Missives from Isolation #10 – Character II: Core Trait Boogaloo
This one ended up longer than expected, and much more fun than expected too. This week’s Curtis Brown challenge was to write two short scenes, showing two people – with opposing core character traits – approaching a cafe for a meeting. It was a lot of fun – I picked two core traits at the start but ended up using several of the other pairs to build the contrast between the characters as I went along. I might actually use this as the start of something longer, if I ever get around to it…
There were a few suggested scenarios – a first date, a meeting between enemies, an interview. You can probably guess which one I picked.
It was a bright day, and she savoured the feeling of the warm sun on her pale skin. She’d spent far too much time inside lately, and it was nice to get out.
She had to concede that the casual clothes were comfortable enough, though the sensation of actually blending in with the ordinary people that swarmed around her, all enjoying the sunny day as they wandered between shops and cafes, was somewhat distasteful. She walked slowly, though, enjoying the sunshine. She had plenty of time to kill. The meeting was not for another twenty minutes, and she was less than ten from her destination – and the woman she was meeting would, as ever, be just a little late.
She was planning on being early, just in case her companion made an effort. It would irritate her, and that would make her careless – and that was exactly what she wanted.
She nodded politely as she stood aside to make way for a man with a laden dolly, even offering a brief smile as he thanked her. She let her internal clock count quietly down as she walked on, glancing subtly left and right as she did so, taking in each and every other person and dismissing them as irrelevant, one by one. They all had so many things to do, so many things on their minds. She could read them like books, but she didn’t bother after the first few. Every ending was the same. They all scurried to and fro, minds racing with all their own petty concerns. They should take a moment to enjoy the sunshine, she thought to herself, smiling as she tipped her head back and let it warm her. They may not have many further opportunities.
She reached the café; a decidedly ordinary building painted a blue that had once been vibrant but that was now faded pale, the paint flaking and chipped. The glass window was clean, at least. She did have standards, after all. She stepped inside, surveying the room. It was half-full, certainly busy enough that another patron – and any conversation they might have – would attract no attention whatsoever. Perfect. She selected a booth next to the window and sat, her lip curling as the worn padding beneath the cracked leather didn’t cushion her nearly enough. If I must sink to her level, she reminded herself, then I will not show discomfort. That would be inviting her guest to think she had some small advantage. That would, of course, not do at all.
When the waiter came over she ordered two coffees; pure black for herself and a disgustingly sweet and milky option for her guest – who, she noted as her internal clock ticked over the hour, was now officially late. Excellent. When the drinks came, she sipped the bitter brew and slid the other over to the exact centre of the vacant bench seat. There was music playing. She sat upright, not wanting to lean back on the stained leather of the bench seat, and idly calculated its beats per minute. It was a simple tune, nothing to write home about, but she almost started humming before she caught herself.
Two minutes late. She suppressed a smug smile as she composed a countermelody to the insipid muzak in her head. It was barley late at all. But it was enough that she would start this conversation just a little bit ahead.
She really didn’t need to be so petty, she knew – but it was so much fun.
She took another sip of coffee, and waited.
*
It was a bright day, but she didn’t care.
She moved quickly down the street, even though she wasn’t walking especially so. She couldn’t help it; her long strides devoured distance like a wolf would a steak. Not that she wanted to linger – she didn’t, not with all the looks she kept getting. She hunched her broad shoulders a little, trying to look less intimidating. It didn’t work. It never did. She loomed over everyone else in the street by half a head at the very least, and even in her baggy jacket it was obvious that she was strong, packing as much muscle as any three of the ordinary people who shifted awkwardly out of her way as she approached.
Often she wondered how on earth she’d managed to keep her secrets hidden for so long when she stuck out so obviously. But that was the power of a subtle, but extensive – and expensive – media team.
Superman got away with it, she reasoned, and all he did was hunch his shoulders and wear glasses. She could do the same and have a dozen interns slaving away behind the scenes on social media. Suck it, Kent.
She sighed as a courier ducked back into a shopfront rather than step in front of her. I won’t bite, she thought. Seriously. But she didn’t say anything, not wanting to draw yet more attention to herself. Every head was already turning. She pulled up her hood and walked on, shutting out the bright shopfronts on either side, reducing her world to the path in front of her, the path to her destination.
The path to the meeting she shouldn’t be having. She shuddered, focused. It’s just a coffee, she thought. Nothing more. Nothing sinister.
Still, she was glad when she saw the café and its glass front, the open seating and clear lines of sight. Wherever she sat she’d be in the view of twenty people and just as many camera phones, if things went south. For once, she thanked the universe for making her so physically obvious.
She was already there, of course. She would be early, just to prove the point. She saw her as soon as she stepped through the door, tensing automatically, fists clenching before she’d even registered the sight of her, sitting primly on one side of the booth with her coffee already in front of her – and, she noticed with a flash of anger, another cup on the other side of the table. And I bet she knows exactly what I’d like too. At least she looked just a little uncomfortable, out of her usual razor-sharp suit. Take whatever you can get.
She sat down without preamble, taking up the best part of the two-person bench seat. She had to duck her head a little to avoid the hanging light above the table. Her diminutive companion took a calm sip of coffee, looking like a child by comparison.
“Good afternoon,” she said, infuriatingly neutral. She gestured to the coffee. “I ordered for you.”
The hooded woman picked up the flimsy cup carefully, and took a sip. It was just the way she liked it.
“Thanks,” she said reluctantly. “But I prefer a latte.” She didn’t, and they both knew it. That only made it more frustrating. Irritated, she drank the coffee down in one long swig, almost burning her throat. Damned if I’ll savour a gift from her.
“We’re both here,” she growled. “So let’s talk.”
The thin woman across the table set down her own coffee and leaned forward, steepling her long-fingered hands before her.
“Let’s.”
