The smells where lovely. She could almost taste the coffee without paying for it. But she was tasting the smell, not the bitter liquid which she had not the pallete for. Instead she indulged herself with an almond croissante on a plain white plate. Although she'd indulged herself, it remains untouched. Nattie prefered leaving the pretty pastry as it was, almonds and sugar dusting and sticky sweetness making an oddly artistic view. She wished she had a camera, she could take a picture and become a famous photographer. People would see the way the crossainte was a metaphor for life, for love, for something Nattie's own mind couldn't quite grasp.
Suddenly she felt dissapointed in the croissante, who failed to be a metaphor for anything. To punish it, she picked it up and ate it quickly. Satisfied, Nattie leaned back in her chair, balancing it on the two back legs and closed her eyes dreamily. It had been a good day. Skin had a cold and wasn't up to doing much, she'd even let Nattie have more say in what happened during the day. Of course, some did not equal all and it only left her thristing for more. It was during these thoughts that the back legs of the chair slid too far and things clattered. Nattie clattered to the floor as did the chair.
She sat there, sugar dust still on her lips, betraying her crime of eating the artsy crossainte. A slow blink as she got over the small shock. Nattie would've liked to stay there, it gave one a neat perspective on the world. Her mind certainly worked in an odd way, but she showed no outward sign of her mental issues. Well, not much of an outward sign. However, Skin was in no mood to look like a fool and so picked herself up, set the chair right and begun about dusting off dust that couldn't have possibly made it onto her from the ten seconds she'd spent on the floor. She grumbled to herself, curing the flimsy chair went it had been her fault. Nattie cursed herself for being such a klutz.
Although it was remarkable how no one had even bothered to ask after her well being. She'd just toppled over, something could be broken , did no one care?
No, no one probably did.

Kendra would have asked after her. Alas, though her brother inherited the ability to levitate, her DNA had failed to procure the skill of making herself heard through brick and glass. It wasn't fun to be overlooked, besides that looked like it had hurt.

What Kendra was able to do, though, was walk into the shop. A ching from the door announced her arrival. The coffee makers behind the counters whipped their heads in her direction and their hunger for more tips was almost tangible. Kendra almost wanted to hit it.

"You alright?" See? Someone did care, "That was a nasty spill. Care for a wetnap?" Because you never really know when they might come in handy.

Nattie stared stupidly at the girl for a moment. A wetnap? Did she have something on her face? She raised a hand to her lips and wiped with the back of it. Powdered sugar now stained the hand. Ah. "I think I bruised my head. And my suave appeal." The latter was a joke, she even put in a weak smile to prove it.
"Thanks for asking." Having a stranger be concerned was a pleasant feeling. Even Skin was mildly mollified.

Which was a miracle in itself, because hardly anything that appeased Nattie did the same for Skin. Skin would almost always chose the opposite, if just to prove that she was nothing like Nattie. Which was naturally true in most cases.

That was nice because sometimes Kendra went so far as to think of herself as a likable person. She'd be super impressed with herself if she'd managed to make two people like her with a sentence or two.

"Well, let's trust that the bruising isn't permanent," wahoo, she'd used the word 'trust' in a neat way, "It's no trouble. So you're alright then?" Kendra would probably find a polite way to extract herself soon, especially if the conversation got awkward.

To tell the truth she hadn't planned on being out for long, just a quick trip to her favourite bakery and back (she hadn't been yet). Hence the overlarge t-shirt, ratty jeans and flip flops she was wearing. She didn't even try with her way-curly hair this morning, either, just threw it into a bun, stuck in a few bobby pins and left. She didn't really care what anyone thought about it but she almost looked gross and Kendra did care about that. Oh well, it was comfortable anyway.

Skin was never one to go out looking ratty, even with a cold. So even if her face looked unsually dour, she was wearing nice, clean clothing. If Skin had been feeling well enough, this stranger would've gone running. Instead, Nattie was surfacing, and it was her who had nice words fot the kind girl.
Rubbing her head to check for an unsightly bump, she shook her head.

"Naw. I'll get over it. I'm Nattie." She held out the hand that wasn't on bump-detail to be shook.

"And I'm alright. Although my face in this cafe again doesn't seem liking." Some patrons where still shooting her bemused looks and a group of teens in the back had snorted with laughter. Oh well.

Skin shouldn't be so quick to assume that everyone she meets is spineless. Kendra had plenty of her own experience with boorish people, she'd learned how to handle herself well enough.

"Good to meet you, call me Kendra," she grabbed the hand and shook, even while noticing the giggles in the background.

"You shouldn't let that stop you from coming back. Just because some people have enough emotional constipation to rival a public toilet," this was said with an obviously raised voice and an accusing glare directed at the back table, "doesn't mean that you have to stop going where you want to. Eleanor Roosevelt said it best, don't let someone else tell you how to feel."

In a minute or two, Kendra will kick herself for sounding like Dr. Phil.

Nattie smiled widely. "You're right." Although it didn't mean she'd be coming back. Perhaps it was Skin who hated looking the fool, but Nattie was rather sure it was herself and her own insecurity. It was rather hard to distinguish between the two sometimes. Only sometimes.

But those times scared her, she took it to mean that she was becoming more like Skin, that soon enough there would be no difference at all.
But now was not the time for self-psycho analysis.

"Let me buy you a coffee? To go?" Not because she was completly agaisnt staying, but outdoors seemed nice, and Kendra had only walked in to help her, or atleast, that's what she thought.

Maybe she was being incredibly self involved.

A quick hop and Kendra was off the soapbox. She probably hadn't needed to get on it in the first place. Though perhaps, the thought occurred, someone had taken her words to heart. It didn't really matter who.

Kendra's taste in coffee ran toward the highly sweetened, altered, creamed, and flavored variety. More often than not, the liquid was perfect the moment it matched her skin tone. She always put something extra in it. But it was rare for her to have access to coffee of such high caliber, her recent experiences limited to the instant supply her roommate at school kept on hand. If there was such a thing as karma, Kendra was glad that it seemed to be working.

"That would be lovely, Nattie, thank you."

That was true--had Nattie not taken that spill, Kendra would have continued walking. As poetic as it would sound, she did not spend her free days wandering about the city alone. That was asking for trouble. When she did venture out on her own, she nearly always had a purpose in mind.