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31_days2006-10-01 06:30 pm
acesodapop.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-10-01 06:30 pm
01 october . bleach . café au lait & my hate
Title: café au lait & my hate
Day/Theme: 01 oct // coffee and a kick in the pants
Series: bleach
Character/Pairing: ichigo, rukia
Rating: pg-13 for mild cussin'!
The new girl was terrible at everything.
She spilt coffee on customer's laps with an elaborate, dramatic fall involving her tripping on air; and it happened more than once, which made Ichigo suspect it was not entirely accidental (what more, and if Ichigo was more observational about his peers beyond his peeves against them, he'd know that the victim was usually the same type of man, if not the same man, who always ended up jumping to his feet cursing and storming out of the shop, the girl with a smug smile on her face).
She also made shit coffee. Shit coffee. She seemed to prefer completely black coffee, no additives whatsoever, and thus deemed that everyone else ought to drink it as well. He didn't know how in the world she was getting away with it, or at least still hadn't been yelled at, except that he only knew one other person who could stomach and even enjoy decaf, his dad, and that alone turned him off to her.
His manager didn't seem to pay any attention. If he did, he obviously didn't mind. "Good work, Kurosaki, Kuchiki!" He trilled every afternoon, coming in hours after his morning-shift employees, oft times smelling strongly of alcohol, and disappearing into his office for the rest of the day. There had to be times where customers complained to him about the unsatisfactory service being given out, but he never had a bad word to say to her, beyond some encouraging congratulatory remarks and (if he were very, very drunk) a jovial pat on the ass.
He didn't like her very much at all, and she didn't really give any recognition of him on a daily basis. But two weeks after her first day, he went out for his ten-minute break to the back and found her leaning against the railing, smoke carefully practiced as perfect little O's blowing from her mouth.
"What are you doing here?" Ichigo asked apprehensively.
She slowly turned around and blinked, as if he were a stranger who'd chosen to speak to her to pass the time pleasantly. "I'm getting ready." She dropped the cigarette and ground it beneath her shoe. "To quit."
"Oh." He wasn't sure what to say. "Why?"
She paused, to think up her reply. "Can't say, really. Only..." she shrugged one shoulder and pushed her hair out of her face. "Could you tell that man-- the one that comes in every Tueday-- that I quit? He'll get all weird if he doesn't know where I am, and I'd rather everything just be-- be much smoother." Her eyes looked all faraway and distant, and it was weirding him out. "Like nothing should change. I want that."
"Oh, uh, alright. That's fine." He was unused to the non-bitchysilentignoring quality of her person. It was unsettling. "So, going to go in and tell the manager?"
"Well--" She tilted her head, and the hair she'd pushed back fell over her face again like a curtain. "He can find out on his own, I'm sure." She picked up the purse she'd set on the railing and looked at him again. "It was nice knowing you-- Ichigo, was it?"
"Yeah." He lifted his hand in farewell as she walked towards the door, feeling the awkwardness that the finality of her words brought. "See ya."
The following Tuesday, the man she'd spoken of came in, on time, and valiantly waited for three hours to have some scalding, awful-tasting coffee poured onto his lap, looking increasingly irritated as the minutes wore on. Ichigo finally took pity and explained the situation, slipping into the seat across from him when the busiest time of the day had passed.
"What-- what-- the bitch!" He sputtered for a few moments before coming to such a relevation of a conclusion.
Ichigo considered chiming in with a friendly "yeah, i hear you" before realizing that, no, he didn't really. Maybe on a shallow sort of level. But not really.
"Damn it... she really needs to tell people things." He looked forlornly out the window, the anger having quickly deflated into exhausted defeat. "She doesn't believe it, but we could help her. But she won't believe it."
"She'll be fine, though." Ichigo reassured, fully talking out of his ass (what did he know?) despite himself. However, the man seemed to acknowledge the veracity of the statement, and sighed with an offhanded "yeah. of course." While he was still looking away out the window, Ichigo discreetly tipped his cup of steaming black coffee over the man's lap.
*
Day/Theme: 01 oct // coffee and a kick in the pants
Series: bleach
Character/Pairing: ichigo, rukia
Rating: pg-13 for mild cussin'!
The new girl was terrible at everything.
She spilt coffee on customer's laps with an elaborate, dramatic fall involving her tripping on air; and it happened more than once, which made Ichigo suspect it was not entirely accidental (what more, and if Ichigo was more observational about his peers beyond his peeves against them, he'd know that the victim was usually the same type of man, if not the same man, who always ended up jumping to his feet cursing and storming out of the shop, the girl with a smug smile on her face).
She also made shit coffee. Shit coffee. She seemed to prefer completely black coffee, no additives whatsoever, and thus deemed that everyone else ought to drink it as well. He didn't know how in the world she was getting away with it, or at least still hadn't been yelled at, except that he only knew one other person who could stomach and even enjoy decaf, his dad, and that alone turned him off to her.
His manager didn't seem to pay any attention. If he did, he obviously didn't mind. "Good work, Kurosaki, Kuchiki!" He trilled every afternoon, coming in hours after his morning-shift employees, oft times smelling strongly of alcohol, and disappearing into his office for the rest of the day. There had to be times where customers complained to him about the unsatisfactory service being given out, but he never had a bad word to say to her, beyond some encouraging congratulatory remarks and (if he were very, very drunk) a jovial pat on the ass.
He didn't like her very much at all, and she didn't really give any recognition of him on a daily basis. But two weeks after her first day, he went out for his ten-minute break to the back and found her leaning against the railing, smoke carefully practiced as perfect little O's blowing from her mouth.
"What are you doing here?" Ichigo asked apprehensively.
She slowly turned around and blinked, as if he were a stranger who'd chosen to speak to her to pass the time pleasantly. "I'm getting ready." She dropped the cigarette and ground it beneath her shoe. "To quit."
"Oh." He wasn't sure what to say. "Why?"
She paused, to think up her reply. "Can't say, really. Only..." she shrugged one shoulder and pushed her hair out of her face. "Could you tell that man-- the one that comes in every Tueday-- that I quit? He'll get all weird if he doesn't know where I am, and I'd rather everything just be-- be much smoother." Her eyes looked all faraway and distant, and it was weirding him out. "Like nothing should change. I want that."
"Oh, uh, alright. That's fine." He was unused to the non-bitchysilentignoring quality of her person. It was unsettling. "So, going to go in and tell the manager?"
"Well--" She tilted her head, and the hair she'd pushed back fell over her face again like a curtain. "He can find out on his own, I'm sure." She picked up the purse she'd set on the railing and looked at him again. "It was nice knowing you-- Ichigo, was it?"
"Yeah." He lifted his hand in farewell as she walked towards the door, feeling the awkwardness that the finality of her words brought. "See ya."
The following Tuesday, the man she'd spoken of came in, on time, and valiantly waited for three hours to have some scalding, awful-tasting coffee poured onto his lap, looking increasingly irritated as the minutes wore on. Ichigo finally took pity and explained the situation, slipping into the seat across from him when the busiest time of the day had passed.
"What-- what-- the bitch!" He sputtered for a few moments before coming to such a relevation of a conclusion.
Ichigo considered chiming in with a friendly "yeah, i hear you" before realizing that, no, he didn't really. Maybe on a shallow sort of level. But not really.
"Damn it... she really needs to tell people things." He looked forlornly out the window, the anger having quickly deflated into exhausted defeat. "She doesn't believe it, but we could help her. But she won't believe it."
"She'll be fine, though." Ichigo reassured, fully talking out of his ass (what did he know?) despite himself. However, the man seemed to acknowledge the veracity of the statement, and sighed with an offhanded "yeah. of course." While he was still looking away out the window, Ichigo discreetly tipped his cup of steaming black coffee over the man's lap.
*