2022-05-04 - Lemon Bar Aficionados

On this weekday in the early afternoon, Jules walks into the local coffee shop with her backpack over her shoulders and headphones hooked around her neck. It isn't too busy -- not quite the post-school and late afternoon rush -- and that suits Jules just fine. She's here to study, by the looks of it, given how she dumps her backpack before anything else and takes out a heavy textbook. With her table thusly claimed, she heads for the counter to put in her drink order and linger over the pastry display. It's as tempting as ever.

Della (the Day Manager, bane of Ravn's drink orders) has made sure the pastry display is full before the expected midday rush. Of note are the lemon tarts and orange Madeleines, the latter larger than the standard two-inch and scalloped variety. Who should appear on the other side of the counter but the local redheaded barista, she of the cobalt-blue and iris-purple underpaneling on full display? Hair up is not only comfortable but airy with the clip's hold.

"Ah, well...speak of the devil?" Ariadne asks cheekily. Her eyes briefly drop and rise. "I wore my own shirt sporting that yesterday for errands and it's in the wash at home -- which, you needed to know, god, TMI. Anyways." Hand wave from within the drying hang of a white towel she then slings over her shoulder. "What can I do you for, m'friend?" It seems there's been some drink with chocolate by the splotch of syrup on her Espresso Yourself apron, but otherwise, it also appears the blender hasn't tried to give up the ghost for the umpteenth time.

"Hah, if we're playing the TMI game, I can totally one-up that," Jules fires back, grinning as she looks across the counter. "For instance -- oh yeah? At least you didn't come home wearing someone else's shirt when there happens to be a neighborhood barbecue happening at your place that no one told you about." That grin remains, now wry, as Jules casts her gaze up towards the ceiling in a heaven-help-me way. "Anyway, what do you recommend? I usually just stick to chocolate chip cookies because I'm boring, but everything looks so good and maybe I should branch out."

Look at those brows try to disappear up into Ariadne's hairline. Half-intended banter fencing, parried!

She can't help the little snort-laugh. "Damn, get it, girl -- and here I'm still trying to steal a turtleneck," comes the retort sotto-voce before she returns at the register in order to peruse the chalked menu. "It's one of those days where you could go hot or cold drink." A gesture towards the pastry cabinet now with upturned palm and pointer finger as directive. She turns back to meet Jules' eyes again. "The lemon bars are to die for, but that's my bias for fruit. Otherwise, the banana-chocolate chip muffins go well with anything and the..."

A lean to peer into the display better from her side. "Hmm, out of cinnamon rolls. Can't go wrong with a plain old brownie. They're the moist and chewy kind which is the best. A little bit of espresso mixed into them too." Wink. Café secret, apparently.

Does Jules look smug? Yes. Oh yes. Even as she half-heartedly tries to walk it back. "For the record, all my own clothes stank to high heaven from camping and hiking. And you don't have to ask-- just do it."

Pastries, right. She recalls herself. "Normally I'd go for chocolate over anything else, but I'll try a lemon bar. Change it up for real. And I think just an iced coffee with a splash of milk." There's no one behind her, no one waiting, so Jules keeps on chatting. She's in no rush to dive into her textbook. "Speaking of turtlenecks. You seemed awfully friendly with a certain neighbor of mine the other day." Look at those eyebrows waggle.

Just do it. Nike would approve of this logic. Laughing to herself, Ariadne keys in the cost of one lemon bar and glances up to ask about the size of the iced coffee (plush splash of milk) in question.

-- of course, in time for Jules to get an unimpeded view of her face. Cue a light dusting of pink across the barista's cheeks. And does she reach up betrayingly to touch at her own neck.

Oh god. Had the make-up come off?

Realizing this action is betrayal in itself, she gives up any pretense of coyness. Her eyeroll is directed at herself and she can't help the soft chuckle. "First of all, size of your drink," comes the professional note. To follow in a convivial manner: "And...I mean...I might have stolen a cucumber or two, I admit that...and clearly I need to just abscond with a turtleneck at this point. But...yeah. We're awfully friendly." A little shrug at Jules across the counter and small smile just that touch shy still. It softens out the sharper edges of her expression as a whole. Someone's got it bad, as Rosencrantz might say.

Jules tries to contain her grin when she sees the blush, pressing her lips together to force down the smile. It still tugs at her mouth, though, and her dark eyes crinkle with good humor. "It's none of my business and you don't have to say a word," she says. "Large, please. I've got a lot of reading to get through -- catching up on everything after my week off in the woods. Totally worth it, though." She reaches into her back pocket for her wallet, getting ready to hand over a credit card.

"I'll just say -- and then I'll shut up unless you actually want to talk about it -- ain't nothing wrong with a little flirty theft. No reason to hide what you want. That being the turtleneck, of course."

Ariadne can hardly hide her own smile in turn. She's not against talking about it. It was...fairly obvious at the barbecue, thinks she as she tabulates numbers.

"Oh, I'm getting me a turtleneck." By the droll arch of brow, this is a promise at least to herself. "One way or another. You'll recognize it. Large coffee, lemon bar..." Jules is told the total and the redhead across the way awaits the method of payment, though not without adding, "I'd like to say he started it, but...I kind of chose to work here first and there was something just...ridiculously charming about his accented manner of very furtively wondering about a plain old cup of black coffee." Le shrug.

Now Jules lets that grin out full-force. "That's adorable. And in my experience, there's no reason to sit around and wait for something to happen. I am all for women taking the initiative. And unless he's stupid, that shouldn't be a turn-off. More like the exact opposite." Jules blithely dishes out her opinion while Ariadne rings her up and swipes her card, only pausing to lean her head over the receipt and scribble her signature.

"When does your shift end?" she asks then. "If you're not up to anything after work, come hang out with me for a bit. Or if you've got a break coming up or whatever."

"Yyyyyyyyyyessssss, it isn't a turn-off," confirms the barista in a semi-furtive manner herself. Taking the signed copy of the receipt, she sticks it down over the collecting dowel next to the register. A lift of brows and then she pulls out her phone to check the time.

"Oh, well...you said you had a lot of reading to get done. About twenty minutes left of my shift. Yeah, I don't mind hanging out after work for an hour or so, but not much longer. Sighthound bladders, you know." A sage nod. The responsibilities of owning a dog. "You go read and I'll stop by your table once I'm all clocked out? What were you thinking, like...walking somewhere or...?" Jules is handed over the lemon bar along with a fork nestled inside a napkin, all this on a plate, before Ariadne moves along down the counter to start working on the drink.

"I didn't have anything in particular in mind," Jules answers as she takes up her drink and lemon bar. "I'm just looking for ways to procrastinate, and now of course I'm super nosy and curious. Just kidding." Is she? "Seriously though, I was just thinking that I always tend to see you in passing, but I don't know that we've ever really talked. Was just thinking that that might be nice, if you're up for it."

With a smile, Jules turns to head back to the table she's claimed. Twenty minutes isn't long, but she can get something done in that amount of time when she applies herself to it, and she does. The lemon bar sits to the side as her reward for good behavior.

"Yeah, I'm up for it. Twenty minutes. You read, I'll finish out dishes, we'll be golden once that's all said and done," the barista confirms. She drops off the iced coffee with milk at Jules' table and then has to disappear back to the registers; Russ is busy tabulating inventory, thus the muttering from inside the closet behind the counter.

Twenty minutes pass and it's busy enough that when one of her coworkers arrives to take her place? Ariadne is relieved. "Whew. You're a lifesaver," she tells the young woman with a grin. Disappearing back into the break room, she shucks her apron and grabs her stuff, pulling a light zip-up sweatshirt over her plain forest-green t-shirt in turn. Her small courier-style purse is slung across her body and she arrives at Jules' table again with a shave-and-a-haircut-two-bits knock on the table's surface.

"So? What did you learn?" she asks of the reading with a singsong and a smirk. Thanks, mom.

Now, Jules is not the best of students. Something to look forward to — a deadline — helps her concentrate, and concentrate she does.

The knock on the table gets her attention, and she slips the headphones off, hitting pause on her phone. “How to measure soil organic matter,” she responds, wrinkling her nose in the process. “At least, that’s what I’m trying to learn. It gets pretty technical.” She flips her textbook around so Ariadne can see: charts! Equations! Abbreviations.

"Ooh." Book turned to display info on offer is then perused quickly with a run-down of golden-hazel eyes. Ariadne keeps her head canted as she reads and makes a soft interested sound. "Math was never super my strong suit, but that's interesting nonetheless. So...damnit, I can't really guess," she then laughs with a shrug of her hand off to one side. "Geology major? I'm sure it's more specific than that."

She stands off to one side, hands now slipped into her pockets. "You need to study some more though? It was only twenty minutes," the redhead with her dyed panel notes.

"Forestry AA," Jules replies. "I didn't go to college after high school. Making up for it now." Really making up for it, if her expression says anything. "It's okay. I can take a break, then get back to it. This is basically the rest of the day for me. I have a hard time concentrating for very long at once, anyway." She spins the book back around, marks her place with a rabbit-eared corner, and then sets it aside.

" Do you want half of this?" The lemon bar's on offer, now that it's time for Jules to treat herself for being a good student.

"Ah, forestry," echoes Ariadne quietly before she continues listening. "Hey, breaks are necessary. The brain can only take in so much info at once. I would know, I went to college too. And twist my arm about half of that if you're offering for realsies. I'd feel badly accepting otherwise, since you paid for it and these guys feed me on and off anyways."

Still, like she's going to say no to half of a lemon bar!

“Somehow I’ll survive,” Jules answers with a grin. She proceeds to split the treat, taking half for herself and nudging the plate towards Ariadne. “So— walk? Guessing you probably don’t feel like sitting around where you work.”

"Yeah, let's walk, if you don't mind? You're not wrong. I've been here a few hours and now it's time for some outside air." Taking up the half of a lemon bar on offer, the barista then walks the plate back over to the collection tray marked for such things.

A tilt of her head towards the front door and friendly grin for Jules. "Let's see about just meandering. I haven't window-shopped in this area yet, believe it or not, and I'd love to hear why forestry. It's marine biology for me. Orcas." Little excited jazz-hand, half of a lemon bar and all. Thank god it doesn't go flying.

“Sure.” Jules leaves her textbook where it is to keep her spot claimed. The backpack, too; there’s nothing of value in there, just a couple notebooks. Her headphones stay around her neck for lack of a better option, and she gets to her feet, licking the last of the lemon curd from them. “You’re right, this *is*good.”

“It’s salmon for me,” she tells Ariadne when they head outside. “But not just the fish and the rivers—the whole ecosystem. That’s why forestry. You can’t expect a good salmon run if the rivers they spawn in are dammed and heat up the water temperature, or if they’re full of silt from erosion. Or any number of other things. I thought I could apply for jobs with Fish and Wildlife with this degree. Or maybe go on and get a four-year degree, if I want to.”

"Isn't it?" concurs Ariadne of the lemon bar. She finishes it by the time they make it out onto the sidewalk and somehow, she manages to avoid lemon curd on her fingers. Might be she's eaten a lemon bar or two in her time. Instead, just a dusting off of her fingers and glance over at Jules.

"I think those are rad ideas and you should one-hundred percent do either of these things, whatever works best for you. Salmon are critical to the ecosystem here, much less how we harvest them in turn as humans. I mean, hell, the orcas. No salmon, I bet you there'd be no orcas. Not only that, but...salmon," the barista gently stresses. "They're such a beautiful part of nature here. They are the Pac Northwest. Nobody on the planet hears Seattle and thinks something not salmon-related."

"Exactly. So that's why Forestry -- because it seemed like it had an applicable end, as a degree, and I've got years of experience working in hatcheries. Just no college education to show for it." Jules sounds a little wry, here; it's a sore point for her. "Anyway, yeah. Salmon are basically the lifeblood of all the indigenous tribes here. Maybe not quite as much anymore -- everyone hears Indian and immediately thinks casinos and fireworks. But I'd argue that part of the economic shift is because of government policy and relationships with the tribes. Things like how the BLM handles land management and allows logging and the impact on the ecosystem. Forestry is a catch-all for how it all ties together."

She glances over at Ariadne, then; while Jules is certainly a talker and not in the least bit adverse to sharing her opinion, so much of this quickly becomes personal. "So that's me and how I ended up here. You?"

Thoughtfully, soberly, Ariadne nods. "It makes sense then, that Forestry would allow you to have access to anything you needed to do to help how you wanted to help." Hopefully, this musing is logical in turn. "I really like that though, degrees where you can make an impact with your learning. Leave your mark on the world for the better." She glances over at Jules and smirks self-effacingly. "Maybe I'm idealistic, but I think anyone can make a difference. But -- about me and how I ended up here. Well..."

They cover a few squares of concrete while Ariadne thinks. "So...Ravn gives that 'Hotel California' speech to everyone who arrives here and crosses his path...and bless him for it, I certainly needed it. He talks about a draw to here. Like...how a compass needle points north and the birds fly along the magnetic poles of the earth. I guess...I had a draw. Though, serendipitous that there were orcas spotted here in the bay once and my own interests lie with them. But...really, Sam and I just tumbled into town like a tumbleweed and...I decided to stay. It's like...I can help here? And I want to help. I'm still figuring out how to do this though." A shrug.

Jules lets out a little puff of laughter. "Yeah, I've heard that speech." She looks thoughtful as they walk along, looking at Ariadne more than she's really window-shopping. "I think there's some of that for me too," she says slowly. "The question of what I can do here. Part of me can't help but think about how this land that Gray Harbor sits on used to be where my people lived. They used to fish the Chehalis and have villages all up and down the river. Not just my specific tribe, I mean, obviously the Chehalis were on the Chehalis -- but they were all pretty connected. Lots of intermarriage and trade. So part of me starts to think, I wonder if there's a reason I'm here, or if it becomes part of my responsibility to try to fix whatever it is that's broken and out of balance here. Obviously I can't do it alone, but maybe by being here, I can be part of the solution."

She's quiet for a moment, expression turned thoughtful. "I don't know if I've actually said all that out loud before," she admits.

Jules is given a gentle little smile in turn. Lifting up a fist, the barista offers a fistbump of solidarity.

"Ravn talks about his organization, HOPE. That's what we need around here and...yeah, you're part of it as much as I am. Maybe you don't know what you're doing just yet -- a lot of us don't, but we're all in it together, so...eventually, we'll figure out what we need to do. I don't know that I'd be as bold to say something like 'responsibility', but...that's also me hedging because I don't know the depths of how weird this place can get. I'm at the shop and I overhear little snippets of conversation and sometimes..." She shakes her head. "I don't want to know. I do like the idea of knowing that I'm not alone in my learning curve though. That you and I, us and the others, we can talk like this, and it's totally fine. No...weird amnesia or anything like that."

Jules puts up her own fist in return and knocks gently against Ariadne's knuckles. It happens to be the one where the wrist is ringed by a fading bite mark.

"Yeah," she agrees. "I know I'm only just scratching the surface. There's a lot to learn. Not just about this place, but about myself, you know? And talking to others in the same position is part of that learning process." A sideways look. Her smile, sly, is starting to bloom. "And if you happen meet someone as part of that process..." She doesn't finish the sentence, just jostles Ariadne with a friendly nudge at her side.

"Right, that we can share communication and ideas, etcetera, etcetera." Ariadne gestures in a circling motion off to one side with her free hand not gripping the chest-crossing strap of her courier's purse. She glances over at Jules with eyebrows lifted and is in time to be jostled. A quick burble of laughter and half-hearted chide of, "Hey! Yeah, yeah, I said I'd talk about it, I know," she grins. "Didn't let me get the run-around on you. I approve."

The redhead then laughs softly once before clearing her throat. "So. I mean...it's all new still. I went boating with him on his boat, that was...pretty fucking cool. He's a good captain. Looks good in a nice turtleneck too which...y'know." Another finger-flittering gesture since she's going to extrapolate beyond the fit of clothing. "He's...there's a lot more to him than most people think or see right off the bat. I'm...actually kind of a fan of his mini dissertations on things. You know, how he explains stuff? But I'm a learner by nature, so...kind of biased there." Reaching up to tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear, Ariadne then shrugs. "He's good people and...god, he really had me at making pigs fly." She shakes her head, smirking off to one side. "I said to him, after a snow fight a bunch of us had last winter, that he'd get black coffee again from me when pigs fly because he got snow down my coat. So, what does he do?"

Jules gets a mirthful glance. "He goes and buys a Peppa Pig plushie and then demonstrates with his powers that he can make pigs fly. Like...how do you resist that?"

Jules just grins back. She's happy to settle into listening, though can't resist interjecting one small comment: "So that's where the turtleneck thing comes from."

The literalization of 'when pigs fly' makes her laugh outright. "Cute." She tilts her head to the side, away from Ariadne, and studies her for a moment. "So when you say that he's got more to him than most people see -- what is it that you see?" Jules wants to know. "Cause I think you're right. Not just about Ravn, I mean. You're right in that there's often more to a person. We don't show who we are all at once, you know? Or we're different persons around different people, even when those people are our friends."

"Hey, you resist a nicely-fitted turtleneck," the barista idly argues back with a thespian's sniff.

Jules gets a lingering glance in turn. They walk a few more steps before Ariadne makes a soft sound. "I know, not a question you can ask Ravn because it's him you're asking." She thinks for a step or three more. "We are different people around our friends, yes, and he's different moreso around me, I agree. What I've seen is a genuinely good man at heart who struggles with how his past has shaped him. Still. He tries to influence the world around him for the better and I wish... I wish he could see the impact he makes. The 'Hotel California' speech? It has a funny name, but...imagine not having had that speech given to you. Coming into this blind. Not having anyone who has answers. He's...practically the first line of defense when it comes to dealing with the Veil here and yet? He doesn't see it himself. He can't see the sheer volume of good he's done in giving people knowledge as not only defense, but weapons. Teaching people. And sometimes? Sometimes he just wants quiet. And I'm okay with quiet," she shrugs, smiling as she glances over at Jules again.

Jules nods as Ariadne talks, tabulating this take on her neighbor with her own experience of him thus far. "Nothing wrong with quiet," she agrees. "I mean. I'm generally terrible at quiet, and I'll be the first to admit that. But I think that makes me appreciate it more, when I'm in that space, whether I'm alone or with someone else."

As for Ravn? "So do you think he's just being humble? Or is it more like, it's just something that he does so regularly that it doesn't strike him as anything special?"

"I guess I'd have to know more about what you mean by 'humble'. You mean in terms of just general humility or you're talking humility in terms of what help he offers people on a regular basis? With HOPE and all?"

Her question sent back, Ariadne glances over at the woman beside her, brows lifted in curious expectation.

"The former, I think," Jules says. What does she mean? The question, returned to her, makes her furrow her brows. "I don't know. You know him better than I do -- obviously." She can't help but add the friendly tease. "It's funny though," she continues. "I guess I'm used to thinking of him as someone who thinks he has all the answers and being quick to tell you what they are, which is kind of the opposite of humble."

"Hmm." An interested little up-kick of a sound.

"I can see this, in a way, if the answers weren't invited. Like they were blurted out when they weren't being solicited. But I guess, to get somewhat philosophical about it, what's wrong with being told information? Not answers, information," Ariadne notes. "On the premise of the information being accurate. He knows he's dating a marine biologist who prefers accurate information. I've already told him once that I need to back-check something he said, simply because time changes everything and that includes data as well. On a related note -- and I'm definitely earning my devil's advocate shirt here, I fully admit it -- is there anything wrong with being proud to know things? To have the zeal of knowledge? You haven't heard me wax on about orcas yet." Jules gets another half-smile.

"No, there's nothing wrong with that," Jules readily agrees, especially since she admits in turn, "I can talk your ear off about salmon." She shares a quick grin.

"Don't get me wrong. I think he's a good guy. I talked to him when I was planning my hiking trip precisely because I thought he might have some useful information about how one world maps onto another and how to find the places where they're likely to touch. I was just surprised to think of him in terms of being humble, because that's just not the first word that comes to mind. I think it goes back to what I was saying about people seeing different sides of you."

"Ah, okay, I follow you now. Sure, humble verses proud, I guess...like you said, it's who's being addressed. Because there's sharing information for the joy or the well-meaning of it and then there's shoving it down someone's throat like a spoonful of treacle, take your medicine. Yuck." Ariadne screws up her nose. "Nobody likes being talked down to or at uninvited. The nice part? I'm not afraid to let someone know when they've overstepped their bounds on that. I really can't see Ravn doing that, not intentionally, and that's one of the reasons why I'm so fond of him. He's proud to know what he knows and he...sparkles that way. I'm proud of that in turn."

That Jules thinks he's a good guy too? It makes her hazel eyes smile too.

A little snort. "God, please don't tell him I said 'sparkle', he'll be so offended. Forks." That's probably all the barista needs to say with a glance and grin over at Jules. "He...also plays the violin, which I've yet to see. That should be cool."

Forks. Jules immediately gets the reference, and it has her rolling her eyes, though she's grinning too. "God, the number of times I've had a dumb tourist ask me about werewolves. The hazards of working tourism when you're me."

"That does sound cool," she agrees before falling silent for several steps. In time, she opens up enough to say, "Early on, just after I met him, he said something that I took pretty badly. About the white settlers here. And no, I don't think he intended to say something offensive. It was just one of those moments when the thing you're trying to say doesn't come out right, and maybe that's because you're so steeped in a certain way of talking about history that you don't think about how it might sound to someone on the other side."

The glance she shares this time in a little rueful. "Sometimes I think Ravn thinks I'm just waiting for him to mess up again so I can rip him a new one. Whereas I'm like-- for fucks' sake, dude, I took you to the res to meet my grandparents, obviously we're all good and I don't think you're a dick."

"I honestly don't envy you." Ariadne's brows quirk in sympathy. Yeah. Werewolf questions. Oy.

As they walk along and conversation falls temporarily silent, the barista glances over at the windows of the shops they pass. Some are bigger box stores and others smaller in turn, more mom-and-pop. All have their charms. Jules speaks up and is once more the recipient of an interested hazel gaze. A nod. A slight cant of head when Jules glances over and another nod yet. Ariadne glances down and then over at Jules once more.

"I can guarantee that yeah, Ravn didn't mean to overstep his bounds. Pretty sure he's still mortified about it if you're getting that impression, though I hesitate to speak for him, you know? Not my place. If you took him to talk to your grandparents though? I think that's a big gesture of trust and goodwill, yeah. I think you might want to speak to him again if you can? Just to remind him of it?" She shrugs up an open palm.

"Yeah. I probably should." Jules lets it rest there, with Ariadne's good advice. She lets out a sigh, one that vocalizes a little 'hmm.'

"You know," she says then, "this is the first time I've ever lived off the res. You think Gray Harbor's small? Taholah is tiny. Everyone knows everyone. Literally. Sometimes it feels really weird to be here, like I'm completely out of place. Thank God I didn't try to go study in Seattle. I'd be totally lost."

"I think good things will come of a discussion, especially because it's you and not me. It'll be the most true coming from you." Another small smile and then the barista too lets it rest.

She is clearly interested about the particular information to follow. "Seattle is a big-ass city, yes, and there's a lot going on even in a standard city block. My parents' house is on the outskirts and it still feels busy. I don't know if I miss it? I do, but I don't," Ariadne decides. "I'm due for a visit back there anyways, they're wondering what I've been up to, as all parents tend to do. But if it helps? I feel out of place too, but in a different way. Just that's it's all really new to me. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know? Though..."

Words are mulled over. "Please be honest with me about this because I want to be respectful: is it intrusive or thoughtless for me to ask about how Talolah is? Like as a town? Because you say town and yeah, I think of 'everybody knows everybody' too."

Jules smiles a bit, quick to assure, "That's not intrusive." The answer is a little harder to put into words. "So, there's less than a thousand people who live there. Almost like one massive extended family. If you sneak out to go party on the beach, chances are you will get caught and they will tell your parents." Or grandparents, in Jules' case, but the point holds, as humorously as it's made. "Sometimes it's nice? The community is real. And sometimes it's suffocating. It definitely was on the suffocating end of the spectrum when I decided it was time to leave. But I also miss it. Here, when people know you, they might know who you are and what you do, but chances are they haven't seen you grow up through childhood -- or if they have, it's mostly a few neighbors, not a whole community in the same way. It's a section of it. Sometimes that's really refreshing. Like, I love living with Una and Della. I love that I just found out that Della has a wicked sense of humor and that Una makes awesome dick jokes even though talking about sex usually embarrasses her. But sometimes it also feels like no one really knows me. Does that make sense?"

She looks across to see how Ariadne registers her explanation. Slowly, she adds more to her own personal confession; it's only fair, given what the other woman has shared. "I think that's why I like spending time with the guy whose shirt I stole. It's not serious or anything, but so far, I feel like he gets me."

"It makes sense, yeah." When Jules glances over, she'll find a thoughtful, small smile on Ariadne's face. A life-long learner, this one, as earlier claimed.

Oh, but then. That smile shows up more and more until it's cheeky as all hell. "I wondered if turn-about was fair play," she firstly says before chiming up a friendly laugh or three. "You did tell me to just steal a turtleneck earlier. Sounds like you know how to steal clothing. Would I know him? Barista nosy, cross my heart -- you don't have to tell me if you want to. You could leave it at 'he gets me' because that's a very good thing and I'd be happy with that alone."

Jules scrunches up her nose in response, grinning all the while. “I don’t know, maybe. I don’t really want to advertise it. Like if it’s just fun for a month or something and then we go our separate ways. You know how gossip goes. Besides— he’s hot, but I think he knows he’s hot, and that’s usually a bad combination if you know what I mean.” Her grin turns cheeky. “Men, am I right? And speaking of hot— your hair is on fire!” Jules makes a show of checking Ariadne out, a playfully overt once-over.

A perceptive if still amused nod -- oh yes, the barista knows quite well how gossip goes. She then laughs. "Yes, I do know what you mean."

The once-over, overt as it is, makes Ariadne laugh and look pleasantly surprised. "Oh-why-thank-you." She pretends to primp at her hair in question. "Your dick joke-making roommate just happens to be an unofficial dab-hand with hair dyes. This, and I'm lucky enough that dye sticks in my hair something fierce. I know, it sounds great until you mess up the dye. Then it's a pain in the ass. But this time? I'm pleased. Ravn's very fond of it. So definitely involve Una if you want to be bold and play with your hair color!"

“Oh is she? Hah! She’s always got a hidden talent up her sleeve.” Jules pauses to look in the window of a thrift shop, eying the dress on display. “I think if I dyed my hair, it’d be a big streak of bright red. But I’m generally pretty happy with it. Though I could use a haircut.” Admittedly, Jules has not been seen around town sporting styles, either in hair or clothing, that suggest she pays close attention to her looks.

Ariadne too pauses. Their reflections in the window look back at them as the barista considers the dress and then Jules in turn.

"So, A: why not try a bright streak of red? It'd be bomb. And B: do whatever you want, color or haircut or hell, even trying on the dress." Without looking away from the young woman's face, the barista tilts her head towards the garment behind the store window. "You've apparently got some hot suitor who probably wouldn't mind stealing that dress off of you. I know, how bold and scandalous of me to suggest this," she then adds in a fairly dramatic stage-whisper, spreading a hand against her décolletage in turn.

To this, Jules responds by turning towards Ariadne with arched eyebrows and a mock-serious expression. “Are you enabling me? I’m shocked.” She studies the dress for a few seconds longer, then spur-of-the-moment, decides, “Alright, let’s do it. You realize I haven’t worn a dress in approximately three years though, right? Do not steer me wrong.” She points a stern finger at Ariadne, then reaches out to grab her arm and drag her into the store. They’re doing this.