2024-11-14 - A Good Start

It's been a good day. A good few days! Sure, November isn't the best month for ice cream sales, but let's be real here: there are no bad months for ice cream. Business has been steady, and Quentin's done really well finding his feet. Like... eerily well. Cardinal is not gonna question it. It's very much a good thing to have such delightfully competent colleagues. It's cause for celebration, really, so the scoops shop manager has proposed drinks to celebrate, her treat.

She tosses her faded green coat into the booth before her, the RAISED BY WOLVES on the back crumbled to illegibility in its scrunched up position. The pastel blue sweatshirt below is the same one she's been working in all day, which means there are a few sticky smudges from ice cream and fudge and strawberry syrup here and there, but it sorta suits the big EVERYTHING'S BETTER WITH ICE CREAM message across the front. Which is in contrast to the Very Serious Study she gives Quentin for a couple seconds before declaring, through ASL, <<You're into tiki drinks,>> a total guess at his preferences. She has no psychic ability.

Having returned to the park as a full-time employee, Quentin has done his best to make a good start at Seven Scoops - and it has gone well! A handful of smiles and happy chatter, a little divination to see what the next customer wants, et voila. A throng of happy ice-cream-eaters and thus a happy boss.

Drinks on his boss' dime is never something he's going to say no to either, and so as they settle at the booth - him still in uniform as well, though thankfully his discarded apron caught most of the sticky bits - he ponders her signed assumption. "Sure. Tiki drinks are good." Has he ever had one? No. Is he willing to try? Surely.

Had Cardinal given this any thought before settling in at Lucky's, she mighta suggested Bootlegger's instead. Definitely gonna get better tiki cocktails over in Venture Cove. Still, when Quentin confirms her suspicion--whether or not he has actual real life verification of that guess yet or not--she suggests, <<Two painkillers?>> Tends to be easier when speaking people do the ordering. It's sort of a seasonal choice? The nutmeg they grate on top of the otherwise fairly summery rum-based drink gives it a kinda holiday vibe as they're nearing Thanksgiving.

"Sure, whatever those are. Want anything else from the bar? Chips or nuts or whatever?" Quentin checks, pushing up to his feet and loitering at the table for her answer - and for some cash or a card since she's paying! - before meandering on up to the counter to order.

<<Pretzels!>> is the easy part. Remembering she needs to provide a card if Quentin's gonna set up a tab in her name? It takes Cardinal a second, realization hitting with wide eyes and the quick retrieval of a brightly colored credit card in the name of Elizabeth Fry. That's probably her, right? Not that anybody's ever called her Elizabeth, Liz, Lizzie, Beth, Liza or, oh, anything of the sort in the short time he's known her. <<Thank you!>>

Taking the card and only briefly squinting at the name, Quentin saunters to the bar to start a tab. He is gone only a few minutes, returning with two tall glasses containing orange drinks, decorated with pineapple wedges and nutmeg dusted on top. Under his arm, a bag of pretzels which he drops onto the table before setting down a drink in front of his boss, then sliding into the booth and lifting his drink for a toast. "To a good start!"

Cardinal could be an Elizabeth. In another life. Might catch a glimpse of that possibility in the moments where she's alone in the booth, fussing with her phone, the tail-end of a text conversation causing her oft-bright expression to dim and sour. Briefly. When she catches Quentin's return, she's quick to pocket her phone and smile again, and that pleasure is genuine, marked with a subtle gratitude. There are good things here, in contrast to whatever her phone had to offer. Glass lifted in one hand, she throws devil horns with the other, emphatic agreement with that sentiment.

After the first swig--longer than it may have otherwise been had she not checked her messages, and followed with a tongue-swipe at her upper lip to clear off some stray nutmeg--she asks, <<Are you staying for the holidays?>> without specifying which of the three coming up she means. Any of em! All of em!

Wiggling until he gets comfy on the booth, which does necessitate a bit of leather squeaking, Quentin clinks his glass to Cardinal's and takes a rather more cautious sip from it. Hm. Followed by another, and his expression suggests he likes what he's tasting. "Yeah, probably. Might fly back for a couple days in the new year, but I'll be here 'til then. Working Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years in a theme park? Could be rough, could be hella fun. Who knows."

<<Right?>> comes with bright eyes, preceding the crinkling of the pretzel bag opening. Cardinal snags a few, maybe more than she meant as a couple broken bits snag on each other, but that's fine. She just drops em on the table to pick at like she has complete trust in whoever does the wiping up around here or no concern for her own health and wellness, take your pick. It's just that she can't comfortably hold them and talk at the same time. Chew? Yes. She'll nom one of those pretzels while she talks with her hands. <<Good to make the holidays bright for strangers who aren't hanging decades of strange expectations on you!>> So cheerfully conveyed! <<Where's back?>>

Setting his glass down, Quentin reaches out to snag a few pretzels to crunch on, seemingly also putting his faith in the diligence of the cleaning staff. "California. Cypress in Orange County, to be precise," he then responds to the question of where 'back' is; also why he'd rather be flying rather than driving. 35 hours of driving just for a few days stay? Hell no.

He pops the pretzels into his mouth and munches slowly, looking briefly thoughtful before returning the question. "How 'bout you? Where is home, away from here?"

The way Cardinal's eyes widen for Quentin's answer, one might imagine California is somehow magical or mythical... or at least, yes, far enough away to have gone unvisited thus far. <<I've never been that far west. Milwaukee. That's it. As far west as I've been.>> Crunchcrunch. Crunch. This is the spot where she's supposed to share where her home is, but there's a definite delay as she thinks about how to answer. And it does seem to be just simple thinking, no particular shiftiness about it, like how somebody from the small suburb of a big city might debate whether it's worth explaining where the little town is when the city's what's gonna stick. She settles on both with, <<Vermont for a lot of my life, but I have family down in Detroit. Staying here for the holidays, though. Feeling festive, ya know?>>

"It's a nice place to visit, if you do ever go that far out," Quentin acknowledges thoughtfully, plucking the pineapple wedge from the rim of his glass and chomping on the tip, eventually working his way down to the rind. That bit gets discarded onto his napkin.

"Been to Vermont once or twice. Detroit as well. Travelled a lot with my last job," he adds after Cardinal gives her reply. "Yeah, feels like we could have a lot of fun here after closing, or if the park shuts for any days," he agrees on the festive note. "The other employees seem down for a laugh."

Cardinal's curiosity about Quentin's employment history is clear long before she ever asks the question. She's distracted first with, <<Not sure it ever shuts down that long, but I hear they go all out for New Years. Looking forward to it. And maaaaaybe to dressing up all fancy-->> She wiggles a little in her seat, chin lifted like she's putting on airs. <<--for the winter ball.>> Nevermind that what's been seen of her wardrobe so far doesn't seem to have much fancy to it at all, mostly sweatshirts, skater skirts and sneakers, all very cute and comfortable.

Then, finally, <<What was your last job?>> Except she holds up a finger to bid that he wait as she preemptively shares, <<I was managing my family's ice cream shop back in Vermont. Dairy farmers on my dad's side. So. Many. Cows...>>

There's some slow nodding from Quentin as Cardinal expresses her hopes for the festive season. Maybe indeed some fancy dressing-up - if nothing else, the park has a sizable wardrobe of fancy dresses for the various roles, even if Cardinal doesn't own anything fancy herself.

"Cows. Never worked with animals, but I figure it's a lot of hard manual labour," he muses after another sip from his painkiller cocktail, then answers the question that was asked. "Ice sculpting. Also hard work, but at least you get to use a chainsaw."

<<Same thing!>> Cardinal suggests post-swig, thought interrupted with a swipe of her hand across her mouth. <<Hard work in cold conditions.>> Nevermind the vast differences between cows and chainsaws. Totally comparable by her measure! But maybe it's something else, seeing as she sinks forward a little, leaning into the table like her voice is lowering, expression softer, and tells Quentin, <<I appreciate the impermanence of your work. Making something that's not gonna last. Like ice cream. A few moments of joy. All it needs to be.>>

The expression on Quentin's face is somewhat dubious as Cardinal makes that first statement, but then when she elaborates about the similarities - impermanent moments of joy - it shifts to a more thoughtful one. "Huh. I guess so," he acknowledges, though doesn't sound entirely convinced. "I've worked in more permanent mediums too, but I prefer the art that isn't meant to last except in memory. I've no interest in stocking a gallery or museum with my bullshit." Which would explain why he's here, rather than churning out pieces for silly sums of money.

The warmth on Cardinal's features only deepens as she smiles a little crookedly at Quentin, eyebrows lofted just a touch. <<I need-->> Signed emphatically, but only just. <<--to introduce you to my cousin Robbie.>> He was Robbie when they were kids, when she was Lizzie, but she hasn't caught on to correcting herself to Robin yet, nevermind the avian association. Relaxing back into her seat, she explains, <<He's the one who suggested I apply here. Cuz he works here, too. Making art. For the gallery by the entrance.>>

Brows raising slightly at the emphasis, Quentin agrees slowly, "...sure? Happy to meet another artist." Clearly he hasn't stopped by the gallery to know what sort of things Robin makes, or makes his stuff out of rather. "I do want to try ice cream sculpting, though. I could do a one-fourth size Cap'n Gingerbeard or something," he adds, his cheerful smile returning at the thought.

To be fair, Cardinal hasn't seen Robin's work either. Not what he's done here anyway, nothing recent. Doesn't much matter. She's not thinking about that anymore. Not after Quentin suggests sculping Cap'n Gingerbeard out of cap'n gingerbeard ice cream. Or, well, ice cream in general. Whatever flavors and colors he needs. <<Just tell me what you need,>> comes with a nodnodnod. <<We can crank up one of the freezers real high. Low?>> Power high, temp low. He gets it, right? <<That would be amazing! Oh, and we could make an event of it, too, encourage the guests to make their own sculptures...>> It'll be a terrible mess, but that's a problem for after.