|Tea and Awkward|
|Location||Oddball Coffee - Mutant Town, NYC|
|Summary||Rosalie comes into Oddball for tea, gets a side order of awkward.|
A quiet evening at Oddball. It's Sunday. Coffee gets in the way of that pre-work sleeping.
Rosalie is waiting in line to order, wrapped up in a coat that is warmer than the weather calls for. Sometimes things get chilly around her, after all. She bites at her lip and studies the menu (despite the fact she's seen it dozens of times) as she waits, oblivious to the baristas.
Orianne has a relatively light shift today, inasmuch as she's not having to man two stations. (Perhaps it wasn't the wisest thing to allow management to realize she could double up on her own shifts via puppet.) She's able to focus on just the espresso machine, falling into a rhythm. Glance at the order, make it quickly, call out the name. Placing a cup on the counter, she calls out, "Mocha latte with an espresso shot, for Susan?"
Rosalie steps up to the corner, to quietly order a strawberry tea latte in a truly ridiculous size. She glances down the counter once, and then quickly looks away, blinking at the request for payment and then slowly summoning the pay program on her Eyes.
The cashier accepts the payment with a pleasant smile, clearly functioning on pure retail autopilot, and forwards the order on to Orianne. The woman behind the espresso machine glances at the order, and immediately sets to preparing the drink. Though she moves with the speed and ease of long practice, she's also clearly favoring her one arm; there's a faint hitch to her movements, as if her left arm wasn't quite working right. "Strawberry tea latte, for..." And then, on spotting the name, Orianne's gaze flicks up from her work station to those waiting. "...Rosalie."
Rosalie clears her throat. She shuffles forward to take her drink, her cheeks faintly pink. It's a little warmer, now, in the coffeeshop. "Thank you," she says politely, distinctly.
"You're welcome." Orianne almost unconsciously reaches up to rub at her left arm, the one that seems to keep 'catching' as she reaches for things. Perhaps seeking somewhere else to look, she glances out past Rosalie, only to groans softly. Every available table has discarded napkins, empty cups, or half-eaten banana bread scattered across it. College kids: they might has well have been raised in a barn. "Sorry, wait one sec and I'll free up a table for you."
A second Orianne appears right beside Rosalie, moving past to start clearing off the tables. There'll be a place for Rosalie to sit soon enough.
Rosalie glances once at that arm, and then looks away. At the floor. It's a fascinating floor. "Thank you," she says again. She wraps her fingers around her cup, and distracts herself by drinking in the smell of the tea.
Unfortunately for Orianne, there's no one behind Rosalie in line. With no drink to work on, the silence soon gets awkward; Anne clears her throat, trying to find a reasonably neutral topic. "So. Glad to be home?" She doesn't seem to have noticed that she's clutching her injured arm still.
"Well, it's different," says Rosalie. She is still looking at the floor. "There are hot showers. I--like hot showers." And no mermaids.
"And no murder-unicorns," Orianne agrees. "At least, none that I've seen." She doesn't know what people get up to over in Midtown. Maybe they keep murder-unicorns around there.
"Maybe they have a murder-unicorn in the zoo," says Rosalie. "In one of the secret enclosures." She takes a sip of her tea.
Blink. "There are secret enclosures at the zoo?" Orianne seizes on possibly the wrong portion of Rosalie's comment. Not being a native New Yorker, she isn't certain whether to believe this or not. After all, there are plenty of other oddities about the city. Maybe a secret zoo within the zoo isn't that hard to believe.
"It was a joke," says Rosalie "They probably don't. I mean--they don't have a lot of room for all the animals, do they?"
"I don't know," Orianne admits, hugging her arm a little closer unconsciously. "I've only really been to the zoo twice, and once was to chase a shapeshifter who was pretending to be animals to get the free food."
Rosalie blinks at Orianne. "What? Um." She looks down to the tea. "I can't imagine animal food would taste that good."
"Right?" Orianne agrees, with a vehement nod. "I think he was just really lazy. Meant he didn't have to work, and would just get food. And I guess maybe if you pretend to be a gorilla or something, they'd at least give you fruits and stuff. Right?" Gorillas eat bananas, after all. Or is that peanut butter?
"But gorillas can be nasty, can't they?" asks Rosalie, her brow furrowed. "Or--well, I guess maybe the other gorillas wouldn't realize you weren't a gorilla? But what if you smelled differently?"
"Don't ask me," Orianne replies with a shrug, even as Orianne-2 finishes clearing off the last of the tables. Speaking of animals eating... "I've made baby griffons and stuff, but I wouldn't ever want to try living in a zoo as a puppet."
Rosalie turns away a little quickly, and moves over to the cleared table. "Well, can animals tell your puppets aren't real?" she asks.
"Probably," Orianne-2 admits, simply continuing the conversation from a different body, while Orianne-Prime turns her attention to cleaning the espresso machine. "Some don't seem to care, though; the griffon still liked the baby griffon."
Rosalie settles in her chair a little uncomfortably. She rests her cup on the table and stares at it. She takes a sip. She swallows. "On second thoughts," she says, "can I get this to go?"
And with that, Orianne seems to trip back into retail drone mode. A pleasant smile appears, and she nods once. "Of course. Would you like me to switch it to a to-go cup for you, or just get an empty one?"
Rosalie nods. "Yes," she says. She clears her throat. "Er. I mean it'd be nice if you put it in a to-go cup."
Orianne reaches out to take the cup from Rosalie, heading back to the other Orianne at the counter. Conveniently enough, the other Orianne already has a to-go cup ready, and quickly transfers the drink. Non-counter Orianne returns it to Rosalie's table, still with that retail-worker's smile in place. "Here you go!" she remarks, brightly."Thank you," murmurs Rosalie, and, with her drink, and a little nod, she escapes.