Chapter thirteen: My favorite color
Lora waited quietly at the back corner table of an outdoor cafe, watching the entrance impatiently. She stood up when she spotted a man that looked close to her age.
"Mitch?" She asked cautiously.
"Yes. And I'm guessing that means you're Lora," Mitch confirmed in a clipped tone.
Lora offered a hand to shake. Mitch glanced at it critically, then ignored it. Lora wasn't sure if she should laugh or be irritated at the attitude he presented.
Mitch was a rather arrogant looking man with a seemingly constant disdainful look plastered on his face. Even if self absorbed, he didn't seem to be the most mindful of his looks at all. He looked rather ordinary and a little ratty, with a bedhead haircut that looked as though it had to be permanently messy. Had he let himself go out of depression after the incident she'd read about, or was that just part of his nature? He had dark sweater on, lazily tugged on hoodie, and jeans slightly scraped up from wear rather than for style reasons. He seemed like one of those adults who refused to admit they were adults.
There was another man behind Mitch, who looked a little out of place due to how much more thrilled he looked to be there. He was also scarily tall, which caught Lora off guard.
Mitch scowled when he noticed Lora eyeing the other man. "He tags along. This guy's obsessed with all the paranormal trash, so he'll either be useful or annoying as hell."
The paranormal trash fan in question smiled brightly at Lora. "Winston Blair, a pleasure to meet you. And I wouldn't say it was 'trash', per se, but everyone is free to their own opinions, aren't they?"
Winston looked like the definition of easy going, with short light brown hair, a huge amount of freckles, and a big grin on his face. He was also almost well groomed enough to be considered the opposite of Mitch. His outfit included a very light blue button up shirt and a long cream colored knit coat. Lean body type, clean good looks- probably got plenty of romantic and sexual attention, even if the interest in the paranormal might dampen that a bit.
He seemed like a decent man on immediate inspection, even if a little odd.
"Lora Fisher," Lora introduced herself, giving a brief acknowledging nod instead of the handshake.
Lora herself had shoulder-length dyed red hair that flipped up a bit on the ends, calculating steel colored eyes, black leather jacket, steel-toe boots, tank top, and military-green cargo pants.
Mitch seemed to actually look at Lora for a moment, taking the time to eye her hair disapprovingly. "Y'know, all of your clothes scream no-funny-business tough-guy, but the hair really breaks the pattern," he muttered bitterly.
Lora shrugged. She had to break her fondness of practicality and not look completely unapproachable in some way, and the hair was it.
"I think it looks nice," Winston commented with a smile. "My favorite color is red."
Mitch gave Winston a look as if to say that he ruined Mitch's entire life just by existing. "Don't flirt with our contacts, Blair, we've been over this multiple times- it causes problems when you don't keep things strictly business. Or just don't speak, period, that might be easier for you," He snapped.
So she was right about Winston getting plenty of attention. And of course Mitch didn't like it.
Winston pouted. "I was just giving a compliment to make up for your insulting her. You can be rude, but I can't be pleasant?"
"You're not allowed to be 'pleasant' because you always just end up flirting with everyone!" Mitch hissed.
"I still don't see the problem with that," Winston said, raising an eyebrow.
Lora sighed, and cleared her throat to get their attention. She had a feeling these two would bicker a lot, possibly completely forgetting she was there when they did so. "Shouldn't we be going? Daylight is wasting."
"Yes," Mitch answered quickly, perking up. "Lead the way."
Could these people really do anything helpful?
Oh well. It was too late for regrets.