fandomtownies | Caritas; Wednesday [11/13].

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Caritas; Wednesday [11/13].

Tino had brought in a pizza that evening and he asked if Summer wanted some, and Summer wasn't really sure if it was a good sign or something that she should be worried about that when she asked if he'd rinsed it, he said 'no.'

Because remember that? That he rinsed his pizza sometimes? ~~Pepperidge Farm~~ Summer remembered! Randomly! And she was really unsure which was the bigger cry for help: that he'd rinsed it in the first place or that he'd apparently suddenly stopped.

And then she blinked.

Wait. Was that how people felt about her various approaches to jello?

Then she frowned, and firmly decided not to think about any of that too much more any longer, had herself a slice of unrinsed pizza, and a shot of very strong booze.

Featured Cocktail
Blood Orange Mimosa

Feature Jello
French 75
Orange Cinnamon Roll
Caramel Apple

Caritas is open!

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"Nah, I'm not feeling autumnal," Jack said, pulling a face. "I feel like I want to kick a walnut or something."

Beat.

"I mean that blood orange is fine. What's a blood orange anyway?"

"What did walnuts ever do to you, man?" asked Summer, who then instantly launched into both further explanation and drink mixing. "And a blood orange is like a regular orange but more metal. No actual blood, it's called that because of the deep red of the inside."

Conveniently, she sliced one up for garnish so she could show him.

"But the flavor is a little more complex and tart, sometimes a little more bitter, with an almost raspberry like sweetness under it all."

And soon enough, he'll be able to taste for himself with his drink now ready, too.

Edited 2024-11-13 15:29 (UTC)

"'More metal', she says," Jack said, taking her drink. "You know this just looks and sounds like someone gentrified some poor orange, right?""

He raised the drink to his mouth and took a sip.

Okay, fine, it was nice.

"Excuse you," said Summer, because girl did her research, "but I'll have you know that the classic naval orange is more likely the culprit of gentrification and cross breeding as a hybrid, while the blood orange just naturally developed all on its own around Italy, like, a couple hundred years ago. Sooooo....."

"Then it gentrified itself," Jack decided. "Maybe the whole line of orange fruits is gentrified, what do I know? I'm not from this planet."

An excuse he only trotted out on occasions like this, and not usually, when he was very proud of how much Earth poodoo he knew, thank you very much.

"The drink is fine, though."

"Fine," Summer snorted slightly. "Thanks. And honestly? That last thing I need is to hear someone from another galaxy entirely talk to me, a native born Earthling, about gentrification while telling me my drink is fine."

But then her smirk grew a little more, and her eyes shifted zombieward.

"You getting up there tonight?" she asked. "I mean, since you're here and all?"

"Maybe," Jack muttered into his drink.

Which he then drank. Maybe a little more of in one go than strictly necessary.

"Any requests?"

That was a maybe, sure, but Summer was already looking incredibly pleased as she clapped her hands lightly in front of her in excitement.

"Maybe," she said. "Actually, no. This is a rare opportunity, so I wouldn't want to push it. I want you to perform whatever your little cranky gentrifying space heart desires."

"I am not gentrifying anything," Jack grumbled. "I am technically slumming it!"

The difference mattered!

But with that, he polished off his drink and started to get up. "Fine. Okay. Let's go poke through some zombie music memory."

Summer could absolutely not argue with that point literally at all, especially since she'd seen how he lived.

"If you happen to accidentally stumble across some Chappell Roan while you're up there," she called out after him in a sing-song voice, "I wouldn't mind too much!"

It was kind of a longshot, but he'd done Taylor on tour, so it wasn't like she was fishing for nothing over here.

Jack was already halfway to the stage by the time her words landed. He looked over his shoulder. "I have limits!" he yelled, "And they definitely include 'anything that could be described as operatic'!"

Some early 00s classic-punk-meets-pop-punk would have to do.

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