fandomtownies | Luke's, Wednesday

Leave your shades on.

Especially if you have a good story.

"What's all this?" demanded Éponine when she came in after work, because normal conversational openers were for other people. She wandered over to the specials board, absently fiddling with the hem of her shirt, and peered closely at it. "Imagine, all these foods I can't pronounce! It makes me feel awfully fancy."

Yes, in a diner.

"Hangover food!" Kenzi gestured expansively. "Welcome to Luke's. Formerly Cafe Luke's, but we changed that last week when the jalapeno's made their feelings known. Would you like a booth or a seat at the counter, mademoiselle?"

Very fancy!

"Yes, I noticed what happened to the sign, but -- hell!" Éponine blurted out incredulously as she switched trains of thought mid-sentence, then deposited herself unceremoniously on a seat at the counter. "You mean to say all this really works?"

"Doesn't hurt," Kenzi said, smirking a little. "Grease, carbs-- uh, bread-- protein. Settles your stomach and sops up some of the headache. Wanna try it?" Hey, she wasn't going to criticize anyone else's drinking habits.

Hey, she wasn't hung over right now! But she was hungry, and never terribly picky about her food, so she wasn't going to say no.

"You're certain you're not playing a trick?" Éponine asked, eyeing her with a tiny bit of suspicion. "I've never heard of anything like that before. Well, what does it matter to me when my head isn't hurting anyhow, but I'm hungry? Let's try some of that, then. What can it hurt?"

"Egg-zactly. Got a preference, or wanna try 'em all?" Kenzi called back to the kitchen, "Get the Hangover Specials ready, boys! Or I'm getting out the Spice Girls Forever!... and hey, the Internet can't all be wrong, right?"

"A bit of everything," Éponine decided. "I don't see why not -- oh, and a great big glass of one of those milkshakes. Chocolate."

Someone was maybe reveling far too much in being able to buy these things now.

"How the hell does anyone find anything on that damned internet, anyhow?" Look, she knew what it was (and frequently drove her coworkers up the wall by reading over their shoulders when they were on Facebook). That was progress.

"And a chocolate shake!" Kenzi called back. "Froth it up!"

Back to Éponine, she grinned and said, "Either they go to Google and do a search, or you wind up just surfing the web until you hit the interesting gossip or ridiculous fanfic sites and never leave. At least if you're me."

"It's more trouble than it's worth, if you ask me," Éponine said, shaking her head. "Perhaps I'll get the hang of it eventually, but I'd just as soon ask actual people. God knows what the hell's going on inside that computer box, anyhow."

God help everyone if she ever figured out how to use the internet to dig up blackmail material on people.

"Viruses and plots to take over the world. At least considering where we live." Kenzi put the shake down in front of Éponine, and poured a Diet Coke for herself. "My friend Topher could explain it all better. He's working on laser robots this summer at some company on the coast. Also, good for cat memes and alcohol recipes."

"How you do go on," Éponine said, her expression chiding but her tone faintly amused. She took a long, noisy slurp of her shake and added, "That makes as much sense to me as people in the taverns in the Quartier Latin arguing about Robespierre, and I don't much care how it works anyhow, so long as I can look at pretty pictures from time to time."

So, basically, Tumblr.

Kenzi stuck out her tongue at Éponine, but still seemed cheerful. "Robespierre-- he was the guy who cut off heads, right?" Ah, Fandom education. "You haven't seen cat memes? Or videos? Dude, I am so sending you more links!"

"Oh, him, yes -- and his precious guillotine. Quite the time, the Revolution, Reign of Terror and all that. We've studied some history, you know, my sister and I." Éponine trailed off, her face setting into an indescribable frown, then forced a laugh. "But as for arguing as to whether he was right or wrong, well, I don't care one way or the other, I've no use for that. It's all the same in the end, anyhow. Seems to me, though, there's plenty of arguing like that on the internet."

Which was the impression you got when you kept reading other people's Facebook feeds. (She also thought computers were synonymous with the internet, but that was an easy mistake to make these days, right?)

"He cut off people's heads. I'mma gonna go with wrong, and a side of wrong, and wonder what those guys were smoking." Kenzi shook her head, but then had to grin again. "And yeah. Someone is wrong on the Internet. Every damn day. About everything."

The order was up, so she turned and got the plates, sliding all three in a nice row in front of Éponine. "However, this part of the internet, we can at least test personally for taste."

"No different from the rest of the world, then." Éponine was such an embodiment of optimism, really.

Maybe it wasn't a good idea to dig into the potato hash and have a huge mouthful, not when she was still getting used to spicy foods, but she was not exactly known for her good choices.

"Good God," she spluttered, and took a long pull from her milkshake. "I don't think I was quite ready for that."

Kenzi snickered, and filched a pepper from the side. "It says 'spicy'. You should be glad I didn't make you Priestly's Mexi-mocha chocolate shake as a side. That thing is yummy but it kinda stings."

"I was hungry," Éponine defended herself. "Anyhow, it is good."

Which she attempted to prove by taking another bite, this time of a more moderate size. "I don't know about curing a headache, but the next time my nose is stuffed up from a cold . . ."

"MMmph. Seriously. The sliders'll do that to you too." Kenzi took a sip of her Diet Coke, eyes on the kitchen door, looking contemplative. "I gotta come up with another challenge for them. Something to impress the boss. You know any good French food ideas?"

"You're asking me!" Éponine laughed again, incredulous and just a touch too loudly. "When I didn't much care what I got to eat so long as it meant a day or two before I was hungry again! And before that -- I wouldn't wish what my father served at the inn on anyone."

"Suck," Kenzi said pragmantically. Éponine got touchy about this stuff, she noticed sometimes. "So? What'd you want to eat? We should make that." Ooo, that seemed like a better idea now. "Hell, I'll add on Canadian pancakes and syrup for stuff I didn't get often enough."

It was going to take a long time to get all that internalized bitterness out of her system, sadly.

"Roast duck," she said, a little distantly, "with all the trimmings."

Why of all things she'd decided on the meal Papa'd promised (a lie, of course) they'd have after he succeeded in robbing Cosette's father, she had no idea.

"Hunh. Roast duck?" That was nothing Kenzi had ever thought about trying to make. "What are the trimmings for roast duck?" Priestly might know. Maybe she'd come in and bug him tomorrow for help convincing the kitchen crowd to do it. "I've had Peking duck. From the Chinese place. Not bad."

"I'm rather fond of that myself, but it's not the same. Lord!" Éponine took a cautious bite of one of the sliders, followed by another gulp of milkshake. "Vegetables and some kind of sauce, I don't know what all else. Maybe that internet of yours ought to know," she added mischievously.

"Challenge... ACCEPTED," Kenzi proclaimed, pulling out her iPhone, vigorously typing and searching. "Cranberry coulis? Oranges and onions? Baby carrots and honey? Dude, now I want this." Nom! "Ooo, potatoes and bacon too. This is so a plan."

There was no way this could possibly end badly, right? Right.

"Is that so?" asked Éponine, laughing, her bitter mood of a few moments ago apparently subsided. Or possibly burned away by the spicy food. "If I come in next week, will I have that to look forward to?"

"No!" called one of the cooks from the doorway.

"Yes!" Kenzi called back.

The busboy mouthed 'maybe?' at Éponine, winked, and headed back into the kitchen.

"I will make them do it. For I am the DICTATOR OF THE DAY, ASSHOLES," Kenzi yelled back.

Don't think Éponine would be above flashing a bit of skin at the busboy later if it made him more amenable to the whole plan. Sad, really, but it was a conditioned thing.

"Are you, now? You ought to have a scepter, or whatever it is dictators have," she declared.

Good, 'Ponine, encourage her, why don't you.

"Ooo, seriously," Kenzi agreed, diverted. "A ladle with my name on it! With jewels!"

That spoon winging its way past her ear probably didn't count.

"You are just jealous my hair is as awesome as Priestly's!"

"Pleasant bunch they are," Éponine remarked through a mouthful of ragout. "Though I probably oughtn't bother them too much, or they're likely to spit in my food."

What? She'd do it too, in their place.

"You, though, carry on. It's funny."

"This is why I fix my own food," Kenzi admitted. "But I think they're still mad that the Radio reported on them doing a Spice Girls flash mob yesterday. They're sensitive and temperamental like that." As all cooks should be. She slid another onion over to herself from the Chipotle sliders, nibbling on it.

"People are odd that way," Éponine agreed. "Though, Lord, you ought to have seen the girls carrying on at the bar last night, singing and God knows what all else. They did an awful lot of yelling."

It had been hilarious.

Kenzi cackled. "That on the Radio inspired the specials. Who all was getting their drink on? And their karaoke in public?"

"Some girls from the school, I suppose." Éponine shrugged. "I don't know their names. I didn't think to ask."

"You gotta get out more," Kenzi said, stealing a tiny bit of hash. "Some of us are going to a strip club tonight, I heard, if you want to bum along."

"Strip club?" echoed Éponine.

Every time she thought she was getting adjusted to the 21st century something new came along to confuse her.

"Club with mostly nude dancers?" Kenzi elaborated. "Don't tell me France didn't have that. It was France." She'd seen those paintings, c'mon!

"Ah." They didn't really have those, not as such anyway, in 1832, but Éponine was familiar enough with the principle.

Also, she looked vaguely uncomfortable.

"No, I don't think so," she said, back to sounding a little vague and distant. "I'm not certain I'd enjoy that very much."

Kenzi held her hands up, surrendering easily. "No pressure, if it's not your thing. I'll tell you how it goes later. I anticipate much hilariousness."

In that, at least, she wasn't wrong.

"Well, then, you'll have to tell me all about it, won't you?" And she was back to sounding flippant and unconcerned as she gestured emphatically with her fork. "If there's a good story to be had out of the whole thing, I want to know."

Kenzi saluted. "Oui, mon capitan!"

She might have sounded like that evil overlord guy on the new Galaxy Quest reboot.

You know, Kenzi, it was really hard to maintain a proper extended fit of brooding around you.

Éponine snorted a laugh, this time more genuine. "I've been promoted now, I see! Perhaps someone owes me a new uniform for it."

So craving all the foods now.

Luke's, Wednesday

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OOC