makinglies | coffee shop/bar/college/whatever we feel like self indulgent bullshit modern au

Adalwolfe Hawke is in his sixth year of university and he still hasn't declared a major.

It's not that he doesn't have things that interest him - in fact he's taken classes on just about every tract the school offers - he just isn't sure what he wants to commit to for the rest of his life. Which seems ridiculous, mostly. Who does just one thing their whole life? But you can't get a degree in indecision, Hawke is mostly just stalling.

His mother is starting to put the pressure on, though. Both siblings will be entering as Freshmen in the fall and while Hawke thinks its a great idea to still be here and able to help his brother and sister get acclimated, his mother isn't so keen on having three children still all away at school. At least she's not paying for him, as Adalwolfe has been working the entire time he's been here, even after the inheritance rendered his efforts unnecessary. He prefers to work, really. Prefers to do a lot of different things to fill his weeks. Again, why he hasn't chosen a major yet.

Instead, he's a face known by everyone in every department and most of the administration, though not always in the best way, but not in the worst either. He's simply a fixture, whether he's lending a hand in the scene shop, attending a lecture, or behind the counter at the campus hangout. It's the one consistent job he's had through his tenure, serving coffee in the mornings, beer in the evenings, and familiarizing himself with most of the student body - sometimes in multiple ways.

Today, though, he's in the library. He still does take classes, after all, and there's a paper due on Monday that he's been trying to bang out all weekend but keeps having to return to the stacks for one thing or another. This time he's found himself in a rabbit hole of 12th century Imperium iconography, trying to get straight which of the hundreds of emperors with a name ending in '-ius' was the one who started prettying up all the holy sites with mosaic depictions of religious stories.

"Why is it that every emperor's name sounds exactly the bloody same as the last?" he grouses aloud, the low baritone of his voice carrying among the silent metal shelves on the second floor. "They couldn't have named one of them 'Emperor Kyle' or something?"

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"I suppose you're right. Wouldn't want to wake Jethan over there from his nap." He motions vaguely towards a hooded figure, face down on one of the tables with their hood completely obscuring their head. The only thing escaping the hood is a cord from a set of - presumably - earbuds into a music player.

Hawke slides off of the table and tucks his own book (An Annotated History of Religious Art of the Imperium) under one arm. "We can go to the Rose. I'll buy you a drink and you can tell me why exactly it is that business people do talk like idiots."

He marks his space in the book and closes it carefully, puts it down long enough to put his (tailored) leather jacket on and picks it back up. "I can't, actually, I've only begun reading the book. You're welcome to buy my drink, though." It would be a novel change.

There's no real hesitation or uncertainty in him leading the way toward the desk and then, after a brief stop there, out of the building. Beside Hawke, in front of him, even behind him doesn't matter.

A decision has been made. Time to move.

Once they're out in the afternoon sun, Adalwolfe stretches his arms above his head, working out the kinks in his shoulders and neck. "So Alaric, tell me a little about yourself. All I've noticed so far is that you subsist on caffeine and sugar."

He chuckles at the bit of a joke, but he is earnestly interested in Alaric. He can't make full sense of him. He seems studious but still here on family money, intelligent but while he doesn't believe the rumors there's usually somewhere those come from. Alaric at this point seems to be made of ill-defined opposites and Hawke is determined to find out what he can straight from the man himself.

Alaric shoots Hawke a look that is, in spite of all reason, somewhat startled and more than somewhat 'caught'. Like a deer in the high beams and as though he has not at all anticipated that question.

"I am a business major and have not been here long enough to have come nearing to gaining tenure than most of the professors. Have you ever been kicked out of the library for picking up men in it?" Desperate bid that, if stated lightly, to turn the conversation away from him. At least for now.

"Oh you heard about that, did you?" Adalwolfe's response is airy and unbothered, but his eyes are shrewd. Alaric's reaction tells him two things. One, he's a person who values his privacy and image. The thought that Hawke noticed something about him that he hadn't specifically put there to notice seems to have startled him. Two, he lashes out when caught off guard, something Hawke knows a whole lot about as his brother does the exact same thing. Somehow, though, it's much easier to let it roll off of his back than it is with Carver. Probably because Alaric doesn't know enough to know where to needle. This is all conjecture, of course, but its a point of pride to Hawke that he can read people, and while he absolutely means no harm, there's a sort of triumphant pleasure in having the sense of someone from a few small reactions.

"Rumors of my library hijinks have been wildly exaggerated. I was not kicked out, I was asked gently to leave, and I wasn't the one picking up men, it was my friend Isabela, who's told me that I need to set the record straight and also to give anyone her number if interested."

"In that case by all means pass it along to me." There's a slight smirk, there, but something a little unsure in it. He doesn't want the number, he won't use it, but he needs to....

Settle maybe?

Why does he want to settle?

Something about Hawke's warmth, he thinks.

"Maybe we can come up with a reason to be less than gently removed between the pair of us." Says the guy who was irritated at someone talking to themselves.

This isn't what he wants to be doing and he knows it.

"Can we get our drinks for a walk, once we have them?" he asks, abruptly and in a less flippant (by far) tone.

Handing Isabela's number to people is a normal thing for Hawke and pulls his phone from his pocket to text Alaric the aforementioned digits. He does smirk though, just a little. "I'll need your number, to send you hers but to coordinate our hijinks as well. If that's really something you'd want to do?"

He's not sure, considering Alaric had basically told him to shut up before Hawke had turned that into a networking encounter, so to speak. "I don't mind getting drinks to go, though, if that's what you'd like."

Means he can't play the 'I work here so we can get free refills' card, but Alaric's already throwing him for a little bit of a loop and Hawke finds he's enjoying not being able to pinpoint exactly what the deal is with Alaric yet. Sure, he recognizes what he's doing conversationally somewhat, but not the why of it at all and that's what he wants to know. Alaric is an intriguing puzzle wrapped in a pleasing package; if Hawke has his way, Isabela won't be getting a call at all.

"You having my number sounds dangerous." But he takes his phone out, pulls up the info and holds it up so Hawke can have it. Does he want to do Hawke's friend? No. Does he want friends? Maybe. If they're Hawke.

Look, the guy is unreasonably likable and Alaric is unreasonably lonely, after a... not nasty but painful break-up in a relationship no one really knew had existed. The warmth and company are compelling and the guy is more charming than he has any right to be.

Once that's done he pockets his phone again and - "To go then. I know a pretty place we can walk to and sit there." Off in the woods, up a hill and on a rock. The view's pretty nice.

Not too dangerous to give it to him, Hawke notes happily as he transposes the information and sends a text with Isabela's number just to make sure it does through. He's already thinking of dumb late night texts and various other ways he can mildly abuse this new privilege when Alaric suggests a 'pretty place' within walking distance. It surprises him somehow. He hadn't expected to actually go somewhere specific or private, not on a first meeting, but he's not against it.

"Sure, sounds great. It's a nice day so I don't see why we shouldn't take advantage. Beats a stuffy library or writing a paper, anyway."

coffee shop/bar/college/whatever we feel like self indulgent bullshit modern au

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