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Post by Raphaela Dominguez on Feb 22, 2013 23:44:03 GMT -5
Were it another place or time, she might have teased him that she could drink him under the table, but she didn't know him well enough, and it was not a challenge she wanted him to take her up on. Instead, she just smiled politely at his words as he spoke, and breathed a soft, contemplative "Oh," when he asked about where she was from.
"I was born in Barcelona," she told him, her accent thicker, though she still tried to enunciate for him. "And I came here when I was... thirteen. After school, I went back home, until a year ago when I got the job at the Ministry. Barcelona is... big. And busy, and loud, and I love it. It's more colorful than London."
She loved it, but she didn't belong there. That was definitely not a story to share with the poor guy.
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Post by Patrick Feeny on Mar 20, 2013 23:21:39 GMT -5
Patrick could almost picture her in Barcelona. She seemed like she would fit in there more than a place like London. Here she seemed like a bright, colorful fish swimming in a drab little fishbowl. But he couldn't help but notice the odd mixture of dreamy happiness and sadness in her eyes as she talked about it. There was a story there, and he found that he was almost burning to find out what it was.
"That's because London is entirely grey," he replied. "That's the same reason I sometimes find myself aching to be in Ireland again... I miss the green, rolling hills. You must miss Barcelona. How could you settle for a place like this after living there?"
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Post by Raphaela Dominguez on Aug 8, 2014 0:51:03 GMT -5
London was unwaveringly grey, that was true. So true, in fact, that she ached a little. Sometimes, she thought that perhaps the sun would come out just for a week. Long enough in the Spring perhaps to draw some flowers out of their buds, but it never happened.
"Barcelona is colorful, if nothing else," she conceded, allowing him to make his point. He brought conversation back to himself, and she tried to jump at it. He didn't quite let her get a word in, though, before he asked how she could settle here.
She let the question roll in her mind for a moment, choosing how best to answer it while she still vaguely perused the isles of the store with him.
"A city is more than the streets you walk. It's the people, too." Whether that meant she hated the people of Barcelona, or loved the people of London, she did not say, but finally took the opportunity to address a comment he made. "Why don't you go back to Ireland when you miss it like you do?"
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