The Perk, Tuesday Afternoon
Tuesday, May 24th, 2016 03:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Out of consideration for his ailing roommate, Hyacinthe did not return to his room after his classes ended. Instead, he took the lovely Ada's advice and wandered through town to exchange some of his D'Angeline centimes and ducats for American currency. The paper and coins felt light in his hand after the reassuring heft of gold, but he had to trust in the honesty of the tellers. He was swamped with a wave of homesickness; back home, he would have trusted a Bryony adept to make the exchange and he would have known how much he'd gotten in the bargain and how long it would last him. He seemed to have more money in his fist than he'd had in his entire life leading up till now, but, then, he was a poor Tsingani bastard. He'd never held all the much and the numbers mattered nought when he did not yet know the price of milk or eggs or bread.
For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to be in the Cockerel with Emile or in the cramped apartment he shared with his mother, Anastaizia muttering to herself while she stirred laundry over their stove, perfuming the air with the scent of soap.
But the Prince of Travellers was home wherever he found himself and Hyacinthe shrugged off those feelings and purposefully strode down the street, looking for a place that caught his fancy and looked nothing of home. Which was how he ended up standing in line at the Perk, ordering something with a truly ridiculous name, half of which he didn't understand, and paying a price that seemed completely unreasonable. It was no jug of Cockerel red, but by the time he settled into a chair to people-watch, his jovial mood had returned--in no small part because he'd convinced the barista to lower the cost of the concoction for a kiss.
For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to be in the Cockerel with Emile or in the cramped apartment he shared with his mother, Anastaizia muttering to herself while she stirred laundry over their stove, perfuming the air with the scent of soap.
But the Prince of Travellers was home wherever he found himself and Hyacinthe shrugged off those feelings and purposefully strode down the street, looking for a place that caught his fancy and looked nothing of home. Which was how he ended up standing in line at the Perk, ordering something with a truly ridiculous name, half of which he didn't understand, and paying a price that seemed completely unreasonable. It was no jug of Cockerel red, but by the time he settled into a chair to people-watch, his jovial mood had returned--in no small part because he'd convinced the barista to lower the cost of the concoction for a kiss.