When Occa awakened, he turned to check the entrance for her again, but in the middle of swiveling his head, he locked eyes with Anastasia, “A toast to your arrival should have been anticipated, but that possibility has been revoked, hindered by my unforeseen aptitude of the moment.”Before Anastasia could inquire, Occa drew the attention of the bartender and slurred, “A glass of warm water for me and a French 75 for her.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and smiled, “Oh? You still remember even though I said that in passing and…” she peeped at him, “while you’re in a drunken stupor.” After the drinks were placed in front of them, she attempted to find the tempo at which the bubbles rose. Perhaps a pattern could be found if she were attentive enough.
Occa nodded in thanks to the bartender before dragging the cup of warm water to his mouth. “People say humans pay attention to things they like.”
Anastasia faced away for a bit, flustered, wishing to conceal her facial expressions, before turning back. “Sorry for being so late, I acknowledge the both of you have been trained rigorously on timing in the front lines-”
He raised his hands to cease her utterances, “Sour not the mood of the night, it irks me to recall.” He then pointed at her alcohol, “You should drink it before the beverage becomes flat and displeasing.”
With another emotion cast away before looking back with a placating smile, Anastasia raised the glass, gesturing the alcohol towards him, offering a toast for the mark they’ll leave on the world. Before proceeding, she tapped the cup against Vera’s Black Russian first then had a hearty gulp, which Occa procrastinated to follow along. The flavors in her mouth provided a cacophonous symphony, encapsulating her tongue with a grip most relentless. A burning sensation was sent through her nose, nearly sprouting a tear, that then alleviated itself as soon as it took hold. It was insurmountable to feel the fizz as potently by simple remembrance. She placed the cup back on the table, head down, eyes clenched, before turning back to Occa, who seemed perplexed. “Where did Vera go?”
Anastasia cocked her head to the side, “To the bathroom? Is something the matter?”
Occa glanced back and forth from his drink to the empty spot beside them, “She’s been absent for a while too long.”
He rose to inquire with the bartender of the whereabouts of the restroom, before moving onwards with trepidation. He entered the enclave of the bar where the bathrooms were situated, notably single units and acceptable for any individual. Occa knocked on the only locked door, taking a step back to lean against the wall, avoiding potential encroachment or entrapment. Vera propped open the door in entirety, leaning against the metal frame. He noticed that her eyebrows glistened, wet, she had washed her face and hadn't dried it properly yet. Occa took the initiative, “How are you feeling?”
Vera’s gaze became less wary as she bluntly answered, “Fatigued, exposed, it’s rather enervating to be disregarded while also being laid bare for scrutiny. A turmoil of emotion that has yet to be registered in my mind.” She sighed as she brushed the water off her eyebrows, “I required recalibration to become functional once more.”
Occa scratched the back of his neck as he processed her words, he was a part of the problem afterall. He took her hands into his and kept his head hung in repentance, "I must apologize for my rash decision making. I fear that in the process of my desire to depart from unpleasurable sentiments, I've developed one myself."
With a minor lapse to pause for breath, Occa raised his head to meet Vera's analyzing eyes. Her hands were slack in his. He couldn't help but notice the walls behind Vera were checkered black and white, abstaining from any other colors. With a minor clearing of the throat, he retold the events, "I talked with Anastasia, got her a drink. She's enjoying herself at the moment," Vera gave him a small squeeze in his hands, her eyes softened a bit as he spoke, "she awaits us, but I'll host her till you're ready."
Vera returned her hands to her sides, "I'll ascertain my needs, allocate me a few moments more until I reciprocate my presence."
Occa nodded in turn, only once he was a few steps away did she close the door again. He glanced back and forth at the secluded closed door and the open hall of jazz beckoning his presence, a liminal space made for Occa. In a few steps, he will reenter society. With a quick tug of his tie for insurance, he strolled towards the music that encapsulated him.
While Vera and Occa discussed, Anastasia on the other hand had all three of their drinks in her clasp. She peered into each cup to examine their contents, then aligned them in order of amount left, Occa, Vera, then her’s, which only had a sip taken. Once in place, she pulled out her camera to photograph the glasses. At a certain angle it could be reasoned to be the different colors of a cake layer if each of the glasses didn’t also reflect Anastasia’s face as she took the image. Each drink had a different clarity of her face, and of course Vera’s Black Russian had a dimmed reflection too difficult to conceive while Occa’s empty cup was transparent, implementing a distortive interpretation of Anastasia on Vera's cup. She giggled a tiny bit looking at the image, it was highly irregular yet so perfect.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and smiled, “Oh? You still remember even though I said that in passing and…” she peeped at him, “while you’re in a drunken stupor.” After the drinks were placed in front of them, she attempted to find the tempo at which the bubbles rose. Perhaps a pattern could be found if she were attentive enough.
Occa nodded in thanks to the bartender before dragging the cup of warm water to his mouth. “People say humans pay attention to things they like.”
Anastasia faced away for a bit, flustered, wishing to conceal her facial expressions, before turning back. “Sorry for being so late, I acknowledge the both of you have been trained rigorously on timing in the front lines-”
He raised his hands to cease her utterances, “Sour not the mood of the night, it irks me to recall.” He then pointed at her alcohol, “You should drink it before the beverage becomes flat and displeasing.”
With another emotion cast away before looking back with a placating smile, Anastasia raised the glass, gesturing the alcohol towards him, offering a toast for the mark they’ll leave on the world. Before proceeding, she tapped the cup against Vera’s Black Russian first then had a hearty gulp, which Occa procrastinated to follow along. The flavors in her mouth provided a cacophonous symphony, encapsulating her tongue with a grip most relentless. A burning sensation was sent through her nose, nearly sprouting a tear, that then alleviated itself as soon as it took hold. It was insurmountable to feel the fizz as potently by simple remembrance. She placed the cup back on the table, head down, eyes clenched, before turning back to Occa, who seemed perplexed. “Where did Vera go?”
Anastasia cocked her head to the side, “To the bathroom? Is something the matter?”
Occa glanced back and forth from his drink to the empty spot beside them, “She’s been absent for a while too long.”
He rose to inquire with the bartender of the whereabouts of the restroom, before moving onwards with trepidation. He entered the enclave of the bar where the bathrooms were situated, notably single units and acceptable for any individual. Occa knocked on the only locked door, taking a step back to lean against the wall, avoiding potential encroachment or entrapment. Vera propped open the door in entirety, leaning against the metal frame. He noticed that her eyebrows glistened, wet, she had washed her face and hadn't dried it properly yet. Occa took the initiative, “How are you feeling?”
Vera’s gaze became less wary as she bluntly answered, “Fatigued, exposed, it’s rather enervating to be disregarded while also being laid bare for scrutiny. A turmoil of emotion that has yet to be registered in my mind.” She sighed as she brushed the water off her eyebrows, “I required recalibration to become functional once more.”
Occa scratched the back of his neck as he processed her words, he was a part of the problem afterall. He took her hands into his and kept his head hung in repentance, "I must apologize for my rash decision making. I fear that in the process of my desire to depart from unpleasurable sentiments, I've developed one myself."
With a minor lapse to pause for breath, Occa raised his head to meet Vera's analyzing eyes. Her hands were slack in his. He couldn't help but notice the walls behind Vera were checkered black and white, abstaining from any other colors. With a minor clearing of the throat, he retold the events, "I talked with Anastasia, got her a drink. She's enjoying herself at the moment," Vera gave him a small squeeze in his hands, her eyes softened a bit as he spoke, "she awaits us, but I'll host her till you're ready."
Vera returned her hands to her sides, "I'll ascertain my needs, allocate me a few moments more until I reciprocate my presence."
Occa nodded in turn, only once he was a few steps away did she close the door again. He glanced back and forth at the secluded closed door and the open hall of jazz beckoning his presence, a liminal space made for Occa. In a few steps, he will reenter society. With a quick tug of his tie for insurance, he strolled towards the music that encapsulated him.
While Vera and Occa discussed, Anastasia on the other hand had all three of their drinks in her clasp. She peered into each cup to examine their contents, then aligned them in order of amount left, Occa, Vera, then her’s, which only had a sip taken. Once in place, she pulled out her camera to photograph the glasses. At a certain angle it could be reasoned to be the different colors of a cake layer if each of the glasses didn’t also reflect Anastasia’s face as she took the image. Each drink had a different clarity of her face, and of course Vera’s Black Russian had a dimmed reflection too difficult to conceive while Occa’s empty cup was transparent, implementing a distortive interpretation of Anastasia on Vera's cup. She giggled a tiny bit looking at the image, it was highly irregular yet so perfect.