The Dragon's Den

WHO: Benedict and Jameson
WHAT: The two men meet in a Starbucks and chat.
WHERE: Starbucks - Greenwich Village - Manhattan
WHEN: May 27


Sunday evening - not exactly primetime for coffee-drinkers but somehow Starbucks always seems to pack a pretty full house no matter what time or day of the week. Jameson has managed to snag one of the few open seats, one of two chairs that sit at one of the tables next to the store windows. There's a bookbag at his feet and a book spread open one hand - clearly this one likes to read. In his other hand rests a steaming cup of... well, something. Unless one smells it or asks directly, it's often difficult to tell exactly what resides in the cups - particularly with the coffee shop's gigantic menu.

It's been a long night, and Benedict is topping off an evening at the local watering hole with some coffee. Not that you'd know he'd had a few to look at him. He waits patiently in line while the other patrons order their drinks and steps up to the counter when his turn comes. "Just a regular coffee, big as you've got it," he puts in when his turn comes. It takes a little doing to get something without foam, flavor or frills, and the production behind the counter does get the attention of a few people in the joint, but Bennie holds firm. Finally he has his drink and he turns to find a place to sit. His expression doesn't shift much but hints at a grimace as he finds the options limited. "This spot free?" he asks after making his way over to the empty seat across from Jameson.

"Hm?" Jameson finishes the sentence he's on and looks up for his book a moment after the other man speaks. "Oh, yes. Go right ahead." He gestures invitingly with the hand bearing the coffee cup. For his part, he seems to miss Benedict's slight grimace. Setting down the coffee, he takes up a bookmark to mark his page before setting his book to one side. "It's surprising how many people still want coffee at this time of night, isn't it?"

Benedict pulls out the chair with one hand before dropping down into it heavily. "Thanks," he replies simply as he takes a long pull on his coffee not minding the heat of the scalding liquid. He glances around again as Jameson makes note of the crowd in this place. "Yeah. Guess we're not really ones to talk though," he observes, his tone wry but his expression unchanged. "They say it's the city that never sleeps. Maybe this is why." He gives an indifferent shrug of his shoulders as he settles back again and takes another sip of his drink. "So what's keeping you up?" he inquires conversationally.

Jameson gives a little nod to the thanks, sipping again at his own cup. "Yeah, maybe you're right. The City That Drinks Too Much Caffeine, eh?" There's a little laugh to that and he leans back in his chair as he considers Benedict's question. "Nothing's really keeping me up, per se. I'm a natural night owl. But seeing as one of my dorm-mates snores with enough force to make the furniture shake, I thought this might be a better place to read, packed or not." Once again, he punctuates with a soft laugh. "What about you?"

"A student," Benedict deduces from this, giving his head a nod as though this makes it all fall into place. "I don't really like to sleep," he replies simply and rolls the coffee cup between his hands. "And I work late hours," he tacks on, tilting his head in a sideways nod at that. His hours aren't -this- late however but he leaves that part out. He lapses into silence then, staring down at his coffee cup thoughtfully before he takes another swig of it. And then his eyes lift again to watch through the large window making note of those passing by. "Snoring though, that's a killer."

Once again, Jameson nods as Benedict pegs him as a student. "Ah," he says simply to the other man's explanation. "Well, night shift can be pretty tough as well. It can take a lot out of you if you do it for a long time." Somehow he sounds as if he might be speaking with experience of some sort to back him up. "At least I could buy earplugs to help with that - if I really cared enough to. After all, just leaving the dorm altogether is easier and fool-proof anyway." He leaves it at that, falling back on nursing that coffee of his.

"Yeah, I guess that's true," Benedict agrees with a nod for the working man's woes. "But it- I was going to say pays the bills, but 'round here, that's not quite the case, is it. Let's you get comfortably into debt, then," he amends with a faint smirk. He looks back over at Jameson. "Big city, lots of excitement, so they say. Might as well get out and enjoy it. Even if it's just reading a book in Starbucks. Prefer the quiet life myself."

"True," Jameson replies to the talk of settling into debt, accompanying it with a smile that's slightly bittersweet. He shakes the expression off with another sip, however, and listens to the rest of what Benedict has to say. "If reading a book in Starbucks is your idea of excitement, my friend, I'm beginning to wonder what your 'quiet life' is like." This time the smile he sends across the table is considerably less troubled.

Benedict notices the fleeting expression and looks vaguely curious for it but holds his tongue. "Maybe not excitement exactly, but I've had enough excitement to last me a lifetime." He lifts the corner of his mouth in a smirk and shrugs his shoulders. "I'm old enough to appreciate the peace and quiet." He slouches back in his chair, taking another swig of coffee before setting it down on the table.

"Fair enough," Jameson says with a faint smirk of his own. He gives a brief nod of his head then lets his eyes wander about the shop a little in the silence, from one face to another without lingering on anything for any particular length of time. "So," he starts again after a bit, "What sort of job keeps you up so late at night? If you don't mind my asking." He looks back around to Benedict with an attentive expression.

"I sweep floors at a factory," Benedict replies without much hesitation. "It's about as glamorous as it sounds. So,uh, stay in school." He directs a little nod down at the book with that. "But it's an honest living, they tell me." He takes a moment to look out the window again, his brow furrowing slightly and then smoothing back out as someone walks past. "What do you study?" he asks and his attention returns then to Jameson. Whether or not Jameson minds his asking he doesn't seem much concerned.

"I'll do that, thanks," Jameson says with only a slight edge of humour to his voice as Benedict renders his advice. He watches as the older man turns out the window, then looks down to the cup in his hand. Wherever his thoughts have drifted, they're pulled back by the sudden question. It takes an instant for him to return to the present. "Mm? Oh... Law. I'm only just starting at university, of course. It seems to me the world is always in need of more lawyers, judges, lawmakers - that sort of thing." He shrugs his shoulders, eyeing his cup again as he scoots it back and forth a little on the table.

Benedict gives a small nod of his head, content that his duty as a warning to others is complete for the moment. "Mm, right side of the law to be on if you've got the choice," he muses with a considering nod. "Good luck with it. Don't let anything stand in your way of doing it." He's just full of advice tonight and it even seems to surprise him a little. "Things have a way of coming up in my experience, but you don't always get a second shot."

"Yeah, that's what I figure. If this is what I'm going to do for a living, I can't allow anything to get in the way," Jameson agrees with a curt little nod. "But, you know, though you might not always get a second shot, it doesn't mean there isn't something more out there for you." Just in case Benedict starts letting that floor-sweeping gig get him down. For what it's worth, he's not trying to be patronizing, he's just trying his hand at the whole 'advice-giving' thing. "And anyway, thanks for the luck. I just might need it if NYU is as much a challenge as I'm counting on." Not that he seems dissuaded from this academic path, of course.

Benedict lets out a quiet, wry chuckle at the advice, shaking his head slowly. "Yeah, plenty out there but not much worth doing. Let's just say law school isn't in the books for me." He glances down at Jameson's book. "No pun intended. Sometimes you just hit a dead end. But if I get bored, I'll find something else to do." He tips his cup up on one edge and then up on the other, tilting it back and forth a few times before picking it up to take a sip. "Ah don't listen to me. I'm old and grumpy." He gives an up-nod of acknowledgement. "I'm sure you'll find lots there to keep you busy."

It takes a moment for the pun to register with Jameson but he affords it a grin when it does, glancing from Benedict to his book and back again. "Well, as long as you're happy. That's the important thing." He gives a shrug of his shoulders, once again sliding the cup to and fro a few inches. "You aren't really old, anyway," he says with a faint grin. "My grandparents are old. And you don't look half their age." Perhaps he missed the 'grumpy' bit. Still, he doesn't seem to have any clue that he might be pressing his luck by elaborating needlessly on simple phrases.

"Oh, I'm ecstatic," Benedict replies very dry and deadpan. "Let's not overshoot. I'm . . . satisfied for now I'll say." He shrugs as he eyes his coffee thoughtfully and then lifts his eyes to look out the window again. When Jameson speaks again, he looks back at him. "Sometimes people grow up before their time, kid. Some days I -feel- 70. But I get to skip the arthritis so it could be worse." If it's a joke, he doesn't bother to crack a grin.

"Well... There's the bright spot, yes," Jameson replies cheerfully, though he's not quite able to muster up a grin this time, seeing as Benedict isn't showing any indication that he's joking. Instead, he looks over at the older man for a long, thoughtful moment and raises his cup again. He still doesn't speak once he lowers it again, taking his time to savor and swallow the coffee. Or perhaps he's just buying himself time since he's not sure what to say now. "So have you lived in the city for long?" Well, it's /something/ even if it's still small talk.

Benedict doesn't seem to notice he's bringing the room down with his doom and gloom. "You're big on bright spots aren't you," he observes. It's neither a compliment nor a complaint. Bennie seems content to sit in silence as Jameson studies him not being made uncomfortable by it. "Hm? No, not long at all. But I grew up in Jersey so I'm not entirely unfamiliar with the city. Moving around a lot you get used to filling in the details quickly." He takes a sip of his coffee, nearly finishing it off now. "You come here for school?"

"I try," Jameson says with a mildly sheepish shrug. As the conversation changes direction he seems to grow comfortable again, although he's oddly focused on his cup - more specifically on the rhythm he's tapping out against the cardboard container - as he gives his answer. "No, I grew up here. Well, not /here/, obviously." It's supposed to be a joke but his delivery is a little flat. He continues on regardless. "Over in Brooklyn. Where're you from originally?"

"There's worse things," Bennie decides. "If I haven't used up all my unsolicited advice time, stay an optimist as long as you can." There's a quick flash of a smile with that. "New Jersey," he replies with a slight gesture of his head in that rough direction. Actually he has no idea if it's the right direction or not from where he sits, but it looks good anyway. "But I've been around. Sort of come full circle or close as I dare to get."

Jameson returns the smile, however fleeting. "I suppose it's like they say," he murmurs over the brim of his coffee cup. "No matter how far you roam, you always come back home. Er, well. Sort of. Close enough, as you said." That didn't come out exactly as he'd planned, but perhaps that's close enough as well. He sloshes his coffee, trying to judge how much is left - probably only enough for another swallow or two. He pauses a moment, glancing over at Bennie and then out the window as he tips his wrist again.

"Yet they also say you can't go home again." Benedict shrugs his shoulders at that. "Then again I guess in a way they could both be true. You try to come back home but you can't." The late night ramblings of a man. He watches Jameson for a moment before draining off the last of his own drink. Still he doesn't seem to be in a hurry to leave just yet. "I'm Benedict, by the way," he offers abruptly when it occurs to him they haven't been formally introduced.

"Jameson," the student offers in return, holding his free hand out to shake. "It's a pleasure. So do you always hang around Starbucks, giving out various bits of good advice to the young and eager when you're not sweeping up? Or am I a special case?" He takes a moment to finish up his own drink, then sets it to rest alongside his book.

"Special case. I'm bored tonight." Benedict shakes the offered hand firmly. "Usually I prefer my places a little seedier. A little less-" He looks skywards as a fancy ringtone goes off. "-yuppie. But it'll do in a pinch. Caffeine is a necessary thing." He nods just once to affirm that. "You come here for the ambience or just the lack of snoring?"

Ah yes, the ever-popular custom ringtones. Jameson purses his lips in a little smile. "Well, I guess I should consider myself lucky. And, well..." He glances around, taking in the still-present crowd, the displays of canisters and coffee beans, the tacky wall 'collage' that's clearly meant to be hip... and he shrugs. "A little of both, I suppose. Though perhaps a little more for the lack of snoring. Any port in a storm, eh?"

"Lucky. Or in the wrong place at the wrong time. Depends on how much you like my advice." Benedict flashes a brief smile before his expression settles back into his usual stony one. "As ports go, I guess it . . . goes." He looks around and then shrugs. "I should set sail. Good running into you. Maybe our paths will cross again." He moves to his feet, chair scraping back over the floor. The cup is disposed in the garbage with an easy lob.

"I hope so," Jameson says, sounding sincere enough, though he hasn't really spent enough time with the man to be /too/ invested. "Take care of yourself." There's one more friendly grin to that as he watches Benedict rise and pitch the cup at the garbage bin. "... Nice shot." One hand slides to his book as he speaks, which he's already starting to open back to the page he'd bookmarked.

"Thanks," Bennie replies. He nods once by way of saying goodbye and then promptly turns to leave the establishment.