[ March 28th ] Caution: Wet Floor

[Alfred F. Jones]

America's frown faded slightly, but at least he had the decency to look a little sheepish over it. "Oh, right..." He un-taped the poster from the board and looked around for somewhere more appropriate but equally eye-catching. Maybe on the cash register? He was just about to move and stick it on there, but figured that if he wanted Belle to vote for him he'd better... maybe ask first?

"Uh... so where would you suggest?" he asked. He tried not to look at the cash register TOO often. Six times wasn't too often, was it? Was she going to get the hint?

[Belle Rousseau]

Finally offers him a smile when he finally obliges her and peels it off the chalkboard, looking around before she noticed him glancing at the cash register on the counter. Yes, America...she got your hint the first five times you looked over there.

"Well," she started before finally looking over at the cash register as well. "I suppose you can put it up over there. But if you're willing to spare a few more then we can put some up in he windows as well."

[Alfred F. Jones]

With that suggestion, America falls in love just a little. He likes the way she thinks! He's going to get so much publicity... maybe he can work on getting CNN to come to Boston, they can televise debates between him and whatever poor schmuck decides to run against him, and he can be on TV. CABLE TV.

America's imagination goes rampant for a few moments before he snaps back to reality, a huge grin on his face as he grabs the pile of posters from the floor where he'd set them down before taking his heroic tumble. "I think that's a great idea! Thanks so much, I really appreciate it and I'll mention you when CNN interviews me!"

He smacks the poster up on the cash register and hurries over to the window to put up some more, but... the floor was still wet and he was too excited to recall that fact. In slow motion, it seemed, he careened to the floor yet again, this time losing grip on the posters he was carrying, causing them to scatter in the air like a hundred paper-cut inducing snowflakes.

[Belle Rousseau]

Never in her life had she seen a grin as big and bright as the one on this boys face and suddenly, she understands why the boys break out the shades when her brother decides to show of his manliness. Or supposed manliness anyway. She knew that pansy for what he really was. But it was almost infectious as she was smiling a little as well. That seemed to make his day. CNN though, that was quite ambitious.

"No problem. It's the least I can do for your, erm... heroic actions." she said as she watched him smack his poster so hard on the cash register that it nearly flew off the counter. That would have been quite the feat seeing as it is BOLTED DOWN.

Unfortunately her smile faded when she realized how fast he was rushing towards the window, the floor still slick from the water and before she can say anything to stop him she's blinded by a wall of red, blue and white, his face and thumbs up fluttering around her to the floor as he crashes into one of the tables by the window. With a short gasp she rushed over, careful when she reaches the slick floor.

"A-Alfred!! Are you alright?!"

[Alfred F. Jones]

Heroic actions... America ponders these words and tries to relate them to his current state, sprawled half on the floor and half over a table. The words don't exactly match the situation, but... he appreciates them anyway. Surprisingly, not many people are willing to describe him as heroic, despite trying his best to be heroic, so it's a welcome change and a definite ego-boost for a guy who honestly doesn't need an ego boost but likes having them anyway.

Well, he'd like it even more if he weren't kind of embarrassed at the moment. "I'm all right," he says, rubbing a sore spot on his ribs. He looks around at the posters scattered around the cafe, and frowns. "Sorry about this... I'll pick them up, don't worry!"

America carefully navigates the wet floor and starts picking up now slightly damp posters. Man, what a waste of paper and colored ink...

[Belle Rousseau]

She does that on accident sometimes and though his save wasn't necessary, that doesn't mean it wasn't appreciated. Though for it to happen to him a second time, well...laughing would just be rude, wouldn't it?

Looking around at the mess with him, she let out a sigh. And here she thought all she had to do was last a few more minutes without a mess but as cruel fate would have it...there it was all over the floor, the tables, one was even caught in one of the light fixtures.

"It's alright," she said, bending over to pick up a ruined poster and toss it in the trash. "I'll help you."

[Alfred F. Jones]

America jerked around and crinkled up a bunch of the posters he was holding. "No, really, it's not your fault so you shouldn't clean it up," he insisted, then realized what he'd done to the posters and chucked them in the nearest trash can. Few of them were going to be salvageable as it was, why had he crumpled them all up like that?

America grabbed the one stuck to a light fixture, thinking correctly that it was probably a fire hazard.

[Belle Rousseau]

"No no. It's fine," she insisted as she picked up a few more and stood up straight, motioning to her apron. "I work here, remember? It's my job."

She offered him the smallest of smiles to indicate that it was alright before shuffling off to pick up what posters were salvageable. He had so many, it almost hurt her that they had to throw a majority of them away, knowing that paper and colored ink was expensive, especially on a students budget. Once she had picked up a few she walked over to a table to straighten them out and lay them neatly on it before looking around for any she may have missed.

[Alfred F. Jones]

America was tempted to reply that being a hero was HIS job, but he didn't exactly get paid for it so he suspected it was different. "If you insist," he said, doing his best to pick up more than Belle was in order to minimize any further inconvenience to her.

Surprisingly, a little less than half of the posters seemed in decent enough condition to keep, which was good enough for him. He felt sort of sad throwing the ruined ones away, but there was nothing else for it. It had to be done.

He walked over and began straightening his unruined posters out at the table where Belle had placed hers. "Thanks by the way," he said, grabbing one of them and putting it up on the cafe's window. "For letting me do this and for helping pick them up..."

[Belle Rousseau]

After wrestling a stray poster out from under a chair she made her way back over and set it neatly on top of the pile, wondering why he had made so may to begin with. Were there even that many places to post them or was he planning on wallpapering all of Boston with his posters? Given that he was talking about being on CNN, she wouldn't be surprised if it were the latter.

"It's no problem," she replied, leaning back against the table as he set his posters straight. "I suppose you're going to have to be more sparing with them now, though."

She glanced over at the clock as she spoke, noting the time and smiling to herself before she reached behind to begin untying her apron.

[Alfred F. Jones]

America? Be sparing? Perish the thought!

But she was right, in the end. "I guess..." he acknowledged, noting that Belle was taking off her apron. "Are you going home now? We can walk back together! Or do you take the T? We could ride back together."

[Belle Rousseau]

With a soft laugh she pulled the apron off, looking at him before she made her way towards the counter.

"We're going together either way so does it really matter?" she said jokingly. She did prefer to walk though, seeing as campus wasn't that far and it kept money in her pocket. "I'm walking though. I'm trying to save up a dress for the dance and walking is good for you."

Once behind the counter, she reached over to hang her apron on a hook beside the kitchen door before clocking out and grabbing her things. Not a moment later she made her way back towards the table and set her things down before revealing a tape dispenser in her hand.

"Let's get those posters up and then we can go."

[Alfred F. Jones]

America grinned and walked over to the window once again with a third poster. He held out one hand for the tape.

"So you're going to the Spring Fling?" he asked, thinking back. "Hey... did I send you a bunch of emails a few days ago trying to get you to donate to my charity date auction?"

He remembered corresponding with some country that started with a B, and it hadn't been Belarus. And she had been female... that had been his main concern at the time. He still wanted to go with an actual GIRL, but no one had ended up out-bidding England at this point, and it was technically the last day of bidding!

[Belle Rousseau]

She followed him, of course, the tape dispenser in hand and minding the still drying floor as she handed him the tape.

She considered him a moment, remembering the emails but admittedly forgetting that he was supposed to meet up with her. But by the looks of it, so had he so she couldn't feel that bad about it. But coincidence had made sure it happened anyway. She was glad to possibly make a good friend. He seemed nice enough, anyway.

"Yep. That was me," she responded as she pulled out another piece of tape for him.

[Alfred F. Jones]

America gave her a look from the corner of his eye as he placed the tape on the window. "Soooo..." he said in a way that was hardly nonchalant despite his best efforts to keep it that way, "are you still considering contributing to the date auction? Today's the last day of bidding... just putting that out there."

He hummed a Lady GaGa song under his breath to further enforce the idea that he was being completely nonchalant about this.