veneficusvenato (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
veneficusvenato) wrote2011-11-04 07:27 pm
veneficusvenato) wrote2011-11-04 07:27 pm
Coffee 2.0 [Locked to Dean]
My Main ep piece for it:
Jo slept in, after being up forever. First trading shots with Bobby through the annoyed snorting at the professor who was afraid of cat scratches. Then with Sokka n' Lee. Because it's not everyday that someone chose to house an Order in their soul.
Taking her time as nothing would make the next four days to her leaving pass faster.
She'd been towel drying her hair from the world' longest, hottest shower, when she spotted Dean (or more aptly a recognizable hunch of shoulders in that cloak) standing outside the shop across High Street. Staring at the front of the pub.
Thinking about his vow, and the uncanny unwavering staring, Jo tossed her towel on a chair, ran her fingers through her hair and headed downstairs. Better than avoiding. Especially now. For better or worse. At least pretending her attention wasn't on the front windows and door, she went about wanding away the cleaned glasses and plates from the meeting.
Thread Topper
It was the better part of two minutes before the door bell jingled, hit and tinny, in the din of a larger crowd than last week. But she still heard it. Or felt it? she still knew. In the pause between will he or won't he, she knew he had. Could feel it in the center of herself. In her wand hand.
She made a cup of coffee prepare itself with another flick of her wand, as the last plate went into its place. Using the last flourish of the magic to send it serenely sailing through the air so it landed on the bar just before he got to it.
Jo slept in, after being up forever. First trading shots with Bobby through the annoyed snorting at the professor who was afraid of cat scratches. Then with Sokka n' Lee. Because it's not everyday that someone chose to house an Order in their soul.
Taking her time as nothing would make the next four days to her leaving pass faster.
She'd been towel drying her hair from the world' longest, hottest shower, when she spotted Dean (or more aptly a recognizable hunch of shoulders in that cloak) standing outside the shop across High Street. Staring at the front of the pub.
Thinking about his vow, and the uncanny unwavering staring, Jo tossed her towel on a chair, ran her fingers through her hair and headed downstairs. Better than avoiding. Especially now. For better or worse. At least pretending her attention wasn't on the front windows and door, she went about wanding away the cleaned glasses and plates from the meeting.
Thread Topper
It was the better part of two minutes before the door bell jingled, hit and tinny, in the din of a larger crowd than last week. But she still heard it. Or felt it? she still knew. In the pause between will he or won't he, she knew he had. Could feel it in the center of herself. In her wand hand.
She made a cup of coffee prepare itself with another flick of her wand, as the last plate went into its place. Using the last flourish of the magic to send it serenely sailing through the air so it landed on the bar just before he got to it.