projectroxas | (no subject)

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[ having decided that meeting anthony half-way would be best for this particular... conversation, he walks a bit slowly, quite aware that his dorm was closer to the school than his friend-slash-goalie's house. (that and he would probably have to struggle with his mode of transportation for a while.) so instead of the usual ten minutes it takes him to arrive to this particular destination, he gives himself thirty, casually making his way to one of the benches underneath a tree.

takes a seat, pulls out his cellphone, then begins to check his messages as he waits; it would be at least another fifteen minute wait, one he was finally willing to be patient for. after all, he wasn't expecting much, anyway. when it came to feelings, expectations were the worst things to have, or so he had logically deducted throughout his childhood. besides, it wouldn't be the end of the world if anything negative happened. this was anthony, after all, the boy who clucked and bawked louder than he spoke or made any semblance of sense with his words.

... it almost made him second-guess himself. almost.

pockets his phone and tilts his head backwards instead, letting it rest against the top of the bench. just simply stares up into the branches and leaves of the tree, allowing himself to show a rare display of being lost in some non-thoughts for the time being. ]

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[ oblivious to this shirt-gripping, per usual. ]

You may celebrate with your teammates, if you so wish. I am certain they will invite you to one of their parties.

It's not the same without our cap-i-tan, cap-i-tan.

I'll pass. I have more work to do, after all.

Denied. At least come monitor our alcohol level.

[ raises an eyebrow down at him, sighing before placing the clipboard underneath an arm again. turns to him fully. ]

You are obviously troubled by something. I highly suggest that you express your concerns immediately in the future, rather than give a less-than-stellar performance on the field again.

[ that makes him let go of the shirt, drooping again. ]

. . . Sorry.

[ stands there in silence for a moment. after a while of patiently waiting: ]

Well?

[ waves at the rest of the team. ]

Too much potential for audience participation.

Then hurry home and speak to your friends about it, if you absolutely must.

Can't. You're eloping with a clipboard.

For work-related matters, yes.

[ long pause. then: ]

When would it be done?

[ lifts an arm, glancing at his watch. puts it to his side again. ]

It depends. Do you need to speak to me in private?

Yeah. [ a beat. ] I can shower while you intimidate the team.

[ considers this for a moment. eventually sighs. ]

Very well, then. [ glances at the team briefly. ] Would the locker room really suffice for whatever important business you would like to discuss?

[ ... probably not. ]

We could go to Anne's again. Is she in today?

She was observing the match, but she should be back to work by now.

Then there's good. I want a smoothie.

[ nods, turning towards the exit. ]

Would half an hour give you enough time?

[ drags himself to his feet with a soft oomph. ]

Not really. I need forty to look pretty.

I do not understand, but fine. Forty it is, then.

Your jokedar is broken.

Then I suppose you will have to take on the responsibility of fixing it for me at a later time.

[ but that's all he'll say for now, inclining his head slightly before exiting out of the locker room. ]

[ as soon as michael leaves, he panics. rushes to his locker, grabs his stuff, narrowly avoids banging his shin against the benches. the only upside to his blatant panic is the way that people are parting for him like the sea before moses. (or something.)

the shower seems to rotate between feeling like it's taking an hour or taking ten minutes, but when he's finished & checks the time, it's only been fifteen. pretty good? pretty good. only not really, because as soon as he's dressed, michael's saying something about needing another hour (or so?) to instill the wrath of the soccer god in his teammates. that's enough to break through his funk, making him glance at his team in pity before he bawks out a farewell & rushes out to... proceed to find another bench & sit on it. think a bit.

what he actually thinks about, he forces himself to forget after a while & ends up ~~flailing~~ running toward anne's, making it in ten or so minutes. it's too fast, especially with the additional hour added in, but he likes anne. (& then there's that possibility of a smoothie too, so it's not entirely a bad thing.) ]

[ is busily serving people to the best of her ability, partially pleased with the turnout of people (it was the closest thing to the school after the match, she should have expected the traffic) and half worried that she wouldn't be able to have any time to set up anything special for her big brother.

lets out a little phew when she rests against the wall, smiling a bit at the other waitress who had come in to help. allows her to go do her work as she takes a break, wanting to go outside for a little fresh air. after receiving a call from michael about not being able to come by until a bit later, she thinks she has some time to rest.

makes her way to the door, jumping a little in surprise when she comes face-to-face with anthony. forgoes exiting the cafe to instead beam, reaching out to take his hands and she bounces a little in place in excitement. ]

Anthony! C-Congratulations! I knew you could do it!