It All Merges Together

[EDWARD PEARSON]

❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂Edward wasn't sure whether a cafe like Starbucks was the best place for him to be; from the outside it appeared to just be another noisy place for people to meet and tell each other loudly about their opinions on things. How could he have been so wrong. Once he'd found a spot near the back, with a comfy chair, a good, strong free wifi and practically deserted, he'd realised it was perfect. He could have coffee or perhaps an iced bun, if he felt like it, without stopping his reading for long enough to make it. He didn't have to be disturbed by anyone but the waitress, and the odd stranger asking if the chair across from him was free, and yet he wasn't completely alone. He could hear the low, pleasant rumble of lots of small voices merging into one; he couldn't make out any words, but it wasn't silence. He didn't always need silence.

He'd taken to going there during lunch-breaks, and occasionally after the classes had finished. He'd take his laptop, order a coffee - cream, no sugar - and then read online essays and academic articles until the place would close, to his dismay, and he'd be sent off back into the startling world again. Frightening. It was almost like being born. He'd be thrust from a cosy place that he knew so well, where he knew he was safe, to face the great unknown.

Shuddering as he thought about this, he stepped through the threshold with his laptop safely in his messenger bag, and told himself not to worry about the day ending before it had even started. The staff recognised him, and had his order ready almost before he'd ordered it. This made him smile a little, the familiarity of it all in a city where he knew very few people felt comforting; he instantly felt just that little bit safer than he already had felt. With his coffee in one hand, and the other gently easing his bag off of his shoulder, he made his way to the back of the building, where his slightly worn armchair and pine table were situated. ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂

And one man in his time plays many parts.

word count:372
mood:Happy ^.^
tag:Ivy
credit:jacksome111@caution 2.0!
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[EDWARD PEARSON]

❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂Having only just set his laptop down, Edward was a little startled, and he looked up through somewhat nervous eyes at the woman who'd just approached. Glancing around the room as discreetly as he could, he noticed there were honestly no other chairs, and as such, he nodded. She didn't dangerous at all, and she seemed a calm sort of girl, if a little nervous, so what harm could there be in letting her sit down? Smiling a little, he replied, "Sure, go ahead," before moving his laptop and drink closer to himself to allow her more room.

He noticed his own body language immediately closing up. He did his best to fight it off, but he was nervous, and she could probably tell. His arms had moved in closer to his body, his eyes kept focused on his screen with his head low. If she hadn't noticed, he'd be surprised. He took another sip of coffee, trying to calm himself down, reminding himself that people in themselves were fine, and she hadn't even said anything. Slowly, his limbs let themselves relax a little, and he was able to look up at her properly for the first time.

She seemed timid...like anything could hurt her really. Her voice was soft, quite nice to hear, despite it not being part of the general chatter. She wouldn't be such a bad person to sit opposite...out of all the people there that day.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he brought his laptop up onto his knees, shuffling his feet out of his shoes and resting them on the edge of the table, toes lightly curled around the ridge. This was how his always ended up sitting, eventually, but today it seemed odd; a little rude, perhaps, to put his feet up on the table when someone else was using it? Maybe he shouldn't be so closed? Perhaps he should loosen up a little...❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂

And one man in his time plays many parts.

word count:333
mood:Happy ^.^
tag:Ivy
credit:jacksome111@caution 2.0!
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[EDWARD PEARSON]

❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂Looking up slowly, past his laptop and his knees, he nodded a little again. Lowering his feet, he ran a tongue over his lips briefly, before replying, "Every lunch, and after classes sometimes." Slowly, he shifted forward a little, resting his laptop back on the table and his elbows on his knees. He smiled softly, perhaps to himself, as he opened up the online chat he'd been using yesterday. It was deserted. He sighed a little; despite himself, he did enjoy talking on there. Company, without the sounds. Perfection.

Also despite himself, he did enjoy talking to Ivy. She seemed shy, sure, and a little awkward, but so was he. And after all, he had been disappointed to find that she wasn't there. That's not how he normally felt to find a place empty. It hadn't always been good, of course, the party-goer yesterday had got on his nerves, but it was nice to know he wasn't the only person alive who didn't feel parties were a waste of time. Perhaps he could make some new friends. It was his last year of university, of course, and he needed someone to talk to after he left. It wasn't as if he was going back home.

He drained his coffee as he opened up Word, smiling briefly at the girl across from him as he started to type again. He was a fast typer, fifty-five words per minute, but he had a tendency to make typos. Lots of them. Half his time for essay writing was spent reading back through, checking and double checking, just in case. Nothing he handed in was handed in on first writing. Occasionally, he'd re-write the whole piece again, just because it wasn't quite right. He refused to do a messy job. In any area of his life.❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂

And one man in his time plays many parts.

word count:463
mood:Happy ^.^
tag:Ivy
credit:jacksome111@caution 2.0!
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[EDWARD PEARSON]

❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂He looked up again, a little sharply, at the sound of her conversation. There was something in the tone of voice from the start which indicated anxiousness, and that was without him having to hear the words. He didn't exactly mean to listen into her conversation; he tried his hardest not to, in fact, returning to his essay with as much concentration as he could muster. It was to no avail, and his brow knitted in concern. Obviously something was wrong, it sounded as if somebody had been hurt...Her child, perhaps? No, no...she was far too young to have a daughter.

However, he remembered, Ivy did.

It really was none of his business, of course, but as the woman opposite apologised, he couldn't help but ask, "Is everything alright?" Putting his laptop aside briefly, he leaned in a little, for once fully ready to start an actual conversation. Why? He wasn't sure, but he supposed natural curiosity drove him to find out who had been hurt. It could be her daughter, any age from about three upwards, he reckoned, to be interested in Tangled. He remembered the trailers for it; based on Rapunzel, if he remembered correctly. The films were never as good as the books.

He let his head rest on his hands, his elbows rest on his knees, and his eyes rest on her eyes. Smiling just a little, he waited for a response, both curious and yes, a little concerned. Briefly, he reached over to save the document on his laptop, before shutting the lid and placing it back in his bag; work was done for the day, and he'd talk a little here before starting his reading, which would continue into the early hours of morning. A regular enough routine, normally, but he didn't mind this little break. It was refreshing, really.❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂

And one man in his time plays many parts.

word count:313
mood:Content
tag:Ivy
credit:jacksome111@caution 2.0!
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[EDWARD PEARSON]

❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂Smiling a tad, he held his arm out for a handshake, realising that he'd been rather impolite by not introducing himself first, "I'm Edward, Edward Pearson," the words flowed naturally across his tongue, as he'd been announcing himself to people in this way since the age of eight, when people would still ask his mother, 'Well, who's this chap, then?' He'd perfected the handshake too; it was professional, not too weak, and yet not strong enough to break bones. He kept his hands dry, not sweaty or clammy, and soft; the hands of someone who spent his life studying instead of working or playing outside. The hands could tell you a lot about the man who had them, and one handshake could be the difference between making a friend and putting people off.

"And you are?" he asked, in the friendliest tone he had. She seemed stressed, and a good conversation was one that relaxed the people having it. Not that he was a good conversationalist, but he did try his best and he knew the basics. He just had to learn how to apply them. Practice was all he needed; practice made perfect with everything. Practice in a safe environment, with someone he never had to see again, just in case he messed up horribly.

He very discreetly glanced down at his watch, noticing that they had a good few hours left. He had enough time, and enough money, to order another coffee, and maybe even buy one for her. That was a nice gesture, wasn't it? Of course, the line, 'Can I buy you a drink,' was completely overused and clichéd, but he was sure to think of another way of asking. One that sounded less cheesy and less like he was trying to ask her out. He'd figure something out; he'd think on it.
❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂

And one man in his time plays many parts.

word count:318
mood:Hyped
tag:Ivy
credit:jacksome111@caution 2.0!
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