fandomtownies | Café Fina, Tuesday

Tomorrow was Valentine's day, and Lumiere had figured that he was ready for the holiday. After all, there was a large stack of boxes which had been delivered just this morning, presumably containing decorations, just waiting to be put up around the Café Fina.
Imagine Lumiere's surprise when the boxes were opened, and they contained piles upon piles of very shiny pants.
Now, if you will, imagine his chagrin when a pair of them actually exploded shortly after one of the chefs tried them on, leaving the man standing there in his ~~typically Disney~~ white boxers with red heart print on them.
The chef was unharmed, but the counter needed to be added to the list of things that would need to be repaired when Lumiere finally managed to turn the page in the phone book to locate the number of a carpenter.

Today's specials board reads:

While Supplies Last! Free ~~shiny~~ exploding pants with every meal!

Lumiere would be satisfied if this put a few extra butts in his seats today. Preferably unexploded butts.

[OOC: Exploding pants ~~I'm totally blaming on~~ are the brilliant idea of Hamlet. The pants are entirely harmless, but will leave scorch marks on the surrounding furniture. I do work, as is the norm, but should be available to take pings later in the evening. Staff is moddable, as always. Blah. Blah. Etc.]

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You know you want the 'splodeypants.

You know it.

So ask one of our lovely saucers to get you some!

There's nothing wrong with the fact that he's still trying to turn a page in a five-page phone book, is there?

Wade stopped by after office hours to see a man about a date. Or a restaurant about a date. Whichever sounded less gay.

"Candle hands!"

Lumiere had the sneaking suspicion that this exclamation was referring to him.
Heaven only knew why.
"Oui," he agreed, "'zey are indeed candles. Very useful for burning things, not so very useful for turning 'ze pages." He stood and stepped away from the phone book~~let~~. "I am Lumiere, 'ow can I be of service to you today?"

Wade was still focused on the hands. "How do you get dressed? Or feed yourself? Are there hidden thumbs on those?" He leaned to get a better look at the candle hands.

Lumiere was rather used to this sort of thing.
"'Ze clothes are permanent ~~and tend to change on their own~~, eating is a study in concentration, and no, 'zere are no thumbs."
Lumiere really, really missed having thumbs. And toes, for that matter. Having just one of the twenty wiggly digits commonly found at the end of most human limbs would make this enchantment so much easier to tolerate.

"That sucks," Deadpool replied, just barely keeping himself from poking at the candle hands. "So, anyway. You guys take reservations?"

"Oui, we do take reservations," the candelabra clarified, resting his handcandles on the countertops.
Oops. That carpenter, the one he couldn't phone because he couldn't turn the page? Was going to have a good deal of scorch marks to sand down and repair.
Hands back in the air, he decided to further clarify with a firm nod.

Ow. Whatever did that poor table do to deserve that?

"Excellent, my French friend, I will need your best table for tomorrow. I have a nun to impress!"

[[ooc: not a problem!]]

Fortunately, the table was furniture, not an employee. Lumiere wasn't established enough yet to want to start worrying about worker's compensation lawsuits, anyhow.

He did raise his eyebrow at the nun thing. But, he rationalized that, like Wasabi Boy the day before, if he promoted unconventional relationships that left the other girls available, at least there would be more to choose from for ~~himself~~ his master.

"Our best table, it shall be!" He paused, considering for a moment. "Was 'zere anything else that you needed? Background music? Candlelight?" Not necessarily provided by himself. "We only live to serve."

Deadpool looked at Lumiere's hands at the candlelight comment.

(Ew.)

"Just a private table and food. And servers that don't require knives being thrown at them to get their attention."

Lumiere smirked perhaps a little. "Some of our servers are knives. But do not worry, we will be attentive-- You will get service when you want it, and we won't interrupt if you don't."

"I'm sorry, my crazy seems to be acting up, did you say that some of the servers are knives?"

"Only a few. Usually it's the saucers that do 'ze serving." Lumiere was perhaps having fun with this, now. "We don't let 'ze cheese grater serve, usually, as 'ee has issues respecting 'ze personal space of 'ze patrons."
And he also smells of French cheese.

"Huh." Wade thought that over. "What would happen if they worked in a Greek restaurant and there was a party and one of the guests got over excited and smashed one?"

Lumiere's eyes went wide and he paused for a moment to very carefully pick his words. "Ze saucers have developed something of a fear of ze phrase, 'Opa!,' over ze years. I don't think that it's much of an issue. Uh. Anymore."
If anyone was paying attention, they might have noticed a plate faint in the background as Lumiere uttered the word.

Lumiere's pants are always shiny. They do not, however, explode.

Café Fina, Tuesday

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OOC!