(I'm currently in a 15 hour Skype call. Can't stop now, so coffee it is!) "Perhaps," he said, walking to the other side and getting in. "But I don't think anything I do rubs off on you. Maybe that's a good thing, though."
(wut.) "Oh, no," she said, sliding into the car. "You certainly influence me. I just don't show it very often." She crossed her legs idly and buckled in, her expression relaxed. "Trust me. Your impact is a good thing." The taxi drove off, and they began down a road into the heart of the city. This was certainly more urban, with tall buildings and lights everywhere. Poppy looked around with interest, her head cocked slightly.
(15 hours! It's a record for the group!) Francis was quiet for most of the ride, watching the buildings pass. He occasionally glanced at her, but didn't make it noticable.
(holy hell. I can barely be in a two hour skype call without getting crazy antsy. Godspeed.) Poppy leaned her head against her hand as they drove, the lights shining on her face as they passed streetlights, neon signs and traffic lights. "So, is this more your type of place?" she asked finally, turning to look at him.
(Our goal is 20 hours. I might not make it, haha.) Francis kept watching outside. He seemed comfortable and used to this atmosphere. "It is. To me, there's no place better. Especially with the corner Cafe's. Those are the best."
(You can do it! I speak on behalf of all of Washington and all of Canada; we believe in you!) "The corner cafes? I mean, with the amount of coffee you drink, I suppose that's understandable." She grinned cheekily over at him before returning her gaze out the window. "I don't think I could ever sleep here, though. Too much going on."
He gave a small smile, still gazing out. "Really? I find the nights being the best part. The way the lights make the room glow dim colors, and the noises. It's also fun to people watch during the times you can't sleep." He sighed, then stopped, adjusting his watch self-consciously. "Or, that's what I think."
She sent him a small smile. "I guess I never thought of it like that," she said interestedly. "Doesn't the potential activity keep you awake? Like..." She pulled on her fingers, trying to figure out how to phrase it. "There's so much that you could be doing instead of sleeping. There's just so much to do here."
"I find there's enough time for everything, eventually. You just have to take things slow, and enjoy it as it comes. Seeking adventure in the city is great, but you can't do too many things at once without it feeling more like a task." He looked back at her. "I never have found anything like that in the country."
She grinned over at him, tugging on a curl thoughtfully. "Well," she said, "I guess I've been doing the city wrong then. I think the tendencies, at least for me, is to try to cram in as many adventures at once. I'll try it your way this time."
He folded his hands, looking back out. "Yeah. It's just a shame we won't get to stay long. I mean, I live in a city, but you most likely don't."
She paused, thinking back at her apartment. It made her sad; she hadn't been back there since the morning before they left for the ambassador. Was it even still standing, or had it been bombed just like the government building? "I live fairly close to the city," she amended. "You know, you can't really isolate yourself if you work for the government. But I live in a relatively rural area." She shrugged, slightly melancholy. "I'm not sure if it's still my home though, what with our government being taken over and all."
"I'm sure everything will be fine. It will all work out, I'm sure," he said reassuringly, looking at her. To be honest, he didn't know. His home was surely destroyed, as it was located in a tall building that would be unstable during bombs. He didn't fret, though. All of his valuables were kept in a safe, and the only photos he had were ones that he no longer wanted.
She met his gaze for a moment and then gave him a grateful smile. "Alright," she said eventually. "I'm going to hold you to that." The car gently slowed to a stop, and Poppy glanced outside. "Here we go."
"That's right." He began walking up. "And remember, his wife died so it's best we don't mention that sort of thing."
"Ah. Right. I'll avoid that." She took a deep breath as they walked up the steps. The house was large and intimidating, and when the door was dark brown and tall. Poppy looked at it for a moment, and then knocked quietly three times, obviously a little nervous. The door opened, and a balding man in a butler's attire glanced out at them. "Yes?"
( ) "Good evening. We're here for the dinner with Mr. Sutter?" Francis stepped forward, his tone polite and friendly.
(DAMNNNN) "Ah, yes," the man said, opening the door wider and inviting them in. "We've been expecting you. Please, come in." The main hall was large, with ornate portraits and sculptures tastefully decorating the room. The ceilings were high, and Poppy gazed around for a moment, her eyes wide with interest. "I'll tell him you're here," the man said. "Please, have a seat while you're waiting." He gestured to several armchairs arranged over a burgundy rug with a wave of his hand before departing.
