Are you BLIND?! {Mason}

[kingarthur]

Normally Ainsley wouldn't succumb to the corporate junk that was Starbucks. But by golly, she needed caffeine in the form of coffee. She had tried Gingey's--the line was too long. Wandering Goose and Bleeding Hearts wanted her to give up her first born for a cup of coffee, and everywhere else was too far for her to go. So, Starbucks it was. And it was good, oh gosh it was good.

Ainsley leaned back in her seat, her loose hair tumbling over the back of her seat. She hadn't curled it today, so it fell in it's natural, loose waves. She had been scared out of curling her hair, because it seemed that Mallory tended to curl hers. It was bad enough that they were the same height, had the same voice, and had faces that were too eerily similar. If she could avoid styling her hair like Mallory's, it was comfort enough. She hadn't told anyone about her twin that she met by chance, only Brandon. But he was convinced someone had taken a Polyjuice potion, and was continuing to take it. So, he didn't really seem to get it.

She sipped quietly on her moca frappapupu. It wasn't great, but her need for the hot drink made it entirely worth while. She was all but sunk down in her chair, like the strings had been plucked from her body, and she was having the best experience of her life. Though, it didn't last long, because Ainsley didn't really like to sit in the same spot for too long. So she straightened up, her hair falling over her back like a cape, while she tore off a piece of the bagel she had also ordered and took a bite out of it. Either she was hungry, or Starbucks wasn't quite the shit it use to be, because that bagel was equally amazing.

Today had been a day that she just wanted to get out, wanted to explore New York. And hopefully not run into a triplet. But Mallory's parent's---nay, their parents, had been very firm and admitting there had only been two. She hadn't talked to her mother, unsure of how the woman would take it. Or if she even knew. Her birth parents didn't know if the adoptive had known the situation, and Ainsley was afraid to know. Afraid to know if her parents had known all along that there was another person walking around that shared the same DNA. Regardless, life was good. Life was grand. Life was...oh who was she kidding? Life was jacked up ten ways to Sunday and back.

She slowed her chew on her bagel, and brushed her fingers off and stared down at the half eaten bagel, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. She had done so well at not thinking of any of those issues, and here she was. Letting them completely mess up the flow of her day. "Damn." She muttered to herself, and then only frowned. For so long, she thought she was the only Ainsley Kartalli. The only person with that voice. But no, she was wrong. For her entire life, she had been dreadfully wrong. By birth she was Nicole Torres. Nicole. She was a Nicole. And her voice was also coming out of another girl's face. The more and more she thought about it, the more and more she felt like puking up her bagel and frappapupu.

Tags: Scout / Mason / Olley / Ainsley
Notes: BAHAHAHA.
Outfit: Oh god, she's starting to match. Mallory's a bad influence.

[MASON HOWARD]

If Mason was completely honest with himself, there were many instances throughout a typical day when he wanted to simply punch something. Like a brick. Or a wall. Or sometimes, someone’s face. Unfortunately, the instances in which it would have been acceptable to do any of those things were few and far between, and so left Mason to stew. He did not stew well.

Currently, he was stewing about Mallory. Mallory Fucking Torres, the girl who could quite possibly have been classified as the bane of his very existence, had he not once liked her so goddamn much. The key word there being, of course, “once.” Now he just wanted to talk. To end things, more like. Or, he would’ve ended things, if she’d decided to fucking. Show. Up. He’d waited ten minutes, thinking maybe she’d gotten lost somehow (a stupid thought, as Mallory had countless sources to come to her aid should she become directionally challenged). Ten had turned to thirty, and he’d begun to assume she was simply making him wait on purpose. Obviously, he wouldn’t have put it past her, especially with things the way they were now. Hell, if that had been the case, he might have even been impressed. Slightly. It would have at least been a move worthy of some respect.

Now, however, a whole hour after they’d arranged to meet, Mason was left to assume one thing and one thing only: he’d been stood up. By Mallory Fucking Torres. Granted, maybe it didn’t classify as being “stood up” exactly, as it was nothing like a date (absolutely not. And he wouldn’t have wanted it to be, either), but even so, Mason was beyond fuming. People didn’t fuck around like that. If they said they were going to be somewhere, they were going to be somewhere—that was how it had always been with him, particularly with Mallory. Never mind the fact that if there was ever a time he’d deserved this, it was now.

Refusing to accept defeat and return home, Mason instead decided to take his anger at the world and a certain female to a different location: Starbucks. Perhaps a step lower than his usual cup of coffee, but it would have to do for now. Perhaps the only sign God was on his side today was the fact that there was no line; he ordered quickly (a coffee with sugar, no cream), and was just about to find a seat when suddenly—Fuck, no. Absolutely not.

Overcome with the sudden urge to pour his scalding hot drink over someone’s head, Mason made his way to where she—Mallory, the bitch—was sitting, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Well Jesus, Mal, you’ve got some nerve,” he spoke through clenched teeth, so the words came out somewhere close to a growl. Coffee set heatedly on the table across from her, Mason continued, still fuming. “Honestly, what the fuck was that you just pulled? What, did you think I wouldn’t notice? Or that I’d forget? Nicely done, really. I’m sure you got what you wanted, at least…” his rant trailed off into a quite simple, yet effective, death glare as he waited for just what her excuse would be, pushing aside the momentary squeak in the back of his head suggesting that something about the whole situation was slightly off.

[kingarthur]

Ainsley was jerked out of her thoughts by some angry sounding dude. But maybe he was just on the phone, talking to someone. She didn't look up, she wasn't Mal. She tore off another bit of her bagel, and put it into her mouth, but the voice just got louder, more angry and...directed at her? She swallowed down the bread and realized something. Mal was short for...oh dang nabbit. Ainsley lifted her head and stared at the man chewing her out.

She opened her mouth, and closed it. Then glanced to the sides, and around the coffee place. "Excuse me?" She snapped, when she realized that yes. Yes, he was talking to her. She raised her brows, and her lips went thin, and eyes wide. Normally, Ainsley didn't get mad. Normally, she was very even tempered. Very calm, very friendly. But this was too much. This was getting old, and frustrating. She stood up, her chair scraping noisily against the floor while her hands slapped on the edge of the table, causing a few people to look. She leaned in towards Mason, her expression relaxed. But her lips had a downturned look, and her brows were knit. It was a similar look that Mallory had when she was caught between anger, and a pout. But for Ainsley, that was her angry face. That was her entirely, pissed-the-hell-off face.

She didn't say anything, she helf very quiet, but her cheeks were red with frustration. "Are you blind?" Her voice was the same as Mallory's. They wern't identical, not by a long shot. But the voice that came out of both faces were exactly the same. Ainsley felt like shaking from head to toe. Was there anyone left in New York that did not know Mallory? Was everyone she going to come across mistake them for each other? She could only hope that her sister was being mistaken for her, and was going through the same, frustrating hell. "I'm not her." Her voice was tight, like she was going to either scream or cry. Both of which she felt like doing, but not in the fact of this stranger. At least, not until he apologized.

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[MASON HOWARD]

“Here I was thinking it was a fairly simple request, you know—dinner, that’s it. No ifs, ands, or buts. Not even a movie afterwards. It wasn’t even a fucking date, Mal, it was dinner. But you still couldn’t do that, could you? And now you’ll probably try and blame it on—”

Suddenly, he stopped speaking. Just like that, his voice trailed off into shocked nothingness. The girl glaring at him spoke, and once he’d finally calmed down enough to listen, Mason looked. Of course, it couldn’t be. She looked exactly like Mallory, right down to that half-pout face she was giving him right now. Really, there was no one else it could be…Mallory didn’t have any sisters, and God knew Tommy, although family, couldn’t be mistaken for her in a long shot. So who the hell was this girl, if not a Torres?

Brows knitting closer together, Mason’s lips parted to form a perfect “o”. He blinked several times. Shook his head. Licked his lips and straightened up, giving this girl a quick once-over, determined to get to the bottom of this. It was obvious, now, the closer he looked—they were alike, that was for sure, but there was something different there, too, something that he should have recognized immediately as having been missing from the persona that was Mallory. “No, no you’re not,” he blinked again. This was insane. “But still, what the—how the hell—do you know her? Or where the hell she is?” she probably already thought him insane. Why not demand a bit more information?

[kingarthur]

He just kept going. Her finger brushed her cup, wondering if it would be a waste of almost five dollars if she threw it on him. God. She wasn't normally his irritable, honestly--Ainsley was a usually pretty sweet, happy kind of girl. But this guy was starting to get on her bad side, really fast. She slowly eased back into her seat when he admitted that she wasn't. That look of shock on his face, like he was having a hard time believing what he was seeing was almost enough to satisfy her. Almost.

"Yes I know her. She's my...twin." She almost choked on the word. It was new to her still, and bizzare. Entirely, entirely too bizzare. Her entire life, Ainsley only had one sister. And that sister has passed away, and now she had a twin. Someone who was blood, and so much more. When he asked where she was, one of her eyes squinted at him, and her brows furrowed and she lifted the corner of her mouth. "What? Are you kidding me?" Ainsley's mouth dropped open, and she picked up her purse from the ground, and scrambled to get to her feet. Her temper flared to life, and she stepped up to Mason.

"I don't who the hell you are, or who the hell you think you are. But you don't come up to me, and chew me out, then try demanding where my sister is, without even asking my name. And if I so much as hear the fact that you're coming after her with this temper, or treating her like crap, so help me God, I will end you." There was a strange fury in her. Protective, and angry at the same time. She was tall, though. Probably a little bit taller than Mallory, but there was that same anger that ran in the Torres bloodline. "So unless you change that attitude, stay away from me and my sister, you creep."

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