Survival Of The Fittest

"Yeah... Definitely." Lloyd said, pointing towards his iced tea. Katherine didn't know what he meant for a second, but she guessed he might of listened in on her last comments towards the bartender. That or she wasn't using her inside voice. The guy paused for a minute, thinking of something to say, and at that point Katherine took the spare moments to raise the glass to her lips and let the vodka and orange juice pour into her mouth. She swirled it around her tounge, savouring the flavour.

"So, do you listen to any music?" Lloyd asked, mid-drink. Katherine thought for a second, then hurriedly gulped down her cocktail. She thought again for a moment or two, this Lloyd guy looked like the sort of person who listened to Coldplay. If she came up with something like 'I love some of the music by Britney Spears' she'd kill the conversation outright, as true as that comment would of been. She thought harder, and could feel the seconds ticking away until Lloyd would say that he hadn't meant to stub her. Just looking at the guy she knew their tastes would clash in the sort of way a 1958 Plymouth Fury would ram a dodge through a guard rail.

Disney music? No. Miley Cyrus? Definitely no. Pussycat Dolls? Nooooo. Damien Rice? Maybe. Celine Dion? No no no. Rent? No. Pixie Lott? NO.

Even the song she chose on the jukebox wasn't worth mentioning, she only liked the sound of the title. "I really like Coldplay!" She lied.

"Seriously? Me too." Lloyd smiled at the belief that they had found something in common, even if it was just a rock band they liked. Katherine's intuition had proven correct, or at least partly so. Truth to be told, Lloyd really didn't hold any loyalty towards any particular bands; most of the songs he heard on a regular basis were merely tunes he stumbled upon while browsing websites or listening to the radio. However, he was still glad that Katherine had at least chosen a band he could actually talk about (And enjoy doing so).

Getting asked about what music he liked was actually not a very welcome occurrence for Lloyd. If there was one thing he could honestly say he hated, it was when people asked him to stop listening to music so he could enjoy hearing them ask what it was instead (This was a very common sight, considering his penchant for wearing headphones). He was glad that Katherine didn't seem to share his opposition to the question, as well as the fact that it had, for once, proven useful to him.

"I listen to them pretty often. Actually, I do the same for a good deal of alternative bands." Now it was Lloyd's turn to lie. He felt confident enough in his general knowledge of music that he could answer most of the questions Katherine could throw at him, and so decided to keep the subject of music going so the conversation would not die again.

"I listen to them pretty often. Actually, I do the same for a good deal of alternative bands." Lloyd said, and that was it.

Katherine had gotten the impression he was going to follow that up with something, but he didn't. Maybe it was her turn to speak, but to be honest that wasn't made abundantly clear. Maybe Lloyd wanted her to quiz him on Coldplay, or the Alternative genre. She wouldn't, because she didn't know the first thing about either of those apart from they were all angsty stoners.

In a way she relieved, even with a silence as uncomfortable as this. A moment or two after saying she liked Coldplay she thought Lloyd might ask her about them. She would of sat there quiet and awkward until revealing that she was actually a fan of Hannah Montana.

She breathed in, and the air rasped down her dry throat. She picked up her cocktail glass and took another swig of the Screwdriver. She bat her eyelids and stared down at the table, before setting the glass back down.

"So um...what do you watch on...TV?" She asked, and tapped her fingers against the table. Nobody watches television any more you big dummy.

((OOC: Sorry about the delay. Was somewhat busy for a few days.))

Lloyd witnessed Katherine formulate a question of her own, this time regarding the subject of television. Unfortunately, this was one pastime he did not take part in very often. Sure, he would occasionally watch television for an hour or two, but this was usually when there was absolutely nothing else that could hold his attention. Ignoring the details, Lloyd decided that his limited experience with television was enough to warrant an affirmative answer. The topic of music had been forgotten by him, but the quick transition to this new one made Lloyd wonder if he was not the only having trouble keeping the conversation alive.

"Yeah, I do." Lloyd said, the fact that he did not consider this a lie helping him avoid any signs of nervousness. However, he quickly realized that he would be unable to carry a conversation about television if it extended any further, so he decided to clarify. "Not much, though. I mean, I don't keep up with any series or anything. Do you?" The last inquiry said with the intention of allowing Katherine a response.

"Oh." Katherine said, she thought for a moment or two before saying. "I really like scrubs, that will NEVER end."

Her fingers were tapping against her glass which held the last bit of her cocktail, swilling around at the bottom. She was thinking once more, ready to relay. She was gonna ask him if he'd ever watched Ugly Betty, but that would be a solid no. She felt something vibrate against her navel, through the fabric of her denim jacket and fitted shirt. She slid her hand in, and pulled out her cell.

Her face illuminated by the dull blue grow being emitted from the screen, and her fingers tapped against the buttons. She read a text sent from her mothers phone. Her older sister was coming home for the weekend, joy. This hadn't been planned earlier, and her parents preferred things to be prim and proper, documented and in order. So when the favourite child suddenly stated they would jump in on whatever plans had been formed by the remainder of the Daramour family without asking first, it went by without a stir from tight lipped Mom and Dad.

Even though her mothers texts were devoid of any emotion, this one seemed to be, almost as if it was showing Katherine that her mother was happy. She shut her phone, and slid it back into her pockets. She stared down into her glass, then looked back up at Lloyd.

"Sorry, gotta go." She said in a dull voice, and slid out of the booth. The clacks of her heels faded, replaced by the sound of bar banter and jukebox rock and roll as she headed to the door and left.

(Katherine Daramour continued elsewhere)