2025-07-04 - Just Peachy

[TXT to Archer] Faye: Are you having terrible nightmares or hauntings in your apartment?

[TXT to Faye] Archer: No? Are you?

[TXT to Archer] Faye: No. I'm glad the door charms are working 😀

[TXT to Faye] Archer: Oh. Yes, the door charm does seem to be doing its job quite well. Thank you.

[TXT to Archer] Faye: You're off tomorrow. Can I steal you?

[TXT to Archer] Faye: I'll share the peaches on my waffles.

[TXT to Faye] Archer: Well, with an offer like that, how could I possibly decline?

[TXT to Archer] Faye: Right? I should have been a lawyer.

[TXT to Faye] Archer: You are very convincing, it is true.

[TXT to Archer] Faye: Excellent. Make sure you have waistband room to eat and bend when you dress.

[TXT to Archer] Faye: This is mostly advice for me, but I thought I'd include you too.

[TXT to Faye] Archer: How much are you going to feed me?

[TXT to Archer] Faye: Depends. It's a cheat day.

[TXT to Archer] Faye: I'll meet you at the diner after some little errands I have to do, we'll call it Waffle Brunch, right before noon.

[TXT to Faye] Archer: I will meet you there.

Faye breezes into the diner quite literally five minutes before noon, which is technically on time given her loose planning. Wearing a pair of flexible dark fitted jeans and a white peasant-style blouse with primarily red embroidery accents, she's already pushing her sunglasses off of her face to apologize to Archer while seating herself. She throws her designer bag into the booth seat ahead of her ass and wiggles around to take a drink from the water glass, "When I texted I was on my way, I was on my way, but the line to drop off laundry service really shouldn't take so long. It's drop off! So my leisurely walk over from there turns into a horse trot and you've been with a damned horse all week, no one needs that."

She's winded, but flushed with good mood and excitement, it's not like there's ACTUALLY any rush or lateness involved. The waitress isn't even over at the table yet before she's pointing and saying, "I'm the one who called about the peaches, but-- oh no, no! Take their order first, we need a few."

She's not in LA anymore, but apparently still on LA hustle bustle time by instinct.

Archer is already seated in one of the booths. He is dressed in a pair of comfortable jeans, some hiking boots, and a light grey linen shirt designed for the warmth of a summer afternoon on the islands. He glances up when Faye comes in like a whirlwind and settles into the booth across from him, a small smile playing across his lips. "There's no rush. I'm sure that the waffles will wait for us to order them." There is water in front of him as well but it's clear that nothing has been ordered yet.

"Breathe, Faye," Archer says gently as she instructs the poor waitress who is barely near the table before being waved away again. He doesn't seem to be in any rush to order, himself. "I trust all the errands are tended now?"

"Right. Island time."

Faye blows a puff of air over pursed lips after a quiet huff of laughter across the table at Archer and his greeting for her. She's definitely self-aware, catching on to sit up straight and breathe with 'mindfulness' no doubt, hands going flat against the tabletop for a beat. When they start moving again, she's already putting a napkin in her lap and taking a drink of water, "I think so. Groceries are still on the to-do list at some point, but honestly, I don't even do my own laundry, pretending like I'm going to cook is just madness."

She breathes out a happy little sigh, "Pinterest gives me ideas. Speaking of food ideas, I did call ahead about the peaches, which sounds insane, I know, but on the plus side, they're turning them into brown-butter cinnamon peaches. Entirely worthwhile. Maybe they'll add it as a topping on the menu and call it the 'Faye Treatment'. I always wanted to be famous."

Archer watches as she straightens up and does a little bit of breathing. It's unlikely that he gives a fig about 'mindfulness' though. "Well, one still needs groceries even if one doesn't cook. Beverages, a bit of fruit, some things to snack on." He doesn't elaborate on whether he cooks or not, but it's likely that he does. His kitchen looks like he does, at any rate. Or perhaps the pots and pans are just for show.

"I suppose we'll have to see how much of a hit they become and whether or not they put you on the map or not," Archer says. He doesn't pick up a menu or glance at it since what they were ordering was predetermined before they even arrived.

"Fair point. Fresh and sweet with cream honestly, might have been the better summer choice, save the cinnamon for pumpkin spice."

Faye automatically starts to look at the menu herself, but suddenly remembers she doesn't need it, pushing it away to look at Archer with a flash of a smile and decisive order details for him to approve. The details include: coffee, specialwaffles, two eggs for walking protein and a single bowl of grits with cheese between them because she's not sure if she likes them, she can't remember if she's had any.

So that's worked out for when the inevitable waitress pause comes. Very thorough.

"I was thinking after I texted you yesterday... do people actually have trouble with nightmares and hauntings here?"

Archer politely declines the grits but seems content with the rest of the options, though he does add a side of bacon for himself. If she wants to try the grits, she's on her own with that one. Once the order is successfully placed and they're let to their own devices while they wait, his attention turns back to the conversation at hand. "There are hauntings here," Archer says. "But then, there are people here who can deal with any particularly troublesome ones, so I suspect those that remain are of a more benign nature than not. Nightmares? I would imagine there are few places in the world that there isn't someone who suffers from nightmares on occasion."

"Interesting. The islands have Ghostbusters. Why not?"

Faye forgets about nightmares entirely, merely nodding along with Archer's logic, her mind visibly stuck back on the confirmed hauntings. She sits for a moment, as if sorting out one thing or another, "How exactly do they 'deal' with the troublesome ones and... what exactly kind of asshole does a ghost have to be to go and get itself 'busted'?" There's a pause, then, "Is there a phone number in case I have a problem? This suddenly feels like a housekeeping issue, like knowing I have a fire extinguisher and alarms for smoke. Some houses in the Valley had coyote issues, they used bear pee to scare them. Is there something like that for ghosts?"

Okay, she's not scared and keeps matter of fact, but this is clearly a new RL concern she hadn't considered.

"I believe there are those with the ability to banish them, which effectively drives them out of an area for a time, though I'm not entirely certain on the length of time. I've never had a haunting issue to inquire," Archer admits. Though when she asks if there is a number to call he says, "Actually, there is a number for all manner of magical issues that one might encounter. It's in the employee handbook. You can call it to get advice and/or help with any number of things. Again, I've never had any need of it myself, but it's there if one needs. Some sort of hotline."

Faye breathes out a little 'huh' of air to herself and reaches for the coffee carafe to pour into her cup once it's arrived for the table. She picks through the creamers, but seems largely disinterested, and in the end, she takes up the cup black to blow into, "Good to know."

Her thoughtful expression is broken with a helpless smile for Archer across the table, "On the plus side, there's not any in my apartment. It has nothing to do with the door warding, though-- I used a lot of generic symbolism and good will for advertisement sake when I sold variations of what I gave you. I'm pretty sure my web manager had to label them as 'decorative only' at one point. I was getting weird reviews on the 'Witch Bells' version, something about opening gateways." Her eyes roll, "So glad to be out of the indy craft market. I just liked making the stuff, not a baby industry of it all."

Archer chooses one of the plain creamers and pours it into his coffee, several of them until it takes on the color of wet sand. Then he stirs it lightly while he listens. "Well, that's good. I'd prefer not to have any unintentional roommates in my apartment, either. I do prefer my privacy, to a degree."

"I've heard that one should never turn their hobbies into a job. It takes all of the joy out of it," he muses when she mentions being glad to be out of the craft market. "Though I suppose my primary job is the tours. The other work that I do is mostly at my own discretion. That helps keep it interesting."

"I might invest in a cat to snub me and keep me humble at some point, sometimes it helps to share air with something."

Faye shakes her head a little bit after a sip of coffee, red sandaled feet crossing at the ankles under the table, "I tried having a little dog to travel around with me, you know? Remember when that was cute? Maybe that was just LA fifteen or so years ago, but mm..." The woman pauses as plates are placed in front of the both of them, features lighting up as she cuts the story short, "Pomeranians are assholes."

The redhead is absolute sunshine for the waitress and takes the time to arrange her plate and things just so for a picture. While she has the phone out, she targets Archer across the view too, "Be cute."

"I have plants," Archer says, when she mentions sharing air with something. "They are good to share the air with and very quiet. And I have never had a plant cough up a hairball onto the floor." He currently doesn't seem to have any pets. There definitely wasn't any evidence of any in his apartment when she was there.

"I'm not sure little dogs have ever been truly cute," Archer muses. "To some, I suppose. I prefer a large hunting hound, myself." Not that he has one.

When their plates arrive he gives a polite "Thank you," to their server with a smile before reaching for his fork. When he is commanded to be cute, one brow lofts just slightly, smile amused.

"Perfect."

Faye is perfectly delighted with what Archer does in response to her 'request' while she has the camera on her phone at work on the table. Stowing her phone back into her bag, she carries on while unrolling silverware and preparing to eat.

"I had a gardener when I had plants. In fact, I had a housekeeper last time I had a cat, maybe I'm not thinking this through-- I don't buy plants myself for a reason. I don't know how to keep them alive without contracting help."

There's a beat where she starts to furrow her brow, but it's fleeting because she's reminded the view is grand, "I have wonderful ideas, don't I? But the grits..."

There's just a glance before grits are put on ignore like the impulse order they are. Peach waffles are way more amazing to focus on.

Well, it's good that she didn't expect more than that, because Archer doesn't seem quite sure how to be 'cute' on command. Though when she seems pleased, he simply shakes his head and reaches down to take a bite from his plate. He starts, of course, with the peaches and the waffle since that was sort of the entire point of this excursion, savoring them for a moment.

"I can manage to keep the ones that I have alive. The key was learning when to leave them well enough alone. At first I tended to over-water them and turn their poor roots to mush," Archer says. "I regrettably rotted a few before I learned that lesson."

Laughing, he glances at the grits and shakes his head, "I've never understood the appeal."

"Someone told me to get a cactus, I feel like those are for cheaters."

Faye stops talking to make a low 'mm' of dramatic noise after the first bite. She takes the next bite more carefully and slowly, actually taking the time to chew a little longer this time around, cream balanced with fruit and waffle. After a drink of coffee, she makes verdict, then eyes the damned grits again, though not without eyeing Archer pointedly there somewhere in between, "These are amazing, but you're scaring me with these grits. I mean, they're called 'grits', what the hell is wrong with me? I'm going to give myself texture issues..."

She sure changed her mind fast, but cheddar glossed with oil added to pale goop grits does not make them look better.

Cheese does not make everything better.

"For cheaters and those who don't navigate their apartments in the dark," Archer says amusedly. He takes several bites of his own food -- a bit of the waffle, a bit of the bacon, a bit of the peaches. Everything gets a little bite here and there and he seems to be enjoying all of it. Though when she looks at him and then the grits he says, "You were the one who chose to order them. I had nothing to do with that choice." In fact, he'd warned her that she would be on her own if she did.

They do not look appetizing.

"That doesn't mean you have to look at them like that, you're giving me a bias by proxy!"

Faye sputters a little with laughter on the tail end of her illogical blame, but it might be true. Except it's not, the grits and cheese are not okay. However, after a shift in her seat, the redhead decides to be a good sport-- she picks up a spoon and pokes it around in the cheese grits until she gets enough to stick to divot. It's a small bite, but a complete bite to give her what she needs to decide whether or not she likes grits.

Two seconds later, she's wiping her mouth and taking a quick drink of water, "Nope. Might as well be oily lip exfoliant. Why though? Ugh."

"I certainly do," Archer says. Because they are an affront to his sensibilities. The sensibilities of a man with tastebuds.

He watches though as she decides to brave the texture combination before them. Mixing it does seem to make it less gross looking at least, even if in the end the judgment remains the same. There is a slow shake of his head when she asks why. "There are certain things that I have never come to understand, and the appeal of grits is one of them."

"They're gritty and an insult to hash browns as an alternative option on diner menus. Why didn't you warn me!"

The last part is absolute nonsense after a big preach of the truth, Archer kind of did warn her, but he gets a footsy little harmless kick under the table anyway. Above the table, Faye is poking in another bite of waffles and fruit that's overlarge and bulges her cheeks a little when she grins across at the man with full mouth. She puts her hand up briefly over her mouth while chewing it all down, then takes a drink of coffee before adding on,

"This is not only a day of waffles and games, you know. It's a day of self-discovery. I found one more thing to quietly rage about here and there."

"I almost feel that one needs to experience the horror for one's self to truly learn the lesson and not repeat it," Archer says when she kicks him under the table, even if it's playful, his own smile amused. He is not at all going to take the bait there. She did this to herself and has no one to blame but herself.

He returns to his own, somewhat smaller bites, when she returns to her waffle, gradually making his way through his plate while they talk. He does offer her a conciliatory piece of bacon if she seems interested, but otherwise is content to consume his own meal between sips of coffee.

"A lesson learned, indeed. I'm sure there will be more before the day is done." He then pauses and says, "Though I will not let you experience a corn dog." They will be perilously close to the corndog hut. "I'm not sure anyone really deserves that fate."

Faye is happy to take bacon to tear into pieces and eat while watching Archer for a moment, "I haven't had a corn dog since I was nine, I don't even think I was a fan then. I think I'll take your word for that one. I can't imagine there's a universe where they've gotten better." Her appetite is hearty enough, but the portions are big and she's been putting it down a little too enthusiastically. Her pace starts to slow as the food whittles down, a chunk of her time devoted to having more coffee before she continues to take down the rest of her food lazily during conversation.

"You sound downright offended, like a corn dog bit you back." She sniffs with mild amusement and carries on, "No one really knows what's in a hot dog anyway, if they have to batter it, there's just more to hide, in my opinion. Besides, corn already comes on a stick. And if you want food on a stick, you get a candy apple or something."

"I can assure you that they have not," Archer says with an expression that clearly states that corn dogs are not a taste he has acquired since living in the States. There are just some things that are an affront. "I have, in fact, been personally assaulted by a corn dog. My intestines have never quite forgiven me." Then he pauses and says, "I have had some caramel covered apples that were quite good." That is a faire food he can get behind. "I don't know if there are any ehre, though. I haven't seen any."

His own food is slowly consumed, the eggs, the waffle, the peaches. Everything slowly vanishes one small bite after another until he's left cupping his mug of coffee in his hands and slowly working through the last of that unhurriedly.

"I am so full, but I keep eating. We're going to walk a lot, I'll be happy for the load later, but ah. I feel like I should pop a button or something."

To be fair, her jeans are already stretchy and may not even have an official button that isn't for decor purposes, but Faye is in 'that place' in spirit. She even leans back unceremoniously against the back of the booth and slouches a little bit in her seat to look at Archer like she's been defeated by her plate. It doesn't last long, though, she's sitting up to finish her coffee and push things away while telling company,

"I know you like the ferry's quiet time, but today on the ride, we're going to play Uno to make the time fly. It'll get our gamer blood up. I have a deck in my purse to kill time, old habit, very useful."

She pauses, "Thanks for eating and merrymaking with me today."

"I'm generally alone on the ferry during my quiet time," Archer points out with a slight shake of his head. "I don't expect it to be quiet when I'm with company." There's no argument over playing Uno, either. "I'm sure that it will make the time pass."

When their waitress returns, he takes the bill and hands over his credit card without really looking at it. "Of course," he says. "Thus far it's been a nice start to the morning, and I'm sure the rest of the day will prove even more so."