The Perk, Thursday Evening

[newroutines]

Mike was on his way home from a day of frankly pretty depressing odd jobs. Just a whole lot of bullshit from people who should have known better. But, that was the kind of thing that just happened, in life, in general. And he still got paid so it was all good in his book.

Or at least it was nothing that couldn't be soothed by swinging by the coffee place and sitting down at a table by the window with a steaming hot cup of coffee and a muffin with far too much chocolate on it to be considered healthy by anyone's standards – until you considered the things he'd used to soothe his weary self in the past. It was all good.

Even if he was staying bundled up in his coat and scarf while he sat and people-watched. It was cold, yo. Three Fandom winters in and he still wasn't handling it great at all.

[ooc: Open post in town is open!]

Comments

[filleauloup]

Another day of trudging around outside definitely warranted a nice hot drink, maybe something with a lot of whipped cream, as a treat before she headed home, if you asked Éponine. Actually, the barista spotted her coming through the door and immediately started making a giant caramel macchiato, so clearly the question had been asked often. In a manner of speaking.

She hurried up to the counter to pay and leaned against it for a minute or two after she'd pocketed her change (and, okay, added a decent tip as penance for the brief thought that she could just swipe a dollar or two from the tip jar), drumming her fingers against the countertop and singing softly under her breath.

"Oh, hello, Monsieur Mike," she exclaimed when she spotted him. "Good lord! The air's got a bite to it tonight, hasn't it?"

[newroutines]

Mike had watched her since she'd come in. Because people-watching could sometimes be just... person-watching. He smiled at her over his coffee. "Yeah, you could say that," he replied. "I mean, I'd probably put it less politely than that, but, yeah."

Sometimes he had the good sense to not say he was freezing his balls off.

"Good evening, Miss Éponine."

[filleauloup]

"Oh, I know what you mean. I'd imagine you'd rather like to keep those parts," Éponine said lightly. (She was French; references to bodily functions were a requirement of colorful language as far as she was concerned.)

"Me, I was warm enough for the most part, since I've got to keep walking and all, but I'd have to check my nose from time to time to make sure it was still there. I couldn't tell otherwise, it was so cold. Well, it's a good thing you're indoors now! And --" she turned around when she heard the barista behind her and scooped up her freshly-made drink from the counter -- "there's coffee. No danger of it until you have to go back out again."

[newroutines]

"And I'm trying to avoid that for as long as I can," Mike agreed, leaning back in his chair while he held his coffee with both hands. Mmm, coffee. So warm. "So how've you been, apart from worrying about your nose? I don't think I've seen you in a while."

[filleauloup]

"I could say the same for you," Éponine said, checking her nose again, just for good measure. "I'm well enough. Glad to be done with Christmas, that's for certain, as I won't miss being run off my feet every day with deliveries. And you, you've been keeping busy?"

[newroutines]

Mike offered her a small shrug and an equally small, wry smile. "Gotta put food on the table, right? Work's never really over. Been doing a lot of small stuff, lately."

[filleauloup]

"We do what we've got to," Éponine agreed, and her laugh wasn't quite sardonic but it wasn't particularly amused either. "Not all tiresome, I hope."

[newroutines]

"Nah." Just mentally, sometimes, and he wasn't going to get into that, even if his smile wasn't at the highest wattage it could get to. "Just makes me miss the dancing sometimes."

The... dancing he might not have actually talked to her about before.

[filleauloup]

"Dancing?" she echoed, a touch of surprise in her voice. "My brother, he used to know some actors, and he'd get me and my sister tickets to the theater sometimes, and sometimes there would be dancing. Not fancy, not like the ballet dancers you might see at the opera, but I enjoyed it. You used to do that for a living?"

Was it a little bit ironic that it didn't occur to her what he meant? Maybe, but in her experience you didn't talk about that sort of thing.

[newroutines]

"Nooot that kind of dancing," Mike said, after the moment it took him to realize that no, really, this was probably news to her. "I mean, uh, I doubt it was the same kind, anyway. My style involved taking my clothes off and I doubt they did that. Actors usually don't."

[filleauloup]

"You mean to say that you --" And okay, Éponine had to pause there for just a moment to contemplate it. "Well! I wasn't expecting that. But I imagine people were willing to pay a nice bit."

When she said it, it didn't come out judgmental; if anything, she sounded sympathetic.

[newroutines]

Mike smirked a bit. "Not as much as I think I may have deserved ––" And there was more of his usual, less subdued side. "–– but it paid okay. Not enough to live on by a long shot, but it added a little to what I got from my other jobs. Plus, you know..."

He trailed off for a second and took a sip. Then he shrugged again.

"I liked it. I was good at it."

[filleauloup]

"That's good that you liked it," Éponine said, careful not to let on that she was a little bit envious of that circumstance. "But I'll just have to take your word for it, that you were good enough to deserve . . . how much would you think you did?" she asked with one eyebrow raised, after a careful sip of mostly whipped cream, and what little coffee had managed to melt through it.

[newroutines]

"Enough to quit doing it and still live comfortably?" Mike offered with a quiet little laugh. "Seriously though, I think I deserved more twenties than I got. Guess no one rich enough ever came by to appreciate my moves."