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Luke's Diner, Thursday

After the travesty of last week, Hardison was coming into Luke's with a healthy dose of skepticism. Because there was no way - no way - he was going to let an insult like last week fly. The island deserved better. Eliot's reputation deserved better. The entirety of the human race deserved better, though there were actually a couple of political factions Hardison was willing to serve mayo ice cream up to.

Of course, the staff ignored him as he strode in like a vengeful god, putting up the last items on the Specials Board.

Today's Specials
Barbecue!
Hamburgers!
Hot Dogs
Chips
Soda

"Ahhhhh!" Hardison yelled. "NO! THAT IS A DAMN COOKOUT AN' Y'ALL KNOW IT! DON'T THINK I DON'T KNOW Y'ALL ARE DOIN' THIS JUST TO TEST ME!"

Luke's was open and very loud.

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I He will die on this hill.

"Well, that was very loud," Steve teased, grinning as he came in. "You're not going to put some kind of terrible salad on it if I order a hot dog, right?"

"They had it comin'," Hardison declared. "An' of course I ain't gonna put a salad on it. What am I, a heathen?"

He paused for a second, just to give Steve a chance to relax.

"I am gonna have 'em drag it through the garden, though. That's the only way to properly eat a hot dog anyway."

Steve made a face. "Sauerkraut and mustard or get out," he declared.

Hardison mirrored the expression. "Yo, I dunno what hurt y'all Brooklynites an' why it took away any sense of taste y'all had, but I am sorry."

Steve burst out laughing. "No, that's not it at all. You lose tastebuds the further west you get. It's just a fact. How have you been?"

"Well, that explains why no one in Portland liked our beer," which sure was one way of looking at it Hardison, sure. "But I'm pretty sure there's just somethin' weird about you coast folks is all."

Then, to answer Steve's question, he gestured at the sign again. "I feel like I been feudin' with folks over food since the Fourth," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know why."

~~I do though, FRY.~~

"And I haven't even been around to pick a fight," Steve teased. "The staff messing with you?"

"Last week they tried to come out here with mayonnaise ice cream," Hardison said, shaking his head. "Mayonnaise. Ice cream."

And they weren't even Dutch!

"Do I need to look disappointed at them?" Steve demanded. "Because I can do that."

"Yes," Hardison said immediately. "They know what they did was wrong an' they followed it up with this nonsense."

Steve sighed heavily and gave his most disappointed look at the nearest server. "Really, gang? Does Hardison really deserve that? I don't think so."

He paused. "Mayonnaise ice cream sounds horrifying."

The server he was pointing that face at wibbled, feeling acutely shamed. "It was the dishwasher's idea!" she announced and ran into the back so she could call her mom and apologize about the fight they'd had last week.

"There ain't no earthly reason why it should be a thing," Hardison agreed. "Also, damn man, how do you do that? You would make cons so easy!"

Steve smiled, looking slightly abashed. "I don't know. Probably years of watching my ma do it to me? She could lay on the shame of our ancestors dating back to the Celts landing in Ireland with a look just because I wouldn't eat the lima beans."

"Yo, lima beans are disgustin' an' I don't blame you a bit," Hardison said, proving their were some culinary horrors that Brooklyn and Chicago could agree on. Granted, lima beans and mayo ice cream were pretty much the lowest possible bar, but it was a step! "See, Nana didn't go for the looks. She had lectures instead."

"Did they start with 'I am so disappointed in you?'" Steve asked. "Those are the worst."

"Sorta," Hardison snorted. "It was 'I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed.' An', lemme tell you, that was a goddamn lie. My Nana is a complex woman able to feel two emotions at once."

Steve snorted. "Would she also pray for your soul?" he asked. "Ma would drag me to the front of the altar to light a candle for me and my poor choices."

"We're not the candle-lightin', altar sort," Hardison said, nudging Steve companionably, "but not only did we pray, sometimes we were called out in church so the Lord could grant Nana patience an' teach us how to behave."

"That sounds so much worse," Steve said. "Everyone's looking at you?"

"Yyyyup," Hardison sighed, but also biting back a smile. "Not the only ones who got called out like that. Man, you shoulda heard church the day after report cards were released. 'And now we pray to the Lord our god that little Jameel Brooks will study his algebra in the future and remove the trial it was for him this year.' All kinds of nonsense."

Steve burst out laughing. "Oh, God, Bucky would never've stood for it. It would have been amazing to watch."

"Yo, good luck not standin' for somethin' in a black church with all the auntie's around bein' the ones that set all that up," Hardison said, chuckling.

I live to entertain myself.

Also, SP re: dr's appointments.

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Talk to Hardison

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Mod Your Diner

OOC