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Post by gabrielmonroe on Jan 24, 2012 18:43:02 GMT -6
Routine. It was both a blessing and a curse. For a man like Gabriel Monroe, it definitely seemed to edge closer to the ‘curse’ side of things. It made you complacent, it made your edges and senses dull. It made you too damn comfortable. And of all the odd and outlandish situations the former marine had found himself ‘at ease’ with, being comfortable was never one of them. He often felt like he thrived when he needed to be on his toes, being tense was a state he’d not only learned to deal with in the 1o years he served his country, but he found out, it was something that worked for him, something he enjoyed. No, establishing a routine was not something he was overly fond of. And yet, as he found himself sitting down for dinner at the local diner after his shift at Blackwoods, he found it was just that, a routine. It was now normal for him, wake up, run, make breakfast, go to the school, smash the heads of the little hellions when they broke the rules, go home, do his exercise routine, make dinner, go to bed. Some days were mixed up a little, like when he would unexpectedly make plans with a co-worker, or, he supposed he could call them ‘friends’ now, though the term was still used loosely, or, like today, Wednesday, when he knew the special at the diner was meatloaf, so he went out for dinner, using the down home cooking as a bit of a reminder of his youth and what his mother would make him. Though, since he came once a week, every Wednesday at the same time, he supposed that counted as part of the dreaded routine.
Either way, when you are stuck in that kind of rut, you can’t easily escape it, some times you just can’t. So, it was a resigned man that settled into his regular booth, newspaper under his arm to eat. He gave a cursory smile at the waitress as she brought his coffee, and took a gulp as he unfolded the paper on the table, setting to read while he waited for his dinner. There were almost times where he looked forward to one of the inevitable flashbacks, horrific as they were at times, it was still better than the doldrums he’d settled into. He flicked the page, his dark eyes scanning the stories when he paused, his senses not so dull that he wouldn’t notice someone’s eyes on him. He slowly looked up. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t a small blonde boy with bright inquisitive blue eyes looking at him widely. Gabe furrowed his eyebrows a little, looking around, for whoever the little Tyke belonged too. “ Uhh.. you lost kid? Where’s your mom and dad?”
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Post by Izabelle "Izzie" Fritz on Jan 24, 2012 19:56:29 GMT -6
"You wanna go where?!" Izzie looked at her son as if he'd just sprouted a second head. "To that diner, mommy." She couldn't believe this. Years of taking sure her child ate healthy, and that she knew what went into every meal he ate, and he was..wanting to go to some restaurant? Was her cooking suddenly not good enough? Did he not like what she cooked for him? What had she done to deserve this? Why Lord, why? She'd always been a nice, thoughtful person, and had done that best she could for her kid, or at least what she thought was the best for the kid, and he was just willing to completely ditch her for.. for.. for townie food?! What the hell? Had Desmond gone mad?! This was Casper's fault. She wasn't sure how, but it was.
"I want to try meat loaf!" Izzie recoiled as if she'd been slapped in the face, and was regretting telling her son what the sign said. But hey, if he wanted to learn at four then more power to him and who was she to stop him? But now he wanted to try meat loaf, which Izzie though, just FYI, was an abomination in the eyes of God and anyone with a brain. It was just.. ground meat in a loaf shape, how was that suppose to be anything but nasty and greasy, um, ew?! "What if I make it sweetie?" She was trying to bargain with him now. If he wanted to eat something like meat loaf, fine, but she wanted to be the one cooking it. "I'll make it tomorrow, how about that?" Desmond shook his little blonde head. "Mommy, now." Izzie pouted like a four year old would, grabbed Desmond's hand, and hurried across the road to the diner. She was sure how, but somehow, Desmond got away from her once they were inside the restaurant and were sitting down. She'd look down at her menu for a second while the waitress went to get the booster seat, and then when she looked up, Desmond was across the restaurant, staring at someone she was pretty sure worked at the school.
Desmond smiled up at the man, and waved. "I'm Desmond! I like your drawing!" He climbed up on the seat beside the man, and poked his wrist, where the man had a tattoo. "What is it? Is it a sword?" Then Izzie was finally at the table. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to look away and then he was just, boom, over here. I swear he teleports. Desmond, come on." Her son looked up at her with an innocent expression. "Mommy, us men at sitting and reading the newspaper, don't disturb us." Then Desmond was looking towards the newspaper, which he couldn't really see at this angle, so he was climbing into the mans lap. He pointed at a word. "That says orange." Izzie switched gears from trying to get her child out of the mans lap to checking to see if he was really reading the word orange. Izzie straightened up and clapped. "Yes! Yes it is." She smiled brightly, proud of her son, then sat across from them, folding hr hands on the table. "Do you mind if we sit with you?"
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Post by gabrielmonroe on Jan 28, 2012 1:32:35 GMT -6
It may shock and surprise some people, but the uptight former Marine was not what most would call a kid person. Oh sure, he thought they were cute and all, they were miniature little people and were by definition meant to be adorable. He just didn’t interact with them very often, and the younger they were, the more true that was. He didn’t dislike children per say, he just didn’t understand them, and therefore a part of him was naturally inclined to distrust them, and had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to communicate with the little buggers. It was something that he wasn’t ever really expected to do, as in his adult life the chances to interact with anyone under the age of 18 had been rare. Now that he was employed at a high school, he did it on a daily basis. And while they were annoying as hell most days, and made him want to rip out his hair at times, they were old enough that they could at least be reasoned with. Toddlers could not. Nor did they understand logic, or, so it would seem, any sort of social boundaries. So as the little blonde boy, Desmond as he was apparently called, waved brightly and introduced himself as he climbed up into the booth, Gabe was totally at a loss.
He blinked, not entirely sure what he was supposed to do. He looked around, hoping to see some worried looking mother rushing over to collect her offspring while the kid prodded at one of his tattoos. “ Uh… hi there Desmond… yeah it’s kinda like a sword… where’s your mom at kid?” he asked just as the previously wished for blonde woman materialized at the table. He smiled a little tightly as the woman began to apologize for her son as he went on about met reading newspapers. While he still had no damn clue on how to react and or interact with the pint sized human, that managed to melt even him a little bit, and his smile grew gentler. “ It's no problem 'mam- he started, only to be interrupted mid thought as the boy scrambled onto his lap. Gabe blinked, his face frozen in a look of mild shock that was quickly replaced with an unmistakable look of slight panic. The kid was sitting on him, why the hell was the kid sitting on him? Should he move him or what. He looked to the mother, who on second glance he recognized from the school, one of the new cooks unless he was mistaken. Which of course, he wasn;t, it was his job after all to pay attention to the people around the school. He hoped she would save him and pry her son away, but instead she was happily clapping about the kid successfully reading orange. Was that a big deal? It was orange after all, not like the kid just wrote his dissertation or anything. When did kids start reading anyways? Parents, he decided, were an odd bunch, and equally as baffelling as their small children at times. He realized the mother was going to be no help as she sat across from him, pretty much inviting herself and her son to stay. Gabe would have truthfully preferred to eat alone, but his mother had raised him right, and he wasn't about to be rude to the woman. “ No, no, go right ahead” he said with a curt nod. “ Gabriel” he said by way of an introduction, and tried to reach his hand across the table to shake hers, though he was impeded by the kid on his lap. Resigned, he just dropped his arm back down.
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Post by Izabelle "Izzie" Fritz on Feb 24, 2012 16:59:46 GMT -6
Izzie smiled at the man introduced himself, clearing her throat slightly, and put her hand on her chest. "I am Izabelle Jane Fritz, formally Richardson, and I just never changed it back after me and my ex-husband split, because I wanted Desmond to have his fathers last name. Only fair, right?" Then her voice and expression changed in a second as she began looking around for something. "Crap! My purse is over there." In less she was cooking, Izzie could be a little bit scattered brained at times. She blamed it on having a four year old. She got up, scurrying across the restaurant. Desmond watched his mother, then turned his big blue eyes to Gabriel, leaning in and whispering. "She's crazy." He stated plainly at he put he pointing at his head and began twirling the finger about as a way to say his mother was choo-choo.
Soon his mother was coming back, out of breathe but with her purse. She sat down, mumbling an apology as she tried to catch her breath. Desmond took this time to chat Gabe's ear off, or at least give a good shot at it. "So what are your other tattoos? Do you have kids? Do you have a girlfriend? Can you read what that says?" He questioned as he pointed to a headline about some kind of car accident. "Are you getting the meatloaf? Mommy didn't want to come because she called this place a really long word that I think means something like gross. Do you think meatloaf is an 'abomination' like mommy does?" Desmond finished talking after butchering the pronunciation of abomination, and Izzie stared at her child, then at the last question she pulled a pack of yo-gos out of her purse and tore them open, damn near crawling over the table and popping a few in her sons mouth. "I don't think it's an abomination... I just.. cook better food." Izzie said simply, her face bright red. Desmond reached for the yo-gos packet, which Izzie handed to him. He was quiet then, munching happily on them while sitting in Gabriel's lap. Izzie smiled ever-so-slightly. "He likes you." It always made her smile to see how easily Desmond made friends, even with people so much older than him, even with students at the school.
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