2019-12-15 - VIP

It's time! Time for Lalo to come claim his winnings from the jello auction, that is. So, he arrives in the diner, and today he only spends about a third as much time looking around at the bears -- both because he's a man on a mission, and because he's been in here a bunch and he's already seen them all. But that doesn't stop him from looking completely, of course. Because, well...bears.

When he's done, however, he moves straight toward the bar, a wide grin on his face as he slides onto one of the stools. He doesn't seem in a hurry, though he does look around as he waits.

Luck would have it, there's a certain purple-haired woman flipping through a magazine at the bar. Unlike last time, today she looks like she just stepped out of post-WWII: there's a precisely tailored black blouse with full sleeves, with her crossover silver-grey tie matching the buttons of her sleeves, and the blouse is tucked into a high-waist knee-length red pleated skirt falling just below the knees. Her hair has even been been made up with the appropriate rolls and waves iconic to the era. Nonstandard are-- well, end to post-war scarcity or not, nobody had that elaborate a red-gold-black smoky eye, nor that shade of deep red lipstick-- and nobody was pairing that skirt with ankle boots quite the way Gina is styling them. She doesn't even glance when the bell rings or somebody moves to sit on the counter, reading her book of... russian? maybe? Something Cyrillic.. poetry.

Lalo sees her more or less right away -- well, it would be hard not to, right? When he does, his grin gets, if possible, even wider. At this point, it's threatening to split his face in half, which honestly probably wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's happened today in Grey Harbor. Luckily for him, it does not do that. However, he also does not hurry her along, or even make any noise to further indicate his presence. He just sits there waiting, his forearms on the counter and his fingers intertwined. He taps his clasped hands against the counter a couple of times, but it's an absent gesture rather than an impatient one, the sort of thing that might be done by a person who is constantly in motion naturally.

It's a long moment. Long enough he'll notice she actually pulls a pencil from her breast pocket - a little nub of a pencil, really - and makes some small comment in the margins of her book. And continues reading. It's only maybe two whole, full minutes after does she decide to ask (without looking up) "I start charging a viewing fee after a while. You gonna order some shit or what?"

"Yeah, probably," Lalo replies when she speaks, immediately and easily, as though they're having an actual conversation and he hasn't just been sitting there in silence for two minutes. "I really came in for my VIP pin, though. From the jello auction? You know?" You know, Gina. Oh, you know. "But after that, yeah, I'd love some eggs. Not an omelette, though. Just plain eggs." Never an omelette. He's already been warned.

Gina's eyes finally drag themselves away from the book, to look over Lalo - top to bottom - with /such/ skepticism. "I wondered who'd actually buy that shit. You got ID on you? Jojoe's people only sent a name." Sighing, Gina closes her book and tucks it up on a shelf, before she moves forward, leaning her weight on her elbows onthe counter. "You're one of those anything for charity kinda people?" An idle question.

"I sure do." Lalo reaches into his pocket for his wallet, pulling out his driver's license and sliding it across the bar toward her. There it is, in full color -- Eduardo Martinez. Plus his birthday and such, but we don't have to go into all that. "Nah," he continues with a shake of his head. "I'm just not above paying people to like me, and the description said that you all are gonna have to care when I come in if I have it, so." He waves a hand, emphasizing the point. There you go. "I thought I was gonna have to give up for a minute at the end, but it all worked out."

Gina takes the ID, checks the name. Checks his face. And then slides it back. "You realize the pin just means we care if you come in. Nobody's gonna smile if they don't feel like smiling." She is certain to emphasize this bit. "You could probably milk the charity thing, though." Gina smirks, pushing away from the counter and crouching to dig around the cabinets, before she finally rises with a black box in hand. "But if you expect a pin to get you likes, then I can buy that shit back from you." The pin is placed on the counter between them, and Gina watches, to see what Lalo's choice is going to be.

"Hey, I'm good with that. Sometimes I don't feel like smiling, either." Is that really true, though? Lalo certainly does smile a lot. And when she takes that box out, he doesn't even hesitate before he reaches to take it. "Hell no," he says as he pulls the box toward him. "I didn't win a fucking bidding war just to get my money back. Besides, I know you're all gonna like me without a pin. Eventually." There's such conviction there, too, even though there's also some amusement at the whole situation. He sticks his license back into his wallet and puts it away, before he opens the box.

Gina shrugs, "Fine. Rules of the pin." She puts her hand over the box before Lalo can fully take it, "There are only three of the VIP pins in the world. It means people actually will pay attention when you walk in and check on your ass through your eating experience. It's gotta be visible on the upper half of your body, though. No putting it on your crotch, either." Gina recites this like a cafeteria lady listing of the specials. "Also means if you want the music change," The music currently playing is techno-salsa, "You'll get a discount for the hour if it's a go. No guarantee. No selling the pin, and if it's stolen let us know. Cool with all that shit?" Gina asks, fingers drumming against the top of it.

Lalo lets out a snort when he's given the directive about location. Or rather, where he should not put it. "That sounds like a recipe for disaster," he comments, but he doesn't really seem to be looking for a reply on that one. Probably a good thing. He looks up at the mention of the music, and he shrugs, nodding once. He doesn't try his luck for a change today, though. Time enough for that later. Or maybe he likes the music! "I got it," he says once she's run through all the rules, and he gives her a thumbs up. "Does it ever run out?"

"You act like like enough of a jackass, you lose it." Gina says with a shrug, removing a hand from the box and letting Lalo take it. She pulls out a phone from a discreet pleat in the skirt, raising it aim right at Lalo's face, snapping a picture without much warning, then typing away. "Oh, can't use the pin for somebody else, either. You walk in with a hot date, bets are off because why the fuck are you bringing a date in here?" The phone is slipped away after a series of zzznnz! Responses. "No idea why you wanna be liked by these assholes, though. It's not gonna do you any good." Gina doesn't seem to mind including herself in that, getting the pad from her back pocket, "Just eggs or you want other shit with that?"

"Gotcha." Lalo does not have time to pose for the picture -- good thing he's already smiling! And also luckily, he does not have to see how it turned out. "If I got a hot date I'll just get some shit to go," he confirms with another nod, since clearly that's what Gina meant. As for why he wants to be liked by her and her waitstaff, he shrugs. "Having friends does my soul good," he intones, schooling his face into something more serious, though he can't keep that up for long, and it dissolves into another grin a moment after he's said it. "Eh. I saw it on the list, and I figured, why not? I'm gonna be in here all the time. Might as well throw money at something I'm gonna get some good out of." He pauses at her last question, before he says, "Bacon, please. And some toast. Sourdough would be good."

Gina doesn't argue the point. It works in her favor: why would she ENCOURAGE couples to walk in? PDA puts people off eating, it's a bad business decision. "Just keep in mind it's not a license to free shit or a good mood." Gina shakes her head, as if still wondering about the state of Lalo's senses. "So is the whole need for approval thing recent or just against people who don't want to give a fuck?" She asks, switching tracks even as she moves to go put the order in and pour the free glass of water.

"Don't worry, I got it," Lalo says with another grin. "I promise not to expect anyone to be happy to see me. I'll just dream about it every night until it actually happens." Is he joking? Serious? He must be joking, surely. The question gets another shrug, as well as a laugh as he continues, "Neither. I've been like this since I was a kid. You're just the latest in a long string of people who're about to get fucking sick of me. It's pretty much the only reason I became a nurse, and I know it's the only reason I'm a fucking awesome nurse."

"Too late." Gina says with a small little shrug, "My default setting is humanity starts at about a negative four on a scale of one to ten, zero being 'like air to me.'" Gina educates, in the sort of mild, apathetic tone that is her standard. "Thick skin's good, though. Props to you for giving no shits about other people. I can respect that." So difficult to judge Gina's expression, ever. "I did figure you'd like some place like the Waffle Shoppe better. Or the Firehouse. Lot of nurses and EMTs like the Firehouse when it's open." SHe doesn't add that the 24/7 nature of the Grizzly also garners the love of EMTs and nurses on the stranger shifts.

"Oops." Lalo opens the box then, taking the pin out as though it's an extremely precious and/or fragile commodity. Which, of course, it kind of is. He examines it with another laugh, shaking his head, before he moves to pin it to his shirt in a prominent place. No crotch pinning. No sir. "You gotta, or else you can't really survive in a hospital," he concedes. "The other day I had someone try to speak some fucking loud and terrible Spanish to me, and I wish I could say that was the most racist thing anyone ever did."

He shrugs, looking back up at her once he's situated his pin. "Been to the Firehouse a couple times," he continues. "But there's just something about eating around a bunch of fucking bears, I guess. You never know if they're gonna pull an evil Toy Story and come to life and eat you."

Gina just shrugs. "I get that sometimes." She says, regarding people yelling in other languages. "Also Arabic, Hindi, Guajarati, Persi, and who the fuck knows what else." Gina notes. Not sympathizes. More... acknowledges. "Just gives me more of a reason to ignore them."

The talk about the bears, however, means she... smiles. Ever so slightly. It's a...secretive, amused, private little smile. "You don't. The real question is, though, if they're on your side or not when they wake up." She reaches up trace with her hand the curve of one roll, making sure it's still together, "Funny how people always imagine they're going to get eaten by them. Kind of arrogant. Never really figured people would taste any better than literally anything else."

"Yeah," Lalo replies with a nod, "probably a good philosophy. I really wish I could ignore some patients, but instead the meaner they are, the more annoying I get. Like, just obnoxiously nice. You know." Surely could imagine, since she has met him a couple of times.

Speaking of annoying, he grins widely when she says this about the bears. "I mean, mostly it's that I figure they haven't eaten in a while, so they'd probably be fucking hungry and whatever they saw first would look pretty good. But maybe they'd head for the kitchen instead. It does smell amazing."

"I've done that tactic before." Gina says, nodding at Lalo. "The whole spite-fueled cheer phase." A finger waggle in Lalo's general direction, "Avoid it now. Too tiring. But hey, if it works for you." A small shrug. But then Lalo is discussing the bears being hungry, and Gina... smirks, again. "Nice to know you think the Grizzly starves its loyal employees." Gina comments. "Jumping to conclusions is a bad habit, when it comes to the bears."

"Yeah, it can be," Lalo admits. "But I kinda like to see the looks on their faces." He does, however, have to hold up his hands in a gesture of acknowledgement -- or perhaps a mea culpa. "Sorry," he says, "no offense. I'm sure you feed your bears. They look real happy to be there, especially that one." He points to one of them who's wearing one of those Groucho Marx 'disguises.' "If I were a bear, this would be a pretty good gig."

"You remind me of this guy I knew once." Gina says, tilting her head as she looks over Lalo thoughtfully. And smiles a little-- but before she can say any more, there's a DING! And she moves to fetch his plate of food and set it before him. As usual, it looks just a little too good for a diner full of bears: perfect toast with little pats of butter and jam on the side (sourdough, even!), crisp bacon, perfect eggs lightly salted - there's even an artistic sprinkle of chive near the eggs instead of on, in case someone doesn't like the onions. Must be one of the more considerate chefs back there today. "Thought about getting rid of the bears if I ever make a decent profit, but I like these. Why I didn't throw them out, unlike the other bears. Had to weed it down to a decent level when I first bought the place.

One wonders just how many bears the diner originally had, if this is the place "toned down."

Lalo's eyebrows raise at her first comment, and he looks like he might follow up, too -- but when he gets his food, well. Yeah. That's why he's come in here ten times since he's moved here, and why he was so covetous of the VIP pin. Or at least part of the reason why. He sighs contentedly, reaching for his fork. "Damn," he says, "I could die happy in here." He digs into the eggs with relish, grabbing a generous bite which gets to his mouth very quickly. There's another sigh that's almost of rapture as he chews, and when he swallows he says, "That's so fucking good."

The mention of the other bears, though, have him letting out an incredulous laugh. "Too bad I wasn't here then," he says, "maybe I coulda bought one from you. I feel like that's exactly what my living room needs."

"Sold most of them on eBay. A couple are in storage, though, in case anything's ever damaged in the store." Gina doesn't look particularly surprised that Lalo likes the food - I mean, that is a selling point. "Hear there's a bunch of artsy types around town, though. Sure someone can chainsaw a bear for you at some point for all your living room needs."

"Maybe I will. I gotta get some more stuff in there to make it feel more homey. Maybe a bear in the front yard would be just what I need." Lalo grins, reaching for a piece of toast. "You know," he comments idly, you're gonna get my hopes up if you talk to me too much right now. You gotta build up to it or I might start getting crazy ideas like you're gonna be my friend or something."

"That sounds like a you problem, not mine." Gina says, raising both brows. "Not my fault you're delusional about your status in life-- a lot of people are. You'll be fine." Gina says with a total lack of reassurance. But she gives a little wave and reaches for her book, "But since you're so worried about it and are our new VIP-- don't forget to tip." And away she saunters, book in hand.