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Luke's, Monday

Eliot hadn't managed to get back to Oklahoma for Mother's Day this year. It was just poorly timed, with the new semester starting and the team's recovery vacation just ending, and all the crap that had gone down last month. Instead, he'd sent his usual messenger by with flowers for his mom's grave, and gotten an earful from Trudy about "going back to his old ways" and how she didn't want him to "disappear for another 20 years".

And here he'd thought life was going to be easier after he reconnected with his sister.

It didn't help that his kitchen staff were all still cooing over their facebook messages to their mothers.

"Here's me and PopPop," the dishwasher said proudly.

"Did you miss the point of what we're doing here?" the cook asked.

"I have two dads," the dishwasher answered stiffly. "So PopPop gets Mother's Day."

The busboy and the entire waitstaff let out a little "awwwwww!" and swarmed over to the dishwasher.

"Y'all're gonna work at some point, right?" Eliot asked.

They shushed him.

Today's specials
First one's on us
Newcomers to the island eat free!
Now hiring!

Luke's was open.

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I want a burger

And those big juicy wedge-cut steak fries

Someone get on that, would you?

Look, when you had accidentally landed on a strange planet and had the foundations of the galaxy as you knew it shaken on you in the matter of one really weird weekend, the word 'free' when in relation to food had a funny way of jumping out at a person.

And that was why Kanan was wandering into Luke's, jabbing a thumb toward the specials sign.

"So, what comes highly recommended to a guy who just flew in from Cynda and has no idea what most of the food around here is actually like?"

Beyond that burger he'd had yesterday, anyway. Which had been horrible, but in a surprisingly edible sort of way.

"Never heard of Cynda," Eliot said. "You got any objections to eating animals?"

If not, Eliot was totally going to recommend a burger. Sorry.

At this rate, Kanan was going to start to wonder about this place. Honestly, now.

"None at all," he replied, shrugging. "Though I prefer them at least mostly dead and preferably not fighting back."

It was an important thing to clarify, sometimes.

"And as far as I can tell, Cynda isn't even in this galaxy. Which I've been told is a thing that happens. It's almost getting to a point where that line isn't weird, now."

"You'll get used to even more if you stick around long," Eliot said. "And don't worry, 'dead and not fighting back' is Earth's standard for eating meat. You wanna go with an air animal, a land-bound one, or an aquatic one? We've got some pretty good salmon in right now."

Oh, hey, he didn't immediately go to the burger after all!

Kanan's opinion of Earth cuisine had been saved! Huzzah!

"Hey, if it's pretty good, I'll go with that," decided the guy who had no damn clue what a salmon was. "Air, land, and sea don't actually narrow things down as much as it sounds, back where I'm from, and if I'm going to be stuck here for a while, I might as well give whatever the locals like a shot."

Though...

"I don't suppose there's anything like caf around here?"

Wishful thinking, he knew. But then, the fries that they had at Mooby Land were made of sort of familiar stuff. It was almost like potato, if he squinted enough.

Which was maybe just a Mooby thing.

Eliot was absolutely going to make him eat a burger if he found out his first Earth meal had been at Mooby Land. Their stuff didn't actually count as food as far as Eliot was concerned.

He put in an order for a grilled salmon sandwich and turned back to the new guy. "Could be," he said. "We've got most everything back there, but I ain't necessarily gonna be able to find someone who can prep it. But if you describe it, I can probably find some kinda Earth thing that's close."

"It's, ah... a brewed drink," Kanan replied, waving a hand as he tried to describe it. "Usually served hot, brown, a little bit bitter. Good for rough mornings and late nights, generally."

He shrugged. He didn't figure listing off all the variations would do him much good, either.

Eliot nodded. He grabbed the coffee pot, poured a little bit into the bottom of a mug, and offered it to the guy. "Try that. I've got some black tea, which might be close, if that doesn't work."

Kanan accepted the mug, took a moment to take an experimental sniff at the contents, and then with an expression that more or less said, 'huh,' he took a mouthful.

There was a relieved look on his face, then. Oh yeah, this would do the trick.

"This," he confirmed, finishing off the rest and setting the mug back down again. "It isn't exact, but it's closer than I figured it would be, all things considered. This will do just fine, thanks."

And then, because he hadn't lost all of his manners in the last decade, he added, "Kanan Jarrus, by the way. One of the new teachers at the school, apparently."

It was still news to him.

"Eliot Spencer," Eliot returned, holding out the pot to fill the mug all the way up. "Takin' a break from teachin' teenagers to do an adult class this summer. Nice to meetcha."

Oh yes, wonderful not-quite-caf, Kanan was quite happy to let that mug get topped up again.

"So far you've helped me pick out a meal and you've figured out what my new favorite drink that doesn't come in a bottle is going to be around here," Kanan pointed out. "I'd say the pleasure's mine. So, were the teenagers that bad, or were you just looking for a change of pace?"

Some idea of how much he needed to be bracing himself for impact tomorrow couldn't hurt.

"Little of both," Eliot said, because 'my favorite student went home to her own world and got trapped in a zombie apocalypse' was a bit much to dump on a guy when he'd only just arrived. "The kids are usually pretty enthusiastic, at least. Just about every one of 'em's got more enthusiasm than sense."

"Well, they're kids," Kanan replied, with all the knowledge of a guy who used to be exactly that sort of kid. Getting shot a couple of times while at war by the age of fourteen had a funny way of putting that stuff in perspective. "Enthusiasm is one of the few things they've managed to master by that age."

Sense came later. And, in some cases, never.

"True." Eliot had been an adult when he started getting shot at in war, but only really in legal terms. "Doesn't make it less of a pain in the ass when you're tryin' to take 'em on a hike through a foreign jungle." Hanna.

"Well, it's fortunate I'm not planning on taking anybody on any hikes," Kanan decided. "Probably."

He still hadn't really worked out a syllabus for the class he'd been aware of for all of two and a half days, now. He was still trying to figure out what he was supposed to do about that.

"I suppose it's good to know that kids are going to be kids no matter what galaxy they're in, though."

Make it up as he went along? That's what Eliot frequently did.

The salmon sandwich finished and Eliot went to pick up the plate and deliver it, with a side of fresh fries -- made with real potato.

"What're ya set to be teaching?" he asked.

Kanan made a noise in his throat at that question that possibly summed up his feelings on the subject fairly well. It was not a thrilled noise. But there wasn't exactly any way to pretend it wasn't a thing, either. There were students already signed up for the damn thing.

And when Kanan got his hands on whatever tuft-sucker was responsible for signing him up to teach it...

"A class about keeping off the grid and laying low," he sighed, though that plate was doing a decent job of grabbing his attention. "For beginners."

Apparently that last part was important. It had been right there in the class name and everything.

"'S useful skill," Eliot noted, doing his best not to smirk too hard at the look on Kanan's face. He wondered if it was worth pointing out that at least he wasn't roped into it by an excitable pink pony, but Pinkie had made sure to let him know that she was leaving for the summer -- she'd actually cried when she did it -- and without an actual excitable pink pony to point to, it'd probably just sound patronizing. "I take it it's somethin' you're reasonably good at?"

It's okay. Kanan wouldn't know what a pony was, anyway.

"I'm here, aren't I?" He raised an eyebrow faintly. "Apparently I'm good enough to manage that much, but not good enough to avoid getting kidnapped to some distant galaxy by some whimsical flying island with a twisted sense of humor."

At least whatever had signed him up to teach the class had used the proper name.

The island was a jerk.

Kanan didn't know anything anywhere close to the half of it. "Yeah . . . someone warn you about the other weird crap that goes down around here?"

"The word 'transformations' was thrown around once or twice, but I was told it was better to not ask." Kanan didn't sound all that convinced that he'd made a sound decision by going with that one. "Invasions, too?"

At least invasions, he could handle. There was a blaster at his hip that he was fairly handy with, after all.

"Both of those," Eliot agreed. "Plus possessions, infestations, bizarre weather patterns, magically appearing items of varying usefulness. . . ." Had anyone ever tried sitting down and actually categorizing all the weird crap that happened on this island? It could be useful. "Oh, and the whole island-flying-through-space thing, which was a new one on me."

He still kind of wished he could have blamed that one on his concussion.

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Luke's, Monday

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