2007-03-17: Pancakes And Pie


Ling_icon.gif Mitch_icon.gif Drake_icon.gif Anders_icon.gif

Summary: Offers are made, yet more bitchfighting.

Date It Happened: March 17, 2007

Pancakes and Pie

Downtown, NYC - Lucky Joe's Diner

Sitting all by her damn self at Lucky Joe's Diner is one Mitch Kaminski, whose name does not resemble her actual appearance. That is, not a Polish dude, but rather a twentysomething chick with a vintage white, red polkadot dress. She's taken up one of the middle booths by the window of the trailer-lookin' eatery and is awaiting the awesomeness that is breakfast past noon. A few backissues of colourful entertainment magazines are tosses haphazardly on her table, along with a newspaper on top of which her glasses have been shunned, and there's a pink laptop bag leaning against her right hip, unopened. Her jacket is crumpled up on the seat across from her to make it look like she's not alone. Because eating by yourself is lame, right? She sips from a gigantic chocolate milkshake and peers about surreptitiously.

Making his way into the diner is Drake, carrying a soccerball under one arm, with his backpack slung across the other, containing his soccer uniform. Having just got done with practice, he is practically starving after the vigorous workout. Plucking up a menu, he flops down into a booth and starts to scan over the contents, stifling a yawn behind his hand. Hmm. Everything looks good on here, and he can't seem to decide exactly what he wants. He could go for pancakes, or he could go for a burger.

Breakfast past noon is indeed awesome, especially if you are a big eater. Anders is a big eater, having been sat there in his G-man suit in a booth, shovelling golden grease-covered eggs, bacon, sausage and toast down his throat for roughly the last hour. He doesn't notice anyone, aside from the occasional waitress who refills his coffee, as the man is apparently far too interested in the stack of comics he has beside him, now adorned with greasy fingerprints.

La la la. One day, she'll get her lunch-breakfast. One day. Mitch starts tapping a foot against the metal post that supports the table - it's a bare foot, her shoes having dropped off, but she takes care not to let her toes touch the diner floor. Lucky Joe keeps the place spotless, but that's only as far as the /eye/ can see. It's only after the tapping starts that a hum follows. "Hmm-hmm-hmmmm," She stabs her oversized straw into her equally oversized milkshake a few times. "I can do the Robocoooop…" she sings under her breath. "I can do the Fred-dieeee…" Swish-swish-swish goes her milkshake. Seriously, where are her pancakes, man. Every now and then, Mitch glances at Anders because he's scary.

Rising up, Drake finally decides, and ambles over to the counter and puts in his order, looking to clog his arteries with a steak, and potato meal, extra cheese and sour cream. He's a growing boy after all, and he needs his carbs, and proteins. Afterwards, he hears what appears to be singing, a song about an 90's icon, and glances over towards Mitch. Amused, his lips tug into a bit of a smile, that is, until he spies Anders across the room. His eyes widen for a moment, and he tugs his hat a bit down farther on his head, whirling to face the counter again, quickly.

It's lunch time and well, as a businesswoman, Ling needs to eat, and having heard that they have the best greasy meals around, she heads inside with her pinstripe two piece suit. Instead of slacks, she has a knee length skirt, as she looks around with brows furrowed while giving everyone an icy cold stare. Once she doesnt see any familiar threats, she relaxes and heads on over towards a booth, not too far from Anders so she can start perusing the menu..

Anders, oblivious as someone enjoying bacon and reading comics can be, doesn't even look up towards the soft singing, if he hears it at all. "Magneto, wooden pistol.." he murmurs to himself in between mouthfuls.

"Hmm, hmm, I cannot do the Smur- " Mitch's quirky little song is cut off by sweet, blessed delivery. A waitress saunters on over with a plate of pancakes with lots and lots of strawberries on top, which gains her undying love. "Holy crap. You're my hero. Heroine! Seriously, are those fresh strawberries? Have I ever told you that I love you, Geraldine?" Any suspicious behaviour between Drake and Anders? Completely missed! Some journalist she is, distracted by strawberries. She plucks her knife and fork up, clutching them in her fists on either side of the plate. She is /so ready/.

Sliding some money across the counter, Drake pays, then makes his way to the back of the diner, snagging up his bag, and soccer ball. Trying not to stand out, he slinks himself into a high backed booth, and practically crumples himself down so that his head won't peek out of the top. Oy. Working his cell phone out of his pocket, he flips it open and starts a round of texting.

Ling sighs a little as she looks over the menu, and in the end, she just orders a bacon cheeseburger with curly fries. After ordering, she looks around towards the others and wrinkles her nose a little Mitch..that's rather odd…

The man shovels the last mouthful of food off of his plate, staring at a page of the comic in his other hand, apparently transfixed, "Thats it," Anders says quietly to himself after he swallows, "I could do that." Only then does he look around the diner, missing Drake's little move entirely, "Miss? Waitress?" he says to Geraldine as she passes, "Can I get some of that delicious blueberry pie you have? Oh, and an order of french toast, to go."

This is why Mitch is eating by herself - 'cause these pancakes? So worth it. Just as she's about to delve into her first bite - mostly consisting of strawberries rather than pancake - she spots the businesswoman wrinkling her nose in her direction.. Her fork pauses between the plate and her mouth and she finds herself eyeing Ling. She looks from side to side. "… what?" So polite.

Drumming his fingers on the countertop, Drake sends off another text message, then lets out a soft, uncomfortable breath as he dares peek around the corner of his booth as Anders speaks. Big scary guys read comic books, and order blue berry pie? When Mitch speaks, he glances over towards the accented woman, then to Ling.

Ling just lets out a soft and amused chuckle, "Nothing..you were just well..loud.." she says matter of factly, having a bit of a snooty air around her and all. Must be the whole corporate thing. She then pulls out a newspaper out of her bag and just starts reading it…

Having placed his order the man now slips his comic books back into his briefcase and stands to head over to the counter to pay, "That was fine food, and such large portions, I feel your generous tip is earned," Anders says to Geraldine when she appears to take his card, "The entertainment was a nice touch too." He says, in Mitch's direction, "Does she do requests?"

"So I've been told. It's a disease, I can't help it. I'm undergoing extreme rehabilitation for it, but by golly, it just doesn't seem to stick," Mitch deadpans in her somewhat childish voice. This doesn't stop the woman from shovelling in that bite. Mmm. Strawberries! Savouring it for a moment, she then taps the prongs of her fork against her lip, squinting at Ling.

"Indeed.." Ling replies with a roll of her eyes as she skips the business section and heads straight for the crossword and sudoku. Mmm, sudoku…

His half-assed little joke going unnoticed, Anders pays for his breakfast and looks over to the two women as he overhears the comment about rehabilitation and starts sniggering.

Mitch curls her lip ever-so-slightly at Ling, giving the woman an indignant look. Psh! She goes back to her pancakes, but soon, she's twisting about in her booth and searching… searching… "Does anyone have any syrup?" Why yes, she is exhibiting her loudmouth disease symptoms again.

When the server brings him his food, Drake takes in a deep breath of the warm, delicious scents, then quietly clears his throat. Clasping his hands together into a bit of a steeple, he tilts his chin forward, and honest to God, begins to pray.

"If it'll get you to shut up, then you can have mine.." Ling snaps as she grabs the bottle of maple syrup on her table before easing on up to set it down on the woman's table. "There you go.." she says with a saccharine smile before heading back over to her table. She needs to finish this crossword afterall before moving to the sudoku.

Its the prayers that do it, sadly, attracting all the wrong sorts of attention, Anders' attention, for example. It takes him a few moments to realise he recognises the boy, turn to Geraldine and take his food from her and head over to Drake's booth. "Fellow Christian," he begins, letting his accent get thicker, "May I join you in prayer and perhaps share some pie?" foreigners, eh? weirdos.

"Okay, WHAT is your problem, lady?" If Mitch knew she was snapping at a crimelord, she would probably pee her nonexistent pants, but as it is, she just gestures explosively in the air. She's… not very intimidating. She's too cute to be intimidating. "I mean, thanks," she says, drawing the syrup close to her while she eyes Ling. "But I mean, god. I was just asking. Jeeeez."

As his hands drop down, Drake slides one slowly over the handle of the steak knife, which he tucks just a bit under the lip of the plate to hide the blade as best he can. Turning his attention slowly up at Anders, his face pales a bit as he takes in a deep breath. ".. If you wish." He murmurs softly.

"You, ma'am..have diarrhea of the mouth. Please get help.." Ling just snaps back with another saccharine smile from her table as she just concentrates on her crossword.

The man slides into the booth across from Drake, smiling, and puts his food packages down, opening the pie and picking at it with his fork as he speaks, "You should be aware, friend, that we've been looking for you," Anders begins, waving a piece of pie at Drake, "We take great interest in people who disappear." The big norwegian man nudges the pieslice at Drake, "I hope we can be civil and that you can let me say my piece whilst you enjoy your lunch."

With his fingers continuing to rest over the handle of the steak knife, Drake's free hand moves to his fork and picks it up, poking into his mash taters, and stirring the butter, and sour cream up a bit into a nice, whipped topping. He doesn't say a word, just sits there, waiting to hear Anders out.

"Ah—!" Mitch gapes, for a second, and then she scoffs. It seems that the little journalist is going to let it be, ignoring Ling while she eats her pancakes and thumbs through a magazine, but then she has to go and mumble "bitchmonster" under her breath.

Ling hears the little comment and she lets out a hearty laugh while shaking her head. Indeed, if the woman only knew what she was capable of, then she'd be calling her other things. For now though she just gives Mitch a wink, "Oh, dearie..I thought you didnt like me..what a compliment.."

"I represent a group of concerned citizens who would very much like that people like yourself," Anders says, reaching over to lift the little glass saltshaker from the table as he does, "And I are in full control of ourselves, they offer assistance in that regard. Salt?" he asks, holding the shaker (the glass now coated in a fine layer of frost) out to Drake. "We would like to extend that offer of assistance to you."

"No thank you." Drake says softly as he continues to work with his fork into his potatoes, stirring it back, and forth, creating a bit of design in it. Was that an answer in regard to the salt, or his extended invitation to join this amazing opportunity filled with memory wiping.

Mitch slants a gaze sidelong at Ling, not sure if the woman is laughing because of her or for a reason she completely missed. She sort of hopes it's the ladder, but she's not particularly fazed when it turns out to be the former. "Hey," she says casually, shrugging and gesturing with her strawberry-stained fork. "I'm just sayin'. I don't have anything against bitches." Just against people who say she has verbal diarrhea. Even if it is true. Knowing nothing of secret agencies and scary G-man frosting salt over yonder, she's all about the pancakes, sliding on her thick-rimmed glasses while she peruses the magazine.

Grinning, Anders puts the shaker back on the table, "Our offer is an open one, usually, sir, but in this case, I would like to ask you some questions alongside, if you do not mind," he says, in between chewing on pie, "This is good pie, you should try some for dessert, would you mind if I were to ask you some little questions?"

"Sure, go ahead, ask away." Drake murmurs under his breath as he finally pops a forkful of potato into his mouth, giving a pair of chews, before swallowing it down. His eyes raise upwards once more to Anders, then subtly glances over towards the frozen salt shaker. Well, that clears up one burning question he's had in the back of his mind.

"They are not difficult questions, but you may not want to answer them," Anders says, smiling, "I thought I would give you the chance to vanish into thin air. Do you feel you have absolute control over your faculties? It is a very impressive little skill you have there, and we wouldn't want that to be misused, perhaps by breaking into buildings?"

Picking up his fork again, Drake twirls it about in his fingers slowly. "I would never use my powers for /evil./" He murmurs softly under his breath. "I do God's work through them." Slowly, he raises his eyes upwards towards the man, staring at him through his intense, blue gaze. "You should use your gifts for something other than kidnapping people, sticking things in their neck, and then making 'em forget everything. God gave you these powers for a reason, and you're the one abusing them. If you are as much of a Christian as you said you were, you'd take a hard look at yourself in the mirror, and make a change in your life."

Meanwhile… lalala, pancakes. Mitch, finishing up, shoves her plate ahead with a rattle of cutlery and pops her thumb in her mouth, freeing it of stray syrup. She goes about collecting her various things and sliding them into her laptop case, then stands up to retrieve her jacket. Slinging her back over her shoulder, she's out, picking up the little hum under her breath from her earlier song.

"Oh, you're right, Sir, you're so right, I will give up my wicked ways and take a monastic vow-" Anders deadpans, eyes rolling, "I have heard so many variations on that theme, but you all fail to consider what would happen if we were not "abusing" people as we do, Sir." Anders smiles then, "Can you imagine what would happen if everyone knew? Are you familiar with what happens when people who are /different/? I, Sir, have no desire to become a martyr because some self righteous little twerp cannot understand that he needs boundaries."

"Right now, you're imposing upon /my/ boundaries, so if you please, I'd like to finish my lunch, in peace." Drake says in a low voice as he brings his other hand up to produce the steak knife, then starts to cut into the meat, slicing it open to reveal the pink, tender meat on the inside. "I just want to be left alone, to be a kid. That's all."

The storm apparently passed, Anders nods, "My apologies, sir, please enjoy your lunch," he says, as he fishes out his wallet and places more than enough money on the table, along with a business card with a fake name ("Andrew Jenkins") and phonenumber (which leads to a voice mailbox), "If you come to your senses, I am only a phonecall away. Enjoy the pie." And with that, he stands to leave.

Turning his head away, Drake narrows his eyes at the steak, then slouches back into the booth with a sigh. Cutting off another piece, he finds himself without an appetite as he pokes at the meat. "See yah. I'm sure." He murmurs as he plucks up the card, and sticks it into his pocket.

All that time, Ling was just working on her crossword and in the end, she finishes it, with everything working out. Huzzah! With that, she pays with a hefty bit of a tip and departs..

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