Post by Netreemic on May 17, 2009 22:00:44 GMT -6
[Just to keep my fine men from getting rusty~ If you will all please excuse me...I just can't let the Complex get too dusty *pulls out Swiffer* 8D...yah, and the bolded name is the perspective of the post]
Jareth cinched the apron tighter, pausing a moment longer to refluff his hair. Taking a deep breath, he picked up a plate in each hand and butted backwards through the swinging doors. The din swamped his senses. The parties at tables nine, ten, and twelve were having a contest of vocals, each trying to be heard over the nearby rabble. Didn’t help that they were all speaking different languages. And by different, some were communicating by growling grumbles, troll-like features chomping down on the words while others were chittering at high speeds, thin hands whipping about in added emphasis. Moving to his new apartment had certainly been one hell of an eye opener for the Jolteon morph. He sidestepped the tables filled with the noisome entities, thanking his lucky stars Sha’uri was starting him out slow, working him mainly on the booths wrapping the walls of the restaurant.
He’d been nervous about inquiring into the HELP WANTED sign outside The Happy Panda. The first night in his apartment with Aizik had been his first contact with the abnormal crowd present in this strange city. And he’d just ordered takeout. He’d gotten his first taste of Dragon instead, pushy, self-assured, impatient daughter of Draco. So, he’d stood staring at the sign, considering if the need for rent was worth the danger of running into the dragon woman again. She had shown up seconds later, right behind him and pushed him through the door with a grumble of “You want the job, huh.” That had been the end of it. Now he worked lunch to evening shifts, carting home enough Chinese food to probably tax Aizik’s stomach. At least he was learning some real interesting, and money saving, recipes from the chef. Chef was a real chatty guy. Sha’uri kept threatening to fire him if he leaked another secret recipe to the new kid. Dragons were rather possessive after all and mighty strange to talk with.
He’d made the mistake of asking Sha’uri about calling it The Happy Panda. He thought there’d be at least SOME mention of the mighty lizards in the She-dragon’s restaurant. She’d simply snapped a bubble of gum at him, replying that pandas were tasty. At his aghast exclamation that she shouldn’t talk about endangered species like that, she smiled, serrated teeth glinting. Rarity made the flavor all the more delectable. After that he saved his conversations for Dox, his bubbly co-worker.
He smiled at the costumers seated in the booth. “Okay, General Tsao chicken,” he placed the plate down in front of the woman, “and Sweet and Sour Delight. The little guys on this side are the tofu, pork’s on the other side, chicken in the middle and the shrimp’ve got tails. Everything look good?” The seated man smiled, relieved to know which was which on his plate as the woman across from him chirped her positive reply, happily snapping her chopsticks apart. Jareth’s golden eyes smiled in return, noting the man going for the fork. Yup, certainly not a Chinese restaurant regular. He’d guessed it from the man’s order, finding that newbies often felt it safer to go with the dish that gave multiple meat varieties in a sauce they’d probably encountered in other places. Except they never knew which meat was which under their crispy golden outsides, resulting in trepidation and bad reactions when the texture didn’t match their guess. So, he always gave a swift explanation. Happier costumers all around~.
Pausing to refill another booth load of water glasses, he inquired after any needs, flittering between the tables before working back to the kitchen. He distantly heard the front door DING, heralding the entrance of another guest. Jareth shook his head at Dox’s bright greeting, carefully ducking through the swinging doors.
“Hey. Golden Boy.” Jareth glanced politely at Sha’uri as she continued hefting the skillet of sizzling meat. Her apparently young, girlish stature showed no strain as she rattled the steak around in the heavy pan, the same looks that had deceived him from the get go. He had thought her a young delivery girl the first time he’d seen her, only to understand part of her true self by the hints of scales, cat-slit jade eyes, and flaming tendencies. Working for her, and talking with Chef, had placed her as an ancient being that was beyond any dragon-types he’d ever known. An ancient being that hired him because she had been coveting his golden features since they’d last met. So, he got a job over more qualified candidates if he agreed to wear an all gold uniform. It wasn’t his best fashion statement, but it put money in his wallet. “Table five huh.” She gestured with her head at the plates before turning to snicker-snack commands in a guttural language at Chef. The wiry man nodded, tossing a grin Jareth’s way, sparkling eyes saying ‘Like I don’t know how to cook that one~’ The blonde chuckled as he quickly lined the plates up his arms and started for the doors. He spun out of the way as Dox kicked the door open in her normal exuberance.
“I just put the new guy on table two. Make sure you get him to order a lot, Jerry, he looks like he needs a good feeding.” She sucked in her cheeks, distorting the white spots speckling her brown skin, in demonstration of the man’s thinness. Sha’uri promptly loaded the girl’s arms with a large platter, frowning as she gazed towards the door. “Or get him to join my table ten, these guys just keep on ordering~!” He snorted, ducking through the doors, one foot keeping them open as the young woman followed behind, tray held precariously as she bounced along.
He settled the plates before the three ladies, saw to their refills before pulling the notepad and pen from his back pocket and walking to table two. He folded back to clean page, asking before looking up with his costumer friendly smile “Hello, my name-”
“is Jareth and I’ll be your server today.” The blonde stared at the man, taken aback. Didn’t help the man was just gazing at him, not glaring, staring or pinning him with any intensity, but passively with the menu folded beneath his hands. Creepy.
“Uh…do I know you sir?” The guy looked normal enough, perhaps overly tired and a bit dazed, but respectively normal. Maybe even vaguely familiar, but not from the facial appearance or speech (even with its strange psuedo accent). It was more…the feel of him.
“I live in your building.” Jareth oooooooh’d in slight understanding, hoping the man had never introduced himself in the past because the Jolteon still didn’t have the foggiest idea. As though understanding the blonde’s hesitation, the dark skinned man explained “I go in and out through my window…” seeing that not light up any beacons he continued, “so I don’t really use the front door.” One of the scarred hands was run through the cowlicked hair, causing it to look even more frazzeled, or fuddled (like the strange guy’s brain).
“Sooooo…we haven’t bumped into each other…going in and out…of the building.” Jareth supplied his closest guess to the man’s reasoning. Though, that still didn’t explain how his strange customer knew HIS name. The man smiled, mahogany eyes sparkling for a moment, pleased that Jareth so astutely interpreted.
“I’m Absalon, by the by. Just to even the field. And I suppose you want to take my order so you can get back to the waitering.” Clearly having past the man’s test, Jareth was more than willing to let it all go without comment if he could get away from the man and his crazies that much faster.
“Well…neighbor…what can I get for you?” He held his pen ready, peeking up at the prolonged silence. The man – Absalon – was no longer bemusedly eyeballing him, but instead had a look of pure loathing directed at the kitchen doors. Jareth turned, hoping Sha’uri wasn’t butchering another housepet for ‘customer entertainment.’ He was relieved to just see her standing there…until she came charging over.
“Out out OUT!” She was still hefting the pan, luckily bereft of meat, but still sizzling and dripping cooking oil as she stormed her way across the room. “You are not welcome here! You will not take from me what is mine! You will not make me give anything up!” Jareth darted to the side as she swung at the man, terror quickening his movement.
“Sha’uri!? What are you DOING?!?” Dox screeched from across the room, eyes wide in horror as the pan descended on Absalon. A dark arm swatted form its path, the strange man ignoring the burning welts that sprang up along his skin. Red-brown eyes glared at the petite woman as the taller man rose from the booth. Without a word, he turned and left with another light ding as he pushed open the door.
Jareth rose from his crouch, protective notepad lowering from its useless position over his head. He stared at the dragon-lady in disbelief before starting for the door as well, concerned for his neighbor. It seemed like an obligation…now that he knew the man’s name.
“He be a demon, Golden Boy.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder at her declaration. All of the customers were staring at frying pan wielder, while Dox was methodically refilling glasses, looking pale and shaky. “Terrible things, those cheeky buggers huh. Taking more than you ever realize they do.” She tapped her head, and then over her heart. “And they put things in. Care must be taken huh.” He shivered under her cat-slit stare, hand resting on the door handle. A demon? Was she over exaggerating? As much as he could hope she was…he was talking to a dragon, so who was to say the man couldn’t be a demon. He frowned. People had called Kincaid a demon before, horns, spade tail and fire abilities rolled up into the perfect package.
“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings,” he muttered back before pulling the door open and stepping out onto the neon lit sidewalk.
Jareth cinched the apron tighter, pausing a moment longer to refluff his hair. Taking a deep breath, he picked up a plate in each hand and butted backwards through the swinging doors. The din swamped his senses. The parties at tables nine, ten, and twelve were having a contest of vocals, each trying to be heard over the nearby rabble. Didn’t help that they were all speaking different languages. And by different, some were communicating by growling grumbles, troll-like features chomping down on the words while others were chittering at high speeds, thin hands whipping about in added emphasis. Moving to his new apartment had certainly been one hell of an eye opener for the Jolteon morph. He sidestepped the tables filled with the noisome entities, thanking his lucky stars Sha’uri was starting him out slow, working him mainly on the booths wrapping the walls of the restaurant.
He’d been nervous about inquiring into the HELP WANTED sign outside The Happy Panda. The first night in his apartment with Aizik had been his first contact with the abnormal crowd present in this strange city. And he’d just ordered takeout. He’d gotten his first taste of Dragon instead, pushy, self-assured, impatient daughter of Draco. So, he’d stood staring at the sign, considering if the need for rent was worth the danger of running into the dragon woman again. She had shown up seconds later, right behind him and pushed him through the door with a grumble of “You want the job, huh.” That had been the end of it. Now he worked lunch to evening shifts, carting home enough Chinese food to probably tax Aizik’s stomach. At least he was learning some real interesting, and money saving, recipes from the chef. Chef was a real chatty guy. Sha’uri kept threatening to fire him if he leaked another secret recipe to the new kid. Dragons were rather possessive after all and mighty strange to talk with.
He’d made the mistake of asking Sha’uri about calling it The Happy Panda. He thought there’d be at least SOME mention of the mighty lizards in the She-dragon’s restaurant. She’d simply snapped a bubble of gum at him, replying that pandas were tasty. At his aghast exclamation that she shouldn’t talk about endangered species like that, she smiled, serrated teeth glinting. Rarity made the flavor all the more delectable. After that he saved his conversations for Dox, his bubbly co-worker.
He smiled at the costumers seated in the booth. “Okay, General Tsao chicken,” he placed the plate down in front of the woman, “and Sweet and Sour Delight. The little guys on this side are the tofu, pork’s on the other side, chicken in the middle and the shrimp’ve got tails. Everything look good?” The seated man smiled, relieved to know which was which on his plate as the woman across from him chirped her positive reply, happily snapping her chopsticks apart. Jareth’s golden eyes smiled in return, noting the man going for the fork. Yup, certainly not a Chinese restaurant regular. He’d guessed it from the man’s order, finding that newbies often felt it safer to go with the dish that gave multiple meat varieties in a sauce they’d probably encountered in other places. Except they never knew which meat was which under their crispy golden outsides, resulting in trepidation and bad reactions when the texture didn’t match their guess. So, he always gave a swift explanation. Happier costumers all around~.
Pausing to refill another booth load of water glasses, he inquired after any needs, flittering between the tables before working back to the kitchen. He distantly heard the front door DING, heralding the entrance of another guest. Jareth shook his head at Dox’s bright greeting, carefully ducking through the swinging doors.
“Hey. Golden Boy.” Jareth glanced politely at Sha’uri as she continued hefting the skillet of sizzling meat. Her apparently young, girlish stature showed no strain as she rattled the steak around in the heavy pan, the same looks that had deceived him from the get go. He had thought her a young delivery girl the first time he’d seen her, only to understand part of her true self by the hints of scales, cat-slit jade eyes, and flaming tendencies. Working for her, and talking with Chef, had placed her as an ancient being that was beyond any dragon-types he’d ever known. An ancient being that hired him because she had been coveting his golden features since they’d last met. So, he got a job over more qualified candidates if he agreed to wear an all gold uniform. It wasn’t his best fashion statement, but it put money in his wallet. “Table five huh.” She gestured with her head at the plates before turning to snicker-snack commands in a guttural language at Chef. The wiry man nodded, tossing a grin Jareth’s way, sparkling eyes saying ‘Like I don’t know how to cook that one~’ The blonde chuckled as he quickly lined the plates up his arms and started for the doors. He spun out of the way as Dox kicked the door open in her normal exuberance.
“I just put the new guy on table two. Make sure you get him to order a lot, Jerry, he looks like he needs a good feeding.” She sucked in her cheeks, distorting the white spots speckling her brown skin, in demonstration of the man’s thinness. Sha’uri promptly loaded the girl’s arms with a large platter, frowning as she gazed towards the door. “Or get him to join my table ten, these guys just keep on ordering~!” He snorted, ducking through the doors, one foot keeping them open as the young woman followed behind, tray held precariously as she bounced along.
He settled the plates before the three ladies, saw to their refills before pulling the notepad and pen from his back pocket and walking to table two. He folded back to clean page, asking before looking up with his costumer friendly smile “Hello, my name-”
“is Jareth and I’ll be your server today.” The blonde stared at the man, taken aback. Didn’t help the man was just gazing at him, not glaring, staring or pinning him with any intensity, but passively with the menu folded beneath his hands. Creepy.
“Uh…do I know you sir?” The guy looked normal enough, perhaps overly tired and a bit dazed, but respectively normal. Maybe even vaguely familiar, but not from the facial appearance or speech (even with its strange psuedo accent). It was more…the feel of him.
“I live in your building.” Jareth oooooooh’d in slight understanding, hoping the man had never introduced himself in the past because the Jolteon still didn’t have the foggiest idea. As though understanding the blonde’s hesitation, the dark skinned man explained “I go in and out through my window…” seeing that not light up any beacons he continued, “so I don’t really use the front door.” One of the scarred hands was run through the cowlicked hair, causing it to look even more frazzeled, or fuddled (like the strange guy’s brain).
“Sooooo…we haven’t bumped into each other…going in and out…of the building.” Jareth supplied his closest guess to the man’s reasoning. Though, that still didn’t explain how his strange customer knew HIS name. The man smiled, mahogany eyes sparkling for a moment, pleased that Jareth so astutely interpreted.
“I’m Absalon, by the by. Just to even the field. And I suppose you want to take my order so you can get back to the waitering.” Clearly having past the man’s test, Jareth was more than willing to let it all go without comment if he could get away from the man and his crazies that much faster.
“Well…neighbor…what can I get for you?” He held his pen ready, peeking up at the prolonged silence. The man – Absalon – was no longer bemusedly eyeballing him, but instead had a look of pure loathing directed at the kitchen doors. Jareth turned, hoping Sha’uri wasn’t butchering another housepet for ‘customer entertainment.’ He was relieved to just see her standing there…until she came charging over.
“Out out OUT!” She was still hefting the pan, luckily bereft of meat, but still sizzling and dripping cooking oil as she stormed her way across the room. “You are not welcome here! You will not take from me what is mine! You will not make me give anything up!” Jareth darted to the side as she swung at the man, terror quickening his movement.
“Sha’uri!? What are you DOING?!?” Dox screeched from across the room, eyes wide in horror as the pan descended on Absalon. A dark arm swatted form its path, the strange man ignoring the burning welts that sprang up along his skin. Red-brown eyes glared at the petite woman as the taller man rose from the booth. Without a word, he turned and left with another light ding as he pushed open the door.
Jareth rose from his crouch, protective notepad lowering from its useless position over his head. He stared at the dragon-lady in disbelief before starting for the door as well, concerned for his neighbor. It seemed like an obligation…now that he knew the man’s name.
“He be a demon, Golden Boy.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder at her declaration. All of the customers were staring at frying pan wielder, while Dox was methodically refilling glasses, looking pale and shaky. “Terrible things, those cheeky buggers huh. Taking more than you ever realize they do.” She tapped her head, and then over her heart. “And they put things in. Care must be taken huh.” He shivered under her cat-slit stare, hand resting on the door handle. A demon? Was she over exaggerating? As much as he could hope she was…he was talking to a dragon, so who was to say the man couldn’t be a demon. He frowned. People had called Kincaid a demon before, horns, spade tail and fire abilities rolled up into the perfect package.
“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings,” he muttered back before pulling the door open and stepping out onto the neon lit sidewalk.