[She uses the directions Tim gave her and makes her way from the hospital to the coffee place in Center-City where they were supposed to meet up. She cautiously tiptoes into the place, and ignores the glances and stares she gets from others. So she was a little bloody and disheveled. It wasn't that big of a deal, gunshot wounds tended to make people be that way.
She looks around for a guy sitting by himself, nervously biting at her lip.]
[Tim is sitting at a table in the corner. The other chair is pulled out invitingly, and a letter jacket is draped over the back of it. Tim himself is wearing a black hooded sweatshirt (though the hood is down), and black jeans - but both are immaculately clean and look like they were ironed before they were worn. He looks up from a book as she comes through the door,makes eye contact, and flashes her a grin - then promptly calls over a barista.]
[Claire sees him and waves, and hurries her way over to sit in the empty chair. She grabs hold of the jacket on the back of the chair and slides it on, not saying anything, but offering him a grateful smile. It was only after they had both ordered and she was comfortable that she let out a breath of air and decided to speak.]
You weren't waiting long, were you? It was a long walk over from the hospital, and I got a little distracted by some kids running around all by themselves.
[Her nose wrinkles up as she laughs, and she bows her head to glance down at her lap. She feels self-concious all of a sudden, and resists the urge to reach up and fix her hair. Odds are likely there is blood matted in it. She tries not to think about it.]
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She looks around for a guy sitting by himself, nervously biting at her lip.]
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You weren't waiting long, were you? It was a long walk over from the hospital, and I got a little distracted by some kids running around all by themselves.
[Her nose wrinkles up as she laughs, and she bows her head to glance down at her lap. She feels self-concious all of a sudden, and resists the urge to reach up and fix her hair. Odds are likely there is blood matted in it. She tries not to think about it.]
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[He glances up at the barista.]
Triple turkish espresso and a mocha shot, please. And whatever she's having.
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