ArchivedLogs:Coffee Lovers

Coffee Lovers
Dramatis Personae Eric, Melinda	2013-04-03 '
Location <NYC> High Line - Chelsea
Built on a freight rail, the High Line once was a railroad and has been reclaimed as green space in the middle of the city. A park situated high above Manhattan, what was once a rusty industrial wasteland is now a stretch of peaceful space to lounge and relax among grass and flowers and plant life. There are restaurants, ice cream sandwich stands, a beer garden, and the view all along the elevated parkland is unbeatable. Despite the cold breeze blowing through the streets of New York, the Highline has its fair share of people wandering across the old railroad stand. Couples, mostly, with a scattering of single people wandering through the park. One of those singles is lounging in the beer garden, booze in hand. Two o'clock isn't too early to start drinking, right? Dressed in a dark wool jacket and a black pair of pants, he has a book in one hand, ankle over the other, as he sits on one of the benches. Melinda smells strongly like coffee. It wafts from her in the cold breezes and announces her coming, but each passing breeze starts to steal more and more of the aroma particles from her being and diffuse the overall scent of her. She is walking through the park intentionally, trying to get that evil odor banished. She is not helping it by having a cup of joe in her hand. She moves around until finally eyeing Eric for a moment, probably his beer more than anything and eyes his bench afterward. She then sits. Yep. Didn't even ask. She's sitting, even if there are a million other seats to sit in. Proximit to human, check! Whether it is the approach of the other person or the wafting smell of that most sacred of drinks, Eric's eyes flick up from his book as Melinda approaches. His eyes flick up and down her and he smiles, folding a finger into the spine of his book and closing it over his finger. "Good afternoon," he drawls, in a surprisingly thick Georgia accent. "How you doin'?" he asks, warmly, as he takes a sip of his beer. Melinda looks up at him, surprised. She regards him in such a fashion for a few minutes before lifting her coffee to her mouth and sipping at it. "Um. Okay," she admits against the plastic lid of her cup. "How are you doing?" She rubs a knit gloved hand against her thigh to keep the circulation going, apparently chilled easily. "I'm doin' well, thanks." Eric says, with a bright smile. "You know - any chance I get to relax is a good time in my opinion." he says, warmly, taking another sip of the beer. His head tilts to one side, eyebrows furrowing for a moment as he considers his new companion. "You a coffee-lover?" Melinda regards Eric for another minute before smiling a little more warmly. "Why, yes, I suppose you could say that. Why do you ask?" She wiggles the cup between her fingers as if it wasn't a huge cue, but still waits on him to supply a reason. Eric taps the side of his nose and winks, smile breaking into a grin. "I can smell it. Makes me feel awake just smellin' it!" he says, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his foot against the ground. "Live off the stuff. Except when I'm workin', of course." he says, shrugging his shoulders. "CCaffeine, you cruel mistress." Melind laughs softly, "You know that they make inhalant caffeine now. I could never really get into that myself, as it takes the seduction out of the abuse of this particular drug. It'd be like taking a shot of orgasm feeling without all the foreplay that makes the body tingle." She sips her coffee and blinks at Eric. "I'd offer you some, but I made it in SoHo and I'm almost out. It's not all that hot anymore anyway." Eric's eyes flick over Melinda, openly, a smirk playing on his lips. "That would be a pity, indeed. The foreplay is a good half of the fun." he says, eyes twinkling. He takes a sip of his beer, not taking his eyes off of the woman next to him. "You made it, you say? Home - or, no. Too much coffee. You work at a coffee shop?" "Yep. I work at a coffee shop in SoHo." Melinda agrees, head tilting a little to the side. "Man, I must stink of coffee and you must be the Sherlock Holmes of sniffing." She shrugs a little and finishes her cup. "Okay, I might be exaggerating too much. I also have a paper cup instead of something reusable." She starts fo fidget with her cup. "What job keeps you from caffeine? Are you a sniper or a surgeon?" Eric gives Melinda a bemused look. "Neither. I'm a police officer. Caffine makes you have to piss." he explains, tilting his head slightly to one side. "I do have a good smeller." He taps his nose again, then winks. "I'mglad that you think I have the attitude to be a surgeon, though. I'm sure my ma is happier just hearin' someone mistook me for one." He takes another sip of his beer, eyes twinkling. "I see, I see," Melinda remarks, considering. "I am glad I could make your mother happy. That's tremendous. I haven't brightened a mother's day in a while." She leans back in her chair and crosses her ankles as she stretches her legs out in front of her. "I suppose, it was more about the caffeine rather than your personality, I am sorry to say. I am actually a terrible judge of occupations. If that were my job, like this people that guess age and weight at fairs, I would be giving away stuffed animals to every customer." Eric's smile is bright, and he shrugs his shoulders. "Well, what can you do? I mean, we're not all good at everything. Just a lot of things." he says, eyes flicking up and down Melinda bluntly. His smile widens, and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. "Listen, I have to get going... but let me know if you want to grab some coffee sometime. I'll make it, this time." he says, holding it out to Melinda unabashedly. "Well, if you're making the coffee, you're going to have to be really good, because I'll be judging you entirely by that cup of coffee. It might be easier just to take me out." Melinda accepts the card and looks it over. "Have a nice night, Officer Sutton." "Maybe I'll do that too," Eric says, brightly, winking at her as he stands. "Have a good night, too. Give me a call, yeah?" He waves even as he turns, draining what remains of his beer in a long chug and tossing the empty bottle into a recycling bin as he heads out of the beer garden and towards the exit.