fandomtownies | Luke's Diner, January 3 (Monday)

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Luke's Diner, January 3 (Monday)

The year was starting off on an interesting foot for Lacey -- almost literally, given the single designer boot that dropped out of thin air and hit the floor in front of her just as she walked through the diner's door this morning.

Lacey'd shrieked, and flailed, then quickly recovered herself to take a deep breath, in then out, eyes closed. Right. "No, no," she declared loudly to the as-yet empty diner, "I'm turning over a new leaf. I refuse to take this as a bad sign of anything this year. It's a good sign."

Silence.

". . . good sign of what, I have no idea yet."

If she'd been hoping to get an answer to that not-quite-question, it wasn't going to happen today, but at least no bad signs had seemed to crop up so far?

Today's Specials
Italian Vegetable Stew
Potatoes Au Gratin with Mustard-Sage Cornbread
Butter Bean Risotto with Chard and Fried Okra

NOW HIRING - See Manager for Details
Thursday and weekend shifts available

Luke's is open, and despite initial appearances to the contrary, shows no sign of unexpectedly metamorphosizing into a purveyor of fine footwear. Honestly.

[OOC: It is still raining here, and the OCD washed awaaaaaaaaaaaaay.]

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John had come back from class vaguely troubled, and unsettled on a level he wasn't sure how to put a name to, exactly, for various reasons.

So instead of stay at the hotel room, he'd shrugged his coat back on and come here. Lacey had all the bearings of a nice, decent shock of normality to his system. He could use it. "Afternoon," he called, as he came in.

"John, hi!"

The random shoe had been relegated to a spot under the counter, so all was, to appearances, as normal as it ever got in the diner. Lacey had just finished setting a new pot of coffee to brew, so she turned away from the machine with a smile.

"Let me guess." She was already reaching for one of the teapots. Way to succumb to stereotypes, Lacey. "Some tea?"

"Please," John said, with a quick smile. She was... lucky he tended to bow to stereotype. "It's been a really, really long day, you have no idea."

"Already?" And there was the pot of hot water on the counter, and the basket of teabags -- Lacey'd gone and gotten some nicer stuff, being self-conscious about the preferences of tea connoisseurs. "What's making it drag so much on a Monday?"

Aside from it being a Monday, but that went without saying.

"Class," John answered, simply. It took him a few moments to realise she probably didn't know what class, and so he clarified, all the while longingly looking at the tea, "Sherlock wanted to teach sexual education. I thought I'd volunteer to help, considering he's not exactly, ah, well-versed on anything but the theory."

"Can't imagine why," Lacey said dryly, then flushed as she offered him the tea. "No offense! I know he's your friend, but he's a little . . . abrasive."

The little giggle she let out had just a touch of snort to it.

"Sex ed? Really?"

"Sex ed," John agreed, sounding a little embarrassed. "And I just taught my first class of it. I think I might need a lot more tea, and potentially with something stronger in it."

"Sounds like you're doing most of the actual work." Lacey took the cue, and got a second teapot filled with hot water for him. (It was slightly less embarrassing than flailing her hands vaguely over the situation, knowing which of the two of them had the, er, hands-on experience.) "Although unless you want cooking wine, I don't have anything stronger here. Although there's always the bar later . . .?"

Subtle, Lacey. Very subtle.

"If that's an invitation, I'm not going to say no," John said, giving her a (slightly goofy) smile. "Actually, that sounds rather brilliant."

Subtle? Who needed subtle? John's last girlfriend had made him sleep on the sofa when he came over.

The slightly goofy smile was cute, okay?

"Well then, consider it one," Lacey said over an audible snicker from the kitchen. "I can close up a little early today."

"As long as I'm not cutting in on your profits," John said, though that didn't exactly sound like a proper argument.

He was finding a seat now, though, with a tea cup, because tea was a good start to a long day. "I'll be hanging around here for a bit until you close up, if it's all the same." ~~Of course, his mun was about to crash hard, so bar time might have to be handwavey mchandwaveysome.~~

~~But fun! Because sleep is good.~~

He wasn't allergic to the concept of personal hygiene, didn't ask stupid questions, and didn't seem like the sort of person who'd order food and never have money in his wallet the days he actually remembered to bring said wallet, so that was just fine with Lacey.

***

Flash-cut to the soft-focus fantasy version of the diner, with Lacey behind the counter in a cheerleading outfit, pastel pink and cream to match the decor. Complete with pom-poms, yes.

LACEY: Go me! Go me!

And just as the horrifying, rhythmically-challenged butchering of the Cabbage Patch begins, mercifully, the fantasy sequence is over. Lucky you.

***

"You can hang around as long as you want," she promised expansively. "I won't even make you order any food to earn that seat."

"You are really too kind," said John, who was ... unaware of any rhythmically-challenged cheerleading fantasies anyone in the room might be having. He was just really rather relieved to be here. The island's youth... well, he should have expected it, really.

"So, how have you been since... the last time I saw you?" He smiled a bit awkwardly, then. "You seem to be in a good mood."

Nobody needed to be aware of those fantasies. Ever. Apologies to the telepathically-inclined in the vicinity.

"Well, it wasn't that long ago," Lacey said cheerfully. "And of course I'm in a good mood -- so far, the new year seems to be starting off just fine, and I get to try to make your day a little better."

She hovered for a bit, not taking a seat, but not apparently inclined to find anything else around the diner to do.

"Are the kids more than a handful?"

"They're certainly... different," John allowed, after a moment or two. "And why don't you take a seat? Plenty of tea to go around, and it is your diner."

He rubbed at his forehead. "I just don't really understand some of them, I suppose, is the problem."

"Kids these days," Lacey offered with a light laugh, sliding into the seat opposite him with a touch too much alacrity. "Is it the ones from different worlds, or the ones who aren't, who're confusing?"

"The former," John admitted. He was going to have the word sex shop?! blaring in his head for days to come, he was pretty sure. "Arguing with us about child protection, it's-- bizarre."

"If I imagine the difference between the way people in Toronto react to certain stuff and the way people in Dog River do, then magnify that by about a bajillion, I can almost imagine," Lacey commiserated. Dog River felt like its own world sometimes, as it was. "Let me guess -- one class period wasn't enough to reach any kind of understanding?"

"Not really," he said, sighing. "Sherlock leapt in, thankfully, but I'm left a bit--"

He waved a hand vaguely.

"Do you know they've got students working at the sex shop?"

That weirded Lacey out a bit, but she was trying not to be too judgmental about it, so she bit her lip while she formulated an answer.

"Wow, you know, sometimes I wish I didn't, but . . ." She half-flapped both arms in an awkward sort of shrug. "It was hard to avoid knowing when I was reading the town reports for radio every week."

He winced a little. "You must have read a few things that were equally... awkward," he said. "I'm starting to think the island is full of them."

"A lot," Lacey admitted. "Sometimes I go back and forth about how much exactly I should say, but if I spend too long dithering about it, I get acorns thrown at my head."

That made John stop above his tea. Temporarily. Honest.

"They throw acorns?" he asked. "If they can write down the news, why can't they just ask people to get a move on like regular... beings?"

"Oh." That was more of a whimper than a word, really; Lacey waved her hands in that helpless gesture again. "I've tried asking about that, but they just chitter some more. Personally, I blame the rum. I don't think rodents and alcohol should mix."

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Luke's Diner, January 3 (Monday)

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