( home sick ) open!

[sinclaire Evans]

HEY NOW, WE'RE ALMOST HOME
I'M MISSING YOU TO DEATH

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^{icons (c) allweknow. caution!
lyrics (c) almost here by the academy is...}
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BUT IT'S ALL FOR THE BEST, I KNOW[/color][/font]

"Hey mom, it's your loving daughter Sinclaire here...!"

No wait, that was too cheery.

'Let's try again, less high on sugar this time.' The girl thought to herself, clearing her throat. "Hi mom, it's Sin, and I just want to know how you're doing." Okay, that sounds relatively normal. "I'm sending you a video because I'm in a film school and... yeah, you get the drift." Sinclaire droned on. 'Whoa, this is getting more and more like the real life conversations I have with her... awkward.' Sin scratched the back of her head and turned off the camera. The one that she has been speaking to for the last few minutes.

She slumped back to the couch, her fingers massaging her temples. Who knew greeting your mother back home could be so much work? Why does she have to try and keep in touch with her mom anyway? She already has had enough of them back home, being in a place free of any parental authority was actually liberating. It felt nice. But then she remembered how much her mother made a big deal of it the last time she was home.

"You never kept in touch, Sinclaire Rianne. Is it because you're a big shot now at your film school that you don't have time to write back to your dear mummy?"

[/i] her mother went on and on. For a brief while, Sinclaire thought that she was just kidding, who would blow up over something as little as that anyways? But then she noted of the usage of her first and second name. Something that rarely happens unless her mother was talking serious business.

Which leads her to this: making a video for her mother. Having already decided that writing letters would be too lame, and emails are too impersonal, Sinclaire had settled for making a personalized video. Though she's now having a hard time knowing what to say next. Sin sighed as she played with her digicam. The same digital camera her family had given her, which reminded her of her old friends. Those she made short videos with. 'If they were here right now, I bet they could probably help me with this stuff.'

Sin scowled, while her brain played a bit of her memories back at Vancouver. Again, she slumped back at the couch. Definitely home sick already.[/size][/blockquote][/center]

[Hélène Beauvilliers]

Overdressed as usual, Hélène walked into the cafe. Wearing a dark red dress that went down to her ankles, a large black necklace, a few black bands on her right wrist, black high heels, and her dark brunette hair up with a few trailing edges around her face. She had done all of her own makeup and hair, she was independent up to a certain point. She could dress herself and everything, but she lacked the fine culinary skills that were needed to feed one's self.

She walked passed a few tables, getting a few looks for her choice in clothing. She easily brushed them all away, if she wanted their opinion, she would have started a blog. Since she didn't she would ignore them even if they talked to her. Her high heeled feet took her up to the front counter, once their a waitress came over to where she stood. The waitress gave Hélène a quick once over, and a look of either disdane for her obvious flaunting of money or utter surprise that someone would be so dressed up to come to a cafe, Hélène couldn't tell. Didn't matter.

"What would you suggest is good around here at this time of day?" Hélène inquired, tilting her head in a curious manner. She kept her voice accent free and a bit innocent sounding, people responded better to that anyway. "Well, everyone like's our sandwiches," The waitress answered, her voice a bit hesitant. Before the woman could even tell Hélène what was in the sandwich, Hélène quickly nodded. "Yes, one of those would be good," She said while nodding. "How much?' The woman told her the amount in euros, Hélène quickly pulled the money from a previously unseen pocket in the dress and handed it to the woman.

"Could you please bring the meal to where I'm sitting?" Hélène asked, her tone unsure if the waitress would say yes or no, but she knew the answer. "Of course I will," The woman said with a quick smile. Hélène flashed the waitress a small smile and slipped away from the counter. She walked towards a few couches near the back of the cafe, where a young redhaired girl was sitting with a camera. The redhaired girls hair was a bright red, obviously not natural, but still pretty. She walked over and sat at one of the couches to the left of the one occupied by the redhaired girl. Now to wait for the food.

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