twelfthsong | — I'ᴍ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ 'ʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ 'ʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢ

[It's enough to make him cock his head but he doesn't comment on it otherwise. Instead he heads around the counter to clean some of the books that have been strewn about the place.]

Ah well I guess a welcome back to Lancashire is back in order then. [He was perceptive but it didn't mean he was great at reading people.] What do you do for work?

[ At his welcome, Clara looks away and out of the window for a second, not even bothering to reply to that part before letting out a breath and taking a sip of coffee. ]

I take photos on assignment for a travel magazine. [ Looking up at him she smiles but shows no teeth. ] I don't even have my own flat, that's how often I stay in one place.

Or not? [He mutters it under his breath as he turns away from her to put the books back on the shelves before casting a glance over his shoulder.]

Ah a real traveller then. So I'd assume that you're here to visit...family?

[ Clara lets his question hang there for a few beats before answering. ]

You know that huge accident in downtown London last week? [ She looks up from her plate and shifts in her seat. Over thirty people died, and it's been in the news constantly so it'd be difficult to miss she supposes. But she hasn't said it out loud yet. One whole week and she's avoided it, so she stalls with the question. ]

My mum was one of the victims. Which is...a hell of a thing to say. [ Her vision blurs but she stubbornly clears her throat and keeps going. ] I've been taking care of things for my dad.

[He's collecting the dirty dishes from the trolley and the clatter of dishes signal him pausing briefly.]

Ah. Not the best circumstances to come home then. I'm sorry to hear that.

[And it sounds like he does mean it despite his slightly gruff tone. Death wasn't an easy subject to talk about in general, perhaps even more so with a stranger you had just met. There wasn't anything else you could do to comfort someone you didn't know. Her words hung in the air of the Coffee Box mingling with the acoustic guitar that played on the speakers and the patter of the rainfall outside.]

You're welcome to come here again if you need to clear your mind. And I know how it sounds like a sales play with me being the owner, but the offer stands.

[ It's the sincerity in his voice despite the gruffness that makes Clara glance over at him. ]

Thank you. But I don't wanna take up a table when there aren't very many to begin with. [ She's nothing if not polite. ] I wouldn't mind reading all the books one by one, though. It'd be a nice distraction.

[ Finally taking a bite of her pastry, she blinks down at it, then talks with her mouth half full. ] Holy shit that's good.

What, little you, taking up all the space? [He motions to the empty coffee shop and grins.] There's always room for people here if they need it. And the books need reading after all that's what they're here for.

[He's read them all at least once; part of having them down here was so that others could get joy out of them too. John has already started making his way to the back with his tray of dirty dishes and plates when he hears her speak and let out a brief laugh that echoes from the kitchen.]

Glad you like it. I wasn't sure how they'd turn out to be perfectly honest.

Really good! [ She shouts it back with her mouthful and then gets up to pick up her first book, what looks to be a well-read print of Little Women. It's a little adorable and makes her smile softly before sitting back down. ]

When he returns, she looks up at him I'm Clara, by the way. And...do you need any help? I don't mind.

[His laugh is lost to the clatter of dishes as he begins loading them into the dishwasher. Baking hadn't been something he had thought he'd get into, but there was something soothing about it that helped distract him from the rest of his day-to-day. It was so wonderfully different than lecturing and he had always enjoyed eating - so it made an easy fit for a hobby for him to pursue.

When he comes back he's got a cloth to wipe down the tables.]

John. Nice to meet you, Clara. [He's about to tell her not to worry, but he recognizes that the offer might be coming from a place of needing to distract herself and maybe prolong returning to see her dad.] Enjoy your croissant first. I'll have to pay you if you start helping me.

[ If she's here long enough, she's going to need a job. Can't exactly work for a travel blog when not traveling. But for now, she takes his advice and settles in. ]

What part of Scotland are you from? My grandparents are from Edinburgh, used to visit every summer holiday.

[ As she watches him, she tries to figure out his vibe, checking out his wedding band, his general appearance. If she had to guess she'd say widowed, but she doesn't. He's handsome though, very distinguished professor - she has no idea how on the nose she is. ]

Glasgow. Taught at the University of Glasgow for a bit before landing at St. Luke's - and now I'm in this corner of the world.

And are they now? Clearly you didn't visit enough to have the accent stick.

[He's lived in the UK long enough now to still take the piss at the accent. In his younger years he had been far more arrogant but it had since watered down.]

[ She nearly chokes on her coffee when he says he taught at the University but manages to keep it together. ]

If only we could all sound as angry as the Scots. [ She bats her eyelashes at him, giving him a smile before dropping it and shrugging a shoulder. ]

As it happens they died a while ago. I'm down to a parent and a grandparent, and all before thirty.

[ It's a joke that falls flatter than flat and she takes another bite of her croissant, savoring it. ]

You'd all be so lucky.

[He catches the batting of her eyelashes but doesn't seem to register it otherwise. Maybe she had dust in her eyes.

Thankfully John is used to silence and despite the flat joke and he considers his words before speaking again.]

Sounds like a lot of life experience though. People would call you resilient.

Edited 2022-08-17 02:00 (UTC)

[ She tries really hard to be positive, to not be sad, but this time it's harder. ]

Nah. Don't think so. I'm here, runnin' away from my dad because nothing I do is the right thing, so here I am telling my problems to a stranger who made great coffee I'm dangerously close to crying into.

[ Clara gives him a wobbly smile and clears her throat. ]

I'm not usually like this, sorry.

[Funnily enough this isn't the first time a scenario like this has happened to John. When he opened up the coffee shop no one told him that he might end up a bit of a therapist in the process. Initially it had been uncomfortable for him. He'd never considered himself someone with the right words to say especially at the outset, but over time he had gotten slightly better at it. And he thought he'd always been a decent listener.

Still, if he wanted to go into therapy as a profession he would have.

He stops wiping down the table to look at Clara, giving her something of what he hopes is a comforting smile.]

You don't have anything to apologize for. [There's a tissue box on a nearby table that he brings to her table. It's just a small gesture, but he hopes it's enough to convey that it's fine if she cries.] There are worse place to run to - or so I'm told.

It really is a nice shop. And thank you. [ She says that of the tissues and takes one but for now, she's managed to hold them off. ]

What made you decide to give baking a go?

[ Talking about him is better than crying. ]

[A small part of him is relieved to see the tears have been staved off - for now. And he returns to his cleaning.]

Always enjoyed eating. Consider it a bit of a past time in fact. And then I met a pâtissier on a trip to Paris - sat beside her on a train - and we got to talking. She invited me to her boulangerie and the rest is history.

I'm nowhere near as good as her of course, but I do bounce ideas off her every once in a while.

Well that's sort of incredible. I like to bake, but I'm not this good.

[ She finishes the croissant and wipes at her hands. ] Maybe I'll do more, try to see if I can impress you and your eyebrows.

[ Clara can't help but tease just a little, hoping he's as good natured as he seems. ]

That isn't surprising. I wouldn't expect you to have much time on your hands if you're a travel photographer. Baking is one of those things you need access to a kitchen to. And time.

[He means it all in jest though - but then again, she is new here. There's a chance she won't pick up on the joking bits of his sarcasm. But with that eyebrow comment he has a feeling that she might not mind it.]

These are attack eyebrows. You'll have to put in quite a bit of a work to make them anything but.

[ For the first time in what feels like the longest week of her life, Clara actually laughs in a way that makes her smile and both dimples show. ]

Alright, I'll keep that in mind and try to think of something. I won't bring anything until I think it's ready for a taste test.

[ With an empty cup and plate, she looks down at the book then at the time on her phone. ]

What time do you close? I don't wanna be a loiterer. Though you don't seem shy about telling someone when to go.

[Hearing her laugh suddenly brings some levity to his face. Despite appearances he wasn't the type that wanted to be surrounded by similarly grumpy or stern people but even if that were the case this was a nicer alternative to her crying.]

Whatever time I feel like closing. [Noting the empty plates and cup, he sweeps them up.] If you plan on staying I can get you another cup of tea. There's some new ones a friend of mine sent from Japan. They're light - shouldn't keep you up if you try to sleep tonight.

[ She doesn't want to go home, she doesn't want to deal with her dad not talking to her and her nan not understanding what's happening. John kept her from crying and now she's smiling, so she nods with another small smile. ]

Honestly, that'd be great if you don't mind. It'd be nice to get lost in a book for a while.

Consider the space yours then. I'll just be cleaning up in the mean time so don't mind the noise. Tea will be right out.

[He lived upstairs anyway. So it wasn't like he had to go far to lock everything up. He returns a short time later with the promised tea smelling faintly of jasmine, leaving it on the table beside her before heading back to complete his cleaning.

The light outside begins to dim and he bumps the light inside on just enough so that the space is cast in a warm glow. Apart from that though he largely leaves Clara be; grief was a funny thing and while everyone reacted differently, the last thing he wanted her to feel was a pressure to leave.]

[ Clara thanks him for the tea and lets herself get lost in a completely different time and place until she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. When she looks at the screen she frowns and answers, talking patiently. ]

It's alright nan, I promise. [ There are pauses as she listens and Clara rubs a hand over her face. ] You don't have a cat, nan. We don't have any animals. [ She's already getting up and she's soothing into the phone. ] I'm coming home, I'll find the cat, I promise. Hang up the phone, I'll be there soon.

[ She waits, taking a few deep breaths before trying to pretend like John couldn't hear anything and smiling too big. ] Gotta go. What do I owe you for the extra tea?

[John can't help but overhear the conversation she has on the phone. And even though he doesn't want to eavesdrop, it's hard not to even with the soft music and the sound of him cleaning up.

He does get the general idea that she's leaving though and begins to make the coffees she had paid for at the offset.]

Well it's about time. [He waves a hand at her though.] Don't worry about the tea. And if you want to take the book home with you feel free. Just be sure to bring it back.

Edited 2022-08-17 17:47 (UTC)

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