2019-09-27 - Love, Waffles and the Plague

Mae managed to get out of the Cabaret pretty quick after last call tonight. Immediately she headed to the Diner to grab some breakfast for home. She has a menu in hand, leaning against the counter as she waits for someone to wait on her. In this place, it could take a while. She shrugs out of her jacket, sets it down next to her purse and pushes up her sleeves. Once again she hits the bell on the counter, and the guy standing in the kitchen doesn't even look up from his phone. Lovely.

"I know whatever you're looking at on your phone is important, but can I please just get some waffles to go?" She makes a face and sighs as she's still ignored. At least there are bear facts on the menu.

"I think you lost him to the rabbit hole. Cat memes being what they are and all." Moses too has been waiting, slumped against the counter, his arms folded lazily over it as he drums his fingers on the surface. How long as he been there? Who knows. Moses's appear when needed...or, when lazy ass restaurant employees can't seem to stop their tender swipes to do their job.

Glancing at the woman, Moses takes a moment to study her before he glances back at the counter to give a thump to a nearby bear doohickey. "Day 3 in Gray Harbor. I remain convinced locals just part of a big cult." Beat. "Or I'm being punked." A town cannot possibly be /this/ cursed right? Bad service AND the bubonic plague? "Maybe if we sing it, he'll hear us?"

"There isn't a single time that I've been here that the service staff hasn't been complete assholes." Mae totally didn't spot Moses, and now she's convinced that he'd been hiding or something. "Since I got kicked out of the waffle shoppe, this is my only option." The corners of her lip s quirk at his words. "Yeah, you get used to it, or you just kind of ignore it. I still miss Seattle every so often."

She shrugs a shoulder and shifts her hazel eyes back to the kitchen. "I mean, we could try, but I'm pretty sure he's not coming out until he's done texting his girlfriend." Her voice gets louder, her chin tilting up. "Give it up man, she's fucking the dishwasher." She slaps down the menu and turns her head back toward the newcomer. "So what, you a breakfast junkie too?"

"How do you get kicked out of a waffle shop? Aren't their standards already set pretty low?" Mo's brows furrow a bit, thoughtful and possibly a bit concerned, before he lightens his gaze and turns it back on the texting employee. "I also think you're under appreciating how bad my singing voice is." A grin later he shifts his weigh, standing straighter to bend and try to glance deeper into the back of the kitchen, but alas. "I'm a food junkie. Like this town, I also have my standards set ridiculously low. If it doesn't kill me, it's probably okay." Beat. "But yes I like waffles." She gets a wink, but not before he glances toward her arms, eyeing the faint colors of ink that /maybe/ are evident. Hmmm. "Why the absolutely hell did you leave Seattle to move /here/? You don't look like the type of girl to intentionally move to ...." A hand wave goes toward a window. he still doesn't have the words to describe the town.

"Well.." Mae clears her throat, slanting a look at Moses before she steps closer. She absolutely doesn't want the service staff at the diner to hear about her shenanigans. "Got into a food fight with a friend, and then got physical with the shit brick house of a waitress there when she tried to escort me out. I really wanted my waffles." She taps the side of her nose, and then peeks back into the kitchen again. No movement. "Well if your singing voice will get him motivated, I will buy you breakfast." She folds her arms over her chest, the ink on her forearms, hands and fingers showing. "It's complicated, but literally as soon as I motored into this town, I got hired by the strip club. Figured that I should stick with it while my luck was good." She presses her lips together in an attempt not to smile too brightly. "Turns out men in a small town like strippers. Who would have figured, right?"

She holds out an inked hand toward Moses. "Mae Molinari. Welcome to the town where weird shit is the normal."

The story causes the faintest deflation in his amusement. Moses actually looks mildly disappointed for a second. "See, I was looking for something with a little more spirit to it, like 'I stabbed a guy for looking at my scrambled eggs' or something similar. Now I'm disappointed AND hungry. And a liar I'm pretty sure my singing voice won't get much more than spit in my food and considering the towns pretty much infected with the plague, I don't need that kind of negativity in my life." He smirks again, but he also does his absolute BEST not to react to the story of how she landed in such a fantastic town. "I may have heard something like that before." Ahem. Ignore the smirk he tries to hide as she lowers his head, "Let's see what other awkward question can I ask...." give him time. "I like you're sleeve. You get that here or in Seattle? They have some pretty epic over that way." Beat, "But you can still buy me breakfast, of course. Are you sick?" Because he MAY not take her hand. Evil death germs and all.

"You don't shank people for eggs. You stab them when they're sneaking out of bed in the morning without leaving you pop tarts." Mae responds, watching him look at the extended hand. She sheepishly pulls it back in and clears her throat. "Just getting over the death plague, actually. My luck, I'd give it to you still." She glances at the kitchen again and sighs. She's made a decision. "Listen, a girl has to do what a girl has to do, this girl likes to eat, so that means making money. Shaking my ass for it is pretty easy, all told. I also enjoy it." She lifts the counter door and steps through, poking her head in the kitchen. "Hey fuckers, can I have two orders of waffles, scrambled eggs, bacon and some orange juice. I'll tip whoever gets them out quick, might flash one of you assholes too!" The cooks look intrigued, and food starts to get prepared. She walks back out, moving to find a seat.

"Ink was done in New York, Chicago and a few pieces in Seattle. I need to get some touched up, but I haven't managed to find someone to get that done for me." She rolls her eyes, settling into a seat. Her jacket is set aside, purse placed on top. "Come and sit with me, I promise to breathe away from you in general or something." She doesn't mention that he probably already has the flu already, and he's just borrowing time at this point.

"See, I could have done /that/ but I don't think I'd have gotten the same reaction. Sexists fucks." Mo's JOKING, but he also moves on, chuckling as she returns and locates seat. He follows because he's /polite/.

He probably already has it. The near-germaphobe will not be okay when he realizes this. He sits in spite of death plague warnings. "New York is pretty good, Chicago is cold as fuck but they have some talent. Oddly Miami is a good place to go for expert work, but who wants to go to Miami?" He folds his arms, his fingers returning to the faint drumming of his finger tips as he watches the rest of the restaurant. Really he's probably just looking at the tacky d�cor, if we're being completely honest. "I got the name of some dude that runs a shop in town. Jeff or something. I'm considering looking the place up to see if it's worth a chair or if I need to find a new method of carving out a living. I may end up asking for dance lessons at the rate this moves going." Assuming he doesn't die this week in what is /obviously/ the start of the zombie uprising.

"It's the tits. You get some and you're golden, sweetheart." Mae responds, shifting so she can put her feet up on the booth seat across the way. She won't invade his personal space, she's not rude.

"I was born in New York, got out of there as soon as I could manage it. I agree completely on Chicago, the pizza was good too, but I had to get the fuck out of there. Caught some trouble." She makes a noise in agreement about Miami, not even bothering to hide her distaste for Florida as she smirks across the table. "If you get a chair, I'll give you work. Maybe. I need to figure out your name first." She tilts her head slightly and manages to suppress her giggles. "Yeah, you'd make money dancing if we oiled you up or something." She hears her phone buzz so she grabs it to peek at the screen. She sets it on the table and leans in slightly, propping her chin in her hand. "You look like you've got some work on your arms. How much?"

Moses smirks, but he lets her talk. He seems perfectly fine letting someone else carry the conversation. Still, eventually he must speak. He also tugs the hoodie off. His stuffs primarily black and white, a mix of neo-traditional and new school, up from his right wrist and well beyond the fold of his t-shirt. "I have a bit." Heh! "I have a decent enough portfolio, just a matter of making myself commit to a shop I don't run. It's hard working in someone elses space, but working out of the Murder Motel probably wont bring much business. Then again, who knows. This town may be hard up for good ink." His brows jump at that before he leans back, folding his arms. "Moses, and I /assure you/ that the only thing worse than my singing voice, are my dance moves."

Mae smirks when Moses mentions that he has a bit of ink. One of the cooks comes out carrying two plates. He sets them down and gives Mae a long look. She picks up the syrup before she gazes back at him and huffs out a sigh. "Not gonna flash you right here in the open, smart ass. Shoo." He slinks back toward the kitchen and she shakes her head, turning her attention back to Moses as she pours syrup on her waffles. "Oh you're staying at Sea View? Get out of there as soon as you can manage it, I'm pretty sure half of the flu victims are holed up there. So yeah, you're doomed." She has poured a lot of maple on her waffles.

"Honestly if you were oiled up enough and your ass is more impressive than your rack, you'd get tips." Mae digs into her waffles with her fork, spearing some to point at Moses. "The world is shallow, it's sad." She stuffs the forkful of waffles into her mouth and chews slowly.

Moses can only chuckle. And blush. Just a little. Thank the gods for the arrival of their food, which he shamelessly takes. All flashings and or payment may be directed to the lady, kay thanks. He took has no trouble dousing his waffles in liquid diabetes. "Honestly I don't think there's a safe place in this whole town. Also I'm lazy." So, he's in a motel. It's guy logic. He chews a moment, but he does eventually add, "We're all shallow, some just put up a fight before they fold." She's flashed a smirk before he finally sighs, "Did you tell me your name? Spoiler, I have a shitty memory for names."

Mae picks up a piece of bacon, crunching it as Moses douses his own waffles in syrup. "I was in that motel for maybe a week before I found a place. I couldn't stay there, too many rumors of dead bodies and odd people coming and going at all hours of the night." She takes another bite and makes a face. "Shallow makes me money, I'll take it." She sets down her bacon and picks up her fork. "I did tell you my name, and I'm about to give you my number so you can keep in touch about the whole ink thing. Mae Molinari." She digs her fork into her waffles again and takes a bite.

"So why are you here in this town, you don't seem to .. like it." She gives her eggs a look before she pushes them toward a smaller plate.

"Oh, right. Mae." Moses didn't remember that. Not even a little, but he does attempt to hide his guilt behind a piece of bacon. Ahem. "The people don't bother me, but I'm from LA so.." the hand holding his fork waves lazily, as if to say more without saying it. He also watches her anti-egg behavior with an arched brow. "I don't like it, no, which is totally unfair and a reflection of my own issues. I needed a new start. I'd gotten to a point where everything in my life felt entirely to routine, I steer out of it no matter what I did so," again, a wave with the fork. "My mom and step-dad lived here for a while. They died, as people tend to do." Around here. He doesn't say as much but its insinuated. "I visited while I was dealing with their stuff and decided to settle here." He pauses before adding, "I make terrible life choices, but I finish what I start." So, he's determined.

The eggs are pushed near the edge of the table and left there. "Mhm, Mae." She murmurs, picking up a piece of maple syrup'd bacon. "I was heading to LA when I started west, somehow I ended up in Seattle and then here. Not .. quite sure how that happened, but now I feel like i just need to ride with it." She jerks her shoulder up, shrugging. She listens as he speaks of new starts, parents and she nods slowly, taking a bite of her drippy bacon. "Terrible life choices but you follow through on them." She finishes off her bacon, sucks the syrup off her fingers (can't reinfect herself) and glances at her ink. "So if I got you to help me touch up some of this, I wouldn't have to worry about you suddenly disappearing, never to be heard from again?" Mae pulls her orange juice closer. "Good to know."

"I'm to lazy to be mysterious," Moses allows simply as he turns to watch a woman pass by, which somehow results in him staring at a large, rather ugly bear statue.

The creepiest thing in this creepy town is this diner. Someone thought this was a great idea.

Inwardly he feels sad for a moment before he looks back toward the woman. "Anyway I always have my phone and I don't have the mental fortitude not to answer it when it rings." Habits. "So see, I'm a dependable guy, who makes horrible choices but has the integrity to rude that shit out anyway." His smile is almost smug as he describes himself, proud....or perhaps he's just owning the obvious. "You gotta love yourself, yeah? Also, you should go to LA some time, even if just to visit. Everyone should experience it at least once."

The door dings open and in walks a tall, tattooed, black-clad woman dressed up way too nice for a diner. Love's only choice, it's clear, is to glance around, catch sight of Mo & Mae, and turns on her heel to stride toward their table, like the sheer volume of ink yonder drags her to them. Her long grey hair is pulled up in a messy, purposeful up-do. She's wearing skinny jeans and a black corset, heeled ankle boots that tip her five-eleven height up taller than Moses when he's standing. Her long strides eat up the distance and she slides in next to Mae, leans over and kisses the brunette's shoulder, mwah.

"Girl." Girl. Like man I'm wiped out. There's a whole sentence in that one word.

She nods to Mo, chin-up kinda way, and glances over at the unguarded eggs. She turns to look at the kitchen staff. Where the hell is the waitress? She's probably dead and buried out back. "I need a bacon sandwich to live."

A look is cast to Moses. "I would kiss you, too, but I don't know who you are, where you've been, or if you're into that."

"Hopefully not lazy when you work." Mae responds, poking at her second waffle. For a moment she might seem like she's going to give up on it, but she carves off a piece. "I don't usually call, I mostly text. I have to talk to men all night at work, when I don't have to do it, I don't want to do it." She slides her phone, probably germ-ridden , toward Moses.

That's when Love walks into her life. Mae isn't dressed up all pretty like her inked comrade, she's wearing a simple long-sleeved white thermal and a pair of ripped jeans. Her biker boots are on her feet, and her hair is wild from work. "Come sit down, get un-tired. Breakfast is on me." She doesn't mention that she has to flash a cook before she hoofs it home. "Good luck getting served. Tell the cook that you'll give him a rub and tug and you might get your sandwich for free."

"Where you've been." She mutters quietly on the heels of Love's words, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "Christ."

It's a lot to take in. Words flying everywhere. Legs. New faces, and all of this is in competition with food so..Moses is mostly quiet as the women-friend-coworker-people carry on across the booth from him. Love does eventually get words from him though, muffled and waved off with a chuckle, "I'm not sure about most of that either, so you let me catch up with the conversation, and we'll see where I land, how about that?" She gets a smirk, but he goes back into his waffle which...he....finishes.

He doesn't seem to be very concerned with Mae's lack of interest in winded conversations, he merely reaches to enter his number into her phone before it's slid back over.

He now has the death plague. Probably.

Love rests her hands on the edge of the table, glossy black nails ticking along its surface, almond shaped like little claws. She flattens her hands for a couple of light thumps on the table, then reaches up to scratch the back of her neck. She looks to Mae at the rundown on the kitchen staff and the offer. She grins. "I'd rather threaten to remove his toenails from his body with rusty pliers." She says that with a soft, gentle voice, like anyone would buy explicit maiming threats coming out of her mouth. "Long as you land with maple syrup, you take your time."

"I thought if I dressed the part, I'd feel up to going to work to do a stock check, maybe talk Tony into a C02 glass chiller, but I fell asleep on the beer cooler. I was like, sorry, man I need four more days off." Love rises, and makes her way over to the counter. She stands there a beat, perched on stiletto heeled boots. Nada. She picks up a handful of splenda packets and starts winging them one by one at the short-order window.

Eventually, a curious cook peeps through the short order window. "Hi, bacon and fried egg sandwich on rye, no pickle."

Mae gestures to her face, her stage makeup still present. She was too tired after last call to peel it back. "I went in tonight. I just didn't do any lap or table dances. I needed funds." She takes another bite of her waffles and quirks a brow at Love. "You fell asleep on the beer cooler?" She tries not to laugh more, but some giggles escape, and she takes a long drink of her orange juice to keep herself from coughing.

She turns to regard Moses when Love gets up and makes a failed attempt to hurl things through the short-order window. "Sorry, we're usually not this bad." That's a total lie, actually. They're usually worse.

She collects her phone, checks the new contact and holds it up to take a picture of Moses, adding it to the number that was entered. "There, now I'll actually answer when you text me. Probably."

Moses pushes his plate away as the Splenda tossing commences. It's a fail, but it does at least manage to amuse a little. He keeps his attention cut between the two women, but Mae's assurance gets a slow nod. "Sure, you are." He doesn't believe her at all, but he's polite, so he lets it slide by. The 'probably' gets a chuckle as well, but it is also allowed to slide. That conversation has a /lot/ of probably in it.

Cook must have been attracted by the repeated flaps of sugar substitute packets smacking against the wall. He looks at Love a bit oddly, but disappears to (hopefully) make her food.

She turns and wanders on back to the table, dropping into a seat next to Mae again. "Yeah, butter side down on the beer. It was nice and chilled. I missed you dancing? Sorry, babe. I'm headed back to the motel. Slept on Vik's couch enough days in a row." She pauses. "Plus I have popsicles in my mini freezer in the room." She's paying for a room she hasn't been sleeping in. Sounds about right. "I just have to figure out if I'm room 12 or room 14." Surprise, she's room 15.

"Who has food they don't want? I got out of bed today." That sentence seems to be her whole statement/reasoning for needing food.

Mae pushes what is left of her waffles and bacon in Love's direction. She abandoned her eggs a while ago, they're off to the side. "You missed me dancing, or attempting to dance. I made nice tips, but I felt like a zombie." She smirks over at Moses, her orange juice in her hand, not responding to him obviously not believing that she and Love can behave themselves.

"I am going home tonight, I think. I want my really big bed that will be nice and cold because nobody is sleeping in it. That way if the fever comes back, I'll be nice and cool." She wrinkles her nose and leans in to rest against Love. "Well at least you didn't fall asleep in the cooler, nobody would find you for a few days. Rest of the bar staff are lazy."

Moses smirks, because frankly cooler naps actually sound pretty damn good. At the very least safe from the death germs. Speaking of death germs, Moses is becoming acutely aware of the fact he's surrounded by potential death plague carriers. Also, it's getting late. "As much fun as this," motioning toward the girls, "could potentially lead to," he's talking about maiming! "I need to head out. Mae, thanks for the meal. You decide to get that touched up you know how to find me. Legs, I look forward to watching you assault short order cooks with cancer packets in the future." Both girls get a nod before he pushes to his feet, tugging his hoodie along with him. "Have a nice night and feel better. It was nice to meet you."

Love reaches for a utensil, any utensil within reach. Even if it's been used. How could she possibly get any sicker than she was last week? Honestly. "Nice tips, though." They can absolutely behave themselves. No laws were broken. Mild littering doesn't count indoors. She stabs up a couple of bites of waffle, some eggs, then chases it down with a strip of bacon. All this rapid-fire, methodical eating is probably a questionable decision, but so was the cake last week, and that turned out ok. "Rest of the bar staff are kinda lazy, but they serve of the beers I don't want to." She prefers to mix cocktails.

The grey-eyed woman leans against Mae in return and looks across at Moses. "Bye, Syrup." She smiles, and never actually met him, so she gives him a name. "Cute." Which is said once he's at the door. Does he hear it? Meh. "I'm getting my sandwich to go. Text me tomorrow, Mae?" She gives the other woman a one-armed squeeze and rises to go harass the cook again.