it's saturday; the heat might smother you **

[tou]

Edward Tate had only been in Los Angeles so long. He'd arrived in the city just months ago with nothing more than a dream, and a few dollars, the reward of sorts he'd worked up from a life of less than decent actions and a sleazy career. It was a good feeling--the feeling of starting fresh. There was no baggage. He knew no one, and after he got past the the first few days of homesick, passing those days on the phone with old friends back in Boston and New York, he'd come to appreciate the serenity of this new life he had found himself in. The peace and quiet of his apartment, small in size not because he couldn't afford a larger place, but because he simply didn't want some huge extravagant home at that moment in time. But these feelings can only last for so long before loneliness begins to creep back up ones spine, clutching their throats and submitting them to the despair that accompanies it. Quickly, Edward began to branch out, find friends from his past that were in the city and even meet some new people. Things were looking up.

Aside from having to cover up a secret life of sex, the source of his nickname, a play on his middle name, easy, he was making out well. He'd met up with a fearsome agent, perhaps his largest ally, Temperance Marshall who was hellbent on making sure she mad as much money as possible off of him. And as terrible as that sounds, he would have it no less. He was in the palm of her hand at this point, being molded by those manicured fingers. "Put this on your face." she would say. "Don't eat that. Your ass will blow up. And not in the way we want it to." He'd nod in accordance, and pick up a tomato instead. He'd learned to love those like he would love an apple. "You need to go to the gym today." "But I went yesterday." "And?" And it was because of her that he found himself in this very place.

He was resting against a bench on the boardwalk, headphones pumping into one of his ears, the other resting upon his shirt. His hands wrapped themselves around a chilled bastardization of a burrito, filled with an assortment of leaves and vegetables. No dressing. That wasn't allowed. Either too much salt or some other thing that Marshall was vehemently opposed to. He chewed it eagerly, as he'd found himself to be especially hungry nowadays, deprived of most opportunities to sustain himself with some sort of meat product. It was a hard task for one such as him, so established in the kitchen. His eyes wandered about the boardwalk, watching the families haul back and forth with assorted foods and the like, many of which he was tempted to steal. Not that he was at all proficient in a thief's craft. Or at least, so he would lead his mother to believe.

He took the final bite, chewing it down and swallowing as he began the crumple the foil into a ball. Now if only he could pick his ass up and get back to running as Marshall was so adamant about him doing five times a week. It was alright, he already ran a few miles... and what Marshall didn't know wouldn't hurt her. He inhaled sharply, sinking further into the bench, which was actually wooden, so he really couldn't sink into it at all. The air washed over him. Relaxation. He'd decided. He wasn't running another inch. Marshall wouldn't find out, and it'd be all good. He'd just chill out here for a little longer. Maybe not a little.

---

tagged scarlett callia marcellus
outfit --
notes i can't find an image right now; i <3 u, t!

[a1]

A few yards away, Scarlett tapped at her forehead with a towel, wiping the perspiration from her heated brow. It was a great day for a jog -- if she wasn’t such a smoker.

“Freaking…nicotine…” She panted, leaning over and propping herself up by clutching her knees. She knew that was probably not the best way to get her breath back, but oh well. She’d only be in LA for a few more days before she had to head back to the Big Apple and tie up some loose ends. The sunshine beamed down fiercely, making her feel like an ant under a sociopathic kid's magnifying glass. Global warming had to be real. If not, why did she feel like she was about to burst into flames?

As she sat up to catch her breath the correct way, arms resting over her head, she felt her arm vibrate violently in her iPhones armband. Earbuds already in place from jamming to the beats of some mellow Regina Spektor while she ran, she tapped the "answer" button and tried to sound as professional as possible.

"Marcellus here."

A static cackle rang through from the other side.

"So professional. So 'executive'."

"Jack?" Her brow furrowed, causing a drop of sweat to drip from her forehead and land on the tip of her nose. She dabbed it away, then adjusted the mic on her headphones. "What is it? What do you want?"

"Ouch. That stung."

"Not an answer."

"Such a scorpion."

"Tell me something I don't know. Now what do you want."

"You have to mail those resumes to me by five if you want to make sure your client in left in capable hands. Are you sure you want to do this?" A pause. This wasn't something she wanted to discuss before brunch, but apparently her personal assistant was giving her no choice. She had to tell him something.

"I trust you, Jack. You're even more of a diva than me, so I know you can handle those sharks in daytime television..." She paused and took a swishing gulp of Gatorade. "Its so fucking hot out here..."

"Mid morning runs aren't the same in LA as in NY, I see?" The effeminate voice chuckled on the other end of the line, causing Scarlett to be taken aback for a moment. If only he could have seen the softness that had rested upon her cheeks at that moment.

"Nothing like it. Now, I'll fax you the final copies...and then it'll pretty much be done?"

"It will be done, boss."

"Not boss anymore, Jack. Partner. You'll make a great manager up there."

And then it hit her. She was here, in LA, trying to establish herself and also trying to start her own management agency back in NY. It seemed like a ostentatious endeavor, but she had something to prove. She had a level of respect to maintain, and in her city, you didn't get respect from sitting around and settling. You made the best of what you had, meaning you were in a continuous climb for success...no matter what you past may present.

"Stooop. You're talking like you're not coming baaack~" Jack whined.

"I'll be back in a few days. So treat this like a vacation and don't bother me again unless you're dying, or leaking something caustic from your eyes and ears, you understand?"

A pouty sigh was evident on the other line.

"I still think you should have taken me with you--"

"Bye, Jack."

She pressed the end button on the phone, seemingly strapped to her bicep like she was Iron Man about to blast someone with a photon beam, and then took a deep breath of nothing but hot air. A cough escaped her lips, and then she took off to continue her jog.

After what seemed like minutes, but was really a few seconds, she began to feel the fatigue of running in the California sun.

A quick rest would do her.

Without really paying attention to her surroundings, she stopped at the first wooden bench and found herself sitting beside who she assumed was just another runner, indulging in a snack.

Man, she could use a burrito.

---

Tagged by: E.
Clad in: This.
Notes: Warming up! :3

[tou]

E wasn't usually one for speaking to strangers. At least not just out of the blue on a random occasion. He was shy by nature, or rather, made himself appear shy by nature. What lurked deeper was obviously the result of him running from himself, locking a demon of sort in his closet, and hoping that not looking at it would simply make it die. Like a baby, if not touched in the earliest states of life, it would die. It needed nourishment. Little did little Easy know, demons of one's person didn't die. At least not by leaving them alone. You had to face them head on if you wanted to make any progress. But regardless of this all, he also wasn't heartless. And heartlessness wasn't something he locked behind anything either. He simply wasn't so. As such, he peeked over at the woman who had decided to take a seat beside him for whatever reason.

He remembered back to his days in high school, studying hard as to look great for college. If there was anything he loved to reminisce about in high school, it was his chemistry class, his teacher possibly being the funniest man he'd met in his life. He recalled, in this situation in particular, a conversation about London Dispersion Forces, which someone morphed into psychology. Which then warped further into elevator psychology. And that means what it says. The psychology of being in an elevator. He spoke about how when you enter an elevator, you usually put yourself to one corner; if no one's in the elevator, the corner in front of the console. The next person to enter moves to the next corner, and so on. They just make sure there is distance. It's only until the elevator is crowded that the people speak, or even acknowledge one another. Such was elevator psychology. His teacher had a way of throwing that off. He'd be the only one in the elevator, stand directly in the center, and face the way opposite to the door. Just to see how people reacted.

Ed was in no way going to practice elevator psychology. He just wanted to know what inspired her to disregard such elementary psychological practice when there was plenty of empty benches dotting the boardwalk. But like said, Ed wasn't heartless. And seeing a woman sit beside him, wheezing even and affected by the rays of the sun, alarmed him to some degree.

"Um," he stumbled a little over his words, not quite sure how to handle the possibility of this woman keeling over right now and dying. "A--you good? You need some water or something? You're wheezing pretty hard."

Being the softee he was, he was genuinely concerned, not only because he was afraid she'd have some serious condition, but because he literally ached when he saw others in pain, or some sort of discomfort. His eyes were somewhat shaky, sympathetic for something that he wasn't completely sure he even had to be sympathetic for. Such is life for a big teddy bear.

---

tagged scarlett callia marcellus
outfit still can't find one! i'll settle for words. tanktop (a-top you might call it?) shorts, sneakers. :|
notes i rambled a bit. but let's get this started!!

[a1]

Of course, she had noticed the handsome young man in his jogging attire that she had sat next to. Of course she had done so on purpose when she could have sat anywhere else. Yes, she was tired, and it was the closest bench, but there was some eye candy sitting there as well. Why not indulge herself? It would be a lie to say some fated accidental game of chance had sent her to that very seat. It was more like a ill planned morning jog on a hot California morning.

She chuckled a little, proving to herself that she had regained her breath and her lungs were not going to burst right now, then took a big swig of her lemon-lime Gatorade again. As she did, she didn't hesitate to give him a peek out of the corner of her eye. There was something about his rustic look that caused her to admire him like Michealgelo's "David". He was healthy, apparently, as he was out here jogging as well and eating a virgin burrito.

"I'm fine. I just need to stop smoking," she finally replied. 'Stop smoking' was right. But why even say something like that when she had not even attempted to start? maybe it was her infallible tendency to want to make herself seem much better than she was, or maybe it was because at that very moment, she really was considering quitting. It would sure make jogging in this inferno much easier.

A few more seconds of awkward silence passed as Scar took deep breaths and regained her composure.

However, she had neglected to look up into his eyes until now, and there was genuine worry in them. It was strange to see someone looking at her with such sympathy, something Scar took as pitty, causing her tune to quickly change. She sat of straight and pursed her lips, tossing her head indignantly into the air.

"You don't have to look at me like that. I'm fine. Don't you get a little tired jogging now and then?" She tossed him a little smirk, but his blueish grey eyes looked right through her, piercing her with their kindness.

'What is this? A soap opera?' she thought to herself. Okay. She'd play the nice girl meeting the nice guy on a bench during their morning run. It was the perfect premise for a new movie, wasn't it?

Before he could respond, she apologized. "You know what? I'm sorry for being so snappy. Its just...hot!"

---

Tagged by | E
Outfit | Same as above.
Notes | E is such a big softy, lol.

[tou]

Smoking. Internally he could feel his lungs take a leap of shock. Smoking was one thing that he found to be completely pointless, a practice that he didn't see to do anything but lead to death. He remembered that when he was younger, he'd hold his breath when walking behind a smoker, and had done so for as long as possible when he entered working in the adult film industry, since everyone and their mother smoked in that. The smoke didn't smell good, it was a carcinogen, and it made your lungs shrivel up and die. What was the point? It only made life miserable, and was proving to do so now. But he was not one to confront anyone's lifestyle, especially one whom he'd just met. It would be hypocritical if he were to start judging her based on a few words on smoking now. He had no idea the circumstances of how she came to be a smoker, and with such a thought in mind, he cast it out of his mind. At least for now.

Instead, he continued to analyze her, a little taken aback by her reaction to his concern. However, thinking back on it, he couldn't blame her for being mildly annoyed. People all up in your business wasn't cool. He frowned a little more, thinking of how awkward the whole situation was becoming. If he were her... he's probably think he was a creeper.

"Oh, it's alright. I always say that if there were an AC in Do the Right Thing, that whole fiasco would have been avoided." he chuckled a bit, hoping he didn't come off as overly dorky or that she got the joke to begin with. It was in this moment, that he stopped looking at her for being in need of help, or rather put it on hold. The softy that laid within wouldn't simply drop the subject so quickly, but every other atom in his body was aching to just drop the whole "put others before you" act. "It is kind of hot, I guess," he unscrewed his water, resting his elbows upon his knees as he took a swig of the cool liquid. "But I don't get that tired. It's alright... I guess the more you run, the more stamina you get?"

He leaned back in the bench again, looking back over at her, his eyes rolling up her body, pausing just so briefly at her hips and her head. Ed wasn't one to deny that he was a man, and therefore had certain urges to do certain things. Looking at certain bodily features was one of those things. We'll leave it at this. He was most certainly pleased. But aside from natural inclinations, Ed enjoyed understanding why people did things they did. For example, cutting your hair off. It was an interesting look, and not in a beat around the bush way of saying it looked bad. He found it to be unique, fresh even. He smiled.

"You must be new out here? I had some problems with the heat too when I first came out here. It's not this hot out in Brooklyn or Boston, and those are the only cities I've ever lived in. What about you?" He shook his head, chuckling slightly. He extended his hand, "I'm Eddy Tate. You?"

---

tagged scarlett callia marcellus
outfit see above
notes that's because softies do it betta'! jsyk, "hardasses" are cute. :]

[a1]

He was a gentleman, and she couldn't deny that.

"Yeah, definitely new." She said simply, allowing herself some time to gather her thoughts. It was seldom she spoke to anyone, especially of the opposite sex, between 9am and 5pm if they weren't penciled in somewhere in her day planner. This guy seemed nice enough. Not like the other Californians, thats for sure, but that were quite evident in his response to the heat. A fellow New Yorker. It would have been nice to have someone who could sympathize with her when it came to the differences in the two coasts when she first arrived. It was her first trip across country without her personal assistant, or without being one herself. It was her first time ever branching out and doing something on her own.

Scar just prayed it would not come back to bite her in the rear end.

"I'm accustomed to cooler climates as well. I mean, I'm used to hot summers, but this is just ridiculous."

She discreetly passed over the question about her origins. Too much info and a person could easily Google unwanted pictures of you. However, that's a story for another day and time.

"And I can hear you accent." It was only a matter of time before he heard hers. "My mom is in New York. She was working at a restaurant up there, and recently started her own." And there it was. She was talking to a perfect stranger -- emphasis on the perfect. It wasn't like her to engage with someone who wasn't in a suit and tie or flashing a black card at a night club, but it was as if fate would not allow her to keep her mouth shut. Well, if they were going to converse, they might as well do it out of the murderous sun beams that sought to destroy her.

"My name is...Scarlett." She said hesitating, wanting to extend her hand, but sweaty hands equaled unsexy hands, no matter how perfect the manicure.

"Nice to meet you, Eddy Tate."

Had she heard that name somewhere?

Nah, it was just catchy, and he was just cute. Then again, this was the land of entertainment. Who knows what movie he could have played in or even directed. She had better keep her eye out for this one. Connections went a long way in this town.

She looked up and down the sidewalk at all the different shops and stores, and spotted a quaint little bistro looking place down the way from them. They had outside seating, but the tables had umbrellas, which pleased Scar. Shade was shade, not matter how it was made.

"So, Eddy, you care to catch a light brunch with me?" She found herself blabbing and standing from her seat before she could take inventory of her words. What was she doing? Having brunch with someone she just met? He was bound to think her a little naive. On the other hand, his demeanor was that of a nice guy, and she found she was good at reading people. As much as she wanted to regret it, she didn't. This was one of those times where she had to pray under her breath and hope she didn't just invite an escaped mental patient or a porn star to eat with her. Even if she did, she could use the company.

"I mean...if you're not planning...on doing anything else this morning..."

---

Notes | Headache like nobody's business... :[

[tou]

He pulled his hand back, feeling somewhat self-conscious about that whole thing. He would normally flash a quick look at his hand to see if there was like, a mushroom growing on it, but now wasn't even close to the time. He simply ran it down his shorts, hoping to dry any sort of sweat was there, and avoid any further embarrassing situations surrounding that. Was that supposed to be happening already? This need to appease her? He thought on it momentarily; he could feel a buckle behind the demons he had locked up for so long.

"Scarlett. That's a very pretty name. Not at all average like mine." he chuckled. He took a swig of water, the heat pounding down onto the back of his neck now, the skin feeling tight. He rubbed his neck as she began to ask him to join her for brunch. Brunch. lol. As much as he loved laughing at that word, this was a serious situation, was it not? Being asked to such an event? He peeked up at her, smiling as he usually did. It was very cut and dry with Ed on the first meeting. He'd smile at you. It's how he got comfortable.

"I'd be glad to join you for a bite. Today's a free day for me." He rubbed his neck just a little bit more before continuing his speech. "But only if you let me pay. That's my only condition. You're already so delicate from running that you can't breathe. Wait until you see the prices. Smoking doesn't have anything on prices out here." he giggled, standing from the bench now waiting for her to point out where it was she was intending on eating.

She apparently had no idea what she was getting herself into. And perhaps it was the same for him as well. This whole situation had hit him by storm, left him disoriented with the speed of it, and he was almost sure that the same thing was happening with her. He had a spotted past, a past that usually destroyed his relationships once he brought out those truths, or they were brought out in some other way. Everyone has those elements in their past that they'd rather hide. But the only problem was that Edward couldn't hide his. It was the same for her, though he was unconscious of that, and would never force her to ask as he would feel some type of way if placed in the exact situation.

---

tagged scarlett callia marcellus
notes omg feel better, mi amor~