it's apparent that he's not with them. He moves into the coffee shop and waits his turn in line as he goes over some data scrolling across the screen of his phone, work it seems. As his turn arrives, he presses a button before putting the phone away and placing his drink order. "Double mocha latte with six shots of espresso." He tells the person behind the counter. He pays for the drink and steps aside to wait for his drink to be made, finally getting a chance to take a look around at those who are in the room.

With a mouthful of salty French fries, Jez looks up to spot Lance as he orders. She grins a little bit and swallows her bite down, whistling in his direction. "We have to stop meeting like this, Lucas. People are going to get the wrong idea." The young woman pushes out the chair that sits across from her. "As soon as you have your coffee, would you like to join me? I'd be grateful for the company. I've always hated eatin' alone." She picks up a single French fry and raises it to her mouth, nibbling at the tip of it thoughtfully. It's less seductive and more contemplative than anything.

"Stalking is a harsh word these days, pilgrim." Jezebel takes her feet from the table as Lance moves to sit down, smiling at him briefly. "And you were the one who walked in here, where I work, soooo… the tables could be turned." There's a wink after that before Jez takes a sip of her Coke to wash down the mound of fries she's eating. "It's not that I'm not a fan, I just don't have much of a sweet tooth. This Coke is about all the sweetness I need in a day, and of course, sweet tea — the staple liquid of a true Southerner's life. But I'm a girl that needs substance in her diet. I'm not like a lot of these upper east side bimbos 'round here that eat a coupla packets of Splenda a day, some laxatives, and two gallons of water and call it 'dieting'." A few of those previously mentioned bimbos turn to look in Jezebel's direction after this comment is made, though the girl doesn't seem to notice, eyeing her cheeseburger ravenously.

Lance grins and chuckles at her reply, nodding. "True. Though I prefer to call it 'obsessively shadowing'. He leans back in his seat as he watches her take the drink of Coke then towards the bimbos looking towards them. "Well, it's good to see that not all the women around these parts aren't worried about their figure." He says, looking back towards her. "Besides, women like that are generally gold digging whores who marry a 98 year old guy just to wait for him to die so they get the inheritance." He smirks slightly at that, glancing back towards the bimbos who heard Jez speak.

"Women like that are probably goin' to die from their many plastic surgeries and Botox injections. Ain't normal for any one woman to have that much saline, plastic, or other chemicals in her body, all for the sake of beauty. It's a sad cultural standard." She wipes her fingers on a napkin before reaching to fix her ponytail, giving moderately crusty looks to the passing bimbos that seem to say 'The Hell you starin' at?' "Yeah, but everyone's doin' prenups these days, and if an old man's kids are smart, they're gonna make her sign one. At least that's what I hear. Ain't a problem for me; I'll be a lifelong bachelorette. Life's much more uncomplicated without some shiftless husband and a couple of ungrateful kids draggin' ya to your grave." She takes another drink of her Coke before looking at Lance. "Obsessively shadowin' is a nicer way of puttin' it, I s'pose."

Lance nods his head as he smirks. "Yeah. Everything needs a prenup now-a-days." He raises an eyebrow at the mention of her being a lifetime bachelorette. "Well, welcome to the club. I will just sleep around and have a bunch of one-night stands for the rest of my life. It's worked for me this long." He grins and nods as he looks at her. "Yeah. Stalking sounds just too much like a pervert peeking into windows." He grins and takes another drink from the coffee. "So, what brought you to New York?"

Lance's words about one night stands very nearly make Jezebel blush, but instead she grins bashfully. "Well, that's an interestin' life philosophy, I s'pose. Long as you're not leavin' bastards scattered around the universe. I hear most men don't like that doin' that sorta thing." She finishes off her cheeseburger in silent contemplation before looking back up at Lance. "University. I got an 'underpriveleged child' scholarship and chose NYU. Had to drop out though. But I've makin' it here ever since. It's much better than Dallas, I'll tell you that — but I miss home sometimes too."

Lance smiles as he traces his finger along the edge of his cup lid as he looks at her. "Oh yeah? I hear good things about NYU. I didn't go there myself, but still…" He doesn't finish the thought, instead picking up his coffee and takes a drink. He offers a small laugh at the mention of the bastard children. "Hell, knowing my luck, there's probably some mini-mes running around somewhere. Laws of probability and all that." He says with a slight shrug.

"Yeah. It woulda been better if I'd been able to finish out, but…" Jez shrugs her shoulders. She grins a little bit and finishes off her Coke, pushing the rest of her French fries around in their basket before she looks at the work clock. "It's not as easy for us women to leave the bastard kids around. It takes a little more dedication than layin' on top of some chick, gettin' her sticky, and leavin'. We gotta carry the kid for nine months, give or take, then dump 'em off on family. I ain't sayin' anyone should respect someone leavin' another person in that situation, but you gotta admit: that really does take balls and dedication." She reaches up to scratch at the corner of her mouth, licking her lips in a thoughtful manner before trying to meet the man's eyes. "And what about you, Lucas? What brought you to New York? I thought I deteced some French in your accent."

Lance listens to her speak about the children and moms, nods in agreement. "I totally agree. It takes a lot of balls and dedication, something that I just couldn't do. Not saying that I don't have balls or dedication, but I just couldn't be a father." He takes another drink but stops short as she asks about him. "Oui. I was born in France and my parents immigrated here when I was five. I came to New York because of my job with Alpha Helix."

Jez chuckles at Lance's assertion that he couldn't be a father, shrugging her shoulders. "Sometimes it's one of those things… don't knock it 'til you've tried it — but I ain't sayin' to go out and get a baby, either." She bites her lip perhaps to stifle a laugh, mental images of Lance in dad-gear dancing through her head. "If it makes ya feel better, I don't think I'm mommy material either. Too much… I don't know… dependence. Don't think I could deal with a little tiny human bein' lookin' to me for all that sort of… I dunno. That sort of guidance. It'd be a trip, that's for sure. Suppose as long as they weren't torturin' the neighbors animals or lightin' fires, I'd be a success." She snickers before nodding to him. "Ah. Then I s'pose your French is far better than mine. You have a nice accent though. Somewhat mysterious, if I do say so myself."

Lance nods. "Yeah, but I won't know if I can be a father until it happens. So with the knowledge about myself that I have at this present moment, I have to say that I couldn't do it. I may be wrong, but I don't know that yet." He says with a smile before he glances down at the compliment. "I'm fluent in six languages including French. I think it's one of the reasons that Alpha Helix hired me." He chuckles softly. "But I'm guessing that French isn't your native tongue."

Jezebel shakes her head. So far she's made no mention of Alpha Helix, but nods understandingly when Lance brings them up. "No, French isn't my first language, but I am fluent. That and Italian. Amazing, the things you learn in 'college'." There's a wink after that before she looks around at the customers going out. Not a whole more coming in at this point. "Six languages is impressive though. Never could master any of the Asian ones. Japanese was just too damned hard. Forget about Mandarian and Korean thugh. And the writin'? Shiiiit." She draws the word out with a soft 'e' in the middle, shaking her head at him before she takes a cold French fry and examines it in front of her. "The things we put into our bodies… I don't even wanna know about the cholesterol problems in store for me in the next twenty years."

Lance smirks and nods. "The Asian languages were the first ones I learned because of my folks. They thought it'd help me later in life to learn another language." He shrugs for a moment as he looks around at his watch for a moment then looks around. "When do you get off work? Maybe we can meet somewhere less crowded and get to know each other better?" He asks before he takes a drink from his cup, looking at her over the rim.

She looks over at the clock again. "Around… ten. I'm on the closing shift. Speaking of which, I should be headin' back there. Unlike a lot of chains, we clean this place top to bottom every night, and the machines get the maintenance they're s'posed to. So make it about ten-thirty." Jez looks at him and puts her cheeseburger wrapper in the cold basket of fries, along with her cup. "Where do you propose to meet then, Mister Lucas?"

Lance nods his head as he looks at her. "Okay. Ten-thirty sounds good to me." He says to her with a smile. "Why don't I meet you here? I'll swing by here and we can figure it out from there?" He says as he starts to gather his things as well. "And you can call me just Lucas. Mister just makes me feel old." He chuckles and smiles as he extends his hand towards her as he makes a formal introduction. "I'm Lucas Neville."

Jezebel seems skeptical if not apprehensive at his offer to meet her, but nods. "Sounds fine to me." There's a pause when he introduces himself. She smiles at him. "Jezebel Moore, coffee wench at your service." The brunette takes his hand and shakes it gently before standing up and collecting her trash from the table. She's left her newspaper there though — probably it was left by another patron. "I'll see you at ten-thirty, then. Lookin' forward to it, sugar." Jez turns on her heel and starts back for the kitchen, looking at one of the other employees. "Put your eyes back in your head, Teddy. We should start pickin' some of this shit up before we gotta close down."

Lance smiles and nods. "Alright. Ten-thirty, I'll meet you here then." Until then…" He says, shaking her hand. He stands from the table as she heads to go back to work, snagging the newspaper. A little light reading on the way back to work. He heads towards the door, newspaper tucked under one arm and looks back over his shoulder. "It was nice seeing you again." He says towards her, offering a wave before heading outside to hail a cab.


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