Cerise has been pretty regular with showing up exactly on time for the past week or so and tonight is no different. Cerise slid in the door exactly 45 minutes ago, right on time for the dinner rush. And like other nights, once the woman is here, she barely stops moving. Which means that even though she has no customers to wait on this exact moment, she has instead spread out sugar packets on the counter in front of her, along with the little containers that they normally sit in and is counting out exactly 15 for each container, sliding them into place and then lining them up with precise alignment.
This is definitely a busy time of evening. C.B. was working earlier and took a break, but he emerges from the back room now, looking for all the world like he hasn't shaved or showered or brushed his hair in a few days. He left his stuff in the back, so he's just in a wrinkled grey henley and jeans. Took Yossarian home earlier -- just the man himself, right now. Standing here, raking a hand through that messy hair, and watching Cerise work her butt off. "Hey," he grunts, waving a hand to her. "Tell me how I can help." Yep. He's nobody's boss. That's how he sees it.
Elliot has been busy, busy, busy. First she plowed her way through the small mountain of dishes from the lunch rush, toiling quietly and diligently in the kitchen. Then? There was the Monday shipment to sort through, organize and put away. She's been trying to bring some order to the pantry but it's the sort of thing where it makes sense to her but probably leaves other flummoxed. Why did she move the turnips over there? Where is the Tumeric? Do the spatulas really need to be organized by width of the spread?
She comes out of the back with her sleeves rolled up and a wrench in one hand, the front of her wet. From the dishes? No. "I think I fixed the drip in the bathroom," she calls out to CB. "Let me know if it starts to act up again." The young woman smiles over at Cerise -- she's seen her around but hasn't approached her yet, content to work in her own lane and level the other lady to her OCD level approach to labor.
Cerise's head wobbles in a slow circle as she observes the sugar containers. When she's satisfied with how they look, Cerise slides the left-over packets away and gently shoves them towards C.B. "Wanna put these on the tables? There's a person coming in." And then with that offered as explanation for her 'slacking,' she straightens, brushes hands on her jeans, and heads towards the cash register. Elliot gets a wave and a bright smile. "Really? You fixed it? That's great! It was driving me /nuts/."
C.B. glances over at the /other/ OCD young woman he was smart enough to hire. Or to recommend for hire, whichever comes first. He bobs his head, brow furrowing a tad. "Thanks for doing that, Elliot. You're handy with plumbing?" His brow remains furrowed even as he starts taking those sugar containers Cerise put out and sticking them back on the tables, where they can join the hot sauce and Bragg's Liquid Aminos and other things they hang out with. He may not be quite as industrious as the two ladies, but C.B. makes up for that with the sheer amount of /time/ he spends in this place. He usually works seven days a week, and at all sorts of hours to fill in for different people. Easy to be flexible with your schedule when you barely sleep.
When Cerise smiles at her, Elliot smiles back -- it's all scrunched nose, crinkled eyes, and dimpled cuteness -- and a lazy shrug soon follows. "I'm glad to help," she says, tiptoeing through the social interaction with politeness and care. "If there is anything else you'd like me to look at, let me know. I'm pretty handy."
She disappears into the back room for a short spell -- probably to put the wrench back into the tool box. However, when she returns, it's pretty clear that she's also clocked out: her apron is gone and her bag is slung across her body. Quittin' time! Her coat is folded over her arm though so it seems that she isn't in a rush to leave just yet. "I don't think I could fix something majorly wrong," she tells CB, answering his earlier question. "But I'm good at fixing things and keeping things running. You'd be surprised how far a little duct tape and persistence go."
While Elliot is in the back room, Cerise makes quick work of taking the order. Coffee and a gluten-free muffin are exchanged for money, the entire order punctuated by the dinging of the register before Cerise ambles back to the other two. "Being pretty handy is better than not at all. Where'd you pick that up from?"
"No, I wouldn't be surprised by that at all, actually," C.B. says with a smirk, making his rounds around the room with the various things of sugar packets. He picks up trash while he's at it, but he's actually staring at Elliot as though waiting for her answer.
Where'd she pick that up from? Elliot freezes for a moment and looks .. uncertain. "Around." Pause. "I mean, nowhere." Beat. "That is, I just kind of taught myself," she answers smoooothly. And by 'smoothly', I mean: not at all. The shaggy-haired blonde kind of winces at each reply, near-babbling along as she course corrects and then course corrects again. She slides her gaze off Cerise, clears her throat and finds something interesting to look at /over there/. She makes the mistake of looking at CB but he's staring at her.
She presses her lips together and puffs out her cheeks as she thinks of something to say that will divert from the awkward. "Would it be okay if I grabbed a quick sandwich? I mean, in exchange for my shift today. I will make a note on my timecard." This is to CB -- they're all owners here but that doesn't seem to compute with her; she treats him like a boss. He yells like a boss sometimes so defer to where the volume is.
"Oh, yeah! Makes no sense to starve when you're working at a restaurant. What kind you want?" Cerise, to the contrary, has no issue at all with exerting herself and answers a beat before C.B. can. She's already on the move as she responds, too, striding over to the cooler where the pre-made sandwiches are kept. "No shame in being self-taught, you know. I've heard that the whole apprenticeship and plumbers union thing can be a racket. I mean, I don't know. I don't know any plumbers, but I read this book about it. Granted, it was put out by AEI, and they *hate* licensing, so it wasn't the most objective source."
C.B. is, indeed, staring at Elliot with a suspicious look. It's because he's sensitive to...things (it's called paranoia). His eyes are narrowed. Does the girl have something to hide? He opens his mouth -- probably to say something about the sandwich thing -- when Cerise beats him to it. The writer looks vaguely surprised by this, but then he just shrugs a shoulder and heads around back to the counter to toss away the trash he had picked up. The two women are conversing fully now, so he doesn't interrupt. See? He can be quiet sometimes. It is possible.
Was she clutching the strap of her bag? Yes. When Cerise just glides along in the conversation without missing a beat, Elliot relaxes her white-knuckled hold on it. She's back to smiling now, dimples on full display. It's okay! Everything is okay. "Um," she answers, squinting over at the cooler. "I don't care. Something with cheese. I'm not really picky."
Does she have something to hide? Maybe. Probably. Everyone has something that they prefer to keep hidden, deep dark secrets that they protect from ever seeing the light of day. For some folks, it's the fact that they lip-sync to Justin Bieber songs in their underwear in front of their full-length mirrors. For others, it's something more sinister.
But look at Elliot! She's /adorable/. She is probably has Justin Bieber level secrets. Nothing dark or dangerous here, nope. And when she peeks at CB to check in on his silence? Her expression is all innocence and kindness.
For real.
Cerise seems to take the bit about the cheese as an order and she pulls out a pepperjack cheese sandwich and rather than handing it over, slides it into a toaster behind her. She turns back to Elliot and flashes a smile at the woman as she relaxes up against the counter while waiting for the thing to cook, "Did I ever tell you two about the time I worked for a circus?"
C.B. continues to squint in Elliot's direction for a long while, but he doesn't say anything else. A surprised glance is given to Cerise instead. He's busying himself putting fresh coffee cups away, over in their place near the coffee machines. Probably because he prepares to pour himself some coffee, once he's done and maybe once his hands stop shaking. They've been shaking a lot as of late. "No kiddin'," he says, snorting at Cerise. "Forgive me for saying that isn't easy to picture. Because it's not."
Circus? Elliot's doe-eyes go round as saucers and she breathes around a quiet 'woooooow'. Her coat is placed on a stool and then she climbs up on it, using it as a sort of seat cushion. Elbows are deposited on the counter, chin is propped up in her palms and she leeeans in. "You worked for the /circus/? What did you do? Did you take care of the animals? Were there elephants and lions? Did you get to eat all the popcorn you wanted?" Question after question after question!
She keeps peeking back over at CB. He's squinting at her. Why is he squinting at her? There's nothing to see here, nothing to squint about. But just as much as he is checking her out, she observes him as well -- the shaking hands are carefully noted.
"Well, if you're picturing me up on a trapeze, Mr. Alexander, then yes, that's a bit hard to imagine. I didn't do anything so glamorous. I was just the medic on-call, which mainly resulted in me sitting in a trailor all day and patching up the odd kid who got in a fight on the before-the-show midway." Cerise beams as she sees Elliot lean in and leans in to meet the other woman while she talks. When her story's told, she straightens again, fetches a plate, and heads back to the toaster. "Still, it was a very educational experience. I learned all sorts of things working there and the culture is /very/ unique. This place actually reminds me of it a little. The culture bit that is. Your turn now - weirdest job?"
C.B. can't really hide that tremor in his hands right now, even if he wanted to. Though he does occasionally put one hand over the other in an attempt to stop that (it doesn't work). At least he eventually stops squinting at Elliot. Cerise has his attention now.
There's an outright groan and an eyeroll at something she says though. "For the love of god, whom we know doesn't even exist, /please/ don't call me Mr. Alexander." He stops putting cups away and leans against the back room doorframe, arms folded, watching Cerise. He figures the question isn't for him and doesn't answer it, but he does say: "Yeah, it's a regular goddamn three-ring experience in here any given day of the week."
It's clear from Elliot's expression that even though Cerise wasn't a trapeze artist, she still thinks what she did was super-duper neat. She's got that wide-eyed awe going on and is fighting against her internal policy of not asking people too many questions. Oh, what the hell? Why not dig a little deeper, just this once! After all, she worked for a /circus/.
She opens her mouth to say something, to ask a question, but just freezes there when things are turned on her. Weirdest job? One second becomes two seconds become several more and then silence stretches as the girl with the almost-mullet just .. flounders. "I, uh .. I was a .. um .."
Nothing.
Tick, tick, tick.
"..hula hoop tester!" Yeah, so. /That/ is clearly a lie because that can't possibly be a thing. But she said it and now she has to commit to it. Gulp. "It was a little shop that made toys. A toy shop. Um, and it wasn't a big shop. It was just a guy. And he would pay me to test the hula hoops he made to make sure they were, um.." Pause. "..um.." She swoops her finger around in a loop. "/Round/! To make sure they were round."
God, is that sandwich ready yet? Come on, toaster.
She doesn't even look at CB after that one. She knows he will start squinting again.
"Yeah? That actually seems normal. I mean, there's lots of toy factories, right? and they need testers, I think." Cerise tests the edge of the sandwich with her fingertips when it pops out of the toaster and then slides it onto the plate while barely touching it. Her eyes shift to C.B. briefly while she carts the plate back over to Elliot, "I meant that at the circus, every one ended up there for a reason. They all had a past, you know? You don't just stumble into a circus job. So, you learned to just let that lie. You also learned to let people deal with their own shit - unless they asked or couldn't ask, but once they made it clear they did want help, you went all out for them. It really was something to see."
"Mmm hmmmmm." This response is somehow measured at both women at the same time, while C.B.'s bullshit meter goes off at full volume (not literally) as soon as Elliot starts speaking. "Well. Look." He sighs, mopping his brow with the palm of his hand. "We try and take care of each other here. I mean, yeah, sometimes we fail, and by 'we' I mostly mean me, but that's what we do." He shrugs and finally pours himself a big cup of coffee, though he stares down into the cup like hey, maybe he's actually sick to death of coffee...
Oh, she bought it? Probably not but she's going along with it which makes Elliot think she's bought it. And she's fine with this. It allows her to relax again, to listen to what Cerise is saying without worry. And when she describes the circus, how people had their secrets and everyone respected that, she nods her head. When her co-worker shares with them how the carnies would all pull together and help each other when it was needs though? That's when Elliot's smile comes back.
"That sounds .. really, really nice," she says quietly.
When the sandwich appears, she hunches over it; the girl instinctively curls her arm around her plate in a protective gesture. It's almost like she's afraid that someone is going to take it away; maybe she grew up with a lot of siblings and mealtimes were occasions when it was every man for his (or her) self? That could be it. She immediately starts to eat, wolfing down bite after bite. It's while she is stuffing her face that CB talks about how people are looked after here at the Collective and she pauses long enough to look at him with a deeply thankful gaze.
"It does. Doesn't it?" Even though Cerise is clearly replying to Elliot, she's turned herself so that she's staring at C.B. This time, it's her turn to have narrowed eyes and a skeptical expression. Her head shakes and she turns away to face Elliot again, placing a bit more emphasis on her words as she repeats. "Still, people gotta want the help, because there's no prying." This is followed by a sigh and a tug on her ponytail before she continues. "anyway, Toy factory, huh? How about you, C.B.?"
C.B. scowls. "What?" That's to Cerise, and that /look/ she gives him. Still scowling, he glances over at the hungry Elliot, though he's probably actually glad she's eating. Especially if she needs food that badly. He himself seems to practically never eat, at least not in here. Then he sighs, shrugging as he turns back towards Cerise. "How about me? I don't know. I --" He stares up at the ceiling. So many answers up there. "I've done some criminal activities. I guess those count as weird. I mean, I've been working since I was 14, but most of those jobs were boring ol' shitshows..."
"Sometimes people are helping without even knowing that they are," Elliot replies around a mouthful of sandwich. She smiles faintly, her dimples just a light brushstroke upon her cheeks now, and murmurs something under her breath before she resumes munching away. Sounded like 'thank you' but it was such a soft thing that one can't be entirely sure. Unless they had super hearing, anyway!
When Cerise turns attention on CB, the shaggy-haired dishwasher-slash-handiperson looks his way. She's curious, sure. But she isn't going to press him if he doesn't want to talk. See? She lives by the circus code! When he looks her way, she misinterprets the glance -- reaching for a knife, she cuts what remains of her sandwich in half and offers the nibble-free part to him. She's hungry, sure, but she will always share. Which might be why she is always so hungry. It's a vicious circle.
That he did criminal stuff causes her to blink; apparently, she didn't hear about the molotovs and the police station. "You broke the law? And now you write books?" In her head, this is a redemption arc that she didn't realize was even possible.
"My understanding is that they're more simultaneous than consecutive. But, like, I haven't seen him break the law since I've known him, so I guess he's on the straight and narrow on." Cerise gives a wobble of her hand and then reaches under the counter and pulls out a container of spoons which apparently needs to be straightened desperately.
C.B. shakes his head at the offer of the sandwich. Actually, he looks faintly nauseated. Head slightly lowered, he levels his blue gaze at Elliot for a longer moment before just looking down at the floor. "By all means, talk about me like I'm not here, Cerise." With a sigh, he says, "Yes, I've done some shit. But I've always written books." Now he's staring at Elliot again, a strange intensity in his eyes. "The two are not incompatible. The /real/ criminal in this world is the U.S. government -- hell, all world governments. They're the /real/ thieves and cowards."
She holds out the sandwich half for a prolonged moment - sure, he declined but what he said there about who the real criminal is, that's just kind of frozen her in place. Dark eyes are wide, her mouth hangs open slightly and she just stares back at him. And then a small voice in the back of her head tells her that she's being /weird/ and that she shouldn't cause a /scene/; she slowly comes to life again and brings the sandwich to her own mouth, takes a bite and chews.
After blinking a few times, she turns her attention to Cerise and her spoons. This is very important, what she is doing. Big spoons cannot canoodle with little spoons; that would be madness. "I would like to read your book sometime," she says, directing it at no one in particular but clearly she means CB.
"If I were talking about you like you weren't here, I'd be saying /much/ worse things." Cerise purses her lips as she moves the bigger spoons towards the back of the container and the smaller spoons to the front. "The government can actually do a lot of good for people's lives, you know. Like roads. How would you get around without the government building roads?"
"Which one?" C.B.'s brows go up, eyes on Elliot again. Curious. A little probing. "I've got more than one, you know." But maybe she didn't know. She definitely didn't know. Maybe C.B. wish she /did/ know, though...he often does, and people often don't...
Blink. Blink. He is /staring/ at Cerise now. "Seriously?" He points over to the infoshop with one trembling hand. "/You/ need to actually read some of what we have here. Maybe even all of it. So you can understand the depths of the evils /your/ government has committed, both to its citizens and to people of color all over the goddamn world."
Elliot hunches down, her shoulders curving forward. "There's the government and then there's the /government/," she states quietly in response to Cerise, her eyes held open wide and unblinking. She shakes her head, raggedy hair falling forward to hide her face a bit. She's just holding onto that sandwich now -- not eating, just hanging onto it with both hands.
CB is asking her something. Which one? Her eyebrows lift up and she straightens where she sits now. "You have more than one?" She says this like it's the most amazing thing. He didn't just write one book; he's written several! Mind. Blown. The woman is in serious awe.
"I have read what we have here, and I'm not arguing that the government is perfect, just that it's not all evil." Cerise frowns stubbornly in CB's direction and she pauses working for a second before she resumes pushing spoons around with a clatter, even as she admits grumpily, "He's pretty good. You should pick up some of his works. I can bring some with me to work tomorrow, if you want."
"Exactly. /Exactly/." C.B. gestures at Elliot when she agrees with him about the government. He almost drops that coffee cup he's holding, but manages to get it on the counter at the last moment. His would-be tirade is interrupted by her question, and then he nods, brows raised, expression sardonic. "Yes. Two novels now, short stories, essays, plays, even poetry...I've usually got a case of word diahrrea going on, if you hadn't noticed..." Then he snorts at Cerise. "The government /as a whole/ is evil. So they can occasionally build a road. Whoop-de-fucking-do. Doesn't mean I wouldn't overthrow it in a heartbeat, if I had the chance to try again." Again? Hmmm... "A thousand roads can't make up for years of slaughter and oppression. You don't -- some of my books are in the Writer's Nook, actually." His face flushes slightly, a glance back towards Elliot. "You can borrow 'em if you want."
She nibbles on her lower lip and looks vaguely bashful. "Maybe just one," Elliot tells Cerise. "Is it okay if I hang onto it for a while? I don't read very fast." She hesitates and then adds, clarifying: "I just don't have a lot of time. I work a lot." A small smile flickers, the woman pleased with her explanation. But CB offers up an even better solution and she peeks at the back room door and the Writer's Nook that lies somewhere beyond it. "Oh, I can read it that way. A little bit, every day, on my break." She doesn't typically /take/ breaks but that's neither here nor there.
CB's mini-rant about the government causes her to nod here and there in agreement. "If left to themselves, people would make their own roads. It's like the circus: they take care of their own and give help when its needed. The greatest trick the government played was making people believe that they can't live without it." Oh look at this, a little CB disciple! Just a lot less angry and more .. quietly freaked out.
Cerise releases the spoons and her hands lift to either side of her as if surrendering, but she does so in a way and with a tone that makes it clear that she hasn't really surrendered at all, "Alright. Alright. You are both right. The government is evil and people would just do for themselves even if no one was around to organize them."
"There you go," C.B. says, gesturing to Elliot. Did he almost smile? He almost smiled. He's also reaching for his coffee cup again. And her further musings about the government? That gets a full-on chuckle out of the writer. "That's what I'm saying." He nods, pleased about this, and when Cerise acquiesces he keeps nodding. "That's right. We'd have little collectives, little circuses all over the place. The People -- " It's totally capitalized. "-- know what's best for the People."
Elliot gazes at Cerise for a moment, her expression possessing a distant sadness. "I hope someday that you change your mind because of education rather than experience," she says in a soft, gentle way. Hey, she knows that her coworker isn't a true believer. /Yet/. She glances down and only now remembers that she's holding a sandwich! Oh yeah! Om nom nom ...
CB chuckling and almost smiling puzzles her -- has she ever seen him in any state other than Full Scowl? No, she doesn't believe she has. As she gets closer and closer to finishing off her food, her dimpled grin comes to the fore. "Circuses for everyone!"
Cerise stares at the silverware a little while longer before she backs away from the counter and ducks behind the back door for a moment, returning with the rather worn bespoke wool coat she wears in the cooler months. She begins to pull gloves out of her pocket, "Anyway, I think in light of this conversation, I think maybe the People decided to head out early tonight."
C.B. is looking at Elliot again, in fact, with an interesting expression on his face. Inquiring, like before, but less suspicious. The gaze of curiosity is one that's hard to mask, however. The smile didn't last, but he does let out a snort of laughter at the circuses line. "So long as it isn't bread and circuses, that sounds pretty good to me."
"I'll probably head out soon myself," C.B. agrees, though he makes no immediate move to do so. Instead, he raises a hand to Cerise. "Thanks for doing what you do. Hope we've been as amenable to work with as Kip." Just a /touch/ of sarcasm at that. Well-meaning. Mostly.
Elliot is already clocked out! So she will be shoving off soon as well; she just needs to finish this tasty, nummy sandwich. "I was nice talking to you," she says to Cerise as the woman pulls on her gloves and holds up the last bit of her food. "And thank you for toasting this for me. It is delicious." The shaggy-haired handi-person pops the final bite into her mouth and pats her tummy.
Sliding off her stool, she gazes over at CB as she collects her coat. The fact that he's no longer squinting suspiciously at her has soothed her ever-present anxiety and she gives the man a nod. "I look forward to reading your book. I need to head over to the laundromat now but don't worry.." Dimpled smirk. "I'll try my best not to be a blowhard."
C.B.'s words actually earn a fond smile from Cerise. She lifts a gloved hand to him in farewell, and then loiters by the door waiting for Elliot. "I'll walk you out?"
Does he actually seem disappointed that they're leaving? C.B. gives Elliot a little smile that seems a touch sad around the edges. He just raises a hand to both of them and slips quickly into the back.
There is lingering moment when she just stares at him for a heartbeat or two and then, who knows what comes over her but, Elliot gives CB a very sudden -- and a very quick -- hug before he manages to depart for the back room. It's over in a flash and then she is rushing off, pulling on her coat as her bag bounces against her hip. "That would be nice, thank you," she says to Cerise, falling in alongside her while she slips on her mittens. She doesn't look back, doesn't check to see if her hug soured his mood.
She's just going to choose to believe he appreciated it.
Cerise lofts a brow at the sudden hug and after a quick glance to make sure that the man did not dissolve into a pile of ash on the floor, she opens the door without comment and slips through after Elliot does so.
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