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Post by james dunn wyatt on Sept 1, 2016 2:22:40 GMT -6
the airport an hour shy of anytown ain’t busy. there’s a couple of flights on the board, minimum bustle and james slouching at its meek arrivals gate with his iphone out. the connecting flight’s over an hour late. he’s long abandoned the white card – ‘sorenson’ in dying ink but also careful, curly cursive – for a group chat, a tacky set of chairs and a wad of gum.
at a little past nine thirty, he moves a little in the seat and the zipper of his hoodie catches on the paper, sending it flickering across the airport. it manages to go some distance. it pulls him away from his phone screen, has him lookin’ across the floor. he pushes up off the seat and leaves a cup of coffee beneath with it.
“hey, uh,” it lands close to a girl’s feet and james calls out to her, “would you mind picking that up?”
FREJA SORENSON / you know where this is goin'! |
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CIVILIAN
offline
4 posts
played by habs
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Post by FREJA SORENSON on Sept 1, 2016 20:26:00 GMT -6
the flight was late.
it was making freja a bit anxious, especially since it was her first time flying completely and totally alone. it was also her first time making such a long trip; flights around europe were definitely not this long because everything was so close. america was massive and it was across a massive ocean and the flight was ten hours long. that was just...crazy to her.
but there she was, nearing the end of her ten hour flight, even though she was an hour late. she hoped that her host family didn't have a terrible time waiting at the airport, and she was preparing the apology she'd give even though the fact that her flight was delayed in the layover in portugal wasn't really her fault.
so when the plane landed and they were cleared to leave, freja grabbed her carry-on bag and rushed as quickly as she could to the baggage claim carousel. she wasn't a crazy packer but she was going to be here for a year, so with her carry-on strapped across her body and two heavy suitcases being pulled behind her, she was ready to go find her host family.
and then a new wave of nerves came over her. she didn't know what exactly they'd be like or what the town would be like (she knew a little about both, but things were so different on paper than they were in real life.) she skidded to a stop, however, when a piece of paper landed at her feet.
it said her name. or, her last name. still, when it settled in front of her, an american voice rang out - "would you mind picking that up?"
kneeling down, she took a hand off of one suitcase's handle and picked the paper off the ground, looking up at the boy who asked her to grab it. he looked vaguely familiar, and then it clicked. he was part of her new host family, and he had been waiting to get her.
"oh, ah, hello," she said, suddenly extremely self conscious of her english and her accent. "i'm freja...sorenson-" at that she held up the card, "-and you must be...mr. wyatt?"
of course, she couldn't remember his first name. this was getting off to an embarrassing start.
james dunn wyatt |
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Post by james dunn wyatt on Sept 6, 2016 9:03:25 GMT -6
aw man, she’s stutterin’ straight away. james was trying not to scare a tiny li’l thing like her. thing is, she’s polite. he gets a name and it immediately scratches at his attention, he’s lookin’ at the sign she’s holdin’ out and oh, oh.
his face splits into the biggest grin this side of anytown. of, well, outside anytown, specifically at its airport.
“no way, no way,” james reaches out to pluck the sign but he also takes her hand she's holding out in a clasp. it’s forceful, it’s energetic. his phone's still in his hand too. it makes for an awkward fivesome of a handshake – three hands, a sign and iphone – but an enthusiastic and happy one.
“freja, shoulda recognised you or somethin’. seriously, mom’ll freak if she knows i near let you pass by like that,” is he drawing the e in her name out too much? freya? freya? how’s it go? how’d she say? “am i saying that right? tell me if i ain’t. i tend to butcher some names something fierce. you should hear me say—” as he’s pulling back with the card he spots her luggage, “–shit, lemme grab that for you.”
when james reaches out to her baggage he’s pocketed his phone but his fingers still brush against her hands wrapped around the handle. but he’s having a delayed reaction, as if he’s suddenly remembered something, and he reprimands lightly, “no need to be so polite. mr. wyatt… that’s, like, my dad. i’m james. i mean, james is also my dad–” he hesitates but he also yanks along the luggage, pulling it along regardless of whether freya is still holding onto it or not. it covers the break in speech and he continues “–but people call him jim. or jimmy, or–”
james almost skids against the tiling of the airport floor, “sorry. gettin’ ahead of myself. do you want coffee? you’ve pro’ly had a real long flight ’n’ all.”
FREJA SORENSON |
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