ʙᴇᴇᴘ ʙᴇᴇᴘ, ʀɪᴄʜɪᴇ (trashing) wrote in valloic, @ 2020-10-27 09:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, ₴ inactive: enola holmes, ₴ inactive: richie tozier (2) |
WHO: Richie & Enola
WHAT: Introducing Enola to the pizza cone (and promising to look after her, so she can turn one of the apartment bedrooms into a mad science lab)
WHERE: Out near one of the parks
WHEN: Recently - yesterday?
WARNINGS: Nah!
STATUS: Complete
For someone who was from like, the 1800s or whatever there was no doubt a crap ton of things that you had to catch up on in order to acclimate to the modern world. You could go to the library and lose yourselves in the books, fine, in order to learn about shit like planes and trains and automobiles and like, what had happened (major historical events) during the past million years. But another way was to literally immerse yourself in the culture. And the modern, bad-for-you food. A real hands-on, flavor explosion experience. There were many restaurants to try, but Richie thought that hitting up something unique and not really of the sit-down variety would be fun to someone who was young and figuring out the world. He’d shown Enola the Important Things about social media, how to create various accounts and post on them, how to use filters for photos, how to make friends and embarrassingly tag them. Now it was time for one of his favorite portable heart attack delights - the pizza cone. They were served from a little stand near one of the city parks, and when he originally saw it he couldn’t believe his good luck. He was starting to run a little low on cash (1k wasn’t actually a lot of money, when you had to buy clothes and some groceries and other necessities after being dropped into a literal, actual new universe) but he’d find a job soon and be alright; he could spare some of those bills for a pizza cone or two. So much better than a boring slice of pizza, a more fun version of a calzone - the dough was stuffed with whatever ingredients you wanted and then cooked. At the stand, he also got lemonades, and to think that in the 1800s you could get a cold glass of sugary lemon water for five cents. Now it was a little more expensive but worth it; that lemonade was the largest size too, with crushed ice - because it diluted the sweetness a little so you weren't drinking pure sugar and it sorta gave the drink a slushie feel; it was better than cubed ice and no one could convince him otherwise. “Here, it’s kinda hot,” he warned, handing Enola her pizza cone. “We can probably find a bench to sit at, just - lemme grab some napkins first.” Even Richie wasn’t that uncultured. Napkins were cool, grease stains on one of the few shirts he owned was not. Vallo City seemed to be infinitely bigger than the London that Enola had come from but she was grateful that she'd been in that one city first before ending up here. It had been a nice dipping of the toes in all of the smells and sounds that a city entailed after having lived out in the country for as long as she had. Everything about the city seemed as cramped as London, with people packed into places. Though here it wasn’t just people that she could see but all manners of beings that Enola had only ever read about in the many books of her family’s library. And even some that she’d never heard of before. There was no one walking around at dusk and lighting the candles in the streetlights--they just came on by themselves! And there were signals to help tell one when to cross streets, which was useful considering horses and carriages had been replaced by cars and other sorts of motor vehicles. She was going to need to figure out how to get her hands on one of those and see how they worked. The device in the pocket of her new trousers was another bit of advancement but she’d explored that for hours on end, trying to figure out all it could do and how useful it could be in storing information that she wanted to know. The Google feature was an endless hole to fall down, one she needed to give herself time limits on or Enola had found she’d waste hours researching things. She took the pizza cone and her lemonade--staring curiously at how large a container it came in--how was that possibly all for her--before glancing around to find them a bench. Unlike her ridiculous brothers, Richie seemed to be the sort who didn’t mind explaining things and helping her learn new ones. Not at all stuffy about the ‘appropriate way to do things’ like Mycroft or completely hands-off like Sherlock had been...though he’d seemed to be changing a little by the last time they’d spoken. Not that it mattered, considering he wasn’t in Vallo. “There’s one over there that I think we can use. Though the pigeons might try to take it over.” Enola had learned that the birds seemed to follow anyone with a scrap of food around, waiting to get a taste. She headed over to the bench, enjoying the spring in her steps from the sneakers that Anne had suggested she should buy. Much more comfortable than the books and heels she’d needed to wear. It would be easy to run in these and ride a bicycle. Enola settled onto the bench and waited to see exactly how one was supposed to eat the pizza cone. She’d figured out the lemonade, watching some of the others in line sip from the straw. “Pigeons are way creepy,” Richie noted, settling on the bench, lemonade cup set beside him as he stretched out legs too long. “But also weirdly smart? They can recognize all the letters of the alphabet. It’s wild.” Maybe he identified because he too was weirdly smart (he’d graduated close to the top of his class in high school - probably not at the top because when you got down to it, the undiagnosed and untreated ADHD really didn’t help matters), even if you wouldn’t think to notice that about him at first blush. Clearly ‘goofball’ was the image he projected. Which was also true. It simply wasn’t entirely who he was - Richard J. Tozier, such a puzzle. Such a quandary. He sure did love his pizza cones though. To help Enola out, he demonstrated. “You sort of just eat it like an ice cream cone,” he said, nibbling on the edges and using the napkin that was wrapped around the cone to wipe his mouth. There were about a thousand different ways to not eat a pizza cone; the method he used was the one he’d found to be the most effective, unless you ripped the whole thing apart and stuffed it into your face like an animal. Which - also got the job done. “You doing okay though?” he asked. “Learning all sorts of cool new things?” “They used to be used for carrying messages too.” Enola wasn’t sure if that was something that was done any longer with the birds. It wasn’t exactly all that common in the time she came from but she’d experimented doing so with her mother, seeing how far the birds would go and how often they would return as needed. She watched as he demonstrated eating the pizza cone, taking note of the technique before trying it herself. It was delicious, all of the different flavors combining into something she hadn’t really tasted before. It was going onto her list of things she liked and wanted to experience again. Definitely messy though and Enola could see why he’d gotten a copious amount of napkins. The grease of these was threatening to stain all of her new clothes as she tried to wrap her cone in the napkin to get a handle on it. But right. He’d asked a question. “I’m finding it all to be rather fascinating still. I suppose that should wear off in the future but I’m not so certain that it will with everything that there is to learn.” And she’d stumbled upon one of the libraries during her exploration. Finding new books she’d never read before was always a delight, though it had been nice to find a few of her old favorites around as well. “I’m still not sure I understand the need for all of the different filters. The dog one doesn’t even look like an actual dog.” Holy shit, this pizza cone was amazing. Richie wanted to hoover it all (or go for the ‘bite the bottom of the cone off’ method, but that didn’t work for ice cream and it definitely didn’t work for this shit, unless you wanted gooey cheese everywhere) but he couldn’t, since that meant he’d awkwardly burn his lips. It was still kind of steamy and hot, all that mozz and pepperoni and just - heaven. “Oh, yeah, the dog filter is dumb - but I guess that’s the point? Some things are just stupid stuff. Frivolous,” he said. “There’s like, so little chance for fun and joy in the world - at least, the world I come from. So we fall back on dumb filters and pumpkin spice lattes.” Which were also good, but received some hate - let people enjoy things was his motto, however. He took another bite, fishing out a pepperoni slice to eat separately. There were some veggies in his cone too, so he could pretend it was healthy. “I doubt that fascination will entirely wear off though, it’s true. There’s just so much. What did you do back home?” he asked. “Like, go to school or work in a factory? That’s bullshit, if so.” But he’d heard of that - child labor during the Industrial Revolution, and also probably beyond? Enola tried not to laugh at his enthusiasm over the pizza cone. It was fun to watch. She didn’t think she had ever seen either of her brother’s so happy when they did anything. Not that she had really seen either of them when she was growing up. She mostly knew them through newspaper clippings of Sherlock’s cases. “I learned at home at first from the books in our library and then just in the area around where I grew up with my mother. She used to teach me different fighting styles so I could defend myself. About flowers, archery, poetry, tennis, fencing. Anything she could think of she made sure I learned.” It had been a wonderful life until it wasn’t possible to have it anymore, but she’d started to enjoy London and now she’d learn to enjoy Vallo. Though, that seemed easier to do since she wasn’t trying to evade her brothers. “I went to a ladies school for a bit but I broke out of it and I don’t plan to go back.” She had no desire to learn how to curtsy or hold high tea or a million other things that were supposed to make her into a lady. “What did you do at your home?” A ladies school sounded fucking awful - Richie just pictured it like, you sat there learning to play the harpsichord and pinkies up with a dash of ‘morals’ and all that nonsense. Be free, Enola, light shit on fire. Figuratively. Sometimes literally, if necessary. “Fencing is way cooler than the snooze school,” he said hastily. “Congrats on your prison break.” That was badass. He sipped on his lemonade, a nice heaping bit of pungent sweetness washing down the pizza cone. What an amazing snack, surely he’d spoil his dinner. Oh well. “I was a standup comedian,” he shared, reaching for another napkin. “I went on tour all around the country telling jokes, basically. It’s not what I went to school for but after I graduated from college I moved to LA to try to make it big. I guess I was doing okay, before I got blipped here.” Money was no object for him, not anymore - he was technically rolling in dough but didn’t act like it, and didn’t splurge on himself except for the cherry-red Mustang he’d bought to drive around in style. Mostly he wasn’t home long enough to really sit back and appreciate how expensive his condo was. He lived out of a suitcase, and fancy hotels got to be kind of sad after awhile. Enola wasn’t entirely sure what a standup comedian was until he explained it a bit further. She couldn’t really see how exactly one would go around making money by telling jokes but there was a lot to this world that she didn’t quite comprehend. She would need to look it up on that one app on her device--YouTube, the one with all of the videos. Maybe it could offer some insight. She picked out some different peppers from her cone, tasting one color at a time. Definitely different from the bangers and mash that she was used to eating. “Fencing was much more useful once I was in the city than embroidery was ever going to be.” She knew how to sew though, which did come in handy with stitching up any tears she might end up with or fashioning together a new disguise for moving around the city. “I preferred jiu jitsu though.” Even if she couldn’t get the one leg hook right to save her life just yet. She’d need to find somewhere that she could continue practicing and get that down. “Whooooa, no one better mess with you,” Richie grinned, impressed, because it wasn’t like he knew anything about jiu jitsu. He just wasn’t really much of a fighter - oh, sure, he’d gotten into some drunken brawls in the past and fuck knew his trashmouth had earned him loads of trouble throughout his life, but he didn’t enjoy it and the one time he actually killed a guy (who deserved it, sure, but still), he’d puked his guts out afterward. It was cool that Enola had learned to defend herself from a young age though - this seemed to be a relatively safe city, but it was a big city and that meant you couldn’t get away from crime happening no matter what. You just never know. Best to be prepared. “There’s a gym in Morningside, to punch things in so you can keep up with your skills,” he said, sloshing the crushed ice with his straw, pokepokepoke. “Is that where you’re staying?” He assumed so, but wanted to check - apparently there was a manor where his...other friends (other versions of them?) had been living and so the option was there for him as well. But it was empty now, so what was the fucking point? Maybe Enola had something similar. She filed away the information about the gym, knowing she’d want to look into that later. It seemed that there were a lot of Outlander run businesses, making her wonder exactly how long everyone had been in Vallo if they already had businesses up and running. She wasn’t entirely sure how that worked because she’d heard people also received things from home from time to time. Did that include buildings? How were the Waypoints supposed to bring in a building? The problem with magic was it was so illogical and her brain wasn’t wired that way. It was taking a bit of getting used to. “I took the apartment they offered. It’s rather big.” Far bigger than the small room she’d rented back in London, though not as big as the manor in the countryside. But still it was a lot of space for one person. Maybe she could turn one of the rooms into a practice area and the other into a laboratory or something along those lines. She’d need to get a job if she started anything like that though. “Is that where you are, too?” “Yeah, but like - “ He wiped his fingers off with a napkin, as he worked his way through the pizza cone. Sometimes Richie had manners. “It’s a four-bedroom? I don’t need all that space.” His condo back in LA was only a three-bedroom, even (it was also probably haunted by the ghost of Marilyn Monroe, but that hadn’t been explicitly confirmed) - so to have this gigantic apartment now, and offered to him for free, it seemed weird. He’d do better with a roommate. Someone to look after too, maybe so it would help him stay on the straight and narrow (the only straight thing about him, in fact) in terms of not stocking the fridge and pantry with Junk Food Only. “If you wanna take one, we could team up?” he suggested. “You could use another room for whatever else, I don’t care. Also you could guard the place with your ninja skills. Better than a booby trap.” Enola considered the idea. It could be nice to team up with someone else and so far Richie hadn’t steered her wrong yet. And if it didn’t work out it wouldn’t be difficult to get a new place. She was good at studying and figuring out people and what she’d gleaned from Richie was that he was good people. “It would make it easier for you to show me delicious things like pizza cones as well,” she reasoned before taking another bite of the cone. Plus while she’d had her own room in the boarding house she hadn’t really been alone. All of that space in the apartment she did have made her antsy. It was too much to try and constantly keep track of. Having someone else around would be nice. “Moving won’t be that hard either. I haven’t accumulated much yet.” Some new clothes, but that was about it so far. And none of them took up as much space as the dress she’d initially arrived in. Oh, whew. He was glad Enola agreed and wasn’t like, ‘no, fuck off, you four-eyed weirdo.’ Richie knew it was now 2020 and thus a grown man asking a youngin’ if she wanted a roommate could seem very Pedo Bear, but that wasn’t it at all - he just didn’t want the kid to be on her own. Not to mention that it was bullshit to drop a teenager in an alternate universe more than a hundred years into what was their future and expect them to fend for themselves, no matter how used to it they may be. “Cool, sounds good - and yeah, I’m always available to teach you about delicious shit,” he said, proud that he was here to be the Yoda to this young padawan when it came to Heart Attack Foods. And other fun stuff, because let’s face it, Richie was all about fun. “And if you need anything else, I dunno. Gotta stick together in this bold new world.” The pizza cone was almost done (where it would sit for an eternity in his stomach, requiring him to take an antacid at some point - how he missed the days of his carefree youth where he could eat anything he wanted) and he slurped at the lemonade to get at the dregs. “Want to come and pick which room?” he asked. Morningside was a nice building, pretty fancy - and it seemed to have a lot of amenities, which was nice. Enola had a feeling she would need a lot of other things--mostly information about the world around her--and it would be good to be able to ask Richie about it instead of always needing to google the answer. Though she’d probably do both so she could see multiple angles for the information that she needed. “I’d like one with a sufficient amount of light for some plants.” She didn’t have any yet, but taking care of flowers and painting them had been one of her mother’s favorite things to do. Enola wasn’t any good at keeping them alive but she wanted to try. It seemed like a good way to have some connection to her in a world where she didn’t exist. She’d need to remember and research which plants did well indoors year round. It was probably some kind of herb. “I think I can walk and eat with this at the same time,” she told him, eager to get a look at the rooms. Portable food was a definite plus, something she didn’t have as much experience with, but she could see the benefits of being able to eat on the go. “That’s what makes the pizza cone so great,” Richie said cheerfully, standing up and rolling his shoulders - that was an intense workout, now he’d soon give birth to a food baby. Or not really, he luckily still had the metabolism of a hummingbird - was thin enough (despite the broadness of Maine lumberjack shoulders) to pull that off. But would probably buy more fruits and vegetables now that he’d have a kid in his vicinity. Kids were the future. It was already too late for him, woe. He tossed the used napkins into a nearby trash can, and still had some lemonade left so he’d sip as they walked. “There are other good portable foods too. Like turkey legs. And burritos, sometimes...” Well, now he was just going off at a mile a minute but that was fine. He had a lot of wisdom to share with this young one, after all. |