#valentine001

[thephoebeyates]

Phoebe frowned as the stranger seemed to momentarily forget their name, shaking their hand a bit too long, trying to keep her face perfectly neutral rather than show obvious concern. Were they more drunk than they gave off? Perhaps some sort of enemy of both Linc and Leon and had to think of an alias? "Vesp — Valentine!" She corrected herself as they did, about to ask which name was preferred, when she caught the surname.

Coincidences existed, sure. But if Phoebe had learned anything of late, it was that they were far and few inbetween in Blue Harbor. "Sorry if I'm completely off-base here, but like considering your accent and everything, you don't happen to be related to Jasper Finch, do you?" She smiled softly at the thought of the soft-spoken librarian. But also tried not to give too much away about them on the rare chance this was a true coincidence. And even if this person turned out to be lying, the truth would come out anyway. It always did.

When they seemed insistent of carrying the cake, Phoebe froze, because she still just didn't quite trust them. "Oh, it's not about if you can handle the weight, really. Like this thing is a beast," She gestured to the cake beside her, "But like, Leon is a bit funny about people going in his kitchen, that's all. I think he's scared people are going to steal the potatoes or pie crusts or something." The intern added the latter as a type of joke, to soften the blow as it were.

“Yeah, I sure hope they do…” They said, a bit absently, putting their hands in their pockets and looking around the small room. The woman hadn’t offered so much as a name for either of the birthday celebrants, which spoiled the whole exercise of picking their identities up by virtue of context clues. Now, they were stuck in a whole conversation with barely a connection to go by. “Phoebe. Hi. I’m…” They took the woman’s outstretched hand and shook it, hard and firm, in the way they’d been oriented to do all those years ago. If they don’t remember your playing, then you make sure they’ll remember your handshake, which, in retrospect, was an advice best befitting for business majors who’d like to make their way into the corporate world than for a painfully shy fifteen-year-old cellist who’d just learned what executive even meant. 

It wasn’t until the customary exercise of introductions that Valentine realized they hadn’t said their name at all. “I’m Vesper.”  Here, Valentine froze, realizing that amid their ruminating train of thought regarding corporatespeak, they’d defaulted to the use of their professional name. One that they hadn’t made use of in almost a year. “Sorry, I meant… Valentine. Valentine, um, Finch?” They backtracked, hoping that the invocation of their family name would at least offer them some sense of credibility—though each of Finch siblings had their way of retreating into themselves, Valentine, on occasion, being the worst of them all.

Linc! There’s one name offered, but it didn’t quite ring a bell. And Val was certain the pub owner’s name similarly bore four letters—oh, if they could just open their phone right now—“I’m quite settled, thank you.” They nodded, though their request was insistent, “I’m really not doing anything. I can hold a cake just fine. I’ve carried heavier things.” They stretched their lips a bit further, all gentle corners and a display of teeth, hoping it communicated something like reassurance.

[hypemastakavalier]

#Repost @valentinecakehouse_mombasa (@get_repost) ・・・ We are proud to sponsor Coast Finest and Energetic @hypemastakavalier ‘s Caribbean Birthday Party this Saturday at @derricksbeachbar Mtwapa. Visit our shops for more varieties and flavors of our Cakes. #ValentineCakeHouse #HypemastaKavalier #valentine001 #cakes #cakedecorating #cake #birthday https://www.instagram.com/p/BzNuVLZjFw5/?igshid=1im4ozhpxl4ip

[if-thats-the-command-blog]

@stxlen-advxntures

Levia had been wanting to explore more of the districts lately. It didn’t seem like going alone was super smart anymore- and she really wanted to read the glyphs down in Delta. She doubted she would be able to figure them out- but they might provide her some hint to her own existence.

Or they could just be old cooking recipes. 

Levia had resorted to asking passerbys on the street- she had to try something. The internet was mostly still a mystery to her.

“Isn’t there anyone that wants to go on a TINY adventure. . .?” She said, just a little depressed as someone else turned her down. “Isn’t there any adventurers here?”

[thegreatbenholio]

Benvolio: [text] Val? I hate to ask... I REALLY hate to ask, but are you free right now? Some shit's gone down and I just... I need someone who isn't a guy.

[thephoebeyates]

Phoebe eyed the stranger; not with suspicion but definitely with curiosity, trying to place their face with either Leon or Linc — or at least a friend of a friend of theirs. She tried to do her best to talk to everyone who showed up, even if it were awkward stilted conversations like with Lia, but hadn’t run into this person yet. She gathered that they weren’t a Blue Harbor native, if  the accent was anything to go by, and thus wondered if they were someone from Linc’s LA days, Leon’s New York days, or maybe a different connection altogether. 

“I’m sure they’ll show up.” She decided, resigning herself to the fact that somehow this cake was probably going to get ruined, whether it be the neglect in the heat or one of CJ’s wayward darts landing right into the middle of it. “Anyway, hi, I don’t think we met yet, I’m Phoebe.” She extended her hand out to the stranger, hoping this would be the best way to work out exactly where in the connections map of her mind to fit them.

The offer of them helping haul the cake back to the freezer made Phoebe pause slightly. She was sure they were trustworthy enough, but considering she herself couldn’t vouch for them, she was unsure how Leon would feel about it, especially if they were more Linc’s guest to the birthday bash tonight. “Oh, no that’s okay. I’m sure I can drag Linc away from whatever he’s got himself up to long enough to help me. You should, uh, enjoy yourself. Thank you though — you’re all set on drinks?”

Valentine stayed awhile on the corner of the bar, leaning against the brick wall and lifting their gaze on occasion to watch the emerging crowd. They’d chosen the wrong time to survey the establishment, that much was certain, but they made no move to turn back. It was fast becoming dark out, and the streetlight flickered on and off. Better to find a friendly, or at least a familiar, face, before making the trek back home to Cardinal Hill. 

At once, a woman’s voice punctured through the air. Her words were tinged with worry about the cake and candles in question—though no one seemed to have heard it or had resolved to ignore it in favor of drinks and party chatter. Birthday boys, then, though they couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to celebrate in such a place. 

Without forethought, Valentine moved towards the voice’s source, the next clear thing amid the noise. “I don’t really know where either of them are,” they shook their head, making a cursory glance towards the dank, sparingly-lit establishment. Their words, fortunately, also served to obscure their lack of knowledge of the birthday boys in question—boys? did they let anyone under 21 in here?—but if they wanted to land the prospective bartending gig, perhaps familiarizing oneself with the pub’s layout could count as a merit. “I can help bring it to the freezer if you want. It’s not a big deal.”