Yea, I know, I'm kinda obsessed right now 
I've never really written anything like this before, so feedback and criticism is very much appreciated
This excerpt is set in Los Angeles in the early 90's. Anyways, not to much sneezing yet (Sorry! 
) but there will be more later on. Also, a thousand thanks to all the nice people who commented on my drabble thread
It really does mean a lot to me! 'hugs everyone'Enjoy!
She lit the cigarette and watched as the flame on the end turned a dusky orange in the fading sunset before flaring down to a greasy ash. She inhaled and a cool breeze came by, swirling her exhaled smoke in wayward half-spirals down the street and causing the ash to skitter fearfully down the sidewalk, twining about and occasionally sticking to the odd passerby’s leg.
She took another drag and situated herself on the concrete stoop she was currently inhabiting. She never knew much of people, those she came in contact with were all blurred faces and passing acquaintances. She would watch them as they huddled along in variously colored swaths of clothing, dressed for winter, to whatever destination they were trying to reach
She was sitting on the concrete steps next to The Camel, a small, hole-in-the-wall kind of bar filled with the (in her opinion) bizarre artwork of up and coming young artists. A western style awning shadowed the doorway to the bar, a simple string of lights complimenting it. A pink, neon OPEN sign hung on a plastic suction cup in its window.
She huddled deeper within the recesses of her gray hoodie, feeling the sting of the wind as it grew both darker and colder outside in the fading twilight. Wrapping her arms around her small frame for warmth, she looked over to the entrance of the bar. She perked her head up after hearing what sounded like an argument taking place within the bar’s insulated walls. Grabbing hold of the iron-wrought bars that snaked up the stoop, excited that she might get to witness an actual bar fight, she raised herself up slightly so she could have a full view of The Camel’s entrance. The voices in the bar rose and she let out a strangled cry of surprise as a man stumbled/fell out the entrance and into the street, coughing.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell” the man hissed, coughing harshly again before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of Marlboro Lights. What‘s a British guy doing in Los Angeles, she thought, slinking deeper into the growing shadow that was encompassing her concrete haven so she could continue watching him without him knowing she was there.
She watched as he lit his cigarette with a silver Zippo lighter and walked a few steps nearer to her hideaway before leaning against the wall of the pawn shop next to the bar. He coughed, a tight, pained sound before taking a drag. Surprisingly, he didn’t cough again after inhaling the poisonous fumes, and instead began digging around in his jacket pocket. Her head jolted upward again after hearing the man’s breath hitch sharply and she felt her own breath stop as she watched his hand fly out of his pocket to loosely cover two wrenching sneezes.
“H’TSSsh’ue” “Hep!- HAEESHOO!”
She was shocked by the well, intensity, of his sneezes. She had always enjoyed female sneezes more so than male, but she was never one to completely ignore an attractive sneeze, regardless the gender, and before her mind could stop it, her mouth responded.
“Bless you!” she said, revealing her position on the now dark stoop. He colored slightly and sniffled wetly, looking over at her and slipping two fingers under his nose. “Thank you” he replied, somewhat muffled, due to what she now figured was the congestion that usually came with an impending cold.
They regarded each other in silence for a few minutes, interrupted only by his wet sniffles, until she could no longer bear the uncomfortable feeling of being in his presence without some kind of conversation. She bit her lip and turned to him suddenly. “Hey, got another cigarette?” she asked, trying not to sound too rushed, like she had practiced asking him that simple question in her head before actually doing so. She also wanted to hide the fact that she had more cigarettes in her pocket and that she had only asked him that as a way to initiate conversation.
He glanced over at her and wordlessly slid the Marlboros out of his pocket. He switched the Marlboros over to his left hand and frowned suddenly, reaching his right hand deeper into his jeans. She watched him rummage around a few moments more before extracting what looked like one of the napkins the bartender sets drinks on in The Camel, complete with watery condensation stains. “Found it!” he cried, and raised it up to his nose to blow. He lowered it suddenly and blushed. “Almosd forgod”, he said and opened the pack. He slid one out and extended the hand holding the cigarette. He stopped suddenly and pulled back. “Oi! How old are you?”, he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Eighteen”, she replied breezily.
“Liar”
“Please”, she replied, letting the cold wind burn a watery sheen over her blue eyes for emphasis.
He glanced up and down the street and then looked back at her. He sighed and began to hand her the cigarette. She reached for it and he pulled it just out of her grasp. “One condition”, he smiled, “you have to tell me your name.”
Now it was her turn to blush. “Verity” she said, “It means truth” she added, trying, apparently, to give him his fill of useless trivia for the day.
He smiled, “I’d offer to shake your hand but I’m kinda sick.”, he said, wrinkling his nose and then rubbing at it with the bar napkin.
“I kinda noticed.”, she replied. She blinked suddenly. “Hey, you never told me your name.”
“Tim. Just Tim. I’m afraid my name doesn’t have any real meaning to it.” He gave a short laugh, followed by a painful sounding cough.
“So, uh, what brings you to the lovely outskirts of Los Angeles and in such a warm part of the year?” She smirked, pressing herself closer to the stoop for shelter.
He gave a rueful smile and her body constricted as he raised the hand holding the bar napkin to his nose. “heeh…huuh-uh” He paused, hand hovering uncertainly over his nose uncertainly. He suddenly let out his breath and rubbed the napkin under his nose once again in an irritated fashion, which was probably contributing to his nostrils’ transition from a rosy pink to soft vermillion. “Ugh, hade when that happends. Cold weather always bakes me sdeezy. Thad’s pard of the reason I lefd London in the firsd place.”
I shall leave it off there...TBC?
I love her name and he sounds DELICIOUS. The writing is excellent and I'd be very interested in seeing the story and characters continue to develop.
I'm glad you enjoy my writing! 
