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It made her smile. She could get behind anything that would ruffle Jack's feathers. It was no grand secret that she didn't have any good things to say about Taylor's brother. She hadn't liked him ever since she'd met him back at the camping trip years before.
"Good." She simply said. There was, after all, little else to say about it. "Glad to hear it."
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Even Eleanor couldn't help the amusement that colored her brown eyes. Not once had she known Taylor to be one to pause and think before speaking. In some ways, he was more impulsive than even she. And yet, here he was. Brought to silence by a single question - one that hadn't even been offered seriously.
Then he spoke and the brunette's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Huh." She said, turning her gaze back towards the room. "Then he's yours." She added with finality. She wouldn't argue it. She wouldn't mock it. Still, there was something pressing at the back of her mind. A memory she couldn't quite shake...
"Wait, isn't your brother terrified of cats?"
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It seemed like the previous topic finally settled and the brunette could make herself more comfortable in the very uncomfortable seat. As Taylor had come to know over their time together, she didn't do very well with personal questions. She'd never particularly enjoyed it when people prodded at her mind, expecting there to be more.
There wasn't.
"Hm." She mused, head tilting. "I don't know." She hadn't really thought that far. She couldn't bring him back with her to the school. She didn't think the dorm managers would enjoy it much if she brought a cat with her. "Probably gonna drop him off at one of the shelters." She shrugged at that. "Why, you want him?"
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"Clearly." She watched him, head tilted. She wondered if it was really that hard for him to wrap his mind around, or if he was simply that curious. She supposed it didn't really matter. Though the question had been rhetorical, she couldn't quite help herself from the sarcastic reply.
It was second nature by now, after all.
Her eyebrows rose then. "Why should I?" Did there really have to be a reason for her not to care? Did she need some deep psychological reason that when uncovered, would reveal the deep depths of her soul? His other question brought a smile to her lips, though. "That's the million dollar question, isn't it?" Did she even know herself?
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His threat, because that was exactly how the brunette took it, had the corner of her lips quirking upwards. Instead of laughing at him, she simply stared at him, eyebrows rising as her head tilted. Did he really think she cared? She assumed the people sending her here was well aware of how much of a bad idea it would be. She wasn't exactly the kind of person anyone used to be their poster child, after all. Though, perhaps that was exactly what they wanted. "Go ahead." She simply answered. She didn't dance for the fame. She danced because she enjoyed it. She didn't need a show to do that.
She only did it for the extra credit. There was little else to be lost from this.
"If they truly cared, they wouldn't have sent me." She stated simply, as if that was already made obvious. Which it likely was. "What else do you have?"
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She simply nodded. There was little else to be said about that. Though, it didn't seem like the guy was quite as boring as he'd given the impression to be. She almost smiled at his quip. Almost. "Yeah, I'm a twenty one year old still in high school. They loved me so much they didn't want to let me go." She was really that charming, after all. "Anywhere from too young to know any better and too old to have much of a choice."
Really, she should have cared more. She knew that. After all, dancing was the only thing that made her care. Though, it didn't matter much to her if it was in front of people or just her alone on a stage. Maybe that was why.
"These questions sound awfully generic. Are you sure you're good at your job?"
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It was clear the man wasn't at all amused by her attitude, which was fine. Few people usually were. She wasn't exactly notoriously known for being very popular among her peers. Leaning back in her chair, the brunette tapped her fingers against the warm cup.
"It feels great. Makes me want to drop out of school and go hubby hunting myself." She offered him a 'what can you do' shrug. "I mean, he is rich." Yeah, they really gave the poor guy the raw end of the deal, sending Eleanor here. What had they been hoping to accomplish? She was clearly not the right woman for the job.
"Who doesn't want to live in a fantasy castle and have a fairy turn your shoes into glass?"
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She stared at him blankly for a moment. Was this really necessary? A sigh and the brunette took a sip from her coffee before speaking. "Eleanor Bennett. E-l-e-a-n-o-r B-e-n-n-e-t-t. Twenty-one." She couldn't help herself, really. "T-w-e-n-t-y o-n-e."
She tilted her head at him. "Measurements are 33-24-34 in. Dress size 4." She smiled at him then, the most sugar like smile she could possibly muster. "What else?" She tapped a finger against her cheek. "Ah, yes. My bra size is 32A." Was there a point to it? Of course not. But it was fun.
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She could only stare at the hand offered, a slight scowl caressing the corner of her eyes. Her eyes lifted from the hand and to the man who'd offered it. "Yeah, sure." Pulling out a chair, she placed her coffee down before taking a seat.
Politeness in the form of a handshake was a tradition Eleanor had never understood. Then again, there was a lot of things that held hands with politeness that the brunette didn't understand.
Placing the cup between her hands, she stared at the white foam as it mixed with the brown liquid underneath. Even that struck her as more interesting. "Go on."
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Rehearsals had been kicking Eleanor's ass and she couldn't remember the last time she'd set foot outside without having to go to, or leave, dance class. She'd moved from spending most of her time at the academy, to the local theater in town. She didn't really mind as much as she felt the need for a break: Not that this kind of break was something she'd claim counted.
She'd been assigned the task to talk to some kind of reporter. They'd desperately needed some media coverage for their upcoming classical ballet show: Cinderella.
Patience had never been a virtue of hers and she could feel herself growing restless as she waited in line for it to be her turn to order. Her brown eyes darted around the room, hoping to see anyone that'd fit the description. The coffee shop was fairly empty, as most of the people seemed to take their coffee to go. By the entrance, there was a lady with a small baby. She doubted that was the right person. Close to the counter, there was a middle aged guy who looked at her like she was a piece of rare steak; God, she hoped that wasn't the guy.
Ordering her coffee, she pursed her lips.
A group of teenagers sat at the back. Neither of which looked old enough to have finished high school. Which meant there was only one option left: The guy who looked like he belonged to a show like Downtown Abbey.
"Wonderful." She exhaled as she moved towards the table he was sitting by.
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Shifting uncomfortably, Eleanor could only wish that the vets would walk through the door and offer her some peace and quiet. Of course, that likely wouldn't happen as soon as she would have liked it to. Taylor kept pushing buttons and she was doing her best not to chew his head off; Only because she knew he wasn't asking to piss her off. He was asking because he was genuinely curious.
"I am, yeah." She looked at him then. "Why else would I-" Stopping herself, she shook her head. "Nevermind."
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She looked at him again. He was pushing his luck. "Can't." She barely had enough free time as it was. Rehearsals had been sucking up all of her free time.
She realized then that being curt wasn't her best option here. "I, uh." She blinked. "Have dance rehearsals." Why it mattered that he knew, she didn't know. It just felt like giving some kind of explanation was the right way to go.
She narrowed her eyes at him then, as she often did when she was pissed. The words that followed next were the hardest ones yet. "At the local theatre."
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Jan 24, 2018 23:23:00 GMT
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It seemed like he wanted to take advantage of her current ability to remain under control, and truthfully, she couldn't blame him. A shudder went through her. Everything about this was unnatrual to her. It was painful and she absolutely hated it.
"Mmmhm." She rolled her neck, tilting it to look at him, expression deadpan. "I will smack you. Right here."
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"If you say so." She didn't doubt that deep down, Jack was a nice guy. Of course, Taylor was also biased in his opinion, but she saw little point in voicing her own. He wasn't her concern. He never would be.
They had landed upon safe grounds for now, but when he spoke, she felt every muscle in her body tense. She could feel the vile words that acted as a self defense mechanism build on her tongue. Anything to get her away from topics she was too proud to discuss.
"Mmm." The sound came out as an almost painful rumble. She rolled her now tense shoulders, trying to reel back her slowly flaring emotions. The self control was painful.
"Di..tto." She pressed her lips together, the muscles in her jaw tightening.
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"You probably did." She agreed with ease. She tossed a glance his way, smirking.
His next words had the brunette grimacing. "Urgh." She couldn't keep the spite out of her voice. There was no one, not one person, in the world she loathed as much as Jack.
"No offense, but your brother is the single most useless person I have ever met." She really could not stress that enough.
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