2019-09-06 - Pineapple Blaspheme

There is a bench in the park directly across from the entrance to the hospital. It's only partially illuminated by one of the lights, but it's enough to cast on Cristobal so he's not sitting there entirely in shadow. He seems to be doing much of nothing besides watching the outside of Addington Memorial, occasionally spitting a sunflower seed shell into the grass that he's eating out of a light green package.

Chew. Spit. Watch.

A tiny red car rolls up to the curb with a 'Peach's Pizza' light perched atop the roof, shining cheerfully in the dim light. Hopping out is a woman in a white shirt with a red collar and a matching red baseball cap. Her brown hair is pulled out the back in a ponytail, and a little pleated skirt swishes on her hips as she looks from a piece of paper up to the street signs. She blinks and checks it again, oblivious to the park bench occupant. Or avoiding eye-contact.

"You lost?" The man's voice rumbles up, noticing the plight of paper to street sign comparison. Cristobal, master of stating the obvious, rolls another shell up from his cheek and cracks it open noisily between his teeth, using his tongue to manipulate the meat out of the halves before spitting the spent carcass away.

The girl in the red ball cap eeks with a short hop, whirling about as soon as she hits the ground. She has a little nametag on her chest that says 'Vicky' and the mascot on her shirt is a brightly-colored fox animatronic with brown hair and a ballcap like hers. "Um, not really. Just making sure I'm not making a delivery to the wrong location." She starts to turn back around before pausing and looking back over her shoulder, "Er, you didn't order a pizza, did you?"

"Does it have pineapple on it?" It's not a direct answer, and a bit unfair answering a question with another question. Cristobal's eyes flash, caught by the light, as they tick up and down the some what skittish pizza delivery woman. "Don't usually pimply faced teens make deliveries to earn tip money to buy comic books and weed?"

Vicky beams when the random guy on the street correctly guesses at least one of the ingredients on the pizza in her car. "Great! That'll be $17.37." Turning about, Vicky bends down to reach into the car, eventually having to put a knee on the driver's side seat to reach the pizza box while her pleated skirt swishes dangerously high. "Yeah, well, if you know of any who want to work part time for some pay plus tips, let me know? My help wanted ad isn't generating a whole lot of calls."

There is a bit of a sardonic laugh from Cristobal, his head tilting slightly to watch her skirt ride up. He was going to say something, but decides to wait until she turns back around with the pizza box. To be polite. Or at least wait until the chance at an eyeful has passed. "Then fuck no it's not my pie. Fruit doesn't go on pizza, unless it's tomato sauce." Whether or not he knows someone that fits the bill for said job is left unsaid as he spits another seed shell.

Vicky blinks at him when she emerges with the large pizza box held in both hands. It seems to take her a moment to realize he was messing with her and her eyelids fall half-closed with an unamused look on her lips. "Great, hilarious." Glancing back over her shoulder at the hospital, she looks back at him. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to make a delivery, then." She hasn't left just yet, though.

Cris thumbs the side of his nose, if only to hide the budding smirk creeping onto his lips. "Don't you have a delivery to make whether or not I excuse you?" He slides slightly over on the bench, maybe a silent invitation?

Vicky rolls her eyes dramatically skyward with a silent sigh as she whirls away, skirt flaring high. Her hips do swing lazily as she goes to start across the roadway, however, though maybe she just walks like that? Bouncing up the hospital steps, she disappears inside for a short while, her little red car humming on idle.

How easy would it be, to slip off the bench and take a few quick steps. Hop in the driver's seat of that little red car, rip the sign off the top and peel away. Cristobal's gaze turns, marking possible escape routes. Even with the PD right there, there would be enough of a head start.

Crack. Spit. Watch.

The girl in the red ball cap appears a few moments later, her chest bouncing as she trots down the hospital steps. She's holding a wad of cash in her hand and she glances wordlessly at the guy on the bench as she rounds the front of her car, keeping an eye on him silently.

"Shouldn't keep your car running like that. Even in a little town like this, bad shit happens. Just sayin'." Says said guy on a bench before his chin tilts up slightly and he spits again, the shell making an impressive arc to land a foot closer to her this time. "Find the pineapple blasphemer?"

Vicky ews and lifts a foot to avoid the shell, even though it lands short. "Yup. $2.63 tip, naturally." She shrugs, but then she casts a look at her car with a light frown, as if suddenly worried about the fact that she left it unlocked and running. She tries very hard to play it cool and surreptitiously peek at the back seat through the window, leaning back just a bit to do so. "Sooo, anyway, um, thanks for the tip. Should probably keep that in mind from now on." She nods a couple times, once for herself, once for him as her eyes return to him.

"That tip'll do you better than $2.63." Cristobal throws an arm along the back of the bench, slouching down in the seat like he's settling in for the long haul. "You own that joint? Peaches? I'd ask if you make a good slice, but you're going to be biased."

She smirks at him, putting a fist on her hip and cocking it aside. "Well you could order one a find out." She points at her chest--or at least at the animatronic and the Pizzeria's name. "Yup, Vicky Peach. The place was my uncle's, but he died and left it to me for some weird reason." She shrugs slowly, dropping her fist from her hip. "The pizza is okay. I'm working on cleaning up the place."

"I'll find you." Though for some reason it might sound more like a threat than a promise from a strange man, sitting on a bench, late in the evening. "So long as some little mushroom isn't sitting there, telling me my pizza is in another castle." Cris snorts at his own joke, before his bag rustles again, going for another handful of seeds.

Vicky folds her arms under her breasts, her hips shifting the other way as she scowls at him. "Isn't that exactly what you did when I pulled up?" She leans forward slightly when she asks, doing her very best to look intimidating. But then she beams, "But anyway, I've got other deliveries to make. We're in the phone book!" Giving him a small wave, she hops onto her car and heads off for elsewhere.