Coffee and a Chat (Robin)

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Job. Emerson almost groaned as Robin mentioned it. In the midst of her storm of panic, she’d forgotten about the silent promise she’d made to herself back in the coffee shop. It seemed like forever ago, but it was only what, not even an hour before? She’d decided that she would be an employee somewhere small so that Robin wouldn’t have to go out of his way to ask that business guy about that position that was far, far too mature-sounding for the girl’s liking. She was appreciative of the offer, of course, but he didn’t have to. Really.

If it hadn’t been clear before that Emerson liked to be read to, it was abundantly so then. Elbows on her thighs and chin in her hands, Emerson looked between the beautifully illustrated pages and Robin, as he altered his tone for each character, (which was something she was so, so ecstatic about), a small smile brightening her features as the story progressed. She allowed herself to laugh, to frown, to be totally absorbed in the plot and the characters, and to such an extent that she didn’t even notice the people that passed by or the parent that paused to grab at the bindings of a book similar. This was a good thing, because it meant that her anxiety could simmer away and not return. At least for the remainder of the night.

It was perfect timing, perhaps, when the same employee that had visited the pair in regards to Emerson’s wellbeing returned a second time. The woman cleared her throat and only then did Emerson’s gaze tear away from the book’s pages and the male that held them. “We’re closing soon,” she said. “Five minutes.” And she held up a hand of five painted fingernails to prove it before she was gone again. The frown on Emerson’s face was short lived. The story had only been interrupted when Wendy was given the choice to go with Peter Pan or to not, and the brunette already knew the ending, and that it disappointed her, slightly. Of course, everyone could make their decisions, and in a way, she could see why Wendy would have wanted to grow up, but Emerson knew, without a doubt, that she would take Peter Pan’s hand and fly away past the second star if given the chance.

“We should go?” the brunette wondered, hands planting by her sides on the ground, ready to push herself up to stand. “Thanks f’reading to me,” she added with a mumble, slightly shy as she looked away. “You’re a good storyteller, Robin.”

[Robin Little]

Robin hadn’t realised that they’d got almost all the way through the book until they were almost done – and they were being ushered out of the shop. He blinked up at the salesgirl before turning back to Emerson with a sheepish grin. Well, at least they hadn’t overstayed their welcome.

”We should. I doubt they’d lock us in,” he said with a wink. He took the book Emerson had collected from her grasp, easing it out before she could object. It and Peter Pan he cradled in his arm as he pushed himself up and off the floor, helping Emerson up beside him. Wary of holding up the girl who probably had places to go (even if it was only to go home and put her feet up), Robin went directly to the counter to pay for the two books. He gave over his name to accumulate points for the loyalty program, and beamed as the books were placed into a brown paper bag, along with a bookmark for each.

The shop had mostly cleared out of its customers; the bar that adjoined it was dark and empty, the bar top gleaming and clean and all the glasses put back in their proper places. The bookshop, too, had been tidied around them – all gaps filled, children’s books picked up off the floor, books straightened and counter cleared. Robin paid with card so as not to mess up the counting of the cash, which the girl had clearly started.

The girl followed them out the door to lock the gate behind them – not quite five minutes, but given they were the last customers, he understood. She didn’t want anyone else walking in and making her work overtime. Robin paused on the pavement and turned to Emerson, holding out the brown paper packet.

”Coraline. And Peter Pan. Both yours, if you want them,” he said. He’d considered buying Peter Pan for himself, but it would do just as well in Emerson’s company as it would in his. Better, even – she could finish the story that they had started.

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson giggled softly at the thought of being locked inside a bookstore. To Robin, it was probably the ideal situation to stumble into. It was obvious that he spent a lot of time in these kinds of shops, browsing and reading and buying different material, for his own entertainment or inspiration for his own work. To Emerson, she would probably manage just fine. She had her coloring book with her, after all, and it wouldn’t be a bad for her to start shoving her nose in different reading material. She could do without the large windows by the front entrance, though. They’d be perfect for sunshine to spill through come morning, and perfect to fry her skin. And Robin’s, too. Maybe it wasn’t an ideal situation after all.

A small pout set on the girl’s lips as Robin took the small paperback book from her. In her panic, she’d grown attached to it, happy to have something to hold onto. Without the novel, her hands felt empty, but once she was on her feet, she busied herself. Slipping her backpack straps off her shoulders, she blinded followed Robin to the counter, shuffling through the contents of her bag. She bumped into a few displays while searching for her wallet, and by the time she reached the register, she noticed that the male was already paying for the both of them. “Robin,” she whined, shoving her wallet away in defeat. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Once they were out of the bookstore and back onto the street, Emerson was faced with an awaiting brown paper bag, filled not just with the book of her choice, but Peter Pan, too. Her face softened, and she reached out to take the bag from the male’s grasp. The paper crinkled between her fingertips. “Thank you so much!” she squealed, offering him a wide smile. She wasn’t going to turn the offer down, and she hoped that her excitement displayed her gratitude. “Aside from my, um-” She scuffed at the ground with her shoe. “-my anxiety, or whatever it is, I had a really good time. Tell Madds I said hi, yeah?” Emerson figured that this was where they were going to part ways, and tt was late, anyways. Not too late, but late enough for the girl to want to crash into bed. Maybe before drifting off to sleep, she could crack open Coraline and read a chapter or two. Maybe she could finish off the picture book, even though she already knew its ending.

With that, Emerson turned on her heel. She raised a hand in a wave, calling out a goodbye over her shoulder as she walked down the sidewalk, heading home. She didn’t even notice the two guys on the opposite end of the street, who’d seen her and Robin leave the shop. She didn’t even notice that they were heading in the same direction as her, only a few paces behind.

[Robin Little]

The writer wasn’t accustomed to having money, and a couple of books hardly put a dint in his growing wallet. It felt wrong to leave the bookshop without having bought anything, and though Robin had intended to browse for his own books, he could always come back again. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have a pile of books beside his bed that he already had to read, and buying books for Emerson just as good as if he had bought them for himself.

Robin nodded.

”I’ll tell her. And – if you ever need some help with ah… your anxiety, just give me a call, okay? If you’re alone and you have one of those attacks, I can try get to you as quick as I can…” he said. There was a sense of loyalty toward Emerson which Robin assumed had something to do with the bloodline they belonged to, even if it wasn’t a loyalty he acknowledged toward any of the others. Prudence wasn’t the type to need someone to call if in trouble, and Robin knew no one else properly beside his own sire, who was gone. He lived with Maddison.

In the end he concluded that it didn’t much have to do with the bloodline, but his own and Maddison’s closeness to Emerson; they knew her, she was a friend. And she was vulnerable.

When she made her goodbye, though, he didn’t follow her. He didn’t offer to walk her home, because she had been getting around on her own until now. Women’s rights, and all that. Robin was unsure, these days, whether they wanted men to be gentlemen or not, or whether to be a gentleman was in some way demeaning. It wasn’t something that he thought about as he waved and turned, headed in the opposite direction. From his bag he retrieved a couple of white headphones, one which had tape twirled around the wire up near the headphone. The wires had begun to show.

The phone’s screen was swiped, bringing up Spotify so he could listen to one of his favourite podcasts on the way home. At least he didn’t step in any puddles or get himself run over. Tonight had been a good night.