<div class="floatleft">(https://41.media.tumblr.com/23072486783f7573788656093f07461f/tumblr_nl79zdaiSw1rexg1uo1_500.jpg)</div>Name: Soren Magnus<br/>Occupation: Carpenter<br/>Time: Morning - 1st day A.E.<br/>Location: Granny's Diner<br/>Tagging: Lothar |Open<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>He glared after the sheriff as the man came in, fighting the urge to stand and follow the puffed-up mall cop to see just how important he though he was when his head was on backwards.  They both knew that citation had been utter nonsense, since his truck had been lovingly maintained under the hood, even if it looked a mess on the outside.<br/><br/>Putting the man out of his mind, Soren listened as he studied the menu and breathed deep of the scents that mingled pleasingly in the diner, letting the familiar bustle of the morning rush soothe his agitated nerves.  Coming to town always set him on edge, though it was pretty quiet and, some might say, sleepy compared to most places.  There were too many smells and few of them pleasant.  The chemicals in the perfumes, colognes, gums, hairsprays, body washes and cosmetics all seemed to grate at his senses, and the scent of car exhaust was sometimes strong enough to make him sneeze.  In the woods, the only smells were his own and those of nature, and his disdain for chemical-laden products kept his home a pleasing sanctuary from the eye-watering reek.  Now, thankfully, the less-pleasant scents were drown out by the mouth-watering aromas of cooking food.<br/><br/>Well, they had been.  He twitched and squinted as a particularly strong odor struck him through the tantalizing miasma, searing his nostrils and making him cough softly.  A glance told him what he already guessed, and he glowered slightly at the back of Chas's head.  The sickly aroma of his cologne, aftershave, hair products and whatever else he used to primp in the morning was far stronger than anyone else Soren had met.  He was certain the self-indulgent man spent so much time in front of the mirror every morning that his reflection was burned into the glass.  Soren shifted slightly, lifting his menu to hide his face once more, only to have it snatched out of his hands by his server.  He barely suppressed the growl that tried to rise in the back of his throat, knowing his annoyance wasn't really directed at the woman waiting to take his order, and, of course, that growling at people in public would only further alienate him from the rest of the town.<br/><br/>"Black coffee, six slices of bacon, four sausage links, five eggs over medium, four slices of whole wheat toast and a short stack of buttermilk pancakes with extra butter."  His voice was rolling thunder muffled beneath a silky layer of dark clouds, carrying through the room despite his habit of speaking quietly in an attempt to avoid attention.  He watched the waitress leave with his menu, unaware of the dismayed expression that came over his face at the realization that he now had nothing to pretend to focus on and deflect idle conversation.  His eyes shifted back to Chas as the man moved to a booth, the thunderclouds in his voice seeming to gather in his eyes as he watched the pompous jackass intrude upon Belle.  He lowered his gaze to his hands, folded awkwardly on the table now that they had nothing to hold onto, and he frowned as he noticed the dirt beneath his fingernails and in the creases of his knuckles.  Typically, he didn't care about such things, but for some reason now he felt embarrassed and hurriedly grabbed the glass of ice water to cram a handful of napkins in.  Water sloshed over the lip of the glass and spattered across the table, but he seemed not to notice as he tried to surreptitiously scrub the soil off his hands with the soggy wad of paper.<br/><br/>As he did, he listened to the conversation between Belle and Chas, a slight grin curling the corner of his severe mouth as the arrogant pest received his comeuppance, too focused on the mess he was making of the table and his napkins to glance over at the pair.  That was probably for the best, anyhow, since he typically reacted to the sight of Belle with utterly foolish behavior...like sitting at his table and scrubbing his hands with a disintegrating clump of napkins instead of going to the bathroom.  Seeing her talking to Chas, even to shoot him down, would probably lead to something especially silly, possibly even violent.  A rumble rose in his chest as the napkins fell apart in his hand and he reached to snatch another fistful from the metal holder.  His yank on the napkins resulted in the container rattling noisily across his table and tipping off the edge to clang loudly on the floor.  He stared at down at it with one wet napkin-adorned hand reaching out just short of plucking it back from the brink and the other hand raised over his head with a bouquet of dry napkins blossoming from his large fist.<br/><br/>He looked up quickly and around at the other patrons, feeling a flush trying to rise to his cheeks.  Rather than succumb to his chagrin, he growled loudly, no longer caring if they though him little more than an animal and avoided him out of fear, it was better than becoming a laughingstock.  He leaned to grab the napkin-holder off the floor and sat back up, glaring at his table as he used the dry napkins to wipe up the water and mess he'd made.  He refused to look up, convinced that everyone was smirking and snickering at the big, clumsy oaf; the mannerless wildman; the bumbling fool.