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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on May 12, 2014 14:05:30 GMT -8
380 words @france | N esia felt motivated to do work lately. She went around London to follow people, eavesdropping on gossips and rumors. Through her connection within the mafia, Nesia got access to places she would never dare to visit if she didn't know the people. Normally, such places were to be avoided by girls on her age, but since she worked for someone they feared, none dared to lay even just a finger on her. Of course, sometimes she shouldn't reveal that she's one of them or whom she's working for. She wasn't just spying on people outside the mafia, but also the ones in the mafia. The ones who didn't share the same ideals with Ivan.
And speaking of which...
It was started as a diversion, to distract her mind from another man, to further infiltrate the mafia, to gain more trust from her boss. Nesia had told herself that this was merely a duty, as she was paid to sow lies and reap truths. But lately, the line that separated those two blurred, fusing both sides into one giant question. Its answer wasn't something she wanted to hear. Or to admit. Her boss in the MI6 and her seniors would be disappointed if they knew. For now, it helped both of her undercover jobs. But until when, Nesia didn't know yet.
The two people who were conversing - exchanging information - had gone separate ways. Nesia had gathered enough info to be sent to both Ivan and Mathias. She rose from the bench right when her stomach began to growl in hunger. She didn't even stop for food because she was afraid she might lose the person she stalked. Now that her job was done, maybe it's a good time for lunch?
As if guided by her hunger, her legs took her to a French restaurant named Brawn. It seemed to be one of the expensive places in London. Oh well. Just once in a while wouldn't hurt her. She had three sources of income, after all. Nesia felt slightly out of place because she was alone and she dressed in a rather plain attire. But the alluring aroma of the French cuisine managed to drag her inside and sit in a table for two by herself.
Now, which food she should order?
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Post by Deleted on Aug 14, 2014 11:39:44 GMT -8
| | | | | "dreams are to lovers as wine is to friends" |
It had been far too long since he had last dined out for French cuisine, offering business to a one of the more high class restaurants around the city of London. He occasionally fixed a meal for himself in his own home, but it was perfectly acceptable if he treated himself once in a while; particularly to a place that served genuine quality food native from his country of birth.
Being served a practically gourmet dish and not having to do any of the work himself was nice -- or perhaps nice was too general of a word. It was a relief, not having to be obligated to do the work of practicing the beloved and esteemed art of cooking. The culinary practices were truly enjoyable for Francis and he loved them, but always preparing his own meals could at times be tiring. Running the daycare could easily wean the life away from a person, and he typically always had to fix his own lunches on work days.
However, it was at last the weekend and therefore time to have a short reprieve from homemade meals.
The Brawn offered a lovely aroma as he walked in through the door, and he breathed in deeply. Ah, the scents of restaurants were easily one of his favorites -- following roses and other flowers.
The place was well-kept, the embellishments quaint and offering an elegant atmosphere. Reminiscent of a café in the fact that you could choose where to seat yourself, Francis glanced around for an open space. Sitting at his own table would be awfully lonely, so first he perused the tables that already held only one person.
Aha.
His search only took a moment, and quickly yielded acceptable results. Nesia Notonegoro -- a showgirl at the Fortuna Magnus Casino he had once or twice spoken to -- was sitting by herself at a two-person table, glancing over a menu. Francis smiled, and approached.
"Good afternoon, ma chérie! How wonderful it is to see you here," he set his hand on the chair's frame. "Would you mind if I dined with you today?
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Aug 18, 2014 1:37:21 GMT -8
370 WORDS
| W ith her elbow propping up her chin, Nesia skimmed the menu. There were pictures accompanying almost every item written, and everything looked appealing to her. Somehow she believed that the more delicious it looked, the higher the price. Why did she get an idea to treat herself in such an expensive looking place anyway? Without company, too.
And speaking of which, Nesia felt really alone lately. She missed her cousins back home, whom she last met a year before her graduation from college. They had been asking her when she would visit them next time, but Nesia couldn't say when; not when she had a duty to do here in London. The dynamics of the underworld were unpredictable, one day two different factions were allies, and the next day they could be murdering each other. If Nesia did went home, she'd spend at least a week half a world away. Who knows what could happen in the span of seven days? On the other hand, she needed to vent out her stress in a healthier way than smoking. But the things she wanted to talk about were not a normal young woman's problems. They were secrets, dangerous secrets.
She blinked, her fingers finding that she had reached the last page of the menu. Would she looked.. strange, if she only ordered dessert? Or skipped straight to main course? Nesia was unused with eating more than one dish during lunch or dinner. She wanted to ask someone, but she felt too shy to do it.
"Good afternoon, ma chérie! How wonderful it is to see you here."
Nesia glanced upwards, suddenly feeling relieved. "Afternoon, Mr. Bonnefoy," she returned the greeting politely. Francis Bonnefoy was a regular guest in Ciel Blanc's casino, her workplace. She had spoken to him several times and he's always nice to her.
"Would you mind if I dined with you today?"
"Oh I don't mind," Nesia nodded, gesturing for him to take the unoccupied chair. "And I'd be glad if you could help me choosing from the menu, everything looks delicious."
Despite their previous encounters, Nesia didn't really know much about him. So she started their conversation with a simple "how's your day so far, Mr. Bonnefoy?"
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Post by Deleted on Dec 23, 2014 15:09:14 GMT -8
| | | | | "Carried through lifetimes, (and) spilled now and then" |
As soon as Nesia looked up, Francis observed a flicker of recognition and a spark of relief in her deep, brown eyes. They were warm, something reminiscent of a fresh mug of hot chocolate, but there was more to them upon closer inspection – it was clandestine, secretive, and he was positive he shouldn't pry. Besides the action being in general quite rude, it was something that a person didn't question another about unless necessary – and this was anything but necessary. A simple lunch date between two acquaintances was all it was; he wasn't sure he would press even if they shared more familiarity.
She greeted him kindly, and he was grateful for being able to obtain her permission to sit with her. Company seemed hard to find these days, a dwindling resource which once flourished in his life, but now was scarce. Everyone was always busy with their own agendas now. A bit saddening when he truly stopped to ruminate through nostalgia. I sound like an old man, he thought, bemused.
”It would be my pleasure,” he seated himself humbly. There was only one menu at the table, as the waiter had most likely assumed that she would be eating by her lonesome considering she came in without company. Hopefully they would return soon and notice the new presence; otherwise, Francis would simply borrow it from Nesia when she was finished. ”I have been quite well! Today has not been very busy, thankfully, although I will admit it is a bit boring. And yourself, mademoiselle? I rarely see you outside of the casino, and outside your work attire,” he unfurled the roll of silverware, setting the napkin neatly in his lap, and smiled. A little flattery never hurt anybody, and most certainly not someone like the diligent Nesia Notonegoro. ”I must say, you look lovely.”
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Jan 12, 2015 14:22:48 GMT -8
311 WORDS | H er fingers gently pushed the menu across the table, closer to her new company. Francis Bonnefoy was a man with fine taste, so his recommendation was welcomed. Nesia was also interested in knowing him further, and what their conversation reveal by the end of the day. The woman had an urgent need for a distraction to prevent her mind from making herself more anxious.
”I have been quite well! Today has not been very busy, thankfully, although I will admit it is a bit boring."
How enviable. Her smile faltered a little, her heart wished she could say that her day was just as mundane. But with the constant danger that was her job(s), going through a boring day sounded like a vacation for her.
"And yourself, mademoiselle? I rarely see you outside of the casino, and outside your work attire. I must say, you look lovely.”
Copying Bonnefoy, Nesia reached for the napkin too, but her movements halted as soon as he finished speaking. Cheeks flushed red, eyes darted to her lap. "O-oh, thank you," muttered her, but it sounded more like a squeak. The Indonesian always felt shy whenever someone commented her showgirl outfit. She agreed with him, yet it did not erase the fact that the clothes were way more revealing than her everyday attire. Nesia took quite a long time getting used to the showgirl costumes.
Once she gotten over her surprise, the woman took the napkin and placed it on her lap. "Well, uhm..." she cleared her throat. The silence had turned uncomfortable. "I think I... I'll order tea and something light for lunch," she added, ready to hide her face behind the menu book once the blond man was done choosing his food. "Mm, mm... a soup, maybe?" she muttered to herself.
Oh god, not even five minutes sitting together and things already this awkward...
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