2019-12-12 - Just The Tip

Pizza Kitchen is a good joint. It takes pride in its pies and isn't just a greasy late night bad decision. The wood-fired oven and good quality toppings make it the choice of special occasion pizza dinners or the choice of the more gourmet-inclined Gray Harbor denizens.

The dinner rush is more or less over and the late night uptick is hours away, so Tor is at the visible counter, chopping toppings with the deft hand of someone who has been hacking up vegetables since he was old enough to hold a knife. He's wearing a black apron over a plaid shirt pushed up to the elbows and his hair is held back by a black hairnet and visor with the Pizza Kitchen logo. There's a man in his early 50s doing books in one corner on a laptop, and a mom with two kids just finishing their dinner. There's a few other people back in the kitchen, but they're further back prepping dough or stoking the oven.

There are many stages of grief. Currently Bennie is on the self-destructive behavior kick, which includes far too much drinking and bad decision making. Perhaps that's what drives her into the Pizza Kitchen this evening. That, or she's just hungry. She's dressed in a long cable knit sweater that reaches to mid-thigh, paired with a leggings and boots that were donated for the obvious reason that very few people would want psychedelic paisley patterns on their footwear. Bennie is one of the confident ones.

Despite the hour, she has pair of overly large sunglasses on her face, obscuring most of her expression besides a smile. Leaning both elbows on to the customer counter, she comments blithely. "Why does the mushroom get invited to all the pizza parties?" The traditional answer is 'because is a fungi' but instead the blonde offers up with pause, "Because he has all the good drugs."

"Because he's a magic mushroom?" Tor offers, before he fully registers just who's making the comment. He looks up from his chopping with a lazy look, grins wryly, then slides the knife aside. "If it isn't Mercedes Benz. What can I getcha?" He ambles over to the counter and leans on it, eyebrows lifting towards the hairnet.

Bennie's a little pleased at being recognized, a little toggle of her straightened hair that has been pulled back into a severe pony tail as she flicks it from one shoulder to the other. "That depends. Have your stores recovered from the Great Pineapple Raid of '19?" She rocks up on her toes and back down. "But just a plain slice pleeeeease. And if you could put it back in the oven until it's almost burnt, that'd be super."

Tor sucks air between his teeth, then clucks his tongue. "Tell ya what. I give you something, and if you don't like it, I'll crisp you up something boring." He turns around and goes for the pizza display, sliding a slice out onto a thin paper plate. "Caramelized pear and prosciutto, hot out of the oven. Thin crust. Fresh basil on top. We don't even put this one out for delivery because it's too delicate and doesn't travel well." He slides it across the counter. "It's like Hawaiian, but fancy."

"I'm normally much more adventurous, but we're talking hangover food, bub." Bennie leans up as he slides over the slice and describes what's on it, her eyebrows rising from behind the mask of her sunglasses, impressed. "Now we're getting fancy." She swings her bag around and digs out a coin purse. "And a cup of water please, what's my damage?"

"Four fifty. I'd comp you the slice, but I got rapped on the wrist for that back in high school. I was giving out more than my salary in free pizza to anyone cute who walked in." Tor grabs a plastic cup and runs the tap until it's cold, then sets the cup on the counter. "Firefly?" A snort then, "Where else, huh?"

"So you think I'm cute, huh?" Bennie flashes a grin at him before she starts digging out money to pay, "Well, I'm more than happy to pay my way to avoid any further abuse to your wrists." Even if half of it is in quarters and other assorted change that she counts out on the counter. At the question of the Firefly it earns a little, "Hmm? Oh, there are other places to drink than the Club. Sometimes I like to hide my shame." She bulldozes the money towards him, tipping out of fellow customer service curtesy.

"Hell, it's cheaper." Tor does the typical dance of sliding back the change and seeing if she takes it, and if not, it goes into a communal jar. He doesn't say anything to the 'cute' remark, just kind of grins a little. "But the guarantee is there on that slice. If you don't like it, I'll ruin something for you."

"Maybe for you. Clearly you haven't learned the Sacred Secret of the Short Skirt getting you free drinks. Doesn't happen so much if you're at home drinking in your bathrobe. Alright, here goes nothing." Apparently the Blonde is content to eat right here at the counter, it'll save her a trip back if she finds it vomitous. Her index finger indents the crust so she can fold it into a more mouth ready bite, then nips off the point and chews. And chews. Tilts her head and chews some more. When she finally swallows down the bite, she has to admit. "That. Admittedly does not suck. In fact, it's pretty freakin' decadent. Alright, Tor Middle-Name-Mystery Lockhart. I'm a convert."

"The only thing a short skirt is getting me is punched in the face. Except in real specific, big-city circumstances." Tor watches as she eats the pizza, curious and anticipatory. When she doesn't spit it out, he nods. "See? Same kinda..." he waggles a finger, "...sweet and salty combo as Hawaiian, but the pear is softer. Not stringy. And the prosciutto is crispy but not overwhelming hunks of ham. Although...our Hawaiian is better than the other guy. But I'm obviously biased." As for a middle name? He makes a lip zipping motion.

"You are pretty furry..." Bennie muses as she takes another bite of her pizza, toting it and herself to the side so she's not blocking any sight lines or dissuading any further customers who may enter from approaching. "Hey when you can only afford to eat Spam on your pizza, you eat Spam on your pizza. This is like...caviar." She swipes at the corner of her lips with a pass of her tongue before she reaches out for napkin. "So you ever get a break, or because it's a family business, they chain you to the counter?"

"I've actually been on since open doing most of the prep, so I'm off soon as my cousin gets here." Because yes, it's a family business. Tor raps his hands on the counter, bites the edge of his tongue and upnods. "Why?"

Bennie covers her mouth with a curve of her hand, not because she's shy about what she's saying but because she's chewing and doing so. "Wanna go out in the alley and get stoned like we're back in high school? Granted it hasn't been that long ago for you, so you might not need the reminiscing."

Tor snorts softly. "Man, what do you think we do on overnights? That alley is full of roaches, and not the bug kind." He rolls his eyes at himself. "Shit, I should say that more quietly. My uncle'd cuff me for the implication of pests." He upnods again. "You got the joints, or is this Bee why oh spliff?"

"You were kind enough to share last time." Bennie bounces her hip against the wall as she continues to polish off that piece of pizza, feeling marginally better just at having warm food in her stomach. "So I got the green this time. Go. Finish up. I'll just be here, eating my caramelized pear and prosciutto slice of heaven."

Tor is quiet a moment, then just sucks in air and says simply, "K." He raps on the counter and turns to go back to prepping.

It's only about fifteen minutes before Tor's cousin comes to relief him. He motions to Bennie to go around the back of the stripmall. He emerges a few minutes later, running his fingers through recently hair-netted hair, and wearing a long wool jacket that looks like Army surplus. Away from the dumpsters, there's a little cluster of milk crates and old plastic lawn chairs that's clearly the Pizza Kitchen smoker's break room. He's actually lighting up a cigarette (the normal kind) as he makes his way over to the spot.

Bennie has folded herself into one of those chairs, claiming a milk crate to prop one of her feet on, though the other colorful booted foot is tucked up underneath her. Her sunglasses are temporarily propped up on her forehead as she ruefully rubs at her eyes, waiting for Tor to join her. As he emerges, she merely gives a hard nod of her head to flop them back down. It makes it really hard to see anything out here, being so dark, but hey. "This is weird. This is weird, right? Me showing up here?"

"This is Gray Motherfuckin' Harbor. Weird is relative," says Tor as he flops heavily down on a plastic chair. There's a sound of something popping, but he ignores it and pulls from his cigarette. "You're going through some shit, aren't you?" He sucks air between his teeth and posits, "Breakup?"

"Mmhmm." Bennie confirms with a hard press of her lips together as she pops open the lid to an Altoids tin and pulls out a tight roll of a joint. "Messy, because we have a lot of the same friends. Actually. All of our friends? Well, all of my friends are his friends. Whatever. Complicated. Can I borrow your lighter? It'd take me an hour to find one in my purse..."

"Ahhhh." The noise that Tor makes suggests he's saying 'yeah, all too familiar.' He takes a few more draws from his cigarette before stubbing it out. He reaches into his pocket for an old school Zippo that looks like it might be older than he is. He tosses it over with a flick of his wrist. "So you're trying to figure out who gets which friends in the divorce?"

Apparently the sunglasses aren't inhibiting Bennie's ability to see that lighter come sailing over, cupping both her hands to catch it. "I think we're probably just going to go with joint custody, that way no one has to choose sides. So, look, about the other night..." Awkward conversation, ho!

"Uh oh," says Tor with a little grin. "Look, if you're about to say it didn't mean anything. I mean..." he motions, "...you shagged the pizza delivery boy. That's sort of implied in the scenario. You don't have to worry about me text-hounding you. For one..." he lifts a finger, "...that would reqire getting your number from the database and that's unprofessional and inappropriate." He delivers that with seriousness but it's hard to tell how serious he's being.

"Pretty much? I mean, I was going to deliver it with a lot more gravitas, but that works. Good talk." Bennie grins wide and full for a brief moment before she lights up her joint, her next words coming pinched. "Don't tell me you've never done that. Don't believe it." Her lips cant up towards the sky with an exhale of fragrant smoke and then she's leaning over to pass the joint and the lighter to him.

"Of course I've done that. I've been called to places specifically to do that. I like to have fun." Tor shrugs. "Nothing wrong with it if everyone's on the same page." He takes the joint back and flips the Zippo away with deft fingers before taking an expert pull. He holds the smoke a moment, then slowly exhales. "Strings aren't there by default with me. That's not how I roll."

"I meant sniping some cute girl's number off the database, but good to know." Bennie's distracted for a moment but the shift of something in the alleyway, a glimpse she thought she caught before but now it's confirmed as she draws her sunglasses down off the bridge of her nose to balance precariously on the tip. There, off a bit in the distance, is a black cat sitting on top of dumpster. She might be about to draw his attention to it but she snaps back to the conversation instead. "Wait. You deliver booty calls as well as pizza? Like on the reg."

"Oh, heh." Tor passes the joint back over. "Again, something I did when I was younger but got caught so stopped doing. I've been working here a loooong time." As for booty calls? "Not on the regular." He eyes the cat suspiciously.

"Uh-huh." Bennie comments to both with amusement in her voice, but she's unfolding from her seat, eyes straying back to the cat. "Here, gimme that." She folds her hand over his so she can steal back the joint without needing to look. "I think that's my cue." She mutters about the cat, taking a quick hit and then passing it back. "It's all yours. Thanks again for the caviar of pizza. You're a...well, you're great." She leans over and drops a noisy MWAH of a kiss to one cheek, palming the other.

Tor sniffs once. "You decide it's time to stop gettin' high because a cat appears? O-kay." He paws at her a little at the exaggerated kiss. "Ay ay. That kinda thing is for only if you tip me." He takes the joint though, because hey, joint. "And don't you go telling anyone I'm great." He sniffs again. "I gotta rep to uphold."

"I keep seeing it /everywhere/. So when I get creeped out? Yeah, time to go hide in a closet somewhere with a tinfoil hat." Bennie tugs at her bottom lip in thought then looks to him and gives a playful thwap on the shoulder. "Hey! I don't remember you needing a tip the other night. Unless you mean 'just the tip' and that's always a lie." She adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder, "Don't worry, secret is safe with me. See yah around, Pizza Boy." She gives a finger waggle of a goodbye.

"First one's free," Tor drawls as he lifts a hand in farewell as Bennie moves off. He takes another hit from the joint, and now he's really eyeing the cat. "Don't make me get my Super Soaker," he murmurs to the feline.