Theme toggleSCENE LISTING SCENE SCHEDULE Scene Schedule RSS Feed
Owner Pose
Alasa Alasa sits at the counter of the diner, a menu opened in her hands as she tries to decide what to order.
Alasa Alasa flips through the pages of the menu, "So hard to decide...not sure what I'm hungry for."
Alasa Alasa runs her finger down the menu, "Tell you what...I'll take the blue plate special, an order of fries, some onion rings, and a pot of hot water."
Alasa Alasa smiles, as she turns to watch out one of the diner windows.
Alasa Alasa turns around, as she hears plates being set down..."Ah, it all looks so good..thanks." She then picks up the salt shaker, and seasons some of her food. Grabbing her fork, she starts to eat.
Alasa Alasa pours a glass of the hot water, and drops a tea bag into the glass...swirling it a bit, before she goes back to eating.
Alasa Alasa finishes off her meal, and sets her silverware down....she then picks up her glass, and drinks her tea.
Alasa Alasa says, "A very fine meal, I must compliments to the chef." She continues to drink her tea, "Is there any pie for desert?""
Valerie The door chimes, and a woman in a white-gray lab coat wanders inside, looking about with mild caution, as though there were a very small percentage chance raiders might be inside. Tucking a bit of red hair behind her ear, with two arched bangs and the rest pulled into a ponytail, she glances about from behind a pair of glasses. "...Hello? I was told I could buy food here?"
Alasa Alasa hmms, and looks over as she says.."Apple, two slice...Hello..well it is a diner, and they make food, I'd say could buy it..."
Ashur There's a rumble in the earth like giants snoring under the stones; shake, shake, rattle the glasses, and thereupon manifests Ashur on the threshold, great head bowed beneath the door's frame. The toga-clad Herakles stalks forth and in his hand he bears a bloodied satchel like a torch -- drip, drip, the blood soaks through the fabric, and the burlap clings like a wet veil to the outlined impression of some wasteland creature, bulbous and oddly angular.

The Legionnaire shoves past patron and table alike, and slows only when he's at the register, slamming a palm on the scored wood in thunderous clap. "Winston!" He bellows, calling for the balding, six-fingered cook that works at this time. "I slew the damn two-headed roach, now deliver the recipe for the glaze, as you promised."
Valerie Valerie rubs the back of her neck awkwardly as she stands there. "Well, yes, of course..." Clearing her throat lightly, the lady scientist glances off to the side, about to say someething else when suddenly the earth...shakes? Her eyes widening, Val looks down at her feet and about at rattling cups and plates before the door is thrown open.

Turning about, Val plants her hands on her hips, frowning, "Oh, it's you again." Hmph. But her eyes track to the sacked carcass, and the curvy redhead blinks, tilting her head. "Two-handed radroach? That's new. They are normally quite resistant to wildly divergent mutation."
Alasa Alasa looks over as Ashur comes into the diner with his delievery. "Well, now thats an insteresting trade.." As she takes another drink of her tea. Then looks back to Valerie..."Course, as you can see..the food here is fresh. Good..well, for that you'll have to decide on your own." She smiles a bit, then turns back to the counter. "Glaze?...what kind of glaze are we talking about."
Ashur Off in the back room, Winston, apron grease-stained and his thinning hair plastered by sweat to a sunburnt brow, labors at the butchering of this morning's capture -- the diner has some deals with a few local trappers, mostly from Shantytown, who bring in fresh meat for spare caps. Through the closed door, and over the pop and sizzle of his tools, he doesn't hear Ashur's summon.

That fact makes the brute's eyebrows furrow, a deep wrinkled V between them. "Deaf bastard," he grunts, hooking an ankle around a stool and tugging it behind him. It groans in protest when he settles upon it, not made for someone of his weight; no sudden moves, lest a branch-thin leg snap.

"He has a tangy sauce he grills the juicier roaches with," Ashur explains, looking to Alasa. "One of my brides craves it; he said it is made of blood, shredded herbs, and a hint of 'something special', but refused all other details unless I avenged his mongrel."

A shake of the satchel.

"The poor dog."

The voluptuous redhead's hmph is noted, and Ashur gives her a long look. "It is the first I've ever seen."
Valerie Valerie makes a face at the description of the glaze, looking a little grossed out... But she snaps back to an attentive stare at the sack, "You don't say... If only I had a biology kit and a microscope to study it... Maybe a gene sequencer from the..." Her voice trails off and she looks aside. "From..elsewhere." Sigh.

But she shrugs and folds her arms under her chest, looking up at Ashur, "And.../wives/? You have a -harem-? The Legion is truly very strange."
Alasa Alasa mmms, "That does sound tastey..I may have to order that, the next time I come. Though most cooks are like that..think somehow if they keep it a secret, no one can copy this thing." As she pulls out a piece of paper, "PArt of some secred receipe for nuka cola. Silly...but I tell you what, they pay good for it. Second one thats come through my fingers." She smiles and looks at Val, "Still the food here is rather decent..least compared to what I normally eat out in the should grab a stoool and order something. But don't worry about the harem, if you do join it..I understand it has a roatating door so you can leave if you want."
Ashur "The Legion does not take wives," Ashur remarks, letting the bloodied sack fall to the dusty floor with a wet plop. The top of it tips over and collapses in a pile of fabric, but nothing spills out. "A soldier breeds what woman he takes as slave or trophy in a battle, and any whelp sired is delivered unto the priestesses to be reared. To wed is to love, and honor abiding affection."

The big man raps his middle knuckles along the bar, casting his regard to the closed swing-door leading to the kitchens. "Winston!"

A beat, and nothing, and Ashur actually rolls his eyes with a sigh. He opts now to preoccupy himself with conversation, given his mission has encountered a minor setback -- but both the women's words make him snort like a bull. "I take many women to bed, but few become brides. Only those in which the seed takes. Cunt is for entertainment otherwise. Surely you've both had your fair share of cowboys and tribals."
Valerie "Well, no, now that you mention it..." Val notes with a bit of affronted disdain in response to Ashur's comment. But her hips swing the other way and she turns her gaze sidelong toward the counter, with its stools. "Mm...I suppose it can't be any worse than 200 year old Salisbury Steak." Wandering over with a lazy sway of her labcoat, she slides onto a stool, waiting patiently for a server to appear. She sits very primly, clearly expecting someone to be *right* with her. She tilts her head, cocks it aside, glances about every few seconds, still very certain someone will come to take her order.
Alasa Alasa looks at Ashur, "Is that like the a horse, ride a cowboy?..Thats a song on my jukebox..really an oldie..kinda a moldie..." She laughs to herself, the looks to Val. "If you want something really good, I got Cherokee Dream tea...make it the traditional way...they provide the water, I bring my own tea bags...quite good...guarnatees a good nights sleep."
Ashur Finally, someone walks out of the back room. Ashur hears it before he sees it and lifts his head, a flash of hope in golden eyes -- and then he is crestfallen when it just so happens to be one of the pretty young girls who takes orders and delivers food. Might even be Winston's daughter, or so suggests a stirring of faint memory.

She's in an off-white bandeau and a ratty skirt, and she hops on over with a deliberate shake of her hips, kneeling over the counter and smacking her lips. The joys of being told to 'flirt more' to bring in customers.

"Hey there, handsome, bet you got an appetite. Whatcha want?"

The flutter of her eyelashes is so over-the-top and clumsy not even Ashur can be drawn by it. He ughs and waves a hand toward Valerie. "Tend to her, servant. She hungers; I desire the portly cook. Tell him to get out here with that damned recipe!"

His voice climbs to an agitated growl, and the waitress backs off in a hurry, sliding down toward Valerie. A few other locals give Ashur quiet looks.

"Eheheh, so what is it you want, sugar? We got a special going, deep-fried gecko with a sweet 'n' sour Nuka Cola sauce, best in El Dorado!"

Ashur stares openly at the exchange, then his gaze drops to Val's chest, and then he looks at Alasa. "What is Cherokee?"
Valerie Valerie blinks in surprise at the offering, "That sounds...very edible. Yes, I'll have the fried gecko, thank you. And, um... Water." Glancing back over to Ashur and Alasa, Val blinks again, this time at Ashur's staring at her chest, and Val's eyelids fall half-closed, looking unamused. "Eyes are up here, Ranger." She motions with a level hand at the upper half of her face. But to Alasa, she asks curiously, "But...if all they provide is water, what good does that do me if I don't have any Cherokee tea bags?"
Alasa Alasa hmms, and looks at Val's chest, "I's?, I don't think so, maybe double D's..but no way those are I's." She smiles, turning back to Ashur..."My people are the Cherokee. We've lived in these lands for more centuries then I could count." As she pulls a tea bag out of he glass. "Well I was going to let you use mine...but I guess I didn't make it clear."
Ashur With a nod and an mm, the serving girl -- Rose, though no one cared to ask -- turns on a heel and sashays back through the swing door. "Daaaaddy," she calls, confirming Ashur's paternal suspicions, "we got one order of the gecko special, and that Legion asshole's got your stupid roach in a bag, so go give it to him before he breaks something." Her voice is faintly audible from the kitchen, at least to the three at the counter - funny how the sweet demeanor drops the moment she's out of sight.

Valerie's chastisement earns her a self-amused glance, and Ashur reaches over to muss her hair. "But your tits are down there," he reminds her, rather pointedly speaking to them, not her. Asshole, indeed.

As for Cherokees? He huhs, and raises one almost-bared shoulder, the muscle flexing in the light. It catches a splatter of bug blood staining his skin. "Tribals, then. I have not heard of them before; I know the local tribes were the Cowboys and the.. Sand Vipers, south. And near New Rome, the Wild Children dwell."
Valerie The redhead looks utterly baffled at what Alasa says, "Double-Ds? Pardon?" She does have to supress a sudden, delighted giggle at Rose's appraisal of Ashur, and she's looking quite amused when her hair is suddenly messed up, snapping her eyes open and ducking away with a light bounce of her heavily-scrutinized rack. "You could at least *pretend* to be interested in something other than the twins, Ranger." Frowning and folding her arms under her breasts, she looks at once annoyed and a little embarrassed.
Alasa Alasa says, "oh, wow...twins..shes got kids already. Best pass on this one big guy." As she stands up, and places some money on the counter. "Well, time for me to get back to work. Enjoy you meals...till next time," She gives a wave to the two of them, and heads out."