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Post by Lela Porter on Jul 28, 2014 9:49:35 GMT -6
After she left the room, leaving Bobby and Lauren to talk business, the petite young blonde felt more anxious to get to work than she ever had. She had no idea what had come over her in there, acting all dazed and oblivious. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She did know. She just didn't want to admit it to herself. She was starting to crush on Bobby!, No! No no no no no! she scolded herself harshly, This cannot happen!Who could blame her though! She was a teenage girl. These were the kinds of things she was supposed to be thinking about, all the time! But things were different for Lela. She couldn't drop her guard so easily and let herself get lost in a daydream. She had to be serious, had to be strong. Keeping people at arms' length was how she kept herself safe, and she didn't plan on changing that anytime soon. Letting people in meant giving them the opportunity to hurt you, and that was a risk she just wasn't willing to take. She heaved a contemptible sigh and pulled up a stool to the large rustic table in the middle of the room. Maybe keeping her hands occupied would help her to clear her mind. Without another thought about it, she began pulling out ingredients from around the room, a large bucket of oil from under the sink, a basket of fresh picked lemons from next to the door, and a bottle of vinegar from the cabinet, and piling them up on the table. ----- @max
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Post by Deleted on Jul 28, 2014 11:00:09 GMT -6
Lauren pointed the way and left Bobby to the rest. He could inform the girl of her decision that he was supposed to work with her. It was an instruction he was more than happy to give. Sticking his head into the room, he spotted Lela getting various things out for this mixing job no doubt. He broke into a smile. This should be easy enough work, the only possible fly in the ointment might be him keeping his mind on the task at hand and not on the girl. Oh well, he could multitask.
"Hey! There you are," he started then stepped up to the table counter.
"Your boss, bless her heart, decreed I am supposed to help you out today with your concocting. And let me assure you, I couldn't be more excited than to find out I am to concoct. This is how we earn the big bucks, right?" he teased.
"Seriously....hope you don't mind we're stuck with each other and just show me the ropes and I'll help you however you ask. I mean think about it, you get to be in charge and boss someone around," he wanted to put her at ease, assure her he was all about cooperation.
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Post by Lela Porter on Jul 29, 2014 8:18:25 GMT -6
Every cell in her body screamed when she saw his face. All she wanted to do was grab him and kiss him, but her fear was paralyzing. You never would have known it to look at her though. Lela was an expert at hiding her feelings. Without even flinching, she smiled like she was the happiest girl in the world, which at least part of her was.
"Hey yourself," she chirped, "I don't mind at all. Why don't you pull up a seat so we can get started." She gestured to a row of stools against the wall and kept pulling out their supplies. When she had everything else ready, she grabbed a basket of ratty old towels and t-shirts and plopped it down on the floor. ”Okay, I think that’s everything,” she huffed. ”We’re gonna start with wood conditioner today,” she slid a large mixing bowl between them and handed him a metal cup. "This is actually a really good time to do this, because the oil is liquid. When it gets cool, coconut oil solidifies."
She wanted to talk to him and flirt with him like a normal girl. She hated herself for being this afraid, but she simply couldn't. She had to focus on the task at hand. It was the only way she was going to get through the day. She pointed to the handwritten notebook page where the recipe was written, "We need six cups of that," she stated very matter-of-factly, as she started shaving the peels of the lemons off with a cheese grater.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 29, 2014 20:03:05 GMT -6
Lela seemed quite happy he was assigned to help her out. Now maybe it was just that she just appreciated an extra set of hands for the task or.....maybe she liked him. He was fairly confident it was both. He pulled up a seat then as directed while she finished assembling her necessary supplies, since he had no clue, he simply watched.
"OK, wood conditioner, alright then," he nodded as she started explaining, then took the cup handed to him, "So I should pour six cups of this stuff....geez, I never even knew they made banana oil."
He began filling the cup then adding it to the mixing bowl between them, glancing from time to time at her grating lemons.
"So are we going to use this on wood, or making some kind of recipe?" he quipped, "By the way I love the smell of lemons, don't you?"
He eyed her again then asked, "So - if it's OK to ask - where did you come from and how did you find out about this place?"
If she was willing to open up a little about herself, great, if not - well, then he knew where her boundaries were and would respect that.
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Post by Lela Porter on Jul 30, 2014 6:21:30 GMT -6
Lela fought the urge to stop and roll her eyes and correct him about the oil. After all, it wasn't vitally important that he know if it came from coconuts or bananas right now. All he had to do was mix up the right portions of it with the other ingredients. She did however make a mental note to say 'coconut oil' often and clearly so that he would learn on his own what it was. "After that it's two cups of vinegar." She had to keep her mind on the job.
He was making small talk, asking how she felt about the smell of lemons, and she was more than happy to go along with it. She held one to her nose and took a deep breath, letting out a long sigh. "They are delicious," she grinned, but just when she thought things were going so well and she might be able to relax for a second, he asked a personal question. Inside she froze, and her mind was screaming, Don't answer that! Do not answer him!
She tried to keep a calm façade on, but suddenly it felt like the room was on fire. She nervously grabbed her bottle of water and chugged some down before she opened her mouth to speak. She had to say something. What would he think of her if she didn't. What kind of person couldn't answer a simple question like that. "Oh, um, I'm from Kansas," she lied, "I didn't exactly have much of a home life, ya know," at least that part was true, "So I took off as soon as I turned eighteen. I was going to stay with a friend up here, but that didn't really pan out for me. I got really lucky that Lauren took me in. I wouldn't have had anywhere else to go." She was sweating bullets at this point and praying to any god that would listen that he wouldn't see through her story and call her on it. With shaky hands, she ground another lemon into the grater, until half the damn thing was gone. "Ouch!" she yelped as her thumb slid into the sharp metal object, "Damn it!" she grumbled, grabbing a towel from the basket to wrap her hand and stop the bleeding. At least it was a distraction. It seemed their little storytelling session would have to come to an end for now.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 30, 2014 19:57:41 GMT -6
Plus they were going to add vinegar? Strange formula here but he had no experience with this sort of thing and assumed whoever invented this had tested it out, so Bobby just nodded. She agreed with him on the lemon, but then most people liked the smell if not the taste. So easy one. He moved on to a more personal question though and that seemed to grind the conversational gears to a sudden and uncomfortable halt. Oh, oh, he maybe went too far, too fast? She went for her water and took a drink. Either she was suddenly thirsty or it was a stall tactic. Then she talked.
So she was from Kansas? Interesting, he was from Missouri, not that far away from her given the size of the country. Bad home life. OK, made sense and it was also something they had in common. Hell, normal happy kids would not end up in this place afterall. Aha! So she was eighteen, she didn't look it. But then he was often told he didn't look his age either. While she was telling this all to him, she had kept grating away until she gave an abrupt yip.
"You OK?" he stopped what he was doing to focus on the problem.
She moved too fast to let him see, reaching for a towel to wrap the thumb while she swore. Even with that, he couldn't help but think she was just adorable.
"Aww, sorry, Lela, here, let me see it.....please? Did I tell you I'm a medical school graduate?" he smiled as he gently reached for her hand. Of course it was a complete and utter lie and obviously so.
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Post by Lela Porter on Jul 31, 2014 9:25:25 GMT -6
"I'm fine!" the girl instinctively recoiled when he asked if she was okay. She squeezed tightly against the wound to stop the bleeding and bit down on her lip to stifle the whimpering. She was tough to be sure, but that didn't mean she didn't feel pain. The lemon juice stung in the open wound and she probably would have cried if she wasn't so in shock. Honestly, she was more likely to cry because of the embarrassment and vulnerability she had just exposed herself to.
Med School? All of her energy was suddenly redirected to scoffing at the ridiculous suggestion. She couldn't tell if he was making fun of her for the story she told or if he was just trying to lighten the mood, but either way, it didn't strike her well. She shot him a pithy glance, but hesitantly offered him her hand anyway, still wrapped in the now blood stained towel. "I think we have some bandages in the cabinet over the sink." she offered up, trying to avoid eye contact while he looked at her injury.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 31, 2014 10:15:52 GMT -6
"So you say," he hesitated for just an instant at her sharp retort and even more telling, flinch at his attempt to see the hand.
His attempt at some humor didn't seem to go over very well either. He had two choices: he could recoil and just sit there and let her have her space OR he could redouble his effort to help her. It was about more really than just a scraped finger, he knew that much. OK, he picked option two. Again he reached for her, slowly. And this time she gave him an unreadable look but did extend out the towel wrapped hand.
"There now, let's take a quick look," he smiled but by then she had decided to look down, away from any eye contact. OK, fine, he would take what he could get. Least she was letting him check it out.
Unwrapping the towel, he eyed the finger, it was bloody but nothing serious. He imagined the acidic lemon juice probably made it hurt worse than it really was. She then mentioned there were bandages. He nodded then took his water bottle, which he had still not finished, and poured some of it over the injury.
"Yeah, no need for amputation, that's a good thing," once more he went for a joke, he couldn't help himself.
"OK, I'll grab a bandaid. Since you're a little old for kissing it to make it better," he let go of her hand to get the medical kit.
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Post by Lela Porter on Jul 31, 2014 11:17:25 GMT -6
Lela flinched more at his insight than the fresh sting she felt when the air hit her raw flesh. She realized she was probably coming off a little bit harsh. She just didn't like showing anyone any weakness. This time when he made a joke about her not needing the finger amputated, she broke a smile. "Thanks," she said sheepishly. She was grateful, despite how uncomfortable it made her, that he wanted to help. For a brief moment, she felt slightly less alone than she usually did.
She was too old for kissing a wound to make it feel better, but she wouldn't have minded if he had decided to go that route. Then again, maybe she had deterred him from making such a move. That was after all, the design of her behavior, but it came along with the unfortunate side effect of isolating her from any kind of affection or empathy. She kept telling herself that needing people was a weakness that she couldn't afford, but after a while, even she didn't believe that line, so she decided to play along with the med school story. "So, have you seen a lot of these kinds of injuries, doctor?" a half-hearted chuckle escaped her throat. She wasn't really feeling the humor, but at least she was trying.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2014 15:40:51 GMT -6
She said 'thanks', least she was polite. A lot of their generation weren't though Bobby had been brought up to use manners and, despite his disdain for his parents, he did absorb some decent manners. They were free and easy to use and most people approved. And even better, she smiled at his amputation crack. Yeah, he was wearing her down alright.
"I'm here for you, Lela," he flashed a grin.
She then asked him if he had a lot of these kinds of injuries as she played along with his joke persona. Opening a bandaid carton he went for a reasonably sized one while answering her.
"Most of my work was in brain surgery, that kind of thing. But I can do this, I'm sure," he quipped, opening the bandaid then applying it to her finger. It looked decent enough to him once finished.
"Good as new...well, if you use your imagination. You do have one of those, right?" he admired his work and snuck a peek at her adorable face.
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Post by Lela Porter on Aug 2, 2014 11:08:59 GMT -6
She already felt like a jerk for how she was treating him even before he started talking about being there for her. Now that was awkward. She bit her lip and tried again to avoid his gaze. Only this time she caught a glimpse of that boyish grin and couldn’t help but smile in return.
In the spirit of this character he had created, he went on to say that his specialty was surgery. Surgery? Okay, maybe this was going a little too far, but it was all in good fun, right?
”Of course I have an imagination!” she gasped in mock horror, ”What kind of a life would this be without an imagination!?”
She giggled and looked hard at her wounded thumb wrapped in the bandaid. The pain had lessened to a dull throbbing now, but she was certainly in no condition to continue on grating the lemons. ”Bobby? Do you think you could take over for me? It looks like maybe this isn’t the best part of the job for me to be doing today,” she tried to keep a perky smile on her face, but all she could muster as a grimace. She held her thumb with her other hand, so that he would think the look was only related to the pain.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 3, 2014 15:31:32 GMT -6
"Cool - then use it. Imagine me as competent here," Bobby chuckled as he closed up the med kit and put it back.
She had a favor to ask of him though, take over for her grating task. He nodded.
"Sure, I get it. Clever tactic really.....injure yourself to get out of work. I will have to remember that if Lauren assigns me to milk the bulls or something. Yeah, I can tell I'm going to learn a lot around here partnered up with you," he kept teasing her as he grabbed another lemon and the grater.
If he could just make her laugh or smile, it was well worth the comedy act.
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Post by Lela Porter on Aug 3, 2014 21:56:06 GMT -6
Lela rolled her eyes, a smirk crossing her face. She could try to deny it all she wanted, but he was funny and sweet. "Sure sure," she mocked, "Because, you know, that's my whole mission in life, to get out of work." She went on to grab a pair of scissors and start cutting the towels and t-shirts into rags. "I'm just thinking of you guys ya know!" she informed him, "It would be a little creepy to have blood smeared on every surface in the place wouldn't it? Besides, I like taking care of stuff around here." It was true. This was the only place she had found since running away that she truly felt like she could earn her keep and live an honest life, but she knew he was joking, so she didn't think too much of it.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 5, 2014 19:59:10 GMT -6
"Yeah, that's what I thought," laughed Bobby.
Bobby got down to work then, grating the lemons, listening to Lela's other instructions as they put together this concoction as these people liked to call it. It wasn't boring but it wasn't exactly exciting either, still it didn't matter to the young man. After all it allowed him to spend time with this girl, a girl he was already fascinated with. She wasn't his first crush by any means, he'd had one already at thirteen, but this was different. He was seventeen, almost eighteen and at least this time he was aware of it and how it was supposed to work. It might just turn out to be more, who knew for certain but for now he was willing to take that ride and see where the destination ended up.
OOC: End this thread here?
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