Ryan McCormick (mediumwell) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2016-06-25 12:49:00 |
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Based on the enthusiasm of the responses she'd received on the freenet, Violet was feeling optimistic about their situation. Maybe the restaurant wasn't how they'd expected it to be when they arrived, but they had their truck. More importantly, they had a lot of ground meat, good buns, and most every kind of fixing and topping they could manage. They didn't need a brick and mortar place to serve out the best damn burgers Austin had ever seen, they just needed a place to cook them and they could figure out the rest. They were survivors, after all. She finished writing out the menu in neat handwriting on the chalkboard on the side of the truck, taking a step back to examine it and make sure she hadn't spelled anything wrong or left something off. No, it was all right, and she stepped back up into the truck to wait for someone hungry to come along. Her spot was the window, where the awning was already propped up, and Ryan was in charge of the cooking. Leaning against the counter in front of her, Violet looked out and exhaled a steady breath, hoping they had a good first day. The sound of an approaching motorcycle -- no, the sound of multiple approaching motorcycles -- interrupted the nearly idyllic bliss of their wait for the first customer. Ryan turned inside the truck, side-stepping towards the window as he sought a glimpse of what was going on, and what he saw caused him to nudge Violet worriedly: big looking men with leather vests, heading straight towards them. Violet hadn't needed much of a nudge, straightening up as they got closer and taking half a step back from the window. By the time Ryan had moved over towards the doorway, he had their gun in his hand and the men had come to a stop in front of them just in time for him to overhear a bit of their conversation with the soldiers keeping a watchful eye out for their truck's safety: "No, man, we don't want any trouble. We just wanted to see what all the fuss was about," said the largest one of the group, an enormous bald man who looked perfectly capable of benching their food truck. "Then you won't mind if we stay right here and make sure of that," replied one of the soldiers, standing his ground. The others remained where they were, too, watching the bikers with obvious skepticism. The bald man was silent for a moment, looking over at the rest of his cohorts, before he shrugged his left shoulder, an irritated look on his face. "Guess we won't," he said with apparent effort, before he glanced over at another one of the men, looking at him expectantly. Ryan gripped his gun tighter, just in case, but made no move to step out of the truck just yet. Violet kept her attention on the two obviously different groups of men standing outside their truck, her gaze flickering between them as she waited for… whatever was going to happen. Hopefully nothing bad, but even from inside she could feel the tension. Bishop figured they should have expected this kind of greeting from the soldiers. Still, while he might have felt mild irritation in response to their attitude, none of that was conveyed in either his expression or his body language as he looked back at Vic. “All they’re going to see is a bunch of guys having some kind of religious experience ‘cause we ain’t had a burger in years,” Bishop remarked, glancing away from Vic and towards the soldiers. “So not like it’s any imposition to let ‘em stay.” he was approaching the truck now, and it didn’t take much to figure out that the string bean of a kid standing in the doorway was just as suspicious of them as the soldiers had been. “Y’all got a list of people you ain’t willing to serve to, or can my guys and I order?” Bishop questioned, taking in the gun the man held, but not saying anything about it. “We’ll serve anyone,” Violet said quickly, stepping back up to the window and leaning against it as she had been before, glancing over to Ryan a moment and tilting her head to motion him back to the kitchen before turning her attention fully to the group of men outside the truck. Big, maybe concerning men, but if they were there for food she wanted to hope there was nothing to worry about. And if there was something to be worried about? That was why the soldiers were there, right? “What can I get for you?” Vic hung back for a moment, looking at the menu, before he looked back up at the two kids in the truck. The whole thing was so damned novel to him, he wasn't sure what to make of it. But he was willing to investigate further. First by testing whether these burgers were as edible as they promised. And then maybe by sampling the feasibility of those french fries and onion rings. "Green eggs and ham," he said, his voice a deep growl and a stark contrast to the woman's. "Add the chili if you can. Both of the sides, too." Vic hefted his bag, indicating the provisions -- some of that morning's rations -- they'd brought to trade. “How do you want that cooked?” Violet asked, scrawling it down on the pad in front of her before glancing at him again. "Medium." Vic turned to look at the others, gesturing for them to step up and place their own orders. “I'll take the green eggs and ham too, but no chili and just the fries,” TJ said, pausing for a moment as Violet wrote, but then answering her question before she had a chance to ask it. “Medium.” Food. Real food, actual food, the sort of food he would have gotten when he was Boston. There had been a burger joint between his station and apartment, it still stood starkly in his mind was the best, greasy burger he’d ever had. And how long had it been, really? In the rehab it had been all salads and hugs. “I’ll take a cheeseburger, medium rare,” Art said. It was a miracle he wasn’t actually climbing up and over the other bikers to get over to the food- hell, it was impressive he wasn’t just staring at Violet’s breasts. Sure, he was vibrating out of his skin, but Arthur was trying hard; eyes flicking quickly, the way he tapped his foot. He looked like a man in the waiting room of a maternity ward. Once Art had placed his order, Bishop quickly glanced over the menu before flashing a smile at the young woman taking their orders. “I’ll have a Chili Pepper burger, darlin’,” he paused only a beat before he added. “Medium rare.” And then stepped a ways away from the truck to wait. Vic folded his arms over his chest as they waited, silently scrutinizing everything about the truck and the two kids inside it. He felt very aware of the soldiers watching him in turn; the officers had been aware of their presence in the city over the last few days, but this was the closest he'd been to them yet. "So," he said, stepping back up to the order window and making eye contact with the woman once more. "Where'd y'all come from and who gave you the idea to move in over here?" It wasn't meant to be a threatening kind of thing, but it certainly sounded like one. Meh; Vic didn't really mind that. Violet absently straightened the order slips on the counter, trying not to feel too intimidated by the men standing outside the truck, but it was difficult not to be. Especially the giant one whose arm she was pretty sure was bigger than her. She nipped at the inside of her lip at his question, more so the tone of his question, but she hadn't worked her way up through the ranks of different kitchens by not being able to carry herself with confidence that might have been real or not. “We’re from Chicago,” she said, offering him a smile. Being nice certainly couldn't be taken the wrong way, right? “We bought a restaurant down here, but it was in a bit more disrepair than we were expecting, so we’re just working out of our truck for now.” She leaned against the counter, a little bit out of the truck as she extended her hand out to him. “I'm Violet, by the way.” "Vic." He shook hers without hesitation, the gesture almost a novelty in today's society. Despite Vic having started the conversation, Bishop didn’t exactly hesitate to join in, coming back to stand near his Vice President as he spoke up. “Well, Violet, why exactly did y’all choose the Greenbelt to settle in here in Austin?” Unlike Vic, Bishop’s question came off as casual and about as least intimidating as he could get. “And I’m Bishop by the way,” “Bishop, nice to meet you,” Violet replied easily, offering him her hand as well before pulling it back and leaning against her forearms as she glanced over to make sure Ryan didn't need her help before turning her attention back to the men in front of her. “Honestly, we went with the area that had both the building for the restaurant as well as a place we could live. Neither of us knew much about the different parts of Austin, so this seemed as good a place as any. You all live close by, I take it?” "Two to three minute drive out here." Vic turned then, glancing over his shoulder at the neighborhood they were in; they'd arrived so quickly, so intent on getting them some burgers despite the soldiers looking to bust them for nothing, that he hadn't done much looking around. He figured this had to be where the housing would be for them, from the looks of it. "Neighbors, more or less. This is our district." If they were neighbors, Violet was glad they'd come and she was intent on them having a good burger experience. She would want that for anyone, but honestly she was a bit more interested in being on the good side of that particular group of men rather than the bad one, just from the looks of them. “Well then, any words of wisdom for the new people who just moved in?” she asked, not entirely joking. “We’ve only been here a few days, still getting settled.” “Honestly, most people would tell you not to associate with a Hellhound,” Bishop spoke up, his mouth ticked up in a crooked smirk. “But seeing as you’ve already done that by talking to us, I’d say just keep your eyes open. Austin might be in the process of being reclaimed, but it ain’t like the rest of the remaining United States,” he waved a hand to indicate their surroundings. “Austin isn’t exactly a cakewalk and won’t be for awhile still, things ‘round here, it’s wild.” The Hellhound’s president wasn’t trying to scare the young woman off, but he didn’t see a point in sugarcoating the state in which Austin was in. Hellhound. Well, at least they had an appropriately intimidating name to go with the rest of it - their appearance and all. Violet nipped at the inside of her lip as she listened, giving a little hum of agreement. “Oh, I think we got a taste of that when we arrived,” she said, scrunching her nose slightly as she pushed up off the counter to start putting together the food as it got finished up. “We’ll keep being careful.” Looking over the first two orders she had in front of her, Violet made sure everything looked right before passing them down one by one. “Medium green eggs and ham with chili and both sides for Vic, and a medium green eggs and ham with fries for blondie.” “TJ,” he replied with a chuckle as he took the food from her. “Thanks.” "Thanks," Vic echoed, passing over the nickname Violet had bestowed upon TJ -- though Vic would certainly be coming back to it later, likely every single time he saw his former prospect -- in favor of the array of food in front of him. Fresh, real food. Even with chickens and cows at the Dog Park, they hadn't done much in the way of actually turning them into meat just yet. He took a big bite of the burger, chili spilling out to stain the corners of his mouth, then wiped at them with the back of his hand. "'S good," he said, almost incredulously. Violet smiled at his response. Of course it was good - but it was always nice to see someone enjoy what one made. Plus with how people had reacted to hearing about the potential of hamburgers, in that so many assumed it was a cruel joke, she had to figure the prospect of hot, real food was novel. “Alright, and a medium rare chili pepper burger for Bishop,” she continued, passing it down. “And medium rare cheeseburger for you,” she added, having not gotten the name of the other man standing there. “Enjoy!” Bishop didn’t exactly waste any time in grabbing his burger and taking the first bite. If his eyes fell halfway closed and he made a noise that wasn’t altogether appropriate, well, could anyone have blamed him? It was a real live burger and he had every intention of enjoying the hell out of it. “Don’t think great covers just what this is,” Bishop remarked, taking another bite. If the food truck continued to serve burgers like this, Bishop would be more than happy to have them in their district -- the only thing he hoped was that Burger She Wrote had enough food in stock to handle the influx of hungry men, and probably women, they’d be seeing once word got out about them. |