Setting: Slice of Life, R for possible language

[grim_poet]

[there's a very tall, bespectacled man folded up at a table in the corner of the cafe you find yourself in. he looks like a stiff breeze would probably send him flying off into the sunset, and he's staring off into the distance, intently, a stub of gnawed pencil hovering in one hand over a battered notebook.

after a moment, he turns his head sharply and looks directly at you, as though he's been talking to you for hours, and you already know each other. you totally don't.]

Is 'aubergine' too elite an adjective, do you think? Normally I trust my own judgement, but I'm really not sure.

((A/N: Simon here is a poet who tends to write about controversial things. If there are any issues that you would rather NOT come up in the conversation, please note them in your tag header. For the most part, I will keep the details of his writing generic so as not to trigger anyone. As in his canon, it's not the end product that matters so much as the reactions to it and the things that inspire.))

Comments

[downplaying]

[Claude stops in his tracks when Simon addresses him, the coffee in his cup splashing about, dangerously close to the rim. Even so, he seems to consider the question seriously. Finally, after a few seconds, he moves around the table to sit down opposite of Simon - as if the question itself has served as an invitation to join the other man. Putting the cup of coffee aside, Claude leans back in his seat. Comfortably. The subtle art of wording is familiar territory, even if the man he's talking to is completely unknown to him.]

I'd say it depends on what you're trying to describe.

[just_echoes]

[The petite brunette stops, hesitating briefly before turning her head towards the man who'd spoken. The 48 personalities in her head cycle like a Rolodex of lives, each agreeing that they did not know the stranger... and each with varying opinions on the proper use of the word aubergine (as well as a handful who simply had no idea what the word meant). She closes her eyes for the few brief seconds it takes, shoving down the slight dizziness that always accompanies this process. Opening her eyes she smiles]

In some cases it might be, but as long as the reader will understand what you mean and it fits the context of the writing [she shrugs] why not?

[dancingonapin]

[Aziraphale visibly jumps in surprise at being so suddenly addressed. He looks around in confusion, as though to find the true person who was supposed to receive that question. Then, failing to find them, he responds with an altogether uncertain tone, clearly not used to talking to strangers out of the blue.]

I beg your pardon... But you're asking me for advice on what sort of adjective you ought to be using?

[The very idea that some stranger would address him out of nowhere while he was just trying to enjoy a strong cup of tea and the morning crossword seemed unfathomable to him, as though he'd thought of himself as completely invisible to the world at large.]

[useofcuriosity]

[Stiles had been pretty focused on his coffee, honestly. And the waitress having an argument with the manager in the kitchen. But mostly his coffee. Still. People talking to him. It's a thing. Happening.]

Oh, I don't know. You could probably go more elite. Solanaceous.