loligiary | Tea with the Queen

Tea with the Queen

Superheroing was great for the soul but didn't pay the bills. Genevieve subsidized her hobby and her rent payments through working the late shift at a coffee shop. Her coworkers were a relatively ordinary mix--some went out of their way to be kind and chatty, some had a chip on their shoulder, most regarded her with an apathy that was often a relief when she needed to be alone with her thoughts and the blender. The need to focus on each coffee-related task and complete it with practiced motions was soothing and kept her from wobbling in indecision. Some days were easier than others. Some days stress threatened to eat her alive.

The Queen helped with that, but you couldn't bring the Queen to work with you...and of course there was the problem of Jervis.

Genevieve heard the voice of a coffee order as she wiped down the spout of the latte machine. She turned and saw no one, and went back to work. Late night, must be hearing things. She was short, for any gender, and occasionally had to get up on a step stool to reach the spare beans and milk stored in the hidden cabinets behind the menu boards. Seeing particularly small people over the height of the counter was even more troublesome.

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"Oh. Thank you, that's good to hear." She was wringing her hands, and hand to remind herself that she did not deny things with her hands so she'd stop.

"Have you been ill? If you don't mind me asking, of course." It was a good reason not to go out. Genevieve had done it, with 'ill' having a more slantwise meaning than usual.

Mary watched the other's body language. Disarming people was what Babydoll had been good at, but it had been way too long since Mary had to act in front of people. She wasn't sure she could do it anymore.

"I don't mind, it's actually kind of nice to talk to someone." And it truly was. She hadn't spoken to any one about anything in so long she felt out of practice. "Oh, no, nothing like that. I just...I've just moved recently. That's always stressful. And I sorta receded from society for awhile there..." And most people knew why. This person, however, didn't seem to have realized who she was yet. Mary wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or if she really had just become a one hit wonder no one would remember.

"Oh. Yes, I've done that. I understand how it is. Sometimes you need a break, right?" Again the insincere cut-glass-fragile smile. They'd released her from Arkham little better than when she went in, save for the drugs. She'd huddled in her home as the dust piled up, reusing dirty dishes and unwashed clothing because she hadn't the energy to clean them and clean-cup-move-down only worked until you ran out of teacups. What purpose had there been to go out? She had no friends, no job, every person on the street seemed to look at her with loathing as if they somehow knew what she'd done. She'd almost cut down through her entire savings before she'd found the dress, and the dress had led to the crown, and after the crown she'd had the courage to start handing out her resume.

It was better now. She had friends, she had a job. She had the crown.

"True...but a 6 year break is long enough, right?" Mary had loved the lime light. She had loathed to leave it. But the world didn't want her to act. She had trained for years for nothing. She wasn't what any director wanted. She could take a hint. So she had thrown herself into other pursuits.

Too bad other pursuits had almost gotten her killed.

"You know, you don't have to smile if you don't want to, right? I mean, I won't feel bad. Truth is beauty and all that." Mary definitely couldn't imagine being in a service industry. Smiling for idiots who didn't deserve it.

Genevieve tries to drop the smile, reflexively raises it again, and then stands there shuffling her feet. "Sorry," she mumbles. "I've been, um. I've been taking a break of my own lately too." Out of the world.

Mary gave an encouraging smile. Poor thing, apparently she wasn't the only one with some issues. "Yeah, it's great. If you don't count the crippling loneliness. I think the day I started talking to the stuffed animals like they would answer back is the day I decided I needed to get back out there."

"Oh, yes. I know that feeling." The smile's starting to creep back, less artificial this time. She's had few people to talk to besides Waylon, and for all that his appearance made him ostracized Waylon had never been in a situation where the only thing keeping him from leaving the house was his own crippling terror. "Is that what made you come out, then?"

Mary nodded. "It's not an easy life." It was never easy being the odd one in a world full of seemingly normal people. "Mostly. That and I sort of have to find a job." And she wasn't sure she was ready to be this small AND homeless.

"Jenny!"

Genevieve's attempts at words of comfort were cut off by a call from the other side of the shop. She winces. Yes, wasn't supposed to be over here slacking off, things to clean, counters to stand in front of. Yes, sir.

"Sorry, I have to get back..." She offers a quick wave and then dashes away. Even when she's put back to work she keeps shooting looks at Mary, then pretending she's not done it.

Mary was glad to see the other woman relaxing a bit. Of course, then she was yelled at and tensed right back up. Too bad. "I get it. You don't need to be on a job search as well. I don't need the competition." Mary winked, and turned back to her laptop, resigning herself to a day of looking for jobs, in between playing those facebook games, of course.

Gen had three hours until the end of shift, and every five minutes of it she checked to see if the woman had left. Finally she clocked out, folded her apron, and walked to stand on the other side of the counter.

With a small stutter, she repeated Mary's order to the cashier replacing her and swiped her employee discount card.

Mary had sat there for three hours looking for a job. Three hours. She didn't think it was possible to waste so much time, but here she was.

And now, she felt she was at the end of her rope. Currently on the phone, negotiating with her agent.

"But, don't you think that's a little degrading? I mean, I think it's a whole lot of degrading and I should scream at you just for suggesting it." She sighed loudly. "How much does it pay?" Another groan of irritation. "And all I have to do is give out candy canes to little kids? I am not going to prance." She nodded. "Ok...ok...fine. I'll...I'll do it. It's not like I have much of a choice." She hung up, closing her computer. At least now she could go home and try to pretend she wasn't going to sell out completely.

Genevieve wasn't trying to listen in. Really. She feigned texting as an excuse not to just pack up and leave, moving her fingers over a blank screen several tables down. When Mary shut her computer down she steeled herself, ran through one or two 'how doth the little crocodile's, and then cautiously approached.

"Um. Here. If you want some more coffee, this is on the house. Well, on me, not the house. But no charge." She set it down and then yanked her hand back, already feeling dreadfully embarrassed for herself.

Mary glanced at the coffee and then to the woman who had handed to her. "Well...thanks. I appreciate that a lot." Mary would take that, and happily, offering the other woman a smile.

"Are you off now? Won't be told off for talking to me too long?"

Genevieve unpinned her nametag (a battle in itself, no one had been outright cruel but putting it on every day felt like both a wound and a triumph) and tucked it into her pocket. "No, I'm done for the day now." She fidgets, and wonders if she should just run.

But the smile's returned in kind.

Mary had her own struggle: trying to put her laptop away. The laptop bag was much too big for her any way, so it was just awkward to carry it around.

"Me too." Mary said, trying to think of something to say. Would it be way too weird to be overly friendly to someone you just met? She missed having company. An audience. Even just one person paying attention to her in a special was sort of nice. "Did you maybe want to...I don't know...talk, or something?" have a sleepover almost popped out of her mouth. She had never had one as a teenager and, heck, it was a way to get acquainted right?

((brought to you by: http://captioned-vines.tumblr.com/post/127137015719/waitwhatdidtheysay-captions-drive-thru-cashier))

"I mean, if you don't mind." Genevieve rocked back and forth slightly, her coat held in her arms. "Did you, uh, want to go somewhere?" Park? Shop? ~~House?~~

Mary had not been expecting a yes, but she was pleasantly surprised. She partically beamed and hopped off her stool.

"Well, all right then!" Where to go was an issue, wasn't it? "I suppose it's not too late to head for the park, if you're up for it." She probably wanted a rest after a long day at work. "Or we could sit somewhere. It's probably been a long day, on your feet and all..."

At least it was still light outside, though heading towards sunset. Genevieve's last coffee shop had her working until 1am, a good schedule for when your extracurriculars also needed you sleeping during the day but not great for much else. "I wouldn't mind a little walk. And there's benches near the fountain."

Oh gosh oh gosh this was happening.

"Great." She picked up her overlarge bag and started walking.

"I'm Mary, by the way." She was unused to introducing herself. Most people didn't call her Mary when they did recognize her.

"I'm Genevieve." She doesn't mention she'd seen Mary's resume. That might be construed as creepy and she could not mess this up. Waylon was a good friend and the Rogues were nice, yes, but aside from her side hobby she didn't have anyone to talk to. And Mary seemed quite nice. (And pretty. She was awfully pretty.)

Gen leads her out into the Gotham street. It's just past rush hour and people are slouching by, listening to their phones or talking with each other.

"Nice name. I like it." Mary always did like those fancy names. "Better than just plan Mary at least." Technically she was Marion, but that wasn't much better.

She sipped her coffee. "So how long have you worked at the coffee place?" That was an ice breaker, right?

"Here, about eight months. Two years at Starbucks--it's a little friendlier here." Her current place was an independent shop, the kind that permitted tattoos and lavender mohawks. A more comfortable place to be out.

"Yeah, I like these smaller places. Just feels less...corporate." It reminded her of all those coffee houses in movies.

"Was coffee as a career your first choice?" Wait, was that rude? "If you don't mind me asking. I know my first choice was not what I am now doing." Which is what? Sitting in coffee shops and picking up girls? Apparently.

"Oh! No, not my first choice. What about you, what did you do?" Time to divert the conversation away from horrible life-ruining choices.

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