The silver bells chime as Desman enters La Sveltina, and the current barista looks over her shoulder, meeting Aria's eyes with her own. A mischevious grin breaks over the barista's mouth, her greyish green eyes matching her expression under orange hair. Underneath the orange, which is messily, though stylishly, whipped towards her face, an underlayer of dark hair provides a nice contrast.
"Oh, what a sexy lady," the orange-haired barista calls, whistling. "Coffee for the hot babe in boots?"
Aria snorts, rolling her eyes as she struts up towards the counter. "Oh, you're buying? What a gentlewoman," she teases, giving her co-worker a wink before turning on her dancer toes towards the staff room door.
"You know it, hotstuff!"
The door swings shut behind Desman, and she shakes her head with an amused smirk. Trust Tasia to distract her from negative thoughts.
The senior's black cardigan is pulled around her shoulders as she slips her arms through, ruching up the sleeves to her elbows fashionably. She ties the fabric belt about her waist, holding it closed over her low V-necked red shirt. The owner doesn't push uniforms; all he requires is a black shirt of some sort, and he leaves it up to his employees to judge their own presentation.
Aria takes a moment to fix her make-up in the washroom mirror; she pulls her eyeliner from the pocket within her boot and leans forward, her face close to its reflection. Her expression settles into one of concentration and vulnerability, as it does when she creates her art. The half-Italian artist is, truly, an artist. She not only dances, but she also draws, paints, and does extravagant make-up.
Satisfied with her touch-ups, Aria straightens up, quirking a dark, perfectly arched eyebrow up in her signature smirk. Her eyes sparkle with seductive mischief, and her lips match the expression.
"Pass me that, gorgeous."
Tasia tosses a black half apron to the dark-haired girl before turning to the latest customer to take his order. Desman ties the fabric around her slim waist, then washes her hands over one of the sinks. Once clean, she steps up to her place next to Tasia. The bright-haired young woman turns her head slightly for the quick kiss that Desman steals from her lips.
"So. You're here early. What happened in the halls of hell?" Tasia asks, refering to Aria's high school.
Aria groans, taking the customer's cup to make his drink in. "Natalia."
Tasia raises an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter, her palms on the hard surface. "Favouring James, again?"
Desman shakes her head, flipping the empty cup in the air before setting it under the cappuccino dispenser. "More like reminding me that I have no fucking chance," she replies unhappily. With a press of a button, the machine whirrs to life, making classic coffee shop noises. While the hot beverage pours into its cup, Tasia retrieves the cream from one of the fridges and sets it on the counter for Aria. Desman, being an artist, uses it to create the image of a panda. Tasia merely watches in awe, though she's seen her co-worker's art countless times before.
Tasia takes the finished cup and delivers it over to the man's table in the corner. Aria, meanwhile, sips on the coffee the other barista had prepared for her.
Upon Tasia's return, the older girl proceeds to pry for details. "Did she say something? What happened?"
The senior wipes down the counters with a damp cloth, her brows straining towards each other slightly. "She made a comment. About prostitutes."
"....Ah."
Aria shrugs, turning away from her friend and coworker, wiping down the opposite counter. She stiffens before settling into the arms that round her waist from behind. A chin fits between her neck and shoulder.
"It's all right, babe. I'm sure she wouldn't have said it if she knew."
Aria looks to the ground, reaching back to tangle her fingers in Tasia's orange hair. Lips are felt at her shoulder, and though she knows Tasia swings the same way as her, Aria also knows it is merely a kiss to comfort her. Desman twirls her fingers through the older girl's bright hair, losing herself in thought.
What makes her mother do what she does? Why does she go past merely dancing, why does she bed men? Why the drugs? Does she love her daughter?
Aria would like to believe she does. She knows her mother works hard, and even if most of the money is spent on drugs and alcohol, the rent is paid and the senior has a roof over her head. Aria knows she tried to be a good mother. Her mother might be absent most of the time, but she was at least around enough when Aria was younger. She spent her time off with her daughter, showing the girl she cared, that someone loved her.
Back before she really needed her.
Desman pulls away gently, trailing her hand along Tasia's waist absently. "Whatever." The bell on the door chimes, causing both baristas to look up.
Through the door walks the area's most notorious hustler - both in Canada and Washington state. The black hood of a sweater is pulled off to reveal platinum blond hair that falls just past the ears. Silver chains hang from belt loops of denim, and there is surely at least one knife concealed beneath clothing. The zipper of the hoodie is pulled down midway to reveal a pair of smallish breasts and lightly muscled abdomen covered in a white tank top. A long chain ending in a pair of silver dogtags hangs from Evelyn Ford's neck loosely.
With a flick of her blonde head, Evelyn looks up. "Ladies," she greets, sauntering up with that gangster swagger of hers.
Tasia grins at the woman, going up to the counter. She leans on it, reaching out to share some sort of handshake with Ev.
Having practically grown up next to the female hustler, Aria slips around the counter and slips her arms around the more buff girl. The platinum blonde, without breaking her serious, more or less blank expression, wraps an arm around the dark-haired senior. She glances around the room, making sure anyone inside isn't paying them any attention, before telling Aria quietly, "I have your stuff. Solid stuff, the usual."
Aria, using her flirtaciousness to her advantage, pulls Evelyn into the back room, making it look as if the hustler were an affair. Desman and Tasia make eye contact, and the orange-haired girl gives a slight nod, understanding. They all come from the same sort of neighbourhood, so activities such as these are no big occurrance.
Behind closed doors, Aria pulls away from Evelyn. The hustler reaches into her hoodie and produces a pouch of neatly separated doses of white powder. "Make sure it's not injected," the hustler reminds Desman. She pulls out another pouch of the same thing, though the substance is much less fine. Aria knows this is for smoking, rather than snorting.
"You've got your other shit?" Meaning weed. The hustler knows Aria's mother's preferences.
Desman thinks it over. "Can I pay you back on Friday?" she asks, figuring her mother is low on cannabis. It's better to have that around than crack.
"Payday?"
"Yes."
Evelyn sniffs, her face hard as always as she thinks her own financial situations over. She nods, warning the senior, "Fine, but I need it by Friday." Desman nods, knowing exactly what the blonde needs the money for.
