fandomtownies | Luke's, Tuesday, Oct. 22

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Luke's, Tuesday, Oct. 22

It was Bay's 18th birthday. So far she'd gotten: a box of clothes and art supplies from the Kennishes, a hand-drawn card from Regina, a sweet text from Daphne that made Bay feel vaguely guilty she hadn't texted her birthday twin first, and a text from Angelo promising her present would be waiting next time she visited Kansas City.

So, not a bad day at all, even if Bay didn't think anybody in Fandom knew it was her birthday. She wore a new scarf from the box o' presents to the diner, where she put her favorite foods on the specials menu and sketched a cake and candles underneath. It was a birthday girl's privilege.

Welcome to Luke's!
Today's Specials:
Peanut Butter Pancakes
Chicken Enchiladas w/Salsa Verde
Tiramisu Cake

[OOC: Open post, no OCD!]

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Mike had to stop in when he saw the specials. "Is it somebody's birthday?" he asked conversationally. It could just be the store's, after all. Or just doodles. Regardless, he wanted some of that cake.

"Mine," Bay confirmed, with a quick smile. "The big one-eight. I decided to spend it someplace really glamorous."

"You certainly did," Mike agreed with a smile of his own. "And you're the star -- your cake's on the menu and everything. Speaking of -- how authentic are we talking? If you just threw some amaretto flavoring into a plain yellow cake, I'm gonna be very disappointed. I am NOT a fan of false advertising."

"No, neither am I," Bay agreed. "I don't bake, so I can't say exactly what they did, but it tastes really good. How about I get you a slice, and you don't have to pay if you don't like it?"

She figured Priestly would be down with one free slice of cake if necessary.

"Well, I can't say no to that, now can I?" Mike asked. "However, I doubt that it's going to come to me not paying. I have it on good authority that the cake 'tastes really good'."

"I am impressed you think I'm 'good authority'," Bay told him. "But coming up, one slice of tiramisu cake. Do you want coffee or anything with it?"

"Would it really be tiramisu without coffee?" Mike asked. "Black, no sugar. It doesn't have to be any kind of gourmet crap -- just whatever you've got warming in the bottom of the pot will do."

"I think we can manage that," Bay said. "It's only about an hour old, so it hasn't turned into motor oil quite yet."

A moment later, she delivered the coffee and the slice of cake. "So, do you live on the island or are you just passing through?" she asked, as she placed them on the counter in front of Mike. She didn't always chat up every single customer, but her cheerful birthday mood had her ready for small talk.

"I stopped in on my way somewhere else, and decided to stay," Mike answered. "Bought Turtle & Canary." He took a sip of coffee and a bite of the cake, and nodded. "I will definitely be paying you," he informed her. "Tell the pastry guy he did good."

"Of course he did," Bay preened. "And that's cool. Do you know how come it's called that? It's not exactly where I'd go to buy a turtle or a canary."

"Indeed I do," Mike replied, giving her a smile and putting another forkful of cake in his mouth. If it sounded like he was talking down to her as if she were a small child, well... Mike was used to relating to other people in only a handful of different ways. Did she want him eyerolling and curt?

"Now, the original owner of the store was a Miss Jane Canary -- named after the American legend, I presume -- and she called the store 'All and Sundries'. As a name it's a bit quaint, I suppose. It lacks a certain panache." He gestured with his fork in her direction. "Well, along came a girl -- younger than you -- with some money to spare, and she bought half the store, and the two became partners. Her name was Turtle Wexler. Well, not really -- that was her nickname. If a parent actually named their kid 'Turtle', you'd have to slap them. So there they were, Turtle and Miss Canary, and they decided to change the name of the store. After they left the island, they sold the store, but no one has changed the name since."

Because he remembered in time that she wasn't eight years old, he didn't actually end the story with "The End". But you could almost hear it hanging in the air.

Yeah, Bay noticed the part where he kind of sounded like he thought she was six. But a lot of older people didn't really know how to talk to teenagers, so his tone got only a brief, internal eyeroll. The story was interesting either way.

"Turtle's not that bad," Bay noted. "Said the girl whose parents named her Bay. But yeah, I see why nobody changed the store name Why mess with success, right?"

Mike shrugged. "Me, I just don't want to confuse people."

He sized Bay up critically. "So, 'Bay', huh? That's an unusal name. After the body of water, or the herb?"

"Also an excellent reason," Bay shrugged. "And my mom says the baby name book said it was like a laurel tree, so I guess the herb? But I usually just say it's like a large body of water 'cause it confuses people less. Which is sort of sad."

"That's the one," Mike told her. "I don't know what a bay tree looks like, nor do I care, but people love to pick the leaves and put them in stew. You ever see a big ol' leaf floating on top of a pot, that's bay. Ask in the kitchen; they'll have some."

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Luke's, Tuesday, Oct. 22

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