been waiting a long time

[immortale]

Who: Firo, Chane, Claire, possibly some other boarding house residents or visitors
When: February 15th, evening [backdated]
Where: Sector 4 boarding house, kitchen
Summary: It's becoming increasingly clear that Firo's been stood up. Clearly he needs company.
Warnings: Alcohol...?


When Firo had invited Czeslaw to dinner, he'd at least expected the boy to show up. It would have been the first time they'd seen each other in a while—at least without the NVs between them—and he'd spent the morning making final preparations, both for dinner and for facing Czeslaw.

It hadn't been that he'd been avoiding Czes in the past few months... Well, maybe it had, a little. But he'd wanted time to come to terms with the fact that Czeslaw had essentially sold Claire out back before Christmas. If the boy had been a stranger, his actions would have been unforgivable; because he was (supposedly) a friend, they had cut so much deeper. Firo had needed time to figure things out, to decide whether or not he was even willing to give Czes a chance.

And when he'd finally decided on that chance—nothing. Afternoon had worn into evening, and still there was no sign of Czeslaw's arrival. In fact, the only sign that they were supposed to have been making dinner together were the ingredients that were still sitting on the kitchen counter as Firo himself sat at a table, tapping his fingers impatiently against it.

He checked the time again. The least Czes could have done was call if he was going to be late...

Comments

[fidele]

Moving soundlessly about the house, she had spotted Firo in the kitchen from the doorway early on in his plight, and dared not to disturb him. Perhaps she had simply become less willing to venture out to talk with others, even those in her own house, since so many residents had left, but a vaguely determined scan of the network suggested he had a dinner agreement with somebody-- somebody she would rather not face. So, with that excuse to keep her from dwelling on the more self-deprecating reason, she kept away in politeness. Using the kitchen herself could wait.

But apparently he could wait longer. Some minutes after the ebbing echo of the evening sirens, Chane's curiosity and impatience broke the banks; in pushing the door open before her it gave a gentle creak, her eyes trained on the young man at the table.

For somebody so unconcerned with one's background, she had an unusual interest in Firo. They had barely met other than through her fiancé, and even then, she had never opted to use words in communicating. He had known Claire for longer than her, didn't he? Was he aware of what had happened between Claire and his guest? What kind of familiarity did he have with him?

All these questions in mind, Chane did nothing to express them; she merely stood at the door with an intent gaze, quietly making her presence known. Yet, if her body language could be correctly deciphered, she was loudly demanding acknowledgement from the other resident.

;_;

[immortale]

He wasn't coming. Or—well, at this point, it was more that he shouldn't come. The sirens had already sounded, and there was still no sign of the Czeslaw. Even trying to call him hadn't been successful; Firo had left a message, but there was no telling when Czes might check his NV. Maybe they should have met somewhere else, or maybe he just should have confirmed the plan earlier that day. Surely Czes had simply forgotten, rather than...

Firo's thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of the door, and after a moment, his head turned sharply in that direction, wondering if Czes had finally—

—It wasn't him at all. Instead, the woman at the door wasn't anyone who he'd expected to see right now: Claire's girl.

"Ah... Chane?"

A faintly disappointed expression flickered across his face, quickly replaced by something much more friendly. He'd already given the woman what he was sure was a terrible first impression last year, and with Claire so struck by her, it'd be better not to further that impression. If it were almost anyone else, it wouldn't much matter whether he were liked or hated, but he couldn't help but think it would be troublesome if his best friend's gal hated him.

He glanced at the kitchen counter where his things had been sitting all afternoon. "Did you need to use the kitchen?"