It was 12 pm on a friday when Daisy was practically on her hands and knees, begging for Jemma to come with her to the annual fair hosted in their town- before the girl finally agreed, more for Daisy's personal health if anything. It took less than even fifteen minutes for her to get ready, and the thought that it was her fourth year attending in a row didn't not cross Jemma's mind. The annual fair was known mostly for the unconcious matchmaking it had done over the years. Countless married couples who she knew now had met when they were around her age at the same fair, and Jemma cringed at her past self as she remembered how she had listened to Daisy and gone to the fair for the very first time solely for that reason.
(Thankfully,) Jemma had not met her future soulmate there yet, and that evening had turned out to be just a fun ladies' night with her and her roommate. And although they might have gotten quite drunk that time, and ended up with matching tattoos- she didn't think she particularly minded. After all, it had only brought them closer.
It was almost 1 pm by the time she and Daisy actually locked their apartment, and left their home, because they had to stop again, as Daisy checked if she had brought everything she needed with her, but Jemma wasn't sure it actually lasted as long as she thought it did. They also spent an extra five minutes waiting for a cab, before Daisy muttered 'screw it' and told Jemma they were walking there instead.
When they finally reached the fair at 1:10, it was no surprise that both the girls went immediately to the huge piece of cardboard she knew that they put every year. There was a lady wearing a shirt with some happy quote promoting the fair who was handing out markers, but her expression and body language proved completely otherwise. She grabbed the darkest marker she could see in the packet, however, and gave the lady the brightest smile she could manage. The lady replied by turning away with a roll of her eyes.
"Oh." Jemma said, and Daisy didn't bother with politeness as she laughed out loud. Jemma was saved from replying to her as the other girl grabbed a marker and joined her where she stood on the left side of the board as well. There weren't too many people, since it was a workday afternoon, and everyone who had a life was actually living it. But thankfully, neither Jemma nor Daisy fell into that category and found enough free time to scrawl meaningless messages on a piece of cardboard in the middle of the afternoon heat. It was fun, though.
It was 1:45 in the afternoon, when Jemma asked her friend, "What else do I even write?" after looking at the bi pride flag she had drawn on the left side of the space that she had, along with countless other messages that she would probably regret but currently thought were hilarious.
"I don't know." Daisy admitted, not looking up from whatever detailed drawing she was doing. "'Deez nuts' someone maybe?" Then she finally looked up, "I was joking about that... mostly."
Jemma rolled her eyes, but wrote it a little distance away from her flag anyway. Daisy gave a fake gasp of offense, but smirked. Jemma just took a step back to admire her work, with a proud smile.
It was 2 pm when Jemma suggested to check out some of the other stalls. There were more people starting to gather around the board and grab their own markers, and she didn't think she wanted to be in a really crowded place anymore.
"Yeah, okay," Daisy agreed, "I'm almost done with my drawing too."
It was 2:15 pm, when Daisy and Jemma found a stall where they could pay to make their own soap. Which both of them found hilarious, for some reason, and agreed to pay ten dollars for (Jemma did find that extremely overpriced, but, hey, it seemed like it was fun). It was 2:45 pm when they let their soaps dry with some very fancy name tags to show it was theirs, and decided to look for restaurants to eat.
It was 3 pm when they decided to go back to the board because there was an almost hour-long line in front of the restaurant they always went to and always loved eating at. Daisy didn't even bother checking her previous messages for any comments before doodling some daisies ("it's a great pun, plus they won't figure out who did it." She always said, trying to explain her joke.), but Jemma first decided to see her 'deez nuts' message, because she had a feeling atleast one person might;ve seen it.
She was right.
I wish there was an option to block you in real life, the person had scribbled. The last few words tilted away from the rest, and the person's handwriting was VERY messy.
It looks like you'll have to stick to never communicating, seeing my face, or knowing my name ever. She replied. She had meant for the message to be sarcastic, and maybe mildly offensive- but it just seemed like the latter to her now that she had reread it a few times. Oh well, the other party would have to understand that that was a joke now, although the chances of them even seeing it were less.
It was 3:15 when Daisy excused herself, and said she had to go home and prepare for an important test she had the next day. Jemma knew that if she went home now too, she would get extremely bored, and decided to stay back at the fair for a while longer. She wasn't exactly sure what she would do without her best friend, but she figured that she could always just go home after a half-hour or so.
It was 3:50 pm when Jemma had scrawled her seventeenth message on the cardboard display. The person who had replied to her first message had come and left another one for her, which she saw at 3:17, and replied to at 3:19- and then they replied to her reply to their reply to her reply to their reply on her message. Which she was replying to now.
well, thank god for atleast THAT
thank the people who organised the fair, I think that was the whole purpose of this board
what? nameless comunication
well, not really, but pretty much
Jemma returned her marker to the grumpy lady who was still giving her disaproving looks, and then realised that she hadn't had lunch and needed to find someplace to eat if she didn't want to starve to death anytime soon. Thankfully, there was a stall selling waffles only a little away from where she was standing, and she quickly ordered a waffle that seemed like it would taste good. It did.
The place was jam-packed. There were no seats in the air-conditioned area inside the waffle store (behind the stall), and even the hastily arranged benches outside were almost full. It took Jemma almost five minutes to find a place to sit. The sun was already unbearable, and with the cream on her waffle melting and falling into her hands while she was squeezed into a small seat- she was getting very, very annoyed.
That's why, when someone sat down next to her with a plain waffle covered only in butter, she couldn't stop herself from saying,
"Really? Only honey butter?"
He was about to eat his waffle, but instead turned to her and raised his eyebrows. Jemma nodded in apology, and continued eating her own waffle.
"You're talking about my waffle, have you seen yours?" The person finally said, after Jemma was sure that he had forgotten and the moment had passed, "there's so many toppings- they're literally falling off."
"No, that's just the heat!" Jemma quickly protested, "The whipped cream has just melted, so the other toppings are falling off too."
"If the whipped cream had melted, I doubt you would still be able to eat your waffle." The boy said, in a matter-of-fact tone, "It will also be spoilt then, and you would fall extremely sick."
"I'm pretty sure that there's nothing like that that happens." Jemma countered, although she was very very not sure about if anything like that happened.
"Well, cream and milk are both generally ruined by heat. Boiling milk destroys it, and I'm pretty sure that whipped cream- which I think is made of milk- will not be able to melt and not be spoiled either." He argued.
"Well-" Jemma could not think of anything more to say, "Do you have a... have a PHD in the art of bakery or something? How are you even so sure of this?"
"Engineering, actually." He said, taking another bite of his waffle, "Although in moments like this, when I'm arguing about whipped cream, it feels like I have wasted my education."
"As long as you have a job, am I right?"
"Agreed."
The conversation ended there, after a piece of an Oreo cookie fell off of Jemma's waffle, and she had to grab a tissue to clean up her hands which were covered in whipped cream. By the time she had finished her waffle, the guy had already left a long time ago and Jemma seemed to realise that he said he had a degree in Engineering.
She had been working on a model of some sort of non-lethal gun for a year or so now, and she was stuck on the final level of the process. Where she had to design a bullet that was capable of holding the solution of Dendrotoxin she had come up with, that could instantly paralyze its victim without permanently harming them. Obviously, she had never actually been able to test it out, given that she wasn't able to design the bullet, so many changes might be made later, but this was her theory.
She was already mentally scolding herself for not realising and taking the opportunity sooner, but she doubted she could find him again when the fair was so crowded and there was a chance he might have already gone home too.
Finishing her waffle, Jemma finally settled on that conclusion. There was no point trying to look for him now, she should probably head home as well. It was 4:45 now, and Daisy would also be waiting for her friend. There was no point in worrying her. She would just check the board again once, then she would definitely leave. No more distractions.
what does that even mean?
The handwriting was messier this time, and much bigger. And then in much bigger handwriting below it, it read 'yes, I'm writing in large letters so you have no more space.'
Jemma could only huff, and grab a marker again from the mean lady in the happy t-shirt, and kneel down so she could write on the absolute bottom of the board.
I find it hard to believe you didn't notice the half of the board left under the space of your note.
She had to scribble that message, her handwriting so tiny she doubted the person could even read it. When she got up, though, she was satisfied. The message was small enough to fit in the tiny space, but big enough to not go unnoticed. She stepped aside after that, admiring her message from a distance and also going to return the marker, when the waffle guy returned.
She actually took a few seconds to process that fact, and when she finally came to her sense and decided to say something, she noticed the message he was looking at. He had crouched down a little to read it, and after he had succesfully read it, he turned to his friend.
"How did they even manage to write in that space?"
"I don't know, mate." His friend replied, already looking done with him, "You've returned to this board seven times now in just the last two hours, just in case you weren't counting, I doubt they're any less determined than you."
"That's actually a good point." He said, and turned to the lady to grab a marker. She looked like she wanted to say something really mean, but decided against it. She decided to say something, after all.
"Oh, you don't even have to borrow another marker, the girl's right there." She said, pointing straight to Jemma. And he turned to her.
So this is what betrayal feels like was Jemma's first thought. She knew that the marker lady didn't exactly adore her, but she thought that she didn't hate her that much either. Both the parties were very quiet for a while, before waffle guy seemed to come to his senses too. His friend just sighed, rolled his eyes, and pulled out his phone, starting to text someone rapidly.
"So you're the culprit." was the first thing he said, and Jemma narrowed her eyes. She already had a thousand points ready about how he was the one who first replied to her message anyway, but instead all she could say was-
"You're the waffle guy."
"Technically, you started that conversation, so-"
"Well, you replied to my message first over here so, that shouldn't even be an argument." She said, then shook her head, and quickly changed the subject. "I was actually looking for you."
"Why?"
"Well, you had said you had a degree in Engineering, right?"
"Well, yeah." He said, looking pretty confused. Who could even blame him?
"Okay, hello." She said, walking towards him, "I'm Jemma Simmons, biochem. I was working on this design of a non-lethal gun, and I needed someone who specialises in Engineering to help with designing a prototype for a bullet that can hold it. I was wondering if you'd help me, also, it's absolutely fine if you refuse."
"I-" He paused again. "Well, firstly, I'm Leopold Fitz, Engineering." He held out his hand, and she shook it. "And I would love to help with the design, that acrually sounds like a really unique idea."
Jemma couldn't stop herself from beaming. "Great."
"What do you have so far?"