Hard knocks

[morevacant]

It's official. She's failed out of uni. Lydia Bennet, the thick sister of the bunch. The useless one. The disappointment.

Well, her mum won't be disappointed, once Lydia tells her about Cesare. She will quite understand that Lydia spent the time she should have been studying for her exams in Cesare's hotel making him happy. When Lydia tells her. Right now, Lydia doesn't dare: her mum is the biggest gossip and it will take two minutes for word of her and Cesare will be everywhere.

Lydia heads for her favourite haunt, a cosy Starbucks close by. She fancies an extra large double shotted caramel macchiato. What she actually gets is a small tea. Because she's broke. She's failed and she's broke.

Why is life so hard?

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[knowntohisfriends]

Outside Starbucks, the Dodger is doing his usual type of work. Never the same person and never too close together, but he's the best there is at what he does, and his light fingers make it all too easy for him to come away with a good little stash. Enough to get himself a cup of tea if he wanted, he reckoned.

He's pondering the idea of this, still automatically working, when he bumps into Lydia.

"Excuse me, missus."

[morevacant]

Lydia frowns.

"Oh, it's you." She has no money to rob. How depressing is that?

She curls her fingers tightly round the mug, lest her tea spills.

"Watch where you're going. You nearly spilled my tea all over me."

[knowntohisfriends]

"Yeah, me," the Dodger says, frowning. How does this girl know him. It takes a minute and then. "Oh, you're one of Nance's lot."

[morevacant]

"Nancy's friend," Lydia corrects him. She frowns. Why doesn't this grotty boy remember her? Cesare always says she's completely unforgettable.

"

[knowntohisfriends]

If he was asked, the Dodger would point out that he personally sees thousands of people in a day. How is he meant to remember one little red-head (probably dyed) among a city that's got a ton of other people with the exact same style.

He wasn't asked, so he doesn't point that out.

"S'what I said," he sniffs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You ain't seem yer usual." What he could remember of this girl, she was usually... perkier.

[morevacant]

So he did remember her! Ha!

Lydia shrugs. "How would you know what my usual is?" But she stops and sniffs. "But you're right. Everything's gone wrong, horribly, horribly wrong."

[knowntohisfriends]

Only vaguely. He tried to make note of who Nance's were.

"Just guessin, ain't I?" That took a step back. "Can't be as bad as all that. Got yer health, right?"

[stauncherhearted]

Nancy wasn't even going to stop at the Starbucks. That was, until, she walks past the window and does a double take. Lydia, sitting at a table by herself looking absolutely awful. Something was wrong- probably with Cesare. Gods damn it, she'd told him to tread lightly-!

Setting her lips together firmly, Nancy nearly storms into the Starbucks and plops down in front of Lydia. "What did the bastard do to you? I'll stake him myself for you next time I'm at the Night Council building." So, next time she stops in to see Cooper, most likely.

[morevacant]

Lydia looks up in startled amazement. Lost in self-pity, she hadn't even seen Nancy until the girl was raging at her. For a minute, she panics that Nancy found out she had been trying to flirt with Cooper, but she has enough sense to keep her mouth shut.

"What are you talking about Nancy? What bastard?"

[stauncherhearted]

"Cesare!" She tells her immediately. "Unless there's another bloke you've been dating that's got you looking so bloody forlorn."

[morevacant]

"What? No!" She reaches across to take Nancy's hand, talking earnestly.
"No, Nancy. Cesare's -" she sighs dreamily. "He's wonderful. No, it's - well - I failed uni. And now... well, I don't know what I'm going to do."

[stauncherhearted]

Nancy exhales. "good. tell me the second he does anything. He and I are friends, but I won't stand for him hurting you." Friends. former lovers. It had been a work relationship, at least.

now on to more pressing matters: "you did? Shit- I'm so sorry! is there anything we can do? I've never been to uni so I've got no clue on my own."

[morevacant]

"He's not going to do anything. He loves me." Lydia grins that ridiculously dreamy smile again. She imagines her relationship with Cesare as quite perfect: no one or anything will stop them being together in the long run.

She sighs dramatically though. "No... I just don't know what I'm going to do. If I tell my dad, he'll make me leave London, but if I don't tell him, I haven't got anywhere to live or anything. I don't think Cesare can even let me live there: you know he doesn't want anyone to know about us, don't you?"

[falsify]

Starbucks isn't his preferred haunt, he's a snob who much prefers old cafés off the main road that've been in the family forever, but it's quick and he needs a double espresso more than he needs good coffee.

He's paying up when he sees a positively miserable lookinf girl get a tea and slump into a seat, and Eames can't help but wonder if Cesare finally did something smart and ended it.

"Lydia, isn't it?" Eames stops by her table, voice soft, expression concerned, and body language open, "sorry to bother you, but-- are you okay?"

[morevacant]

"Do I know you?" Lydia looks up, her eyes quite tearful. She studies the man's face: no, it's not one she remembers. But he obviously knows her, somehow. That makes her smile just a little bit. She's obviously made an impression on him.

"How do you know my name?" She brightens a little bit. Maybe he's seen her with Cesare? Maybe he's seen her Instagram page or her blog? Maybe he thinks she's pretty, just as Cesare does. She pats the chair she's sat on, and indicates the arm chair opposite her.

"You can sit down if you want." Does she care that this guy is a total stranger? She's not famed for good decisions really...

[falsify]

Wow, he's a little amazed this girl hasn't gotten herself killed.

But he smiles at her and takes a seat opposite, setting his tiny cup down on the table, "you're with Cesare, right?"

So that answers that question.

[morevacant]

"No..." she might mame stupid decisions but she can at least remember Cesare's instructions to deny their secret relationship. Bad publicity, right?

"Are you a journalist? Because I'm not allowed to talk to you if you are. I don't know anything about Cesare anyway."

[falsify]

Lydia, please.

Eames chuckles softly and shakes his head, "no, I'm not." And he leans forward, elbows on the table, dropping his voice a little with a gently amused smile, "but if I was? What you just said is as good as a yes."

[morevacant]

Oh. She blushes, completely embarrassed. It doesn't take much to make her blush but that was a silly mistake.

"I'm still not talking about him." She folds her arms, quite determindly. "We're happy, thank you."

She looks at him, lips pressed tight together. She kind of wants this man to leave, especially now he won't get gossip from her. Especially so she won't give anything else away.

[outofthemanor]

Wednesday tended to prefer independent coffee shops on principal. The big companies often paid a pittance and while the torture of retail was heightened with them, she couldn't really ignore how entitled some people could seem while ordering. That being said, well, it's been a long day and she just wants a dark, black coffee and this is the nearest establishment to where she was.

She spots Lydia, sitting in the corner, and makes her way over.

"You look depressed, it suits you."

[morevacant]

"Well aren't you just charming?" Lydia grumbles, without looking up. When she's taken a sip of her tea, though, she does, and when she realises it's Wednesday, she shrugs.

"I'm having a bad day. I prefer being a bit happier though, really."

[outofthemanor]

"And what's caused your bad day? I'll arrange the circumstances more often," Wednesday sat herself in the seat near Lydia, sipping on her own coffee. It almost scalds her. She did like it when they got the temperature right first time.

[morevacant]

"That's not a very nice thing to say," Lydia sniffs, frowning at Wednesday over her mug. "I'd much rather you arranged happy things to happen."

[outofthemanor]

"What makes me happy is unlikely to make you happy," she said simply. "If I were to arrange happy things to happen, you would need to give a clearer definition of what makes the emotion for you."

[morevacant]

"Oh." Lydia's quiet, sipping her tea. "Flowers make me happy. Big, giant sunflowers. And caramel mochas and puppies and kittens." And a house and a job and not telling her dad she's failed everything.