A wrong number turns into a weird food delivery order.
IC Date: 2019-07-27
OOC Date: 2019-05-23
Location: Text
Related Scenes: 2019-07-27 - Croque Madame
Plot: None
Scene Number: 879
(TXT to Ac) Corey : Hey lady do you still have that bed for sale?
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : This is Alexander Clayton. Last I checked, not a lady. Who is this?
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : Oh sorry mate must have typed the number in wrong. Don't suppose you have a bed for sale do you?
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : No. What happened to your bed?
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : Nothing, just moved into a student house. Didn't come with a bed, so I need one. Sleeping on the floor gets old quick.
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : Sorry. Only have one bed, and I'm using it. Would be awkward to share. Have you tried the used furniture store on <<address>>?
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : Yeah but private sale is usually cheaper. Figure I'll go down there if nothing else pans out. Thanks though! Appreciate the advice. Got any other tips for a starving student?
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : Don't starve. For one. It's not conducive to studying. Wikipedia is not a primary source. Don't order the omelets at the Grizzly Den. Who are you, anyway?
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : OK starving might have been stretching it. Corey Jones, student of culinary science at WSU-H. 😃
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : You study cooking? Starving would be a failure on several levels. Nice to meet you.
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : Yeah! It would. On that note, you know anywhere hiring cooks? Or do you want a home-cooked meal? I like practicing.
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : Do you often offer to cook for random people? Must make you popular. Are you in Hoquiam? Or Gray Harbor?
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : Actually yeah I do. It's a great way to make friends. I'm in GH.
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : You should move to Hoquiam.
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : Before you get settled in here.
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : Dude, I /just/ moved. I'm not moving again soon. Moving house sucks! Especially in the heat.
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : ::frowny face emoji::
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : How much do you charge. For a home-cooked meal.
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : Honestly just buy the ingredients. Maybe $5 for gas or something if you're in HQ
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : People value what they pay for, Mr. Jones. Don't set a precedent.
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : People also have to eat. 🙂
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : True. I'm in the hospital at the moment. Can't benefit from your skills, right now. But I may call you back at some point. I can't cook. May I keep this number?
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : You totally can unless they've got you on nil by mouth.
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : Also sure
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : So you're saying you deliver? And still don't charge? Is this a cover for drug smuggling?
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : Look. I get to practice with someone else buying the ingredients, and you get to eat with someone else cooking. It's like win-win.
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : All right. What do you want to practice cooking?
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : You got any allergies/dietary restrictions?
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : No. I can eat anything.
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : What's your budget?
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : Depends on when you want to get paid. Right now, I'm in a hospital gown. I think I have some money if I can find where they put my wallet. Police might have it. Not sure.
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : Ok so we'll go on the less expensive side just in case you end up dining and ditching. How about a croque madame?
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : I don't know what that is. I found the wallet. Looks like $40. There's blood on the bills. Problem?
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : Is it your blood?
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : I think so.
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : It's a sandwich. Like a grilled cheese, but with ham and also a fried egg on top
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : It's ok if the blood is yours. Which ward and bed you in, dude?
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : Rm. 389. A croque madam sounds good. I suppose I will see you here, Mr. Jones.
(TXT to Alexander) Corey : Oh Mr fancy with a private room huh. Sure, see you in maybe 30.
(TXT to Corey) Alexander : All right.
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