2025-08-12 - Candy Corn Was the Real Cryptid All Along

Lucky's is one of the few places in the park where people can be truly off-duty. That's doubly true for people who are the face of their respective restaurants.

Carmine has claimed a table in a quieter corner of the bar. He's got a beer in front of him with just a couple sips out of it. He's staring at his phone, brow furrowed.

This may be an off-duty spot, but he definitely has a hard time turning off work mode.

When Cedric slides into the seat across from Carmine, he's already one drink ahead.

Admittedly because that drink was a shot at the bar with a couple celebrating their anniversary while he was waiting for his gin and tonic. He hadn't meant to intrude, only to wish them well, but sometimes it's hard to turn off the performative charisma even after the work day is over.

So maybe he can understand a little bit about where Carmine is coming from on the whole work mode thing. He lets out a slow breath as he settles in, knocks his glass against Carmine's waiting beer with a "Cheers," and takes a long, long sip of his drink.

Without lifting his eyes from his phone, Carmine raises his glass and taps it against Cedric's. It's a minute or so later when he's finished responding to something that he looks up. "Evening. How long have you been here?" he drawls.

Then he sets his phone face down. That's not away, but it is a signal that he doesn't intend to get distracted by work. "Did you get slammed at dinner by that family reunion? I heard there's about eighty of them here."

While Cedric waits, he people-watches. It's hard not to, even when it seems that's all he does when he's tending to the front of house. But here, at least, he can just do it because he's nosey. No one needs anything from him.

And when Carmine finally rouses from whatever he was focused on, Cedric just shakes his head at him, amused.

"Ah, shite," he mutters after that revelation, his accent thick on the swear word. "I'd managed to forget." His eyes squeeze shut and his head slumps down to thunk against the table, dramatic. "Our entire 5 o'clock seating tomorrow is just them."

Carmine chuckles and pulls his beer towards him. "If it helps..." he begins, "...they're decent tippers?"

He leans back in his chair and takes a deep breath. There's tension in his shoulders and it's everything he can do to not pick up his phone and look at work emails. But that would be rude, and he is not a rude person. "We've got a wedding booking in a few weeks. I am very grateful for the on-site wedding planners. The couple have to choose from pre-selected menus I've already approved."

"Well, that's something, at least," Cedric is willing to admit. He's still clearly not looking forward to it, given he hasn't yet lifted his head from the table-- okay, alright, he's sitting back up now. Fit over.

He rattles the ice in his glass around a bit as he fidgets with his drink, spinning it in a circle idly. "A wedding?" His eyebrows lift. "Those are fun." His tone clearly implies he doesn't actually believe that. "Can't imagine pulling off a wedding, but, you have more room than I do." Squinting at that thought, Cedric lifts his drink, but doesn't actually drink it. "How many courses?"

"It's a big spend to rent out the full venue and there are only limited dates we hold a year. But we're pretty popular with vegan couples. I'm surprised you're not on the list. Has anyone tried to strong-arm you into it?" asks Carmine.

Then he sips his beer again. "Five courses. Our most popular...and of course..." he rolls his wrist, "...low margin menu items." If the rich vegans want a fancy restaurant for their reception, it's gotta be worth closing it down for other guests, after all.

Over by the bar, the celebrating couple has amassed a crowd and are doing another round of shots, and Cedric briefly glances over. Only for a moment, before his attention pulls back. "They tried. Gave management a tour of the Château and asked where we were going to put everyone together when our biggest room barely holds four four-tops."

He rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. "Still tried to argue, like. What am I supposed to do, conjure up a banquet hall? Not sure that anyone's got that particular magic power here."

Snorting, he adds. "I'm not the one who decided it was a brilliant idea to use some historic French house as the blueprint for a restaurant." This is a recurring point of contention with Cedric. It's a pain in his arse that the rooms are so small (and so linear) in the Château. The last bit that Carmine mentions gets a sympathetic look, and Cedric says, "Sounds about right."

Carmine catches where Cedric's eyes go. "If you want someone to do shots with you, I'm not your man. I'm afraid those days are behind me. Not that I was ever much of a party guy past my early twenties."

He chuckles at the magic joke. "Well, I met a young man who can conjure pies the other day, so anything is possible. I mean that...quite literally. The things I've seen since coming here..."

Then his attention returns to the main topic of conversation. "At any rate, I don't mind the weddings. There are certain benefits to being part of a larger corporation. And that includes having the wedding planners run interference so I don't get bogged down."

"They should be behind me as well," Cedric says, with something like a grimace. He takes another drink, then his head tilts to the side at what Carmine says next.

His mouth opens. Then closes. He narrows his eyes, like he's trying to puzzle out whether or not this is a joke. "Pies?" he asks. "Just pies?"

This is apparently mind-boggling enough that Cedric is silent for a few moments, which is a surprise. He's a yapper. "Don't know how I feel about it, still. Management's on my arse about Halloween. Dunno what they want from me. We already do the whole haunted manor performance with our resident storyteller, can't possibly get spookier than that. Unless we get real ghosts." But he tips his glass in Carmine's direction to acknowledge his point. "Suppose the benefits are nice," he says, like it pains him to admit it.

Carmine's stony expression tells Cedric he's not kidding about the pies. But he does eventually crack. "They're very good pies." He opens his mouth to disclose just who it is, but powers feel like they're a personal secret to choose who you tell it to. So he isn't going to be the one to tell Cedric his Chef De Partie has magic pie powers.

He rolls his eyes about Halloween. "Ugh, yeah. I'm getting that push, too. From the fine dining service manager, Richie Tanner? A vegan restaurant with a living wall of herbs doesn't exactly spooky up. I'm trying to compromise by leaning heavily on fall flavours. Which I'm hoping is Halloween-adjacent enough."

Then he pauses a moment and drawls, "Maybe he's angling for you to find real ghosts."

Cedric repeats the words "Very good pies" underneath his breath like he still can't quite believe it. Then he downs the rest of his drink and pushes the glass aside. "Sometimes this place is just..."

Words. Words are hard. He settles on, "Something, alright," with a huff of breath, and a shake of his head.

"Same man," Cedric confirms, of Mr. Tanner and his intrusive suggestions. "The last thing we need is real ghosts. Things are already difficult enough without the lights flickering or the tables floating or," he makes a loose gesture with his hands. "Dunno. Things happening. Last week we lost an entire stock pot worth of gravy to gravity, and that was just human error. Imagine throwing ghosts into the mix!"

"Have you seen any? Ghosts, that is?" asks Carmine. "I haven't, but I admit I've been focused on the cryptids. Which...have you seen the sea serpent?"

Just then, a man walks by from outside with the smell of cigarettes in his wake. Carmine flares his nostrils and closes his eyes, grunts softly, then takes a healthier sip of his beer. "You a smoker?"

Cedric's immediate answer is a shake of his head, though he continues with, "Wish I had. That'd be mint." He looks forlornly at his empty drink but does nothing to solve the issue, because he really ought to stop at just one (and the shot). That would be the responsible thing to do.

"No, that's the only vice that's passed through one of my kitchens that I haven't indulged in. Hardest to quit, apparently, too." His eyebrows go up at that. "Not sure if I believe that. You?"

After, he slides out of his seat and nods to Carmine's beer. "Want another?" Screw being responsible, apparently.

"I used to," says Carmine in a slightly distant voice. "I'm impressed you came up in kitchens without getting hooked." He inhales again, as if hoping to catch another whiff. "My ex made me quitting a condition of us moving in together."

He looks into his beer, then up at Cedric. "One more. It is a school night."

"That deserves another drink," Cedric says. "And I've been tempted, but I used to do marathons for fun," and he shakes his head at that, like even he can't believe that, nowadays, "Didn't want to impact my running."

He detours to the bar, just barely managing to avoid getting roped into another round of shots (things are starting to get rowdy around that couple, now). By the time he returns with another of Carmine's beers and a second gin and tonic for himself, they're doing unscrupulous things with limes and a salt shaker to go along with all the flowing tequila. Cedric looks mildly concerned about it all.

"Was that school night bit a joke or do you have kids?" he asks, because (aforementioned) nosiness. "Don't have to answer if you don't want. Just have seen some employees with whole families here. Suppose the benefits really are that good."

For a second, Carmine watches to see if Cedric does a shot on the way back. He's also still being good and isn't on his phone when he returns.

He laughs in surprise at the question of kids. "Oh god, god no. My ex husband and I could have adopted, I suppose. Though that was never something we talked about. If he ends up with kids one day, maybe that should add to the list of the things we probably should have talked about." His words are dry and accepting rather than this being a fresh wound.

Cedric probably only sighed longingly on his way back once about the missed opportunity, but even he isn't so desperate that he's going to start doing body shots with strangers. That is twenty-something-year-old behavior, right there. He is an adult.

Drinks dropped off, Cedric settles back in and nods, not looking chagrinned at all when Carmine laughs. "Dunno how easy it would be with the hours we both work," he says, sympathetic. "My sis has a very heteronormative family unit and I thought that would be enough for my mum, but now our quarterly 'you ain't dead, right?' calls are filled with her whinging for more grandchildren." He takes a drink, pauses, then says, "Was a bit trauma dump-y there, mate, sorry. I'm just due for one of those calls any day now and it has me on edge worse than Mr. Tanner trying to tell me about how we're to cash in on the latest food trend on the socials."

He puts his glass down. "I mean, can you believe him? Honestly."

"Mhmm, yeah. The restaurant is enough of a child," murmurs Carmine as he finishes off his first drink and pulls the second towards him. "I'm sorry to hear it. Family pressure can be...." his dark eyebrows raise, "...a lot. Fortunately my folks never seemed to expect grandkids after I came out."

Then, the topic goes back to their favourite middle manager. "I gestured to the restaurant and sarcastically asked if he wanted me to hang fake cobwebs off the driftwood chandelier. For half a second I thought he was going to tell me that was a great idea."

"Amen to that. I certaintly baby it enough." Cedric ducks his head at that, pursing his lips into a frown. "Maybe should try to be better about that, actually," he says, contemplatively.

He's got his drink lifted back up to his mouth and only slightly chokes on a mouthful of it as goes down. "God, I can picture his face when you suggested that," he says, letting out a noise somewhere halfway between a groan and laughter. "Nah, your place is so classic, like, why ruin it with cheap shite? I tried to make the same argument but we have so much clutter that he said it wouldn't matter if we 'added a bit more to fit the season' or some nonsense."

"The decor is easier to push back against than the menu. I think I convinced him not to add skulls to the centrepieces but he still wants me to add a spooky flair to the menu. With what? House made candy corn?" He snorts. "Dressing the staff up in...witch hats or mummy bandages?"

Carmine shakes his head. "Don't get me wrong, I love Halloween. I just want to keep the restaurant classy. I will go hard onto the autumnal theme. But we're a place where the parents escape for a date night and leave the kids with a sitter or an older sibling. It's not a place they want to come and feel like they're trick or treating."

Cedric tilts his head to one side. "Candy corn?" he asks, uncertainty in his voice at the unfamiliar... well, context clues point to candy. On account of how candy is the first word of it.

He nods, though, after. "Definitely my favorite holiday you yanks celebrate," he agrees. "My pastry chef came up with this pomegranate dish for our fall menu, it's dead good, so we're leaning on that. What are you thinking?" Again, nosy. He takes a long swallow of his drink, nearly done with his second already, and the ice settles in it as Cedric sets it back down on the table.

"Yeah...you know? The little sugary yellow and orange candy shaped like corn? You've never seen it?" Then Carmine chuckles. "Don't go looking for it. It's actually not great. It lives on through the strength of nostalgia alone."

As for the menu? "Well, we are a plant-focused restaurant so there's so much we can do with squash. I make a kickass butternut squash ravioli. The non-veg version has a brown butter glaze. It's topped with fried sage leaves. We'll also do a harvest kale salad that's quite popular. But to be honest, I haven't really worked out the specifics yet. A lot depends on what our producers are predicting for their harvest. When your menu rests on vegetables, you need the best."

Cedric laughs, more out of shock than anything. "Wait, that's a real candy? I just thought it was some... sort of decor thing, like." He shakes his head. "Well, now I have to try it." Apparently to his detriment.

He listens in with interest as Carmine goes over the potentials for his menu. "I'm sure it'll be sound, whatever you come up with." His stomach gave a pointed growl around about when Carmine mentioned the ravioli. "And I just can't wait for the pot noodle I have waiting at home for me," he jokes. "The fruit that's been coming in has been mint so far, hope the quality keeps up. Dunno if it's just a good harvest or how American produce just is."

"How long have you been here?" Carmine asks with genuine interest. "And yeah, it's real candy. Unfortunately. Some people swear by it but it just tastes like waxy sugar to me. But then, I have been accused of being a thief of joy," he drawls self-depreciatingly.

"It's no butternut squash ravioli, but this place does a decent appetizer platter, if you're interested. And by decent, I mean...overbattered and oversalted, but in a good way."

The question poses has Cedric frowning, in a thoughtful sort of way. "Eh... beginning of February, I think?" He doesn't sound certain. "Somewhere around there. Came straight from Salerno." He shrugs, looking across at Carmine with an amused smile on his face at the continued disparagement of candy corn. "Sounds proper revolting." This does not seem to put him off trying it.

He makes a wordless noise of indecision, and says, "Was planning on drinking my calories, on account of how fried food has started giving me heartburn." Alas. "But I'm down." Immediately Cedric starts scanning for a server to flag down. Maybe to get another drink, too.

It's not lost on Carmine that Cedric keeps looking quite thirsty. But they don't know each other well enough for that to be any of his business. So instead, he just sips his drink slowly. His second beer is only down about half an inch.

"I'd suggest the nachos, but that's not likely to be much better. And unfortunately, I don't know if I could recommend much else. It's all perfectly fine, of course, but if I'm going to indulge in something greasy, I usually want it to be the good kind of junk. But I do feel you on the heartburn. Red wine does it to me if I'm not careful, which in the fine dining world, is a travesty."

He's at a slightly better angle to flag down a server than Cedric. So he catches the eye of one first.

That's a valid point about the grease, and all that, and Cedric is visibly uncertain by the time the waitress comes by. "Actually, could I just--another gin and tonic," he says, before adding a, "Please," and also at the very last second when the server has already half-turned away, "And a water, as well, cheers!"

Because that cancels out the last drink, right? He shakes his head after and just says, "Will just skive off eating responsibly at all and have some of the sweets my new roommates made. Two of them are bakers." Looking off into the middle distance, Cedric grimaces faintly. "Going to need to pick up running again, I think."

"Real shame about the red wine thing. Worth it more than a bunch of fried food, that pain, though." Though something about that gives Cedric enough pause that he corrects with, "Unless it were something from my local chippy." Cue another faraway look, this one markedly less despondent. Mostly because it doesn't involve exercise (quite the opposite, in fact).

Carmine still doesn't comment about the drinks, but he does indicate his own mostly-full glass when the server asks him if he'd like anything.

"I like to run. Especially before coming to work. It helps clear my head. And we are spoiled for good running spots in this park." He cants his head. "I don't have any roommates. Sort of hard to go back to that at my age. And, as long as I take antacid, I can still have red wine. Speaking of age," he chuckles.

"Been out of practice since I started here," Cedric admits, of the whole running thing. "No but seriously, they had treats for me when I moved in. And I'm expected to keep my girlish figure?" He sighs at that, though clearly just for humorous effect.

Since he's circled back around to the roomies thing, he adds, "It's not so bad. Worked on a yacht for a few seasons, that was cramped. Practically manorly, my situation now." The antacid mention has him rocking backwards in his seat. "I'm just at the point where I'm resisting taking one because of my fragile ego. Should just give in, really."

"Dude, you work around food. All day. That doesn't make you overeat, but treats from your roommates does?" Carmine shakes his head and grins. "It is easier with the kind of food at my place than when I worked at my aunt's place. Italian-American food is 70% carbs, 15% meat, 15% cheese. I had no idea how to cook kale until I went to culinary school. Then I came home. Put a kale caesar on the menu. Sold like hotcakes. It was smothered in parmesan but the Italian aunties thought they were being healthy."

Then he cants his head. "A yacht, huh? I thought about applying for one of those. But at my height, I don't think I would be able to work and live on a boat."

Cedric replies to Carmine's head-shaking by doing some of his own. "Easy, believe it or not," he says. "Never much have the urge to snack while I'm on the line." Admittedly he's not on the line as often any more. "But you put a biscuit--sorry, cookie--in front of me and I can't say no."

He snorts. "Right, a salad on a menu that's actually healthy," he says in disbelief. "I remember one yacht guest who wanted all of her salads dry and basically flavorless except for," and Cedric lifts up his hands to do air quotes "'A spritz of lemon'. Did my pride in, making those. Though credit to her, those plates came back clean."

After draining the last of his current drink, Cedric adds, "It's not worth it," about yachting. "Pay's fantastic but that level of constant socializing and familiarity breeds heretofor unheard of levels of drama." He spreads his hands wide, as if to demonstrate precisely how much drama. "Everyone shagging everyone. People getting absolutely pissed between charters and having screaming matches with each other, and then you all have to go back to working together the next day like nothing's happened. Nightmare-ish, like."

"Oooof, yikes," says Carmine in response to the yacht drama. "I'd imagine, yeah. Living with your employers doesn't exactly sound like a picnic. Still, did the pay at least make it worthwhile in the short term? At least the positions I saw were pretty damned decent. I actually went so far as a to tour a galley but on all the most high-end yachts, my head was practically touching the ceiling."

Which sounds like an exaggeration until you realize he's 6'5".

"I'd also imagine the sorts of people who can afford a private chef and a yacht aren't exactly going to be the sweetest, most generous people," he drawls.

All Cedric can do is nod his head in agreement. "I could go on all night," he says, sounding both beleagured and also like he truly means it. "Short term though, yeah. Saved up enough to tour most of the French countryside. Even road a boat down the Garonne -- as a guest. It was mint."

He peers up at Carmine for a moment and then says, "Oh, you did? What port? You'd definitely bonk your head on the Elysian. Took me a solid week to mind my elbows enough not to be bruised from bumping into corners down in the galley."

This is about when the server comes back with the requested drinks, and Cedric exchanges his empty glass with a quick "Thanks."

"Always hated the guests who expected me to provide them with very specific things that they hadn't requested beforehand. But that's no worse than people ordering off-menu and expecting someone to make a quick shopping run to buy ingredients we don't have off-hand." Cedric pauses. "Slightly hard to nip off to the grocers while we were sailing in the middle of the Mediterranean, admittedly."

"They say ours is a people business, but there are limits," murmurs Carmine. "The boat was just docked in New York. I had a tour. It was when I was deciding what to do after hitting a dead end at my aunt's place. After my partner and I hit a bad stretch, I felt like I needed a change. Hence..." he gestures around him.

"Little did I know how much of a change it would end up being. What with the magic and all."

"Sometimes I nearly manage to convince myself I'm not people-y enough for this," says the man who ended up getting a free shot over at the bar just because he was chatty. "Ah so like, a proper private chef position. Dunno if I could handle being at the same peoples' beck and call twenty-four-seven. Need the variety."

Cedric sips from his drink more sedately than the others, while his requested water condensates on the table. "Magic, and mystical creatures, and other worlds." He's practically gushing. "Wild. Thought they were trying to pull one over on me during orientation."

"I am people-y when I choose to be. Which is why I don't think the yacht chef position would've been for me. Like you said, close quarters 24/7 and permanent on-call. Sounds like a sort of nightmare," says Carmine. His beer is now down to about half, but he's definitely nursing it.

"And, right? If you ever want to learn more about the critters of the park, I'm involved in a club. We go on observation trips and observe them. We're just employees, though sometimes Magical Studies folks tag along."

There's no arguing from Cedric on the point regarding a yacht job. "It's definitely not for everyone. Or most people. Honestly wasn't even for me but I'm terrible at saying no," he says with a tip of his head.

"Like the wee little glowy crabs on the beaches?" he asks, as the conversation turns to magical critters. "Saw some of them recently. Weird things." Then his eyebrows go up. "A club, yeah? Could be fun. Have you gone on any trips to the Boo'edwalk?" and he pauses to have a bit of a teehee at that name, still amused by it, "There's a few gargoyles that live on top of the Château."

"No, I haven't. But there's a fairly long list. It's surprising how many creatures linger in the park. My group was actually the first to fully document teleporting deer with glowing flowers on their antlers. It really is worth the time if you're interested in that sort of thing," says Carmine.

Then he glances at his watch and hisses air between his teeth. "I'm sorry, man. I should probably call it a night soon. You sticking around?"

"You should stop by and check them out some time. One of my chefs is trying to bait them out during his breaks when he thinks none of us are watching." Something about that makes Cedric pause, at his own words. "Haven't actually considered what he might have planned if he succeeds."

Either way, Carmine says it's about that time, and downs the last of his drink. "Yeah, alright," he says, then houses the entire glass of water that he's been neglecting in a few swallows. He swipes at his lower lip with his thumb and then nods, confident(ly incorrect in the assumption) that will save him any negative effects. "See you around, then?"

"Well, from most reports, the majority of these creatures aren't aggressive. So he might just get bitten. Don't know what he'd turn into if he did, though." Carmine grins and he winks. Then he drains the rest of his beer and slaps the table.

"Sure, anytime. Well, except when one of us is dealing with a tour bus full of people who booked up every possible table."

"You know, I'd forgotten again," Cedric says with a distant look in his eyes, and a growing amount of regret for that last drink. He slides out from his seat and starts walking to the bar to settle up, but he turns around halfway there to give Carmine a cheeky two-finger salute before calling out, "Text me about your club!"

And then he's gone. Hopefully that nice couple doesn't encourage him into more shots tonight.