Imagine that distinctive feeling you get when you see a pervert masturbating in a dark ally in front of a twelve-year-old girl. Imagine the unmistaken disgust you feel walking into a room with food stains on the sofa and dirty laundry strewn all over the floor. Imagine the uncontrollable calmness that instantly washes over you upon entering a library. These are your first impressions and 99.9% of the time they are never wrong. When you get an unshakeable feeling you know it’s always right, but you know what they say: ‘don’t judge a book by it’s cover.’

Now, let’s think about this: if you ignored the sick feeling that you got from the masturbating pervert at the end of the ally where would you be now? Come on, admit it: you’d be right after that twelve year old girl and you know it. Because, no, there is not more to the creepy feeling than meets the eye. You saw the guy being a pervert, and that’s exactly what he is. So don’t ignore the feelings, don’t go down the ally when you know you shouldn’t. Things don’t always have to go into depth and there are more than enough people in this world who look at things just the way they are. This evening it came in the shape of a lanky tomboyish girl in combat boots.

Tori knew cafes only to well. Although she’d only ever been in one once or twice she knew better than anyone that them damn coffee shops were nothing more but undersized diners for bookworms and cheep tippers. Maybe it was just her grudge speaking out against the memory of getting booed of the stage of one of these cheap shacks, but I must admit: it doesn’t take an expert to pick up the boring atmosphere and high class expectations. Honestly, if you were going to be that way, what was the point? Tori had gotten an unmistakable impression and had avoided such places ever since, but I suppose today was an exception.

Tori had originally passed the place this morning on her way to a previous engagement she’d had at a pub not far from where she was now. It was the sign that had caught her attention. Pasted on the glass door of the little café was a sign that clearly read ‘open music slots.’ Inside Tori’s head was an alarm that clearly shouted ‘You need the money.’ It was true. Times were tough for Tori and her petty bar job wasn’t quite doing it. She’d been getting work wherever she could lately, even if it meant performing slow jazz hits in pathetic little coffee shops. At the end of her day today Tori took the long way home and checked every eatery’s window to see if there were available slots, but still, the only place that was offering was that café. Now, this evening, it was Tori’s goal to get the job and get out before she could remind herself how much she actually didn’t like these places.

Now, standing in front of that glass door, Tori peered inside. As far as she could see there was no one inside except for two busy girls…waitresses…janitors? Whatever they were Tori hoped they had the authority to give out paying jobs. After rolling her eyes at the two typical women doing typical women things Tori pushed open the glass door of the café with two hands and entered.

If you were sitting in that café and you saw an undersized, lanky girl in army boots and an orange, flowery dress, what kind of impression would you get from her? As soon as Tori entered the café, floppy black hat covering her face, the room seemed to light up just that much more. There was a different energy surrounding Tori and even though she may not have noticed it she seemed to bring something vibrant everywhere she went. I don’t want to say it was a positive energy as Tori was thinking ‘An hour till closing and no customers, my show will be a hoot’ but it was definitely an active energy. Even if Tori had taken the hat off to reveal her ill and tired self you would have gotten the exact same energy, because first impressions are always right.

Casually, Tori walked right up to the front counter, passing one of the girls dusting a table and some nervous bloke in a booth. Tori didn’t acknowledge either of the two. Hell! She barely noticed them. Instead she leaned confidently against the counter’s edge and waited for one of the girls to serve her.

’Can I help you?’ asked the girl who’d been dusting.

’Yeah, I saw the sign on the door…’

The conversation was loud enough for anyone in the place to hear, including the guy in the booth, but Tori didn’t care. It’s not like she was discussing super secret shit or anything, and it’s not like she knew anyone was here anyways. In the end she’d gotten the job. They said they’d try her out this week at this exact time and if she was any good she could be a regular during the day. It didn’t satisfy her but it was a paying job and she needed the money. The only problem was if the activity of this place stayed the way it was now every night she had no chance. But, again, it was a paying job.

Mumbling with slight disappointment Tori ordered herself a strong, steaming hot, cup of coffee. Maybe it’d help keep her awake so she didn’t fall asleep with some unknown hoar, not that she’d get a job tonight. No one here wanted to shag her, she wasn’t up to the American standards of what a pretty girl was. Back in England she would’ve faired ok, Mr. Wyan clearly hadn’t thought that she was that fatally unattractive. But what with all the popular actresses on the screen these days Tori was finding that she couldn’t keep up. Still, coffee seemed like a good idea. Maybe it’d help the constant soreness in her throat. She’d never really understood the concept of coffee, she’d never really had a cup of coffee, but maybe you can’t always judge a book by its cover? Although Tori still wasn’t convinced that there was more to everything than met the eye, she was willing to try a cup – that was clear desperation.

Holding the warm cup in her hands, Tori took a sip. She closed her eyes as she headed toward the door and waited to see if the caffeine would kick in. Instead, something else happened. The woman tripped over her feet. Her eyes opened wide and the liquid from her cup spilled all over herself and the table that the nervous bloke was sitting at.

”I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed.

All of a sudden her confidence was gone. The woman who’d entered was not the woman who was now frantically begging for this man’s forgiveness. She seemed to have shrunk and the struggling girl who was literally dying inside was showing. Maybe there actually is more to things than meets the eye.

[[hope you don't mind me joining. I was gonna start a thread in the cafe too, but then I saw this one and just altered my post a little ]]

Tori had been taken advantage of many times in her life. Worse yet the person who was supposed to care for her, who'd chosen to bring her into his life, was the one who'd taken her body so selfishly before she'd even reached a respectable age. In many ways these events have shaped and moulded Tori into the woman we see today. The composed barrier, the seemingly outgoing behavoir all a result of many horrifying events. Unique, maybe, strange definitely, but never exactly perfect.

Tori is a very different person. Everything about her goes against our vision of the average young woman. Her features and styles are all outstanding and even things as simple as the way she carries herself are enough to make her stand out in a crowd. The most dominant difference is that Tori is a free thinker, more so than many people. This is definitely one of the results of her traumatic past, something that made her take more control over herself and instead of scaring her making her aware that she needs to be more confident in what she says and thinks. That being said she rarely lacks in confidents these days and has never failed to communicate to certain men that they are utterly most disgusting vermen of the world.

She lived by a phrase not a few years ago that stated clearly and bluntly that guys with mustaches are all manwhores. Of course she eventually grew out of that, the phrase being not only untrue but also childish. However she's never really been able to appreciate men. Yet, her behind the scenes job is a prostitute. How does this justify her goal to have more control over what happens to her. The act of mindlessly selling her body for a few buck is definately not a normal person's idea of control, especially when she clearly has other options. The answer, however, is simple. Tori tells herself many a time that what happens to her in the middle of the night she's allowed. The idea makes the situation better but for no longer than a few hours.

Still, Tori can't be swayed. Or, at least, she rarely let's anyone sway her. Her descicions are usually ultimately hers and not the most persuasive sales person, con artist, or whatever can make her changer her mind. In fact, Tori can rarely make herself changer her mind. Not only are her descisions hers and hers only, they are most often final. Although the girl appears pixilike and slightly simple this doesn't take away from her feirceness and determination she contains on the inside. Yes, this is the girl her past has made her out to be, but this is not the girl that was standing in front of a certain fine bloke with coffee in his lap.

The desicion Tori had made, the one that said she would not be having coffee, was not life changing, but was seemingly final all the same. However, it was also seemingly polite. Not fierce, not angry, simply a desicion to walk out of the cafe. The person standing at the table at the percise moment was still smiling, still offering her best, and still hating cafes even more than she had when she'd walked in.

When Tori felt a hand on her shoulder she instantly stopped coughing and raised her hand to meet the man's. However, by the time she reached her should the hand was gone. She crossed her arm over her breasts and held her shoulder where the hand had been not five seconds prior. "Me? she asked when asked if she was alright. Of course her who else? "Yeah, I'm fine." Her voice was still rough and she was still holding back coughs. She shook her head a little and her smile dropped ever so slightly, but she made a point not to dampen the already awkward slightly dimsal mood.

At the comment about odd women in men's clothing stores Tori had to smirk. If only he'd known. It didn't matter to her what anyone thought. She was an odd sight anywhere she went and she knew it. Being seen in a men's clothing store wouldn't have been in stranger than seeing her at an opera house. Or even this petty cafe. "I'm a bit of an odd person to begin with" she said with a chuckle. With that last bit of information Tori was about to say her goodbyes, the desicion to leave still dominant in her head. But something, some unknown force swayed her unwillingly and she found herself sliding into the seat across from the man and removing her hat saying "I actually prefer tea." Not so fierce all the time now are we?

Everyone needs something to hold onto. And I don't mean like a security blanket or something, we're not five years old here. I mean, there's got to be something in life that just keeps us going. If there's nothing to keep us going then what are we living here for? Would it even be possible? If you ask me everyone needs something, and everyone has something wheather they admit it or not. Wheather it's a memory, or a family ehrloom or a photograph or something every one has that one thing that keeps them going all through life. Even people like tori, so confident and courages in the constant war of life, have things that just get them through it. We're not super humans here.

Tori has almost no memory of her past before her past. Sorry, Tori as absolultely no memory of life with her real parents before she was found with a bleeding head. This could either be a good thing or a bad thing. I mean, I'm sure not knowing your parents and stuff makes you have a bit of an emotional disconnection or something, but in the end who really wants to remember a band of dirty no good rotton stealing drinking gypsies...? Don't answer that. I'm sure it sounds fun, but if you're going to get thrown out of a tree by your own dad I don't think you'd be that into it. That being said, there was nothing about her real family that Tori had to hold onto.

Tori always wore combat boots. It like a rule. She wore them, as she did sitting in front of a certain someone she'd just spilt a hot liquid substance on, everywhere she went. And I mean everywhere. Formal events, performances, casual wear. She always wore her combat boots. Sure, they didn't always match her outfit, but, I mean, does it really matter that much? In truth, Tori felt very attached to the boots. They reminded her of her brother. She'd worried over him going to war and even though she'd lost all contact with the boy she wore the boots, just in case they ran into each other maybe he'd recognize the boots and feel compelled to stay in New York with Tori.

Tori's brother, the only brother she ever had, had never been very nice to Tori. Hell! They weren't even blood related, why would he need to treat her like a sister? Good question, wrong answer. In the end shouldn't we all just treat each other with an equal emount of common curtosy and all that jazz? Anyways, it doesn't matter because in the end by the time her brother left for the military he still hadn't been very nice to Tori. But Tori, bless her little heart, had always liked him as a brother. She liked the idea of family of her age, or family of any sort really at this point. So she held onto his boots and wished upon every shooting star that her brother come home safely. At this point Tori had been wearing those combat boots for years.

However, as you might guess, although Tori chose to hang on to those combat boots, she didn't hang on to grudges. She was clearly ok with wearing memories of a brother who didn't like her, and she hoped the best for most everyone. Of course, she did have that weird thing against the men with moustaches... but hey, i guess there's always something. But that's not the point. The point is that being called odd in any moment in her life was the least of her problems. It wouldn't do her any good to hang on to the little things like that. Before you know it the negative things would build up and eventually weigh her down, so there was no resentment in her face when she looked up at the man apologizing for calling her odd. He was easily forgiven, not to mention, he didn't have a moustache.

"What?" Tori quirked an eyebrow. "You think I'm offended?" she laughed a little. "Being odd's nothing to worry about. If anything it's the best compliment in the book. Besides" she leaned back into her seat a little, crossing her legs under the table, "I cam to New York looking for something a 'bit odd'" she used his words. "Looks like I found it." She was referring to what he said about 'himself being a bit odd.' To show she was only kidding, just in case sh'ed offended Tori winked her left eye. "No pressure." With the last words, she coughed a little. Equally as rough as the last one but not quite so long, and after it all she still managed to offer a smile.

From her slouched position leaning against the back of her seat Tori observed the man as he ordered her tea. He seemed polite, kindly, but always a bit nervous about something. She wondered if the sky was about to fall and instinctively looked up. She searched up for any sign of falling sky, but the ceiling was blocking her view. So she averted her eyes back down until she met the man's gaze. In the background water was boiling, feet were moving, and outside she thought she heard the sky cracking but at that moment she really couldn't have cared less.

"I'm Tori, by the way." she said suddenly, sitting upright again and offering her right hand. Thin, boney, with long fingers, but nails bitten down to the quick. "I don't bite, honestly." she flashed the still nameless man a quick, toothy grin, revealing all of her crooked english teeth.

[[you don't suck. besides, writing should always be about the quality, not the quantity. ^^]]