Post by Deleted on Aug 6, 2013 0:09:08 GMT -6
It was a sort of curse and a blessing having gone to a private school up until that year. The curse was that she barely knew anyone, she had only been going to school for a few weeks but they all thought she was a carrier of the black plague or something. The blessing was, she only needed five classes before she could graduate. She was in three right now, all in the morning and then she would take two next semester. Of course she needed to find something to do after lunch since she had nothing to do after that. No classes and her job was only on the weekends. She supposed she could find another one or an internship. Or she could spend a lot of time with her pets and her horse.
Either way, she was getting used to it. Newport was a hugely different from Chicago. But, she liked the beach and the weather, she was sure she would be missing snow in a few months. Instead of going home directly after her last class, she went to explore. She had heard of an amazing coffee shop and she was keen to find out if it was as good as everyone said it was. She parked her car in the parking lot, grabbed her purse, which was an expensive very late birthday present, locked her even later Christmas present before walking towards the coffee shop. You would think that her parents would remember the date of her birth, her mother did after all spend a mere five hours in labor with her, or at least that's what the nannies used to tell her.
As she walked through the door, she pushed the thick red wave of hair out of her way. She smiled at the barista and walked up to the counter. She was greeted before she told the pretty woman what she wanted. "Hello, um.. may I have a cafe borgia?" She asked, her voice soft. Her name was asked and if she wanted the tops. "Isobel, and yes. I would absolutely love the toppings." She said with a small laugh. She stood there and waited, out of the way of course. The woman almost rudely, or rudely to her asked about her hair. "Where do you get your hair done? I've been trying to hair a red that color and can't get it right." She the woman. Isobel gave her a look and when a smirk. "I believe it's call.. Irish genetics, number 2503.." She said almost a little too sweetly. The woman actually wrote it down. "It's rather hard to find.. but generally the better hair salons know about it, it's sort of under the table, you know like a back alley swap.." she said with a wink and couldn't help but giggle when she wrote that down as well. Was it mean? Maybe a little bit, she loved her hair and hated when people asked where she got it. Um, she was born with it surprisingly enough. The nannies always told her she was born with hair sticking this way and that, apparently it smoothed out after a few months. But, it was all a harmless joke. Any redhead knew what she meant, she was sure they went through the same thing at one point.
The woman gave her a grin. "Alright darling. Here is your drink and that'll be 6.35." she was told and really couldn't believe it was that much, but she handed over the exact change. She put a few dollars in the tip jar before grabbing for her white cup, with her name written fancily in the foam. At least they had good taste and it was rather creative to do that, it could probably get confusing in there when it was overly crowded.
her drink (but her name instead)
outfit