10577/Gen-13: A Series About Milkshakes Again

Gen-13: A Series About Milkshakes Again
Date of Scene:	29 December 2019
Location:	The Halo Burger in Flatbush, NY
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Freefall, Rainmaker

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Freefall has posed:
THE OUTFIT: It's Halo Burger! The outfits are practically immortal, famous the world over for their white/gold color scheme and ridiculous visors. Roxy's technically violating the dress code with her DYED HAIR but the manager's technically violating the... everything code... with his everything. So it's all a wash in the end. Anyway, she's wearing a black skirt, white blouse in gold trim, a white visor in gold trim, a whole bunch of "H" logos with snazzy skewed halos on the stem of the H, and one nametag that reads "ROXANNE". She's also wearing an expression that suggests she'd rather be anywhere else.

Roxanne is currently sitting on top of one of the order stations, butt on the countertop, legs crossed, feet left to dawdle a half-foot over the grimy tile of the back. Listless, she listens to her co-workers talk about the latest music and the cool fear-synth DJ duo playing at the warehouse down the block - Lazarus or something. Roxy makes a note to check it out, see if Bobby's got the hookup. While she considers, she makes wondering eyes at Cameron, a year older, twice as wide, and *three* times as studly as anybody else in the Halo Burger could ever be. Deftly, he fucks up pulling the fries out of the fryalator in time, but he's got this cute way of biting his lower lip instead of swearing, even when he hurts his ha-

"ROXANNE! God -DAMN- it! You're supposed to be up front! Again! You've already taken three smoke breaks and you DON'T get ANOTHER fifteen for THREE HOURS!" Frank, Roxanne's pimple-faced manager, is maybe two years older than Roxy and absolutely no match for -her- in a fistfight.

Total Melvin.

Roxy rolls her eyes and hops off of the order entry, *bumps* Frank on her way out, a deliberate attempt to destabilize the guy. Doesn't work - she's not *that* strong. She does bump into Cameron on her way up front, a more... full-bodied thing that doesn't, really, get Cameron's attention. He's brawny, sure, but he isn't very bright -- and that fryalator's dangerous. It's got his full attention.

Roxy steps out front to find...

Rainmaker has posed:
...Indian Invasions of the Apache Kind. Specifically in the one, singular person of Sarah Rainmaker, dodging the monstrous horro that is RUSH HOUR TRAFFIC by diving into the nearest almost-semi-open-enclosure.

And sniff of the air. Iced... milk? One woman bumps into the other, Sarah blinking as she glance down at Roxy. Proceeds with a carefully crafted, patient question.

"If you have shakes here, I will be forever grateful. Or give small countries. Please."

Freefall has posed:
*BUMP*

"It's Halo Burger. We got shakes like Evanescence has feelings, right? Check the menu out and take your pick, but I'll tell you, girl to girl? The Triple Fudge Cookie Catastrophe's like *sex in a cup*," Roxy immediately answers Sarah, pivoting to dawdle into place behind a register. She's a flounce of spinning arms and a riot of dyed hair, all smiles and lavender eyes and whoa-WAIT are you SERIOUS.

Sarah Rainmaker will watch Roxanne sort of stare up at her for a few seconds, face suddenly scrunched up like she were a racooon caught in a flashlight in the middle of the night. Confused. Concerned. Pondering, rapidly. In all the burger shops in all the cities in all the world... really? Here? Today? This is too coincidental to be true. This is like Star Wars. It's like Star Wars and Roxy's like young Rey, fighting to get Cameron to pay attention to her and show her how his lights-

"Sa--" Roxy starts in, voice cracking in her throat. Wait. What would Caitlin tell her to do? She swallows, attempts to collect herself, and settles.

This is Star Wars. Literally anything could be a trap. She's positive she heard that line somewhere. Some lobster dude said it.

Rainmaker has posed:
Sarah Rainmaker wants strawberry. Needs strawberry! But-- "...really?" she remarks, bemusement alighting on her features as she leans on the counter. Wrinkling her nose at the smell of cooking fries (burning fries-- WATCH IT CAMERON), she stares up at the too-cheery menu, eyes running across the various and assorted suggestions.

"...I'll try that-- Triple Fudge Cookie Choco- thing? For dining in if possible, and hopefully I'll finish just in time for the traffic to go AWAY."

Casting a scathing glare outside, she sighs heavily, not-quite-slumping down to the countertop-- a slump that goes nowhere near sharp, glittering brown eyes.

"Do I know you?" she asks quietly, breath a soft whisper. "You remind me very much of someone I knew... a while ago. From 'school'."

Freefall has posed:
It's right there. ST. RAWBERRY MILKSHAKE, right across from the BENEDICTION BURGER and the entire menu board detailing the legal rights protecting Halo Burger from any sort of litigation. Which it absolutely requires. Guide your eyes down, then, to our erstwhile hostess with the... somethingest.... and watch her punch Sarah's order right on in. She leans in to her microphone, presses lips to its mesh covering in a display of true teenaged despair, and announces:

"TRIPLE FUDGE COOKIE CATASTROPHE, THANKS." Roxy leans up and taps her temple, then winks to Sarah, extends a hand.

"That'll be four thirty-three, yeah? And I dunno if we went to school together. You look a little, uhhh... -OLD- to be in my class. And, like, not... FROM here..." Roxy pops her gum as if punctuating her sentence. Cait would be *so* proud. This could be a trap! Who marches right in and just says 'hi girl it's me your friend from the TORTURE CAMP i showed up a week after bobby did, i know, weird, right?'.

Total trap.

Still doesn't stop a glint of recognition from dancing behind Roxy's eyes - she's never been *great* at lying.

From the back: "ROXY! YOU MAKE THE MILKSHAKES! REGISTER DOES ICE CREAM! YOU'VE WORKED HERE FOR THREE MONTHS!"

Rainmaker has posed:
Sarah grins ruefully, bowing her head with a smile. "Got me there," she admits-- and if her ears could do it, they would fan back at the voice from the back. She eyes back there with a hard expression, eyes glittering sharply as she straightens.

"And if you quit this place right now, I'll get you one too," she promises, voice softly even. "But that order might have to be to go at that point. She offers her hand, smile faint as she coughs into the back of her hand. "Sarah. It was a particular school for those of us more special than others. Never had to ride a short bus either. Nice hair, too."

Freefall has posed:
"Dude, like, how would I get -money- if I didn't work here? A paycheck's a paycheck." Sure, Caitlin's putting her up in her increasingly less-spacious penthouse, but Roxy's responsible for her own food (she isn't), her own clothes (Cait refuses to buy what she wants to wear), and her own beauty necessities (ARCTIC FOX VIRGIN PINK HAIR DYE).

"My name's Roxy, right? Says it on the nametag. But it's Arctic Fox Virgin Pink! Like, the coolest hair dye money can buy." She points at her nametag, and leans forward to slap hands with the Native American woman. "And you still owe me 4.33, right? Like, I get -fired- if I don't... but let's keep talkin' while I whip up some carbohydrates for you, right?" Roxy takes a step back and starts doing her milkshake thing.

Not that milkshake thing. She can't even do that milkshake thing. Stop it.

"So you said we went to SCHOOL together, huh?" Gawd, this feels so weird. Why's she just bringing it up out of nowhere! How's she all nonchalan- well, Sarah WAS always cool about things...

People slip into the Halo Burger from the front entrance. Nothing fancy, though two men *are* wearing the sort of trenchcoat traditionally associated with two-handed guns and henchpeople. And they *are* eyeing Sarah and Roxy.

Roxy works here, though, so there's that.

Rainmaker has posed:
Sarah grins in response, leaning against the counter with delicious pleasure. "I said you reminded me of someone I went there with," she corrects, leaning to the counter juuuuust so. Rump out, ankles crossed-- slow breaths in and out, cool and even. Stilling heart. Feeling everything--

--And, nonchalantly, a glance spared to the screens to one side of the menu. So convenient, showing everything entering the small store, or coming up from behind!

"She had a thing for crazy hair dyes too," she continues, shifting to lean on her side. "I think she would change it daily. Or weekly? She had this.. orange-and-red-and-gold combination most of the time. The instructors kept pressuring her to drop it, but one day she showed up to class with all her hair cut off-- and strating wearing truly WILD hairpieces as a result--!" She grins to herself, head tilting down. "She had a thing for trenchcoats, too. And those silly woolen scarfs...."

Oh yes, Trenchmen, you are *so seen*.

"No marshmallow," she adds, scanning the board as she tenses. "Or whipped cream. Just chocolate."