Steps will be Taken [Private]

Nameless blinked. Gumbo. It was something she had heard of, something she had a vague idea of. Images of a steaming pot, with the various ingredients emitting a certain browness and messiness were conjured in her head.

“I’ll have the same, then,” she said, clasping the serviette that used to hold the ice cream she had just eaten behind her back, absentmindedly folding it into a vague polygon. A small frown appeared on her face as she tried to remember something she was about to ask.

In the end, she was unsuccessful. So instead she said, “Unless you want to do otherwise, Slyph.”

((Hello! It's been awhile!))

"Well-" After what seemed like an eternity (Or at least two years, to be more precise) of waiting, Slyph began to construct a carefully crafted excuse for why he could not stay.

"So, if you could be anywhere in the world... Right about now... where would you be?"

Fonz's voice was muffled ever so, his back was turned as he deftly sliced open two bread rolls into bread bowls at the counter at the back of the kiosk. Suddenly, leaving slipped to the back of Slyph's mind as he was caught... thinking.

This was obviously not a new question. The younger teen was not surprised by Fonz's inquiry, but lulled into a deep thoughtfulness. He quietly slid into one of the stools to better focus on his thought. Somehow, though sheer charisma and a cool head, this Fonz had cowed the skittish Slyph Gongjiang.

"I'd be... at a cafe. In a bookshop in some borough of London (does London have Boroughs?). Its raining outside but my bowl-o-soul is very cozy and warm."

Fonz nodded earnestly as he opened up a large pot that was left to simmer on a hotplate. Immediately the scent of Cheyenne and paprika filled the air, soon accompanied by the scent of Onions, Thyme, and Lots of Garlic as the elder teen ladled some of the steaming mixture into the mini bread bowls.

"I'd be at a beach I've never been to before. But not a white sand beach, you know? Like one of those beaches where the waves are big and the sand is nice and rough. You know?"

The two turned, almost in tandem, to look expectantly at Nameless. "How 'boutchu, You?"

"Yeah, You, where would you be?" Slyph echoed, enjoying the strength in numbers as Fonz grabbed a block of cheddar cheese that he delicately grated on top of the soupy creation.

Nameless stared back.

It was tempting, very tempting, to sidestep the question with a response like ‘I’d be where I am’. You could very easily perceive more meaning in the answer than it actually had, but something told her that these two would not accept it.

Where would she want to be?

She considered the answers already given. Slyph wanted to be comfortable somewhere, curled up warm, with rain present but definitely not falling on him. Fonz wanted freedom, untamed and chaotic.

What did she want?

“A snowy field. Soft snowflakes falling on me. No sound but quiet.”

She closed her eyes and shrugged. “But I am where I am,” she said, before sitting herself down, “Why do you ask? Out of all the things to ask, I mean.”

Both nodded in quiet agreement. Although each wanted their own unique version of paradise, they could not deny the appeal of real, pure, solitude. In a world full of beeping devices and noisy people, who wouldn't want some peace and quiet on occasion?

"Damn, You!" Fonz laughed as he ground some pepper on top of his mini-bread-bowls of gumbo. "Wouldn't it be a problem if you weren't were you are?"

But he never quite answered Nameless' question. A tuneless whistle filled the air as he set his creations in front of the two at the counter with a spoon and a 'Enjoy'. A quiet amusement filled Fonz's face as he watched Slyph (the delicate woodland creature that he was) poke, prod, and sniff at the gumbo bowl.

It wasn't quite chili, although there were beans and andouille sausage. It also wasn't quite soup, or if it was, it was thicker and heavier than most soups, full of spices and herbs that gave it a immensely satisfying saltiness.

It was also quite spicy. Not spicy like eating a jalapeno, but more of a slow burn that if you weren't careful, would bring you're very being to fiery ruin before you could stuff you're mouth with milk and white bread.

But that was only if you weren't careful.

((Apologies, got struck down by food poisoning))

Nameless stared at the unfamiliar dish, blinked twice, picked up her spoon and started eating.

It took five seconds before she stopped, closed her eyes and started breathing deeply.

“Milk, please,” she said in a soft but strained voice.

((Thanks for waiting! Finals... I'm glad you're not dead though!))

"Hoo... haa... Dang! This is spicy!" To state the obvious, Slyph wafted his hands in front of his face and breathed a quick in and out, in and out. His louder griping aside, he seemed to be mildly enjoying the dish in SLOW, CAREFUL, AND WELL PACED HALF-SPOONFULS.

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“Milk, please,” she said in a soft but strained voice.

"I... are you okay?" Slyph leaned inward over the counter, fingers nervously twiddling together. He looked to Fonz for help, but the proprietor was already in action.

"We have a code White!" Fonz whipped over to the fridge and poured a glass of Full Strength Vitamin D Milk, accompanied with a side of plain old bread,The glass rocketed down the counter to Nameless. They both waited, with baited breath, to see if Nameless could survive this herculean test of endurance.

"Dear lord, is it terminal..." Slyph side barred with Fonz.

"Thas up to the patient, Nurse Gongjiang... If she only has th' strength..."

Nameless opened one eye as the glass skidded to a halt in front of her. The other eye opened as she tilted her head to examine the milk. Then, she lifted the glass to her lips.

And sipped.

She then took the bread, ripped a piece off, and dipped it into the bowl.

Looking at the two commentators with an unamused stare, she popped the bread in her mouth.

“Your bedside manner is terrible,” she said flatly.

"She Lives!" Fonz declared triumphantly, throwing his hands in the air and doing a little jig about his small stall.

"Congrats on not dying!" Slyph ignored the diss on his medical personality, and gave Nameless a round of applause at her rebound back into having feeling back in her mouth.

The two, in spite of Slyph's initial hesitance, had began to act with a terrifying synchronicity of setting up and executing gags. No matter Slyph's wallflower-esque personality, it seemed that he did, in fact, have more than just the one friend.

"How you feeling now? Did the gumbo get the better of you, You?" Fonz dropped the act as he made to reach for the bowl of roux-based soup, stopping just short to await Nameless' answer, ever the polite server.

Nameless tried her very best not to grumble into her meal. Spice was, after all, evolved to be a poison that some masochists co-opted into something to be sought after. Nameless’ tongue was not used to the sensation and she sipped her milk between spoonfuls.

“I’m fine,” she said, not quite keeping the sulkiness out of her voice.

If spice was for masochists, than it was needless to say that Fonz was very, very, very deep into that particular kink scene. He respectfully backed off of Nameless, inspite of her sulkiness. As a sign of respect, the server kept his distance.

Fonz actually disappeared entirely. One moment he was amiably (Fonz did everything, amiably) washing some dishes the next just gone.

"You don't have to eat the gumbo, if you don't want to." Slyph tilted his head at Nameless' sulk, a critique of her suffering through what was intended to be enjoyable. Why eat something you don't want to? Why lie and say you're fine?

He didn't notice Fonz' absence.

“It’s food,” Nameless said flatly, “It should be eaten once it’s served to you. Otherwise, it’s wasted.”

Another spoonful, another sip. She had heard, somewhere, that the amount of food wastage was a major problem in the developed world and that contributed to all sorts of terrible things like landfill, global warming, the collapse of society as we knew it, etc, etc. Loyal was of the opinion that food that you didn’t like was at least fuel, and you didn’t turn down that. White Woods thought it impolite and would try to embarrass or shame you into finishing.

A small but very loud part of Nameless, however, simply refused to be defeated by a bowl of gumbo.

Besides, it wasn’t bad, just something she wasn’t used to. She wouldn’t seek it out, but she wouldn’t turn it away.

"Asked and answered." Slyph snorted quietly. It wasn't that he disagreed with the sentiment, or judged Nameless for not putting food to waste, but something about the idea of doing something you didn't want to do really really really bothered him.

The gumbo wasn't even his favorite dish, but it was still nice to have every once and a while.

"It's just that-" Slyph stopped, mid-confession, to look into the empty stall. "Fonz?"

No answer.

"Fonzemi?"

"Sh!" Fonz' voice, normally a proud sonorous call, came muffled from right under the counter. "He's coming!"

Down the street came a Giant. Surely not a literal, mythological giant, but figure easily 6 feet tall and with a barreled chest. His head, shoulder lengthed copper hair in uneven and unkempt waves. On his face, a fine dusting of a beard-to-be (whether this is due to shaving, or due to post-pubescence, one couldn't tell). The Giant was an unknowable age at first glance, easily passing for a high schooler or a 30 year old man based on sheer size alone.

The Giant was simply dressed in nondescript activewear, being... well... active. He jogged past the stand, paused partway down the street, and backtracked to Nameless and Slyph.

"Hey." His voice was gruff as he panted slightly. "Is this place open?"