2019-05-28 - Fires of Imagination

It is a cool spring day out with a cloudless sky, this means the smell of the freshly baked pies is floating out the open doors of the pizzeria arcade. Stacy is lingering by the counter at the moment with a clipboard, more than likely mentally going over inventory before she double checks in the back. A pair of jeans on her, with her work t-shirt and a half apron on, she forgot to leave it back in the kitchen. The music lightly playing on the speakers today is 90's and 2000's modern rock medley at the moment.

Coming through the door with a yawn behind his hand, Nicholas drifts into the Pie house with a slow gait. Over his shoulder is a satchel, which he deposits in a boothseat before heading up to the counter to decide just how hungry he truly is. Giving a nod to Stacy, he thrusts his hands into his jeans pockets and thus he stands, leaning, examining the offerings on the menuboard. They say that one must eat.

Stacy sets her clipboard down to the side of the register as a warm, welcoming smile is offered to Nicholar as she states, "Buongiorno, welcome to Pew Pew Pie. What make you like to try today? I hear good things about the breakfast pizza if you aren't ready for an early lunch." Her Italian accent is still rather strong but she is understandable for the most part.

Nicholas cannot help but blurt out his snarky (but friendly-intentioned) reply, "You 'hear' good things? You work here, right?" A small laugh as he points to the apron, but then logic screws in a lightbulb in his brain, "Oh... you might not like what's on it, I'm guessing. Vegan?" He doesn't seem to be in any hurry to order, even if he still scans the board.

Stacy snickers a bit before she responds, "I /own/ it but I do hear things. I'm not always looking so obvious." A laugh given before she leans on the counter as she muses, "Definently not vegan, I am too fond of bacon to ever consider such things. I do have gluten-free options and vegan options should it be special ordered." A brief pause before she inquires, "Are you a vegan?"

Nicholas gives a triumphant nod of his head at the praise of bacon, "All hail the holy bacon, long may it reign! Annnnnnnd, hell no. I'm seriously considering either a meat-lovers pizza or a meatball sub, with extra cheese no matter what." There is a pause as he chews the inside of his cheek, trying to decide, "Can I get a small meat-lovers with extra bacon and cheese? That sounds good."

Stacy grins as she begins to tap on the screen of her register as she responds, "That can easily be done, did you want to flavor the edges of the crust? I have a few options like butter and herb, parmesan, could even put cheese in the crust edges." Her fingers seeming to glide and tap on the screen effortlessly as she types in the small meat lovers pie with extra bacon and extra cheese.

The paramedic thinks about it for a few moments, then shakes his head, "I like the crust just as-is, honestly. You guys have great cheesesticks if I am in the mood for the cheese-crust thing. Oh, and can you add a Coke to that?" Digging into his pocket, he pulls out a wadded twenty and uncrinkles it, laying it on the counter.

Through the entry doors pushes Harper, a rain jacket atop her cardigan, blouse, and jeans. The cuffs of her jeans are damp, suggesting she's been walking outside a bit in the drizzle. A satchel hangs over one shoulder. "... do eat pizza -and- read books. That's just plain silly." Talking to herself? She blinks a few times to adjust to the dimmer lighting after the overcast glare, then approaches the counter behind the man with his hands stuffed in his pockets. She then does a minute double take in the direction of the side of his head from behind and reaches out a flat hand to shove him in the upper arm. "Nicholas. This is a pizza place." As if he were unaware or preyed upon by fast Italian food, good smells from the kitchen, and the charming hostess.

Stacy offers a nod as she adds the coke onto the order, placing the cup on the counter as she says, "Not a bring, plain crust my preference too but I have learned some like additional flavor, so I offer." She takes the twenty, passing to inquire, "Are you a... how you say... do you work for the government at all? Teacher? Police officer? Fire fighter? Judge? Anything like that. I do give discounts, and for students with a school ID." As Harper comes in, she offers a wave hello with her hand that isn't holding the twenty as she calls out, "Buongiorno, welcome to Pew Pew Pie. I can take your order in just a moment." Her attention back on Nicholas as she awaits the answer.

Nicholas chuckles once as he hears the voice entering into the parlor, turning only slightly to see Harper going on about whatever monoversation she was having. "Yes," he confirms with a bit of snark when she confirms their locale, "it's where they make the pizzas, I have found. What are you out doing, Harps?" As Stacy rings him up, he nods, "I'm an EMT for County, yeah, thanks," as he takes up the wax-paper cup for his drink.

In slip two little dark-haired women, having stood outside the door for the better part of a minute engaged in some sort of back-and-forth. Whatever their conversation, it ended with them deciding to come inside. For Nicholas and Harper, there is no denying the sparks that fly from them, like a heat-haze of Glimmer from these two. "This complicates things," one says to the other, those big, dark eyes of hers hung from Stacy for a moment. Resolute: "Oh well."

Harper's attention is distracted from Nick and his question abruptly as Stacy greets her with that delicious actual-Italian accent. The librarian curves a return smile at the woman and reaches into her satchel with one hand while asking, "Hi, I'm Harper Price, from the library a few blocks down. Would you mind if I put up a flyer for the teen Read-in at the library in a couple weeks? I could even leave a stack for beside the register if you're willing." Her smile remains charming, turns hopeful. The flyer she pulls out boasts pillow fights, snacks, book-shares, and music. It says it's for ages 10 through eighteen. To Nick, but not after the reply from Stacy, "I actually go places other than the library sometimes, Nicholas." She stage-whispers, "Like a real girl." Then, "Did you just get off shift?" Because he looks too tired to be headed to one, and pizza isn't the most efficient pre-shift meal.

The green-eyed girl of the pair bounces a look from Harper to Nicholas and then finally settles on Stacy. "A shame," she murmurs sullenly, and it is a pitying look that she passes to the pizza-owner, but her slim shoulders lift in a shrug. Oh well, indeed.

Stacy types in her discount code before she rings up the new total, soon putting the twenty into the register and giving him the change back. As she closes the cash drawer, that is when the two little dark-haired women enter, "Buongiorno, welcome to Pew Pew Pie." Then those words cause her to look a touch curious but she shrugs it off for the time being, utterly clueless to glimmering things. Her attention returns to Harper as she responds, "Oh yes, feel free to hand them up. And I not mind handing them out or putting them onto pizzas should someone order delivery. Also it is lovely to meet you Harper. I am Anastacia Cantalina, but you can just call me Stacy." To Nicholas she responds, "It is nice to make your acquaintance Nicholas," picking up on the name from the exchange between he and Harper. Her attention then on the green-eyed, dark-haired woman as she inquires, perhaps naively, "What is a shame?"

Giving a glance at the two new entrants, taking his change from Stacy as he steps a pace aside from the register. His eyes look past Harper to the new small women, his brow furrowed, attention sort of split. About to say something teasing to Harper, he just takes his drink cup and steps toward the soda machine, "You should stick one on the cork bulletin board in the entry, Harps. People sometimes stop and look at those."

"That is a shame," the dark-eyed woman answers to Stacy, glancing up at the settling darkness. "Does anyone have flashlights or candles?" She looks to her companion expectantly and hits the word candle just a touch harder. "Who here can light a match, I wonder."

There's a heavy sigh from the green-eyed woman. This is SUCH a shame, indeed. But she knows what to do, it seems, because she holds her hand out and unfurls her fingers. A tiny spark appears in the palm of her hand, a quiet glow amongst the darkness.

Stacy's brain will, of course, explain this away. Maybe she has a glow stick! Maybe she keeps small candles in her pocket! It all makes sense.

Stacy earns a beaming smile of delight from Harper, who immediately reaches out a stack of several dozen flyers for parents, teens and kids who might come to have pizza and become interested in the library event. "I'll tape one up inside the door if you are okay with it." Because outside it'd get wet and blurry within a day or two. Then Harper murmurs under her breath while glancing to the side, "Yes, she said Anastasia. I -know-. Shush." Back to the woman. "Thanks, Stacy. I really think the youth program has room to grow. When kids get connected to books they actually like ..." Her voice drifts off again and she half turns to look at the pair of dark-haired women. "-- don't go there." It's a strange greeting if one misperceives it that way, under her breath. Then she smiles faintly at them. "We have new books just in at the library down the street. You should come check them out." See what she did there? She turns back to Stacy. "If Nicholas is eating, I'll order something. Meatball su--" The lights go out. Harper says flatly to everyone, "Get away from the glass." As if that were the biggest concern right now, or she the one to bark orders. She stays frozen where she stood, facing neither the door nor the counter, and looking in what was Nick's direction before everything went dark.

Stacy lets out a string of Italian curse words as all the lights in the building go out with those loud noises and the storm begins to come out of nowhere. The staff in the kitchen scrambling to find the emergency flashlights that Stacy keeps in her back office. Her eyes curiously looking to the touch key-chain in the green-eyed woman's hand, her own then remembered about as she comments, "Storms out here are crazy.... maybe there is something off the coast." Her hands drawing out her cell phone to call up the electric company and the other is grabbing her keys and tapping her little flashlight attached onto them there. Then she hears Harper's words, offering a nod before she moves to duck into the kitchen, storms mean glass can break and it is better to clean up after. Also probably easier to talk to the electricians in the back. She'll get Nicholas his money back when the power is back up, darned electrical registers.

When the lights go out in the small parlor, Nicholas' filling of ice into his cup stops. "What the..." he says quietly, mostly to himself, before turning back to the counter, looking out the windows of the business toward the street. Two steps are taken toward Stacy at the counter, but something is just /wrong/. His head turns slowly toward Brown Eyes, his gaze locking onto her with a sense of caution. His hackles are up, and the fact that the only non-concerned and/or panicking people in the pizza parlor are the two strangers in the room... well that sort of makes them stand out. "Harper..." he says in a low, warning voice, reaching out to take her by the arm and pull her away from the two women. With as strong a voice as he can muster, he points at the woman with the glow in her hand, "Get out. Get out, now. Both of you."

"I suppose no one else knows how to strike a light?" asks the brown-eyed woman sadly, her voice coolly composed in this insane darkness. She leans her thoughts toward Nicholas in particular, and - behind his black eyelids - he can so easily see a flame leap to life on a wooden chair. It would illuminate the whole room! It would give him back his sight! All he has to do is will it into being! "We can't just get out." She lifts a point to Stacy, but it's almost impossible to see the gesture in this thick, thick darkness. "There's a crazy storm out there. We could get hurt."

"Goodness gracious," purrs the green-eyed woman. There's no glance out the window, or around the parlor - she's wholly focused on the three within. Or, perhaps just mostly Harper and Nicholas, Stacy seems more of an afterthought to her attentiveness. The flame in her hand stays steady, a single point of light in the darkness. "Overreacting much?" it's a quiet laugh, hers. She slides another step inward. "Certainly someone can find us some more light."

Harper's shoulders relax just slightly as Stacy gets away from possible glass. She's somewhat cemented to her spot, unable to decide what to think of the duo near her. "We need light," she states flatly. The lightning strikes, burns on the retinas, then leaves her more dark-blind than before. That is when Nick grasps her arm and uses his official work voice that she is easily pulled farther from the brunette twins. His words leave her blinking more rapidly, trying to /see/ what he's seeing. She doesn't get after him for his rudeness. There's a strange sort of acceptance to her in the moment.

Stacy handles calling an electrical inspector as well as the electric company, arranging appointments for when they can come look at the building. Perhaps she can be heard occasionally cussing in Italian before saying something in English with an apology to the person on the phone, how she isn't the fondest of storms. Occasionally soft murmuring in the kitchen as she tries to keep her crew calm and take inventory of what products were lost. She will peek her head back out of the kitchen shortly to just on the other patrons, her shift lead no working today to aid with such an instance.

Blindness encroaches, and the sudden fear pounding his bloodstream, a rush of sound in his ears, is turned into a wall of water in Nicholas' psyche. Panic. "NO!" he shouts, just as the lightning strikes and punishes him for making a choice. Pulling Harper back to him, away from the strange women, he is fighting a lashing-out urge. "GET OUT!" he nearly bellows, but any action he might take is paused by him blinking his eyes, trying to clear them.

Harper stumbles that last step at the urgency of the EMT's strong tug and her rain-jacket clad back collides with the gripping arm and the side of Nick's chest. She flinches as he shouts that single syllable, staring, trying to see more than just the palm-flame. "Get away." Two words, just flatly stated and too-quiet under Harper's breath. To the women? To Nick? To herself? Impossible to say.

"Out? Out there?" The brown-eyed woman turns, the sound of her voice changing when she aims toward the storm, pelting huge raindrops onto the street and the windows. "That's not a very good idea. It's safer IN HERE. It would be much safer if we just had a little more light."

"Oh. Oh no," says the green eyed woman sadly, as the flame in her palm starts to flicker and fade. Soon, it will be extinguished completely. "If only someone had a match."

A slew of Italian profanities are shouted out as Stacy's phone shocks herself, her hand deciding to wait for this storm to finish with those other few phone calls, employees have to be told of the surprise shift change after all.

Squeezing Harper's arm, Nicholas just isn't the type to stand by and put up with people being endangered. Squinting into the blackness, the rushing wall of water in his ears severely limits his ability to know anything but that glow, that beacon of solitude in the blackness. "NO!" he bellows again, launching himself at the light-holder in an attempt to tackle them before they can finish whatever they came here to do. Unfortunately, light-bearer has moved on the other side of a table, and the athletic and blinded EMT barrels into this instead, sending chairs, himself and the table crashing to the floor.

"Granholm, no --" Harper starts, too late as Nick lunges past her and crashes into the table and chairs. "Shit. Shitshitshit!" She'll be embarrassed later at her own use of profanity. From the other direction she hears Stacy's outburst, but she's farther from the building's glass, so Harper sticks her arms out and blindly, hurriedly follows in the direction of his lunge. "Say something!" She doesn't quite shout but when she hits a chair, she drops to hands and knees, finding a Nick-foot unless he scrambles back up too quickly. "We can't separate." Where do the librarian's rules come from?

"Careful," says the green-eyed woman as Nicholas blindly slams into the tables and chairs. Clearly something there must've caught his arm, because that's the only explanation as to why the skin on his forearm cuts open and blood starts to trickle out. "It's dark in here."

Skittering backward a few steps at the flailing lung, the brown-eyed woman's eyes collect the faint light and hold onto it for a moment, a flash that sparks like the lightning that seems to have ceased now, though dim rolls of thunder are still audible on the edge of hearing. "Oh, you silly boy."

Harper feels like her voice is amplified back into her own ears as she murmurs in a wavery voice, "I don't know." Then. "Dad?" A pregnant pause. "Bette?" She drags in a deep breath that sounds as though she's re-centered slightly. "-- you can't just go making suppositions like that." After those long-stretched-in-a-grave moments, Harper's hands begin searching for Nick again, attempting to find a jeans-clad leg, a jacket to grab, something. "Nicholasdammitcomeback." All one word, stern.

An anguished wail comes from Nicholas, all splayed and spilled on the floor, half on his face... and now bleeding. There is a growling word spit from his lips as he scrambles to shove himself to his feet once more, balling his hands into fists and jamming his eyes shut. To count. To quell the rushing wall of water that seems to thunder at him in time with the lightning's reports. But sometimes, a familiar voice can not only guide, but change decisions. He starts to back up the way that he lunged, toward his friend Harper.

Harper collides with Nick's knee from her spot on the floor /just/ before the room goes up as if it were covered in lighting fluid. There's staff in the back. There's blood suddenly visible on the also-suddenly-visible Nick. This place is going to go up fast. She tugs at Nick to get him down to the floor before the fueling air gets too hot, calls to the kitchen. "Stacy, if there's a back door, get out. Now!" The soft-spoken librarian isn't used to using her outside voice with this much vehemence. She tugs, hard, on Nick's leg. "Get your stupid self down. We have to get out." A pause. "No, not out the window."

Even more Italian profantities are heard as there is a few screams and the sounds of skittering. She calls out, "Already planned that, get all the patrons in front out!

Even more Italian profantities are heard as there is a few screams and the sounds of skittering. Stacy calls out, "Already planned that, get all the patrons in front out!" She moves to pull the fire alarm but the fire spread to the door. Soon guiding all of her staff to the front of the house. Her eyes going wide as she utters more profanities, "The door in the back is on fire... as is the wall where my brick oven is... the... entire... wall..." She rips off her apron and begins to wrap it around one of her hands making a fist as she utters, "Stand back..." She is about to punch that cloth covered hand through the glass, smoke inhalation kills!

Nicholas is able to see suddenly, the eruption of flames an instant eye-grab, "Shit." He has no qualms, it would seem, about swearing in times of mortal danger. Crouching, he grabs Harper by the arm, "Stay down, we need to get the people in the back out." Standing up slightly to look into the back, "HEY! Hit the fire suppressor! The big red button near the ovens!" Fire department training, even if it is tangential. Surely one of the employees will remember their training. "Stay away from the walls," he coughs, "Get some towels into your wash sinks, cover your mouths!" Grabbing for one of the dining room chairs, he hefts it and throws it at the window.

Harper watches Stacy's quick thinking with a sudden flash of gut-clenching horror. "NOT THE GLASS!" She'd rather be charbroiled? Nick's command was heeded before it was made. Harper's on the ground and not planning to get to her feet to stand tall anytime soon. "Sprinkers. Aren't there sprinklers?" She looks up at the smoky ceiling.

Nicholas stares for a moment, then sort of melts into a sigh. Blistered red, burnt, coughing... there is no way that anyone would convince him what what they just experienced was... normal. "Fuck," he hisses, straightening as he looks around, "What the actual fuck." Throwing his hands up, he takes a few breaths, staring at the window he just shattered, not knowing what else to say. "Of course," he growls, "Of course."

coughing, choking on smoke that suddenly isn't there Harper is unraveling. It's as though she doesn't see the transformation of reality. Maybe because THAT CHAIR CRASHED THROUGH THE GLASS! What did she say when this all started? No toldya so's. Just a twenty-eight year old librarian cowering on the floor as if a gang were kicking and taking swings at her from all directions. All her commands for the staff and Stacy, all her demands of Nick, gone. She holds her blistered hands out, looking at them but not seeing.

"Maybe!" Nicholas shouts at the window, "But at least I didn't torch the place!" As if he is yelling after some fleeing gunman.

Stacy looks around a bit confused as everything switches to normal. Her apron lowered back down as she looks to the staff and calmly says, "Just... check on all the food and have the waitresses check on the game systems. Make sure everything is to temperture." She is managing to at least look calm. Her gaze looking a bit confused as she looks to Nicholas, though not about the window. She takes in a slow deep breathe before she offers, "Maybe you can eat the pie upstairs in my apartment, we are going to have to discuss the window replacement." A nervous smile given before she begins to tie her apron on herself once more.

Still staring at the shattered window, the few people outside on the street now leaning to peer at what might be happening at the Pew Pew... well, apparently, it's a sleep-deprived paramedic flipping out over extra bacon. Rubbing his face, Nicholas fills his lungs to calm the rushing sound of blood in his ears, slumping against the counter. "I'm so sorry," the guy swallows, shaking his head at Stacy, "I'll.. I'll call it in." He pushes a hand into his pocket with a grimace, pulling out his phone. Dialing, he looks at Harper curled on the floor, frowning and defeated as he listens to the dial tone. "Hi, yeah. Can we get a unit down to the Pew Pew pizza parlor? I, uh, just threw a chair through one of the front windows. Oh, and can you give Gerald a call, over at the glass place?" he murmurs into the phone as he finds a place to sit down.

Harper remains kneeling-crouched on the floor, mumbling threadily under her breath, her hands held out, visibly trembling. She's in a different headspace, by the looks of it. But the patrons who are local don't think much about it. Crazy Harper. There she goes again.

Stacy reaches over to Nicholas as she attempts to guide his phone to be put away but ends up letting him call it in. She makes sure that the staff begins working on his pizza before she moves to Nicholas as she brings him a new cup, leaning in to softly whisper something with concern. Before she moves over to Harper, carefully kneeling next to her as she asks, "Hey... want some coffee? Maybe an espresso?" Caffeine might makes this worse...

Harper lifts tear-filled eyes to look at Stacy a long while without recognition before a not-quite hysterical -- yet quiet -- laughter rolls in her throat. "Is she dead?" the librarian asks. Who 'she' might be is not particularly clear.

Confused, Nicholas looks up at Stacy, studying her face with a frown of not understanding. Oh. Right. "No," he says with an attempt at a smile, shaking his head, "No, thank you. Stacy, right? No, thanks. I... I'm just going to make sure that the cops write a report, then I'll get someone to come replace the window. I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened." Not even a little of that is a lie. But, seeing Harper curled on the floor, he excuses himself from Stacy to go help his friend up. "C'mon," he says to her, "My truck's outside, it'll be okay." As he gathers his satchel, then Harp's, he gives an apologetic smile, "We'll show ourselves out, ma'am, and again... sorry. I'll get this all fixed." There goes lunch. And the appetite. And the sanity of the next week.

Harper doesn't so much stand as she rises with the nudge of Nick's touch, on auto-pilot. "It won't be okay," she murmurs in a contradictory, reassuring voice. "But it never is. And that's perfect." She nods slowly, as if in agreement to something no one said. "Yeah." Pause. "Perfect." Nick easily guides her toward the exit and she adds airily, without turning to look at the owner of the place, distracted, "See ya around, Anastasia."

Stacy remembers what happened but lets Nicholas claim that lie for now, given all the patrons and eyes already watch. Causing more of a scene is not wise. She hmms softly, but lets he and Harper take off. A soft smile given as her Italian name is spoken but she won't forget the weirdness of today. Not unless there is a lot of Disaronno involved, A LOT.