capriciousdrop (capriciousdrop) wrote in summerview, @ 2019-01-10 12:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | lalo villanueva |
That's...food?
12/25 5AM ish
Lalo ✦ Peisinoê
What are...Nachos? starfire voice PG-13 Completed |
It was six in the morning, both far too early and far too late, though Peisinoê very much suspected there was never a good time for her to be in this type of convenience store with a Monster soda in her hand that she hadn’t even been reduced to at university during midterms, thank you very much. But it was the white one, which her old classmate who had summoned her to do a consult over some unusual blood samples, had recommended, along with some… Nachos. Or what he said was nachos, in fact, she had been assured that it was food and that it went ‘super great, Perce, you’ll see’ with the Monster. She had looked at the ingredients on the can and could not find any on the side of the cheese...machine? Contraption? But she had doubts that either of them were food meant to be concerned by humans or her kind. Quite frankly, she was appalled. Except she was hungry, and a bit tired, with a bit of time to kill before one of the other nurses at the clinic could come pick her up. Probably could have been earlier but Peisinoê hated to make anyone go out of their way, though that didn’t mean she was bold enough to call an Uber. Uh uh, that was just unsafe sounding all around, thank you very much. One of her hands reached out after she sniffed at the chips in her tray to depress the cheese button long enough to make a bit of cheese come out which garnered the same reaction that cats hard when they smelled oranges. Why was this place even open so close to the hospital, surely there should be healthier options open this late? Ridiculous. Leaving work, Lalo stopped at the nearest gas station to get gas and something to help get him home after a grueling 24hour shift. Sometimes, work was dull, only a few minor calls over the 24hour period. Other times, like the previous shift, it was busy and unending, the calls coming quick and fast one after another. Setting the gas pump to fill, he shambled into the convenience store, going to get a corn dog or maybe they had a breakfast burrito? Something ot put in his stomach before going home since he wasn’t sure when the last time he had eaten. Pretty sure it was still technically yesterday. Monster was not an option since he did need to sleep, but maybe a soda? Caffeine without being insane? He stood lingering in front of the wall cases debating his choices. This was definitely not actual, verifiable food. The longer she examined the tray the more revolted she became, looking all the stranger because she was in business pants and a button down blouse in order to fit in at the big hospital. No respectable adult would eat or drink or eat this. So she called her friend back and was clearly disappointed to reach his voicemail, “Domyouji, you couldn't drop me off somewhere with actual food? These Nachos are clearly a trick and not food, and this is not a Sea thing it's a common sense —” Drat, she ran out of time just as she was working herself into a huff. You know, not worth it, she made her way back over to the line of fridges to try and remember which shiny row of cans had held her drink before she had grabbed it, mumbling an apology to the other person currently browsing as she stepped around him. Lalo had changed from his uniform to jeans and a sweater and jacket after his shift, they were discouraged from wearing their uniforms off-shift, so there was nothing to distinguish him from anyone else, other than his dreads, but that was nothing to do with his profession. Stepping aside, he blinked at the woman, then blurted, “There’s an IHOP down the street,” he had no idea how much time she had or anything, but it was at least worth mentioning. “About two blocks down,” he pointed vaguely away from the hospital. Was it worth staying awake to go there himself? It sounded better than a corndog from the roller grill. “Oh!” Peisinoê jumped just as she replaced the Monster in the fridge, “Hello! Uh, that would be better.” Though she had never been to iHop, at least she had heard of it. UCLA had something similar off of campus that was family owned, 24hours and catered to harried Students who were basically IVing caffeine. Sometimes literally, she swore. “Is it close enough to walk to? And safe to walk to?” Peisinoê glanced from the boy down to her heels, not impressive by any means but heels nonetheless “I wouldn’t,” not in the dark like this. “It’s not a bad area, but it’s dark and early. And cold,” all normal things for just after 6am, but still unpleasant. “But yeah, you could if you had to....” Lalo trailed off, wondering if he would come across as creepy if he offered her a ride. Or worse if he didn’t, then showed up there to eat, because pancakes did sound delicious. “You a doc at the hospital?” Personally, she was always cold. Both her and her sister, because their bodies just weren’t designed for this climate, or for being out of the water long term. A little more wasn’t going to make a big difference to her, but the wind and the cars were a whole different thing. Her face contorted in clear distaste even as she debated it internally, “No, I just got called in for an assist. I guess I’m not familiar with this area.” Or you know, the city in general, she stayed on the island most of the time, and since she couldn’t drive even when she came into the city she still wasn’t sure where she was. So, good job on that, Peisinoê , way to be aware of things. The man earned a smile at that, especially because he seemed to be genuinely trying to be helpful. “Ah,” Lalo nodded, understanding, “I grew up on the other side of town, but I just moved back here about 6 months ago, left for a while, you know how it is,” boy turns 18, boy goes to college, boy crashes and burns, then refuses to go home in shame and rebuilds a new life elsewhere until tragedy strikes back home. When put that way, it sounded a lot like a Lifetime movie. “Uh....not trying to be a creeper, but pancakes sound really good. If you want to get some? Or just a lift there if you don’t want company? I’m Lalo Villanueva. I’m an EMT from the station, just got off work,” he gestured the other way, towards where the fire station was that he worked out of. She blinked at him, trying to process the sudden influx of information and the best way to react to it before she settled on, “Sure.” Assuming it was one of those cultural things she had missed growing up outside of both America and, uh, the land in general. EMT! Those were good people, she was fairly certain. Frankly, anything sounded better than hanging out in the lobby of the hospital waiting her ride. “A pleasure, Lalo, I'm Peisinoê Van der Zee. Pancakes and company sound lovely.”In her head she could hear her parents vocal disapproval of the whole thing which really wasn't the discouragement they would have hoped it was. She had never had her sister’s senses but she was still fairly sure he was benign, and she was rather hungry. Vending machine cheez-its or gas station nachos didn’t really hit the spot. Or hold any nutritional value. “Perisinoe....Sorry, not a name I’m familiar with,” Lalo stumbled over trying to say it, not wanting to get it wrong or be rude. “Perisonoe? Is that right?” This was, in fact, a quite normal occurrence for her. Greek was a more puzzling language than she realized when they left home, although in their city they spoke a variation of it unique to their little slice of the world, their names had the same roots as the language had still. “It’s Peisinoê,” And there was that professional smile that she used on patients, “You can just call me Percy. It’s easier for most.” Truthfully, she didn’t like Percy, but she liked the mangling of her name even less. She glanced up at the store clerk who was now eyeballing them with a scowl, and she waved cheerfully to him before glancing at the door, “Let’s go outside, shall we? Even I know we’re being a bit odd.” Peisinoê didn’t wait for him before heading towards the door, heels click clacking on the tile as she walked. Leaving the convenience store, Lalo headed to his SUV, which was sitting at the pump, but no longer being filled. Unlocking the car and disconnecting the pump, he climbed in the driver’s seat. He kept the vehicle mostly clean, right now his work duffel was in the backseat, but otherwise, it wasn’t too messy other than the storage area at the very back. The drive to IHOP didn’t take long and it was mostly empty when they got there, the staff lazily showing them to a table and getting drink orders. In truth, Lalo loved these sort of liminal times, when things were slow and reality sort of faded a little. Still, he had to review the current specials on the menu to see what he wanted and that kept him firmly tethered to reality for the moment. Peisinoê may not drive herself but she was mostly comfortable in vehicles. Mostly. Ish. Any discomfort she felt though was alleviated by her poking around in his car in a way that was (in retrospect) probably a little weird. What did that button do? This lever, oh shit why is she laying down okay it’s fine, she’s fine. Luckily, the drive wasn’t far, and she found herself humming to the obnoxious holiday music as she held the door open for him while they walked into the iHop. There was so much on the menu, and so much of it was meat based, or pancake based. Pancakes were so heavy! And not very good to eat before bed, which she had a feeling was in her near future once she finally got home, and while she wasn’t quite as averse to land based meat as her sister she still didn’t eat much of it. “Chocolate milk please!” Luckily the waitress was too tired to think it strange that she was suddenly so awake, or a grown woman ordering chocolate milk before she went back to the menu. Getting juice for himself, Lalo decided on eggs, which still meant pancakes, but that was expected. The place was IHOP for a reason, after all. “So, what do you do then that you consult at the hospital?” he asked, making conversation. When the waitress came back with their drinks Peisinoê ordered a bowl of potato soup without the bacon bits please, thank you so much, still a weird amount of enthusiastic about going to an ihop for the first time. Or maybe just excited to not be waiting for a pickup at a sketchy gas station, either way. After the waitress took their menus she took a sip of her milk before answering his question the same way she answered most humans who asked that sort of thing, “I work at a small lab studying rare diseases. Not as terribly exciting as an EMT I’m sure.” “Eh, I guess that depends on if a pathogen gets loose when it shouldn’t,” he joked, though it was a potentially morbid one. Welcome to EMT humour. “Being an EMT’s alright. Long periods of boredom punctuated by brief moments of terror,” which was how he always described it. It wasn’t inaccurate, but it was a little....simplified. One thing he liked about IHOP, especially so early like this, was that their food came out quickly. The waitress set down a large plate for him with eggs, sausage and hashbrowns then a second plate with blueberry pancakes. Delicious! He fully intended to eat it all, too and then roll himself home to sleep. Peisinoê blinked at him, “Are you saying that there is ever a good time for a pathogen to get out?” Which was really a bad thing to say, not because it was morbid but because it gave her brain something to puzzle out. “It is helpful in a controlled environment, but then I suppose that really wouldn’t be get loose, it would provide some interesting insight on mutations though.” Finally though the contemplative look went away as if she had been startled, “Oh! That’s not so bad! A bit like working the ER. I guess you get to hand people off though, that must be a relief.” There, Parthenope’s silver lining habits were rubbing off on her. There was hope for her yet. Peisinoê thanked the waitress as she set down her soup in front of her, leaving her to poke at it curiously even as her face lit up. Hearty food was amazing in the winter, and heavier food was certainly more common on land. In the water, though they tended to burn food quicker but heavy food wasn’t the best. Seafood also tended to be on the lighter side, which was still her preference even as her and sister developed a strong love for greasy diner food. It didn’t take long for her to dig into it though, immediately finding it somehow both acceptable and disappointing. By definition, a pathogen was a bad thing, but who knew, maybe there was one for shitting rainbows and puking glitter? Probably not. “Well, I guess it’s a level of awful. Some pathogens are less awful than others and all that,” but yeah, no letting them loose, that would be bio-warfare and thank you no thank you. “In an ideal world, yeah, we hand them off to the docs in the ER. Getting them from where they are to the ER though....that can be tricky. I like the challenge though and the variety. Even our frequent fliers are entertaining sometimes.” In a move that would have horrified her parents but greatly amused her sister, Peisinoê paused with her spoonful of soup halfway to her mouth in such a way that it dripped perilously into the bowl with messy plops. Well, at least her work blouse seemed to safe from her wandering mind at the moment, but the night was young. “Frequent flyers? I thought ambulances were for emergencies only, why would someone frequently have emergencies?” When she remembered she had food again a moment later she almost looked startled by the fact, but it passed quickly, digging back into it with pauses for her chocolate milk. Even if the soup itself was unimpressive. Vinny’s was better, but things from home were always better, and Summerview was home now. Well, any place with her sister was home. Digging into his food with gusto, Lalo ate like, well, an EMT. That is, a person who was used to eating quickly lest the food go away (or a call come in taking him from it). That he was off shift was irrelevant. “Oh, lots people call 911 even in non-emergencies. And there are plenty of elderly or those with special needs who call us a lot because they do need us,” though sometimes they got called because they were lonely, too. All sorts of reasons, “And not everyone takes care of themselves the way they should. We get called out to one lady’s house at least once a month, sometimes more, because she’s diabetic and doesn’t take her insulin properly. It’s a whole thing. And since she’s an otherwise competent adult, there’s nothing we can do but keep showing up.” In theory, Peisinoê was very polite. Just in like in theory anyone off the street could solve a calculus problem given the instructions before hand. Math is math right? But in practice, not so much, hence the reason she paused her eating again to watch Lalo for a moment, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t seen anyone eat like that since her, well, her stint at the ER actually so it made sense really. The clinic in Summerview rarely got intense enough to warranty that sort of practice, at least not for as long as she had been there (which wasn’t very long) and most of the people she had grown up with were very structured in how they ate. “I guess that is probably pretty common in a city this populated and chaotic.” They even had a few hypochondriacs in Summerview, and more than a few accident prone humans in California where she had worked after graduation but before her and Parthenope had decided on Summerview. Her soup pulled her back n after she had another drink of milk, just now regretting not adding salt to it. Manners were things reserved for visiting his mother and dates. Not random women he wasn’t hitting on at 6am in IHOP. “People are gonna be people, which means stupid and irrational most of the time. Or at least, compared to whatever you think is normal,” he was pretty certain that a lot of people would think he was pretty weird for his hobbies and beliefs. He was just better at not getting himself in trouble than others. Switching from his plate of eggs and sausage to the pancakes, Lalo added a little blueberry syrup on top of the blueberry compote, “So what do you do when you’re not consulting? Private practice?” Stupid and irrational are descriptors she would use when she keeps getting interrupted while trying to work out a riddle or analyze a sample and kept getting interrupted. Parthenope would not approve. “Wow, you must have even more people issues than I do.” Somehow she managed to sound but amused and pleased by this fact all at once, but then she blinked in confusion at his question, “I work at a small lab studying rare diseases. Or do you mean outside of work?” Didn’t she already tell him that? Damn, she did not converse well with strangers at all. Shrugging, Lalo didn’t disagree. He liked people in general most of the time, but he had to acknowledge their tendency towards being absolute shits as well. The human capacity for good and for evil was nearly infinite. “Yeah, outside of work,” he agreed, once he swallowed. He might eat like a caveman, but he at least chewed with his mouth closed and tried not to speak with his mouth full. “For fun.” Ah, that question always made her hesitant, for reasons she didn’t really want to analyze, truth to tell. He was just making polite small talk, and he wasn’t invested in the answer, which helped. It also helped that there were limited answers she could give on account of him being human and her being what she was, “Oh well. I spend time with my sister. I garden. I have a few private projects I work on.” If one could call trying to cure the plague and develop a system to make the waters around her homeland pure again a mere project, “What about you?” It only took a moment after that for her soup to be done, and she leaned back politely to sip at her drink and listen to him. “You garden?” Lalo perked right up at that. “What sort of garden? I do too, only inside right now, but I plan on building a greenhouse this summer,” he lived with his brother and had to adhere to his brother’s preferences for the outside of the house as well as the HOA requirements. The backyard was his though. He hadn’t had a ton of time since he moved back to Atlantic City to do much, but he had a lot of plans for the coming year or two to make it amazing. Oh good, a subject she was good at, and more versed at lying in. “I do. Herbal and medicinal. My sister and I have a greenhouse on our property.” It was expensive, and would not have been possible in a human city, but the Summerview city council, or mayor, whoever it was that usually got all upset about building permits, cared little for it. Especially as long as she was open about what she was working on. And she was, mostly. “It was a going away present from our parents.” For one of the few interests she had that they approved of. They were also soft on it because she and one of their old gardeners had managed to replicate a bit of home in it, an underwater oasis where she could grow plants that she had seen outside of her bedroom as a child. “What about you? Flowers or food?” Even if they grew different things, this was something they could still discuss, if she was careful, and she was. Lying and dancing around her side projects and interests was old hat for her, for good or for ill. “Sweet! Me too. Well, mostly herbal and potted plants, I’m a Santeros and we use a lot of medicinal herbs and such for things,” Lalo wasn’t sure how well Peisinoê would take to that, most people either freaked out or didn’t know what it was, but....well, she seemed cool. Or at least relaxed towards different things. “Once I get my greenhouse going it’ll be a lot better. What did you use for your greenhouse? Like, did you get a kit or something? I’ve been looking on amazon, but trying to figure out which ones are best isn’t the easiest. I do want to grow some food though once I get it set up.” That was an entirely new word for her, “Santeros?” Peisinoê knew enough to recognize that it was probably Spanish but nothing more. While she was a fair mimic with accents language had escaped her, largely due to focus issues and stubbornness. She shrugged at his question though, “Honestly we hired gardeners and architects to build it. By the time we moved here it was ready, takes up the whole backyard.” Parthenope had a swinging bench in the front yard though to work on her needle work and interact with the neighbors, something big sister rarely wanted a part in. Oh. Well. That was nice too, having money. “Santeria, it’s a religion. Not very common up here, but there are pockets in different areas. Anyways, Santeros, or Santeras, are the priests and priestesses. It’s not....as formal as a lot of Christian religions, so there aren’t really temples or churches or whatever. I use a lot of herbs and such as part of that,” Lalo explained. The necklaces he wore denoted his status as a Santeros, but he didn’t say that, thinking it might get confusing. Additionally, there was often a stigma against non-Judeo-Christian beliefs and while Santeria had roots within Christianity, it was decidedly different. Polytheistic for one. “Oh. Well, I’m going to build my own, but I’m looking to get a kit shipped to help instead of doing it from scratch.” Of course it was a religion. Really, she should have realized that. Peisinoê had only taken the one would religions class at College, and there had just been so many that it was hard for her to remember them all, honestly. The fact that they used herbs and such caught her ear though, “Fascinating. That is common where I'm from, but we're Polytheistic and our Priestesses are usually respected as much as our healers.” Only the Sea based faiths were well known to her, and truthfully she had never gone out of her way to change that, “If you'd like to share your email with me, I can share some blueprints with you?” In all likelihood, Santeria wasn’t covered in a college world religions class. It was just too small for most courses to do more than perhaps mention it in passing. Additionally, they intentionally kept many of their beliefs and practices secret within their community, so there wasn’t a lot for a class to cover. “Santeria is polythiestic. It’s Syncretic, merging Catholicism with Yoruba beliefs and some of the beliefs of the native groups in Latin America,” this merging occurred hundreds of years ago now, so it was far from a new practice. Lalo reached for his wallet to pull out a receipt to write on, giving her his phone number and email, “There you go,” he slid it over the table to her. The waitress came by to check on them and asked if they wanted on cheque or two for the bill. Peisinoê had barely filed away this information when he slid his info to her. All these words and cultures that only pinged her awareness on a purely scientific spectrum. Yoruba lead her to Africa which lead her to medical discoveries in Africa, along with diseases discovered there, the cousin she had that was living on the Ivory coast, and Latin America made her think of bugs and plants she had in her Greenhouse. There were no memories of religion or even very many of culture that came to mind, it just hadn’t been classified enough as a priority for her mind, “I’ll reach out to you when I get home and settled back in.” A yawn, her body reminding her that sleep would come first. A delicate hand raised, “One please, I’ll take it when you’re ready.” She told the waitress, waiting until she was gone to glance back at her companion, “As a thanks for driving me, and rescuing me from nachos” The terrible excuse for cheese that it contained, bleh, she hadn’t even eaten that bad in College and that was when you were supposed to destroy your body. Or so she had heard at least. Opening his mouth to protest, Lalo closed it and smiled, “Thank you,” he said, accepting graciously. He had been taught to treat a lady when they were out, but she was right, he had driven and wasn’t actually obligated, this wasn’t a date. Therefore, accept politely and move on. “Real nachos are delicious, but you don’t get those at a gas station convenience store. I can give you some places that make them. Or make them for you,” he liked nachos. How could he not love salty chips covered in melted cheese, meat, onions, jalapenos and more? As much as she was the wayward daughter of the family, she was still her parents heir (by five minutes but it still counted!) and was rather used to getting her way. So it was a good thing that Lalo didn’t argue. She slid her debit card onto the check try and handing it over to the woman with a smile as well as her dishes, trying to do her best to stack her silver neatly even as she avoided getting her hands dirty with remnants of potato soup. Almost as soon as the waitress left her phone buzzed, lighting up with a text that her ride was nearly there, “That sounds lovely! I’ll text you and let you know next time I have a free afternoon and can get a ride into the city?” “Sure, sounds like a plan,” Lalo agreed. He would wait with her to make sure her ride got there safely, but his bed was already calling to him. Loudly. |