Before Us [Wriolette]

Chapter 2: Clothes

Taking a step away from the trash can, Wriothesley could feel a cool breeze from the door way, "refreshing," was all he could think at the time. Feeling that chilled air helped to clear his mind, the coffee shop having grown far too warm in the past few minutes. Was it really the shop, though? The situation had been stressing him for quite some time now. Wriothesley stepped out onto the concrete sidewalk, wincing as the bright sunlight flooded into his eyes. Raising his hand to obstruct the blinding rays, the blue-eyed man directed his gaze to his shoes as he recalled the outfits the barista wore: "Clearly my options for clothing are limited," he mumbled, "but its not like I can go to a store like this a buy new ones," he paused, having realized he was speaking aloud. 'Perhaps... the cafe would offer me a spare given my... situation.' This, he thought, was the most reliable solution. Of course, he was still unsure of the lengths of their generosity, but that was natural.

Without realizing, multiple minutes had passed as he stood there, thinking about nothing in particular. It was not until a gust of wind snapped Wriothesley out of his thoughts that he decided in resolution to follow this plan. He straightened himself up and felt his clothes once more, 'how the hell are they still wet?!' He pondered this question for a moment but quickly decided that it held no bearings. Step by step, Wriothesley made his way back to the cafe. Upon opening the door, he knocked himself into a large figure. "Oh, my-" he heard the other person exclaim, "I do apologize." Before Wriothesley could even look up, he recognized the man. Not only from his voice, but the unique portion of the outfit that he caught a glimpse of.

"Mr. Neuvillette!?"

In a way, Wriothesley was horrified. Although he was only sent to this college for investigation purposes, he had come to know some of the people in his classes. One of the things that all of his peers in law say is to "be wary of Professor Neuvillette." Although Wriothesley himself has never gotten on his bad side, which seems hard to do anyway, an instinct told him that Neuvillette was a different person when angry. Pulling himself back to reality, he rushed an apology, smiled and whisked his way past the shorter man. Wriothesley could feel it when Neuvillette turned around, "Remember to read your assigned documents, class starts in an hour," the other nonchalantly mentioned. Wriothesley heard the door close, and deeming the coast to be clear, he knocked himself over his head with a fist. Rest assured, he had read the documents, this self-afflicted assault served as punishment for acting so awkward around his Professor. Pulling himself together, he masked a calm expression and diligently made his way to the counter. He had planned on getting straight to the point, but he was greeted by a certain someone before that was possible, "Oh, hello again!" Navia said, "I saw what happened earlier," she leaned closer and lowered her voice, "I might be able to get you another tea if your tip is generous," she offered. This attempt at persuading him to tip her 200% was met with a laugh and a solemn shake of the head. Wriothesley gestured to his clothes in a swift movement, "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a little soaked," He spoke in a sarcastic tone. Navia gave an enthusiastic yet understanding nod, "I was wondering if you all had any spare uniforms I could borrow. You see-" she cut him off, "If I were in charge, you definitely could, but for now I'll need to ask my boss. Wait here," she declared confidently.

Wriothesley stood for the first few minutes he waited, but took a seat once he hit the 5-minute mark. At one point, Navia entered the room again only to exit after she got Wriothesley's sizing information. 'That's a good sign, at least,' he scoffed to himself. Although he had been trying to spend less time on his phone, the lack of activity in the cafe caused him to lose interest. If there was nothing to listen to, he would just scroll on P.Interest. Every once in awhile, he would overhear an interesting conversation or two:

Person A: "Would you be so kind as to SHUT THE HELL UP?!"

Person B: "Watch your words! There are children in the cafe. You wouldn't want Jamier to hear this, would you?"

Person A: "Shut up!" their voice grew shaky, "DON'T BRING HIM INTO THIS"

'Oh my lord...' Wriothesley thought.

Person B: "Be mature!"

Person A: "WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT MATURITY?!"

Person B: "IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT!"

-There was a stretch of silence-

Person A: *cries*

'DAYUM,' a suitable reaction from Wriothesley.

While he would gladly have listened in on this conversation longer, his attention was directed to Navia, who emerged from the back room proudly presenting a cafe uniform. Shoving the rather informal outfit into Wriothesley's chest, she declares, "As you can tell, I got you your change of clothes, however..." Navia drew out a dramatic silence, and although Wriothesley wasn't ecstatic about the catch, it was understandable, "You'll need to spend a week working here!" she declared. Recalling his next class, Wriothesley asked, "That's fine with me, but do you mind if I start tomorrow? You see-" she cut him off, "Your class, right? I'm sure that's fine. You can change in the bathroom by the back door," sending him a sly grin, she added, "good luck in your next class!" Stumbling as he walked, he felt embarrassment wash over him. "She saw that?!" Wriothesley covered his face with his hands as he stepped into the bathroom, hiding himself from shame. No one else was in here, so he didn't need to hide at all.

-Wriothesley changes in a stall-

Inspecting his watch, Wriothesley considered it an appropriate time to head to class, however, there was one problem, 'How am I going to face Mr. Neuvillette?! He definitely saw that whole fiasco, and I crashed into him after!' He spends multiple minutes on end internally screaming at himself while simultaneously planning on how to avoid his attention. One thing that brought comfort to him was the dry clothes in the cool breeze. Walking down the sidewalk to his motorcycle, the cold hands of the wind acted as a massage to his mind. He knew that this would not last much longer, but its not like a little embarrassment is the end of the world. Pulling on his helmet, he began again to brainstorm ways he could avoid the other.

**In case you can't tell, this is going to be a VERY slow burn**