an ordinary girl from an ordinary town (
weirderthanthou) wrote2024-10-02 10:21 am
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The Isle of IKEA, Wednesday Morning
James's apartment had been largely abandoned for years, and he hadn't exactly made it homey before he left. So there was really only one solution, at least as far as a girl like Jesse went: a trip to IKEA, to at least get him some plants.
And furniture.
And weird little things. (She loved the weird little things.)
Being the disgustingly early riser that she was, it was probably no surprise that they turned up early, walking onto the premises of the island and its massive Swedish monolith a few minutes before opening time. "I always wonder who exactly shops here," she mused. "I think there's actually a special Portalocity station assigned to just the isle?"
[[ for him ]]
And furniture.
And weird little things. (She loved the weird little things.)
Being the disgustingly early riser that she was, it was probably no surprise that they turned up early, walking onto the premises of the island and its massive Swedish monolith a few minutes before opening time. "I always wonder who exactly shops here," she mused. "I think there's actually a special Portalocity station assigned to just the isle?"
[[ for him ]]
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He was instead eyeing the couch like he was wondering what he was supposed to be seeing that made it any different from any other couch.
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Look, he had to ask.
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But he did follow it up with sitting down next to her.
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Of course, he also had no ability to relax into it.
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He was aware his back was way too stiff. It wasn't going to stop him from the slightly dry tone.
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He was keeping his fleeting kneejerk thoughts on 'torture chairs' to himself, and everyone should be very happy about that. That was the actually helpful part.
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"Have you clocked where all the exits out of this space are? 'Cause I have."
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Although he'd definitely had worse.
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Was he trying to faintly joke to make up for not being relaxed enough? Maybe.
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He tried for a little smile.
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He was hilarous, considering he was way more in need of getting into the spirit of things.
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Somewhat obediently, for lack of a better word.
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