[color=gray][indent][right][h1][color=9d362f]Zeltzin Sandoval[/color][/h1][/right][right][sub][hr][color=9d362f]Mentions:[/color] Everyone  [color=9d362f]Location:[/color] Quintin Streets > Webb Family Coffee House[/sub][/right][hr]
[/indent][indent]Zeltzin was far from stranger to the humid heat of the south. In fact, due to living only an hour or two away, the journey to Quintin was not that long a one. She [i]had[/i] lived most her life in Texas, but was known to romp over to Louisiana for a good time in the past. A past that seemed.. so long ago, now. But nevertheless, her acclimation to the climate carried on strong. Honestly though, the climate didn't matter to her, as long as she's atop a sleek iron steed, the ride was all she thought about -- well, except today.

Today was different. [i]Eleanor[/i] was all she could think about. Admittedly, she already thought about Eleanor a lot - how couldn't she? Eleanor changed her life for the better in the most literal senses. But despite the harsh outlook she held, she felt.. vulnerable. She was looking for Eleanor [i]again[/i].

Zeltzin made an attempt to expel such vulnerabilities from her mind, shaking her head before she peered forward through her bike helmet once again. Her gaze met what one could [i]suppose[/i] was a [i]"Welcome to Quintin"[/i] sign - though it really did little to welcome many. But such was standard fare for many small towns in the south, she had come to learn. The speedometer in front of her slowly began to wind down as she decelerated, drawing closer to the streets of Quintin.

It didn't take too long for her to find the meetup spot. A place labeled "Webb Family Coffee House". Zeltzin drew to a slow halt, the black sportbike beneath her calming to a dulcified purr as she gazed through the windowfront. Place seemed quaint - fitting for a small town, but maybe one that was a bit less swampy. She continued surveying the inside of the shop, noticing a gathering beginning to build up at a large table - it seemed she was just a [i]tad[/i] late, but not everyone was settled in yet. She dismounted her bike as she turned her attention away from the window, holding back a grimace as she pulled her right leg over the bike. It'd been quite a time since she'd stayed bike-bound for more than an hour at a time - not exactly the most comfortable for her. 

She shook off the inconvenience as she tugged the helmet off her head, oblivious to any weird looks she might've been the recipient of. She was mostly used to weird looks in these sorts of towns - they usually didn't harbor many sportbike enthusiasts - especially not in areas as swampy as Quentin. She hung her helmet off one of the handlebars as she tucked the key into her pocket, turning towards the coffee shop as thoughts of Eleanor started to amass in her head again. Her face developed an irked, but equally hesitant appearance as her limped gait stopped just outside the door. Part of her was trying to reason that if there were any way to find Eleanor, she would've found her already - but a much stronger part would take any opportunity to at least [i]try[/i], no matter how unlikely success was.

Her body moved to pry the door open before she had even decided - and she took her cue to step inside.

The group whom seemed to be who she was looking for was just starting to introduce themselves. They were a curiously distinct bunch - but what could you really expect if you collected a handful of people from wherever-the-fuck. Her eyes scanned the area shortly before she stole the closest chair from a nearby table, dragging it into a spot where she could still listen, and feasibly "participate", while still retaining a clear meter or two of personal space. She angled the chair before gracelessly planting herself in it more heavily than one would expect.

If she was being truly honest with herself, she didn't expect any of these strangers to know what they were talking about. Even as they spoke, she barely managed to hold back a scowl - they had everything wrong. Not a thing they were talking about matched the Eleanor Black she had known.

Zeltzin relegated herself to just listening, for now - as was modus operandi for her. She often made more soured-acquaintances than friends when she spoke, so it seemed wise to remain quiet. At least until she was spoken to directly.
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