Dielle is in the back room already, with a glass of iced tea, a plate of onion rings, and two slices of pie waiting for her to get to them. One is a peach crumble pie, and the other is rhubarb. Not strawberry rhubarb, just rhubarb. She's got a newspaper in front of her, but it's old and she's not really reading it, so much as plowing into those rings like they're her reason for living. There's a small bowl there, too, but it's empty. Whatever was in it left some water droplets behind. She's wearing a layered pair of tanktops in two shades of green. One's a racerback, one isn't.
Gisa's favorite t-shirt is starting to show signs of wear, but the golem hasn't given up on her 'Rock Star of David' shirt yet. And even when it does wear out, she'll pay herself with another one from inventory. Anyway, she absently fusses at the hem where it's coming undone in the front from excessive washing as she trundles in to the back room, Spaniard in tow. It's been a long day at the shop and there are the small signs that she's tired, but at the very least, on her right hand she's carrying a tray, and on that tray? Food for herself and Alonso. Efficient golem. Setting it down and unloading slices of pie, steak and potatoes, and whatever it is Alonso is eating, as well as a carafe of coffee, she greets, "Shalom, Dielle. How is your meal?" When the tray is unloaded, she returns it to the wait station and slides in across from the rainbowcorn, patting the bench next to her. Sexy Spaniards go here.
Alonso follows along after Gisa, taciturn and nonplussed as seems to be the way of things with Spanish vagabonds of a certain age. He does tip the brim of his obnoxious hat towards Dielle, which when timed with Gisa's greeting makes it clear that's his version of one, as well. He accepts the patting of the bench without complaint, and obediently moves to join the golem where indicated. Like so. He even proceeds to relax back a bit, folding his hands up over his stomach. Alonso is apparently eating oatmeal. With brown sugar and raisins in it. A little cream. Or he will be shortly, in any case.
Dielle returns her own hat-tip to Alonso and says, "The onion rings here are everything they should be. Beer-battered and cooked through without being overcooked. How are you folks doin'? Ain't seen much of you, lately!" She sniffs the air a bit and eyes Alonso's meal and remembers it is not nice to try to steal oatmeal when one can make it for oneself.
"No. I have been keeping to myself, I admit. I was in a rather strange place, because someone I was oathed to was not very present in my life. I was not certain whether or not I was keeping up on that oath, or if the failure was not with me. As it turns out, Kyle's life has called him away from Vermont, and so he has released me from that oath." Gisa's shoulders rise and fall slowly, an easy sort of gesture -- but there's relief there. "How are you? And do you want me to order you some oatmeal?" The golem's eyeflames glitter with amusement.
"Simple done well turns peasant food into a delicacy," Alonso observes as he slowly stirs up his outmeal, the food of much conversation. "Most of what you consider Italian cuisine, French cuisine, originated on the Farmer's table. Simple done well." Alonso spoons up a big bite of the oatmeal, and clearly enjoys it. Perhaps a little moreso because he knows Dielle wants some. "Having suffered too many cold breakfasts in my life, I enjoy eating hot ones whenever I wish. Regardless of the time of day. You should, too." He nods before spooning up another bite, conspicuously silent on the topic of a certain departed cat person.
"I do. But Leo keeps getting onion rings and then I want onion rings, so I decided, screw it. I'm getting onion rings. Already ate my cucumbers and carrots, so I could pretend to be healthy. It's the nice thing about bein' an adult. You also get to eat two slices of pie, if you want. And I didn't feel like choosin'. Thank goodness for non-vegan places to eat. I know CB done opened a place, but every time someone goes on about veganism around me, I want to slap 'em upside the head and remind 'em that we've got multiple kinds of teeth in our heads so we could eat more than one kind of food and maybe be grateful for the fuckin' opportunity." Ok, that rant about veganism, from a woman who's eating an entirely vegetarian meal is a bit off.
"Is that not the plot of the movie with the rat?" Gisa asks of Alonso, adding, "You wanted to watch that for a night in. So we did. It is a movie of your values." The golem starts cutting her steak (medium rare) into bite-sized pieces, listening to the conversation flowing around her from the other two. "I do not mind vegans. I mind vegans who do not understand that some people cannot be vegans," agrees Gisa. She, too, seems content to leave the topic of Kyle in the past, however briefly regretful she was when initially discussing it.
"It is possible to eat meat and not have it be a moral travesty. I agree with vegans that industrialized farming is poor for the animals, the environment, the economy, the people involved in it... It's bad business. Nevermind that meat ought to be an addition to our diets, not a staple. But I digress." Alonso has many opinions about a great many things, it seems. No surprise he has one about meat, and the eating of it. "In any case, if people want to criticize me for how I sustain my body, they must certainly account for how they sustain their hobbies and livelihoods. Capitalism is a trap, and it loves pitting us against each other over trivialities." He wags his spoon dismissively, then takes another bite of his oatmeal.
Dielle snorts. "That ain't capitalism, that's extreme-partisan politics. I like a good dialogue as much as the next girl, but the second you allow religion into politics, bad things happen." She considers Gisa. "You ok about Kyle leavin'? I know he was your best friend. Seems he just kinda...disappeared."
"It is impossible to consume anything in any way in this world, unless you have made it entirely with your own hands, or to eat anything in this world, unless you have grown it entirely from your own earth, and not be somehow complicit in the activities of toxic multi-national corporations. If you eat meat, you are eating meat which is grown on a corporate farm. If you are a vegan, and you are not eating only what you grow, then you are eating what was grown on a corporate farm. College-age vegans who rail against the consumption of honey while drinking a blackberry-peach-flax smoothie made from fruits grown on a massive farm somewhere in California, pollinated by independent, mobile beekeepers... " Gisa trails off, shaking her head and spearing a piece of dead cow. "Frustrating."
Dielle changes tracks back to the prior topic, and she clicks her clay tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I wanted very badly for him to be my best friend. One would think that after nearly a century, I would be wary of people who swear their life blood so quickly. But he was very charming. I would welcome him back as a dear friend if he returned, but I would not swear to him again so quickly." Her shoulders rise and fall like a mountain range. "Cats."
"You have the right of it," Alonso agrees as Gisa laments the dark side of a global economy. "Survival in the first world is bought and paid for by exploitation in the third, and has been in large part wince the 1700s." Alonso stirs the oatmeal some more as the conversation continues down the path of talking about Kyle the Cat Guy. One might get the idea Alonso isn't a cat person. Or a Cat Person Person, either, come to that. He does give Gisa a sidelong look at her lament, patting her shoulder twice in support. "Comrades come and go, but the revolution is eternal. I follow a cause more than I follow flesh and blood, for causes are pure and people are not. People are clumsy, foolish, selfish, corruptible. Even the best of us. It's good to have something above all of that to believe in, isn't it?" Because, of course, she does.
"I dunno," says Dielle doubtfully. "Causes are pure and all, but they don't...it's possible to make progress without every reaching a goal. I kinda prefer the smaller, reachable goals that you can always have new ones. Which reminds me, Jon and I are turnin' the Aspire Arena into a youth center, if either of you want to corrupt young minds." She reaches over to lighttly pat Gisa's hand. "You got a pure heart, to want to be friends with people like that, Gisa. Don't change that, it's a feature, not a bug."
The golem gives Alonso a long, thoughtful look aside. "Actually, I was thinking that it was far more indicative of the stability of our relationship that we had not rushed into any sort of pledge, and that it made me feel far more comfortable with suggesting same now that I am not in a pledge where there might be conflict with a jealous and capricious cat." Leave it to Alonso, the world's most romantically clueless romantic hero, to accidentally take the wind out of the golem's relationship-forwarding conversational gambits. "You are, however, not wrong." This, to Alonso, before Gisa takes another thoughtful bite of her steak. Then, she focuses back in on Dielle. "I think that I would like very much to help you with this project at the Aspire Arena," she agrees. The hand on her hand -- ceramic warmed from the inside, like touching a mug just filled with coffee -- makes her smile, just a very little bit. Emotional expressions! "On that, I will try not to change, Dielle. Thank you."
"Well, our realtionship is an ideal, too, isn't it?" Alonso manages to salvage some of his idiom's romance with that deft turn of phrase, fixing Gisa with a broad and perfect smile. Stupid pilgrims and their stupid perfection. "If that is your way of suggesting you want to move things to the next level, my dear, I am willing to be caught holding hands in public if you are." His grin turns into a smile which remains even after he spoons up more oatmeal into his mouth. "She does have a pure heart, it is true. A better woman I have never known. As to the youth center, I would not mind terribly volunteering and helping out from time to time, so long as the parents don't object to having a latino vagrant day laborer near their children for extended periods, teaching them about European socialism and the historic struggle of the working class."
Dryly, Dielle says, "It's Vermont. Ain't none of us exactly ideal, given Jon's from Boston, I'm from south of the Mason-Dixon line, and Gisa's Jewish. Fuck it, we'll get a tank of maple syrup so they can bathe the little shits in it and feel pure." No, she's not serious. Yes, she's occasionally that cynical. "By the way, Alonso, I think that was more along the lines of pledging. Like the two of you. Mind you, Jon and I are comin' up on two years, ourselves. Think we're goin' for a third." Her cheeks may have just turned the tiniest bit pink. "Of course, we just pledge to have each other's backs and not hurt each other on purpose. Roommate pledge."
Her eyeflames glitter as Alonso manages to salvage some of what she was heading toward, and Gisa leans a little bit to the side, bumping her shoulder against his. "Dielle has the right of it. But if you wish to be caught holding hands in public, I suppose I am not object to that either." Watching a golem try to flirt while trying not to flirt too much in front of someone else is like watching a puppy try to pretend that it does not want the delicious treat right there. And about as subtle. Then there are compliments on top of all of it, and the shin on her forehead glows a little brighter. Heat radiates from the golem slowly, almost a blush. After Dielle chimes in, she actually laughs aloud. "The image of children bathing in syrup for purity is very amusing," she admits. "Mazel tov to you and Jon, both. You are good for one another. I approve." Because everyone wants Gisa to approve, right?
"Pledges ought to be simple and forthright and terse, if possible. Promising lifelong firework romance with someone is a failed prospect. Bad days happen, you know? Arguments. Keep it simple, attainable. Realistic. The longer the contract, the more certain you can be a lawyer is screwing you." Alonso scrapes the last of his bowl empty and sets it down with an expression of mild disappointment. The oatmeal is gone, and this is not an ideal. No, not at all. Alas. "You are wise to keep it that way. Two years can be an eternity among our kind. So well done." Alonso promtly switches gears, as though the one thought brought him to another. "I had intitially agreed to settle down here because of your issues with the Soundless. That seems to have quieted down, from what I've heard. Is all well there?"
"Thanks," says Dielle, pushing away the empty plate of onion rings. She pulls her plate o'pie closer and picks up a fork. "Don't think it's quieted down, so much as they're just waitin' for us to screw up...again. Surprised it hasn't happened yet, to be honest."
"I am a Pledgesmith, motek," Gisa points out mildly, adding, "But I do agree with you. A pledge should be simple and clean." Conversational track switched. "I advised the new Queen on the motives of the Soundless, Sam, who came to Logan's party. I do not know what decision she has made as far as acting upon them. You might approach her with your thought regarding finding where their lairs are. I have a feeling that she might be more receptive than the last Queen."
"I chatted with the powers that be. Did a little scouting, myself, when time allowed. I turned up nothing. Just a few Lost hollows. In the end, I gave up on the project for lack of support or interest from the crown. I am coming to believe this 'threat', such as it is? Isn't much of a threat at all, or at least not one that seems to be spurring anyone to any real action where the crowns are concerned. Honestly, if I hadn't fallen in with Gisa, I probably would have reached Nova Scotia by now." There's a restless note to the wanderer's voice, which implies he might start ranging further afield for sanity's sake if nothing else. "I arrived in a bucolic Vermont town and it's proven thoroughly bucolic."
Dielle says, "Honestly, if it weren't that Jon lives here, I doubt I'd have stayed. It's pretty...quiet." She sighs a bit. "I mean, I used to live in New York City, this place is mostly notable for its small town gossip and trying to figure out who's sleeping with who. Which, unless you're followin' the adventures of that one bookstore, ain't all that interestin'." She pauses and says, "And I honestly don't care about that bookstore, in spite of Enid."
"I do not read gossip columns," Gisa notes, "Not anymore. I did the once have to cover up when whoever that was, spoke about Queens in the front room, as opposed to back here... by reading about Queens out front. But I find that sort of stuff relatively boring." Her attention flicks back to Alonso, and she finishes her steak, sets down her fork. "I think it is a genuine threat, but most of us feel at a loss as to how to approach it. Every time that we have tried to make headway, it feels as though we are running into invisible walls. Logan went to Market to attempt to get information on one of the Soundless. It was a profound waste of time." Her shoulders roll. "Sid has wanted to go to Israel. I may indulge him, if only to do something that feels worthwhile. I am sure the Sun Queen means to be an agent of change. We shall see how she takes this threat, and if it is really a threat at all."
"I could go to Israel. That sounds like fun. It's been... a long time since I've been there. It would be nice to go back to a place where the cause I was fighting for took. Sort of. And not carry a rifle around." Alonso ticks his head back, clearly debating if this is a good idea or not. "Just keep me away from the ultra orthodox, the western wall, and the Bibi regime and we should be okay." From a not getting your passport pulled perspective, he means. "Or I could stay behind and hold down the forth while you two see the sites. Perhaps I will get a puppy to consume my focus during that time." Alonso ends up leaning forward, resting his arms on the table top. "This is the trouble with permissive crowns and pledge expectations. You can't police organized interlopers, you know? Not really."
At this point, Dielle's phone goes off, and she looks down at the text. "As much as I hate to do this to you, I need to get going. Jon's off of work and we were gonna get a bit of work done before we went to bed tonight. But you're both welcome to stop by when we really get started on the building. And Gisa, if you go, enjoy yourself, ok?"
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