Night of the Living Coffeehouse Robot
WHO: Vanilla H, Milfeulle Sakuraba, Dizzy, Rei Ayanami, Shinji Ikari, Uryuu Ishida
WHAT: An old friend from Galaxy Angel Season 1 opens a restaurant on Transbaal Station, but faces financial uncertainty due to miserly clientele and poor staffing. Milfeulle steps in to help out, for great justice!
WHEN: Open Mike Night
WHERE: J2's, on Transbaal Empire Space Station
WATCH FOR: Ishida getting abducted into performing improvisational poetry.
Transbaal Empire Space Station (TESS)
A gigantic space station in orbit around the planet Transbaal shaped like a pair of connected upside-down teardrops. It's not only the command center of the imperial military, its also a massive city complete with slums, abandoned schoolhouses, and even the best pizza shop in the galaxy. It's also the home and headquarters of the Angel Brigade and their Emblem Frames.
Transbaal Space Station. A local watering hole. One groovy Thursday night. All the happening cats and their kittens are in the house tonight, sitting around low-lit tables with the rising steam from hot coffees and herbal teas diffusing softly through the low footlights. A bass player strums his electric bass, shaking his head from side to side with the music, as if he couldn't believe such a smooth, soul sound could emanage from that piece of equipment. He's joined by the occasional beat of a groovy ice maiden in a beret, cool as you please, strumming the drum one-handed, an expression on her face saying she's way too cool even for this scene.
A man in a pin-striped suit and a fedora slides up to the stage. "Brothers and sisters, children of the night, welcome welcome. To the coolest. The easiest. The sleeeeeaziest... little juke joint this side of the White Moon. A place called - J2's. And tonight, as you may or may not be aware, is Open Mike Night. And I'd like to welcome our first little muse to take the stage, one groovy lady - Milfie. Give it up." He snaps his fingers as he steps off the mike, accompanied by intermittent snaps from the audience, and one pair of clapping hands, which quickly subsides as everyone gives him a dirty look.
Taking the stage, in her full uniform, is Milfeulle, who waves to the audience. "Hello everyone!" she says. Way too bright and sparkly for this crowd. In fact a few are shading their eyes at her pink hair. "I know there's some kind of rotation, but I'm good friends of the owner so I just went to the front of the line. If everyone's ready, I have a little poem I'd like to share!" She clears her throat, and pulls out some pink notebook paper. Hand on her throat, she closes her eyes to assemble her thoughts, then opens them and waves her hand wide. "Veni, vidi, vici / Everything is just peachy / When cake's in the oven / And you've got ice cream at the beach...y." She clenches a fist with passion, turning to the side. "A warm summer day, a cool autumn night / If you have a little sugar, then everything is just right." She opens her arms to the crowd. Keeping her eyes on her notebook. "I think I will never see / A pickle as happy as candy / Because pickles are sour, or dill, or too sweet / You might as well have fish, or eggs, or some meat." She points to the sky. "These things aren't bad, you surely protest / Why no, I say, but hear this attest / Beef is not fluffy, or sweety, or sponge / It's not a food to which I will lunge. / Cake is my favorite, my yummy, my treat / Above all else in the world, the thing, I shall eat."
Filled with emotion, she bows low.
There's a sudden silence in the restaurant. She straightens up again. "Thank you very much!" she says, waving her arms. "The management would like me to point out that there are lots of tasty cakes and pastries on the menu to go with your coffee. Have a lovely evening!" And she quickly scurries off the stage.
There's...a bit of confusion running through Dizzy's mind, really, as she arrives on Transbaal Space Station. She's not entirely sure why she's here.
Shortly after her release from the DS9 infirmary pending further word on what will be done about her injury, Dizzy arrived at her apartment to a small stack of mail that had piled up. Among those was a...well, it seemed to be a holiday postcard, if a postcard might resemble a ransom note of letters snipped from a magazine and patched together to form a message. It did tell her to come to Transbaal to see her friends the Angel Brigade. Or something like that. Open mic night was mentioned, though she has no idea what that means.
And so she is now here, probably against her better judgment (and Necro's burning desire to hurt some people--his memory runs long, after all), entering the restaurant which was named on the postcard. She is in her normal black dress with a long shawl over her shoulders, carefully placed to hide her arm--well, lack of one arm--as she walks in, glancing around for her, um, friends. She just barely spies Milfeulle leaving the stage...briefly fights against the impulse to turn around and run away...and enters, drifting vaguely toward where she saw the pink-haired Emblem Frame pilot go off toward.
"So much for undercover..." Shinji Ikari, stalward officer of the IPA and devoted Gloomy Gus, lowers his hip beret over his eyes and groans in a general sense towards the other occupatns of his table. "'Investigate the sleaiest juke koint this side of the White Moon', they said, 'Undercover work's fun!', they said, 'Steakouts build character.' they said..."
Shinji is a polite young man, however, and fingersnap-claps as Milefulle finishes her poem. It was actually kind of nice, if a little cheery.
Then he goes back to kvetching in a harsh, nervous kind of whisper, "What I want to know, is why 'they' never seem to t-talk to Milefuelle! What if we get...I don't know...beatniked?"
Rei seems to take well to the black turtleneck, beret, and the sunglasses. She has already resolved to keep them for later; the medicine reduces her glare sensitivity, but it still isn't FUN.
At least she isn't smoking yet. "Perhaps they have nothing to say," she answers Shinji, folding her hands in her lap.
You would probably never know it by looking at her, but Vanilla frequents this particular establishment. She never speaks to anyone while she's here, she never has anything to add. But there's one thing that makes her come back, and that one thing is the tea. It's filled with herbal goodness, and it helps her keep her nerves nice and calm. Despite her rather calm exterior, she is actually a boiling, seething mass of murderous rage. Who knows when she'll finally snap and start taking lives? It could be tonight!
She's sitting alone at a table near the stage. She actually isn't alone, of course. Settled on the table as she sips her tea, and occasionally being used as a rather fluffy coaster, is Normad. He doesn't seem to complain as the scalding tea is set on him. After all, he has no nerves. "Vanilla-san, we have paperwork to do, you know." And by we Normad means her. He hates to interrupt her, but perhaps she's forgotten? Vanilla however seems content where she is. "I think that I want a pie." Milfeulle's poem has inspired her!
Milfeulle Sakuraba is scampering lightly as she steps off the stage, but that turns to a quick scurry as she zips up to the bar, leaning over the side. "Master?" she whispers. "Master! Are you there?"
Below the bar, lifting his head up from where his oversize plastic hands had been tented over his eyes, is metallic yellow oval face with red optic sensors, which nictate quickly, if such a word could be applied to robots. "No," it says in a flat deadpan with a metallic undertone. "I'm not. Okay, yes I am." The robots straightens up a little, grasping the sides of the bar with his hands. "So did you tell the crowd about the cakes? It was important they hear about the cakes."
Milfeulle bonks his head twice with a fist gently. "Are you kidding? You bet I did!" she replies. "Since it was Open Mike Night, I thought, hey, they're not going to buy cakes if I just get up there and ask them to buy cakes. They'll think I was a square! But, I made a little poem about cakes, so they'd think I was one of them! It was really good. I spoke from the heart!"
J2's head lifts up a little more, with a little hydraulic wheeze. "A poem? You did? Really?" His face swivels from side to side. "Are they ordering any? Are my customers actually ordering anything besides the cheapest coffee and tea on the menu? If I don't sell some sweets soon, I'm going to have to sell this branch to the Cellnarians at a big loss!"
Milfeulle looks from side to side. Everyone still seems to be in a small measure of shock at Milfeulle's blazing debut into the poetic literature scene. She turns back to J2 excitedly. "The poem was so good - it's still sinking in!"
J2's head sinks back under the bar, and under his large pneumatic hands. "Let me know when bankruptcy court opens in the morning..."
Milfeulle pouts at his behavior, before turning around, catching sight of Vanilla in the audience. "Vanilla!" she blurts, then rushes over. "Hi Vanilla!" she says. "Did you just say ... you wanted a pie?" Her head whips from side to side for one of J2's waitresses. The nearest one's on her wrist-phone, talking a mile a minute about this nutty space force officer who just recited this crazy poem about cakes. Milfeulle frowns, grunting in her throat, before turning back to Vanilla. "Because - I can get you a pie! You too, NORMAD-san!"
There's another new addition to the usual crowd. Uryuu Ishida has just stepped in, pushing up his glasses with a bit of embarrassment. (His dress shirt is entirely too bright for this crowd, though at least his slacks fit in.) He's been meaning to do a bit of exploration lately, and he heard a rumor that the herbal tea available here is quite good. And so, completely unknowing of the chaos that approaches, the Quincy takes a seat at an empty table some distance from the stage.
Uryuu also has a beret on. He's not sure why. A passerby gave it to him, for some reason, when he was on the way to the Gate.
Well, no beret for Dizzy, but the shawl and black dress (and the wings) will make sure she blends in just fine. She continues to make her way toward Milfeulle, having finally done away with that voice that's been screaming 'run, please, for the love of sanity RUN' because it is now in the corner of her mind getting completely drunk on tequila.
"Hello, Miss Sakuraba, Miss Vanilla," she says softly, reaching their side. "This is...an interesting establishment." She glances around at all the rather solemn, artistic types gathered all about. She does not see the Quincy...although she does feel some familiar presence out there in the crowd. Perhaps those exercise that she's been doing to try to sense spirit energy on a smaller scale have been taking. Just not strongly enough, not quite. Ah well.
Turning back to her Angel friends, she murmurs, "What's going on tonight?" After all, they must have sent that postcard for a reason!
Tight sweaters make Shinji Ikari uncomfortable; in unrelated news, he is instead armed with a pair of white trousers, sandals, a terrifingly colorful Aucopoco shirt, a pair of yellow sunglasses and a candy cigarette held in his mouth with the kind of cigarette holder ZaZa Gabor'd favor.
Shinji Ikari, gonzo journalist, looks over to his filthy assistant with a wry eye. The beatnik look is terrifingly natural for Ayanami, and all Shinji can do is quick a smile at the girl's subtle witticism. At least, he thinks its a witticism.
"Well, maybe its not so bad." Shinji grumpily admits, looking over the establishment. "Huh, Dizzy's here, looking lost...but she wouldn't come to a place that's a Syndicate front..." Shinji frowns. And there's Vanilla. And Ishida. With a beret. Shinji suddenly turns a suspicious eye at Ayanami's beret, his keen investigative mind(lol) putting a few things together. "Ayanami." Shinji asks in that My-Friend-May-Be-Posessed-By-Terrible-Mind-Controling-Hat-Aliens tone of voice, "Where did you get that beret?"
Rei looks at the newcomers. The one that gets the most attention is Dizzy, if only because she has wings. She also looks at Ishida, and is almost certainly a comforting (if weird) presence.
Oh, Ikari is talking. She looks back to him, lowering the sunglasses to peer over them. There may be the brief horrific impression of black empty eyes with the same startlingly red iris as always, but it passes; instead, there are a great many variations on the shade of 'white'.
"Dr. Akagi lent it to me."
Perhaps Vanilla is just easily swayed by poetry. Or perhaps she secretly has a love for sweets. This would explain why she hasn't murdered Milfeulle yet. Speaking of which, the pink-haired terror is rushing her table. How exactly did she hear her all the way over there? This must be another of the Mysteries of Milfeulle. "I can't eat pie, Milfeulle." Normad reminds the girl. He's a stuffed animal, how is he going to eat? "I, however, would like one. With fruit. I do not care what kind." Which means that Milfie will probably bring her like Deathberry or something, but she's willing to take that risk. "And don't bring her Deathberry." Normad adds. Sometimes he's actually good at knowing what Vanilla is thinking!
Taking the stage behind Milfeulle are two women, one with long black hair, the other with wavy red hair, both in tuxedos, tails, top-hats, black hose and high heels. "Hi everyone!" shouts the redhead. "We're the Lovely Angels and we're thrilled to be here tonight!"
Suddenly, one of the hipsters lifts up in his seat. "D-did you say Galaxy Angels? Oh crap! Run everyone! We're all gonna die!"
For a moment, Milfeulle looks like she's about to run for the exit to block it physically, but then the brunette stamps a high heeled shoe. "NO! We said 'Lovely Angels'!" The audience looks uncertain as the brunette looks from side to side. "Or, uh, sometimes called..." She winces, looking sideways at the audience through one eye. "The, uh, 'Dirty Pair'?"
The audience retains its uncertainty for a moment, before the hipster who shouted gets to his seat. "Eh, well, whatever. As long as you're not the Galaxy Angels! Something always gets blown up when they're around."
Milfeulle looks sheepish and says nothing, while the brunette jabs her redheaded friend in the side. "Did you hear that, Kei? They don't know us!"
The redhead beams. "At last a new generation has taken our place..." At which point the two launch into a raunchy burlesque rendition of 'Me and My Shadow'. Even J2 peeks out from behind the bar a little.
Milfeulle of course doesn't notice - she only has eyes for Vanilla. Actually it wasn't all that effort to hear Vanilla, everyone's speaking in low, cynical tones and snapping their fingers. "Fruity pie, no deathberries. Coming right up!" She's turning to run to the counter when a familiar face appears. "DIZZY-san!" she exclaims excitedly. "You got my n-* I mean, what a nice surprise to see you! I bet you're hungry after coming all the way from... wher-ever it is... you're from. There's plenty on the menu!" Idly she wonders if maybe Dizzy's shoulder-buddy would prefer deathberries...
She quickly glances at the waitress again. "Like, oh my god Becky, some girl just came in with WINGS. Okay? I think she's looking for the cosplay bar, right, and she's totally lost or something... Man, I'm so bored." Milfeulle can of course think of at least three things wrong with her waitressing technique, as she looks worriedly over toward the completely unfamiliar looking couple at Table 6 (Shinji and Reichan), as well as the Quincy in the back... "Maybe I should get my apron and my notepad," she murmurs. Instincts taking over. Training kicking in. Her mind beginning to move in long-forgotten pathways. Milfeulle the waitress, lying just under the surface, ready for action!
Walk into a Syndicate establishment knowingly? No, never. Walk into one by accident? Sure thing. Even moreso when invited to one, because Dizzy is still on that naive side. But that's life. At any rate, she smiles at Milfie, a friendly smile that is naturally tinged with faint dread. But that is discarded quickly: she really does like the Angels, whatever the case it is with the forces of insanity that seems to surround them.
And yes, Necro would love deathberries. With a lowercase 'd', mind you; he doesn't swing that way.
At any rate, Milfie does spy Dizzy, and she waves to the pink-haired girl. "Oh, yes, I'll...take a look at the menu." She sits down at the table just next to Vanilla, mindful not to intrude too much unless invited directly.
Another brief look around as she picks up her menu has her gaze fall on Shinji for a moment--he looks familiar, but that beret skews things just a bit (especially as it hides a bit of his face from this angle), and she just frowns lightly trying to figure out if she knows the fellow. She'll probably figure it out eventually. "Um...hm, this cheesecake sounds good...and a cup of coffee."
Uryuu isn't paying much attention to the stage or the audience. He's just glancing over the menu, noting with some surprise the large array of available sweets. He should tell Orihime about this place some time... Haha, they actually have /sweet bean paste/ cakes. He'll /definitely/ have to let her know.
Uryuu would have just stayed that way, waiting for the delinquent waitress (or perhaps flagging the delinquent waitress down), but a cry of "DIZZY-san!" catches his attention. He glances up, cheeks already reddening just a bit, and indeed -- there's Dizzy across the way, sitting next to... a green-haired girl he doesn't recognize. Should he go over to her and say hello? He doesn't want to be a bother... The normally confident Quincy is struck with nervousness, but he does attempt to catch the half-Gear's eye, raising his hand in greeting.
Of all the Angel Brigade, Vanilla may be perhaps the least scary of them. She's the least likely to cause something to detonate, the least likely to be the one that stole the crown jewels, and the least likely one to end the universe again. So in choose to sit next to her, Dizzy has made the wise choice! Just as long as she doesn't say the secret word which makes Vanilla go on a murderous rampage! (Editor's Note: No such word actually exists. Or DOES IT?!) "Objection." Vanilla states, speaking to no one in particular. "Explosions follow the Galaxy Angels around only 87 percent of the time. This is clearly less then always. Objection sustained." That said, the emerald-haired girl turns to Dizzy. She remembers the girl. "Hello again. I did not expect to see you here." Clearly, the mystery note was not sent by Vanilla.
Shinji Ikari sees that his BRILLIANT DISGUISE may be in peril! Thinking quickly, Shinji folds his hands in front of his face and leans his chin on his thumbs, half looking at Dizzy from under those enormous sunglasses and seeing if the girl is still suspicious. She may have been infiltrated by the enemy, after all. They can't rest here.
This is bat country.
And then the Dirty Pair jump up on stage, and Shinji drops his cigarette holder. He feels a faint prickling on the back of his neck, the usual feeling of terror and the secret thrill that comes with an Angel attack, but he just blames it on puberty. "I, uh." Shinji's voice cracks like a brittle log a fat man stepped on, and he pushes his sunglasses back up with an embarrased flush. "I should, ah, g-go and investigate the boo...back, the b-back! Why d-don't you s-say hi to Ishida," Another crack, "Since I think he m-might be controled by barrett aliens okayI'mcountingonyouAyanami!" Shinji squeeks, stands up roboticly, and marches to the back room.
Perhaps he's drawn by some dark kinship to Milefuelle's waitress-instincts, perhaps he's just looking for a place to splash cold water on his face until he feels like he's sane again, but either way, Shinji stumble-slips towards the back room...and likely, DANGER.
Rei watches Shinji step off with great haste. She looks concerned, briefly, but does not follow.
She waits until he is well away before subtly adjusting the turtleneck. It had started to itch and she did not want to attend to that where people could see. Now, of course, nobody can. Having done this, she stands up as per Shinji's directions, and walks over towards Ishida, who is easily seen in the room because he is the dork wearing a white shirt. Good job, Quincy; you look kinda cool.
She is wearing black of various shades, which she does not seem to mind. This includes soft black sneakers, so it may surprise Ishida when Rei comes up near him and says, quietly, "Hello." But then, he wasn't looking in that direction, perhaps.
Milfeulle Sakuraba clenches a fist, and with her opposite hand, lifts a finger. "Cheesecake!" she announces. "One cup, coffee! Right away!" Burning with waitressing passion, she dashes toward the counter and does an expert flip over the top, landing next to her moping robotic pal. "Master! Master, are you there?" She leans forward, kneeling down, and raps her knuckles once or twice on the top of his metal head. *clankclank*
J2 looks up just enough to let one optic sensor peek out. "What now? Have you figured out a good escape route? I was having this wonderful fantasy about living in a robotic debtor's prison."
Milfeulle grins. "We've got orders, Master! One fruit pie, any fruit," she relates, "one cheesecake, and one coffee! You make that, I've got to go for a minute."
J2 unfolds from his corner, head lifting, major systems coming online with a metallic whirrrr. "Are you serious? Somebody wants food? Somebody wants to spend MONEY? I'm shocked. How do you like that. I've gone from financial ruin to a major system crash from shock. Well, I guess I'd better get started." From out of nowhere he slips on a tall chef's hat and whirrs toward the kitchen. "Where are you going?"
But Milfeulle's already racing toward the backroom at ludicrous speed, and without recognizing him, deftly pushes Shinji aside as she charges into it, approaching the speed of sound.
She explodes from the breakroom a moment later, clad in an adorable pink and orange waitress outfit! With a white lace apron and a little hat! An outfit needless to say, looks out of place in this establishment for some reason. It's certainly clashing with what everyone else is wearing. "Jan-jan-JAAN!" she says, streamers popping behind behind her with great drama. "Cuteness powaaa UP!" She charges out, pushing the earlier waitress aside just like she did with Shinji, and the chattering magpie goes sprawling with a *CRASH*. "Waitress Milfeulle, for great justice, is ready to serve you!" One of the Lovely Angels onstage points at Milfeulle's dramatic moment, and the two launch into a somewhat sexified version - with lots of gyrations - of the soundtrack from Steven Chow's "God of Cookery".
J2 pokes his head out from the kitchen, waving a wooden mixing spoon. "Milfie! Ordaa PICKUP!"
Milfeulle waves a hand, not skipping a beat, a dust cloud following behind her. "On my way! Time to serve the customer! Banzai!" In a flash, with expertise born of years waitressing prior to her finding her life's calling in the Angels, the pie, cheesecake and coffee are picked up, and delivered summarily to Vanilla and Dizzy's table. "Enjoy your meal and I'll be back later!"
Pointing a fist, she zooms off again, this time to Rei and Shinji's table, who of course she does not recognize at all. "Hi," she says, though of course only finding Rei there. "Are you ready to order, Miss Hepcat Customer-san, or would you like to wait until your boyfriend comes back?"
There's that familiar flare again. Dizzy frowns lightly and scans the room once more, eyes drawn toward a raised hand.... Oh. Well, this is unexpected--pleasantly, at least. She smiles broadly, even as a faint blush rises to her cheeks, and she waves to him as well. A moment, and she then beckons him over. He is always welcome to join her.
In the interim, she turns to Vanilla and nods to her. "Hello. I...I'm sorry that I haven't been around more often." She has a sense of self-preservation, after all--overridden in this case by her stronger sense of politeness. After all, it is rude to turn down an invite like that. "Someone asked me to come and see this, um, open microphone night. Thing." Her eyes dart up to the stage to the Dirty Pair momentarily. "I seem to have missed Miss Sakuraba's performance just barely, though." Such a disappointment. Oh well, there's cheesecake and coffee to look forward to!
...and Ishida's company. <3
As for Shinji--he is, for the nonce, forgotten as he escapes to the back room. Rei approaching Ishida is also missed as she resumes her conversation with Vanilla. "How have you and the Angel Brigade been, Miss Vanilla? --oh, thank you, Miss Sakuraba." And the Dirty Pair is, for the nonce, ignored by Dizzy as she starts to eat her cheesecake. Her interests lie elsewhere, after all.
Uryuu Ishida's beret is certainly /not/ an alien mind-control device.
That he's noticed.
The Quincy's blush deepens, but he smiles and nods at Dizzy's beckoning. Well, if she doesn't mind his presence, who is he to remain alone? He scoots out his seat to stand, and then suddenly: Rei. Uryuu looks a little surprised, but not as shocked as someone without spiritual senses would have been. "Ah, Ayanami-san, good evening." A brief pause, as he stands up next to her, considering a topic of conversation. "I was just about to join Miss Dizzy and her friend. Would you care to join us as well?"
"Okay...calm down Shinji..." The Third mutters, looking ashamed of himself. "Jeze, maybe I really am a perv-" And like lady justice herself, Milefuelle shoves Shinji Ikari aside, causing the boy to yell "WAUGH!" and slam right into the wall.
"Hello Mishter Wall." Shinji slurs, little stars exploding in his vision, "Fanshy meeting youuu...here..." Shinji's Hawaiian shirt is open enough that the reason he was so grumpy the other day can be seen; just at the nape of his neck, a scar, fresh enough to still be faded red instead of white, has begun, it travels in a straight line down the precice center of the Third Child's chest.
As for Shinji, he's a little too dizzy to be doing much more than sort of...stand in the Shinji-shaped hole Milfie's shove made, looking dazed, confused, and at the tender mercy of fate. This happens a lot to Shinji.
"It is okay." Vanilla reassures Dizzy. "We have been well here." Sure, the entire station was destroyed a few days ago, and no fewer then three different versions of herself died in the explosion, but somehow, everything worked out for the best. Such is life in Transbaal. It never makes even the slightest bit of sense. "I cannot imagine who would of asked you to come here. I did not." There's a pause before a metallic voice speaks up. "I didn't, either." Normad adds. And then, Vanilla enjoys pie! "Deathberry-free." she says, seeming as pleased as someone who's voice never really shows emotion can seem.
Rei looks up towards the waitress approaching her abandoned table! She is, of course, a distinctive individual and not that far away from it. She blinks once.
"I will have a cappuchino," she says, before considering as to whether or not she should clarify the nature of the relationship she has with Ikari.
Nah.
"He will have coffee with cream and sugar. We will also have the chocolate mousse cake." The whole thing? Perhaps they'll share with others.
The offer comes at an opportune moment. It is strange, Rei thinks, to recieve such offers. They are still novel. Almost distressing. And, yet, if she must, she can leave.
"Yes," she answers Ishida.
Milfeulle Sakuraba flips out her notebook and hurriedly inscribes Rei's order in the legendary Milfeulle waitress shorthand! Your own species of shorthand is something you never really forget. Her face falls a little at first, hearing an order for cappucino and yet another order for coffee - but then she brightens like a 1000 watt halogen lightbulb. "Chocolate Mousse Cake!" she repeats, writing it into her offical Chairman Kaga notepad. "Right away, Gone Groovy Customer-san!"
At that, she turns to Ishida as well. "Would you like to order something too? I'll bring everything to your new table, no problem! We have tons of excellent desserts from the famous Master Chef J2, who used to be head chef for the Transbaal President!"
The Dirty Pair take a bow, leaving the stage, leaving it temporarily unoccupied.
"This is good cheesecake," Dizzy remarks in between bites. "Rather light, not too sweet...." Really, why would this place be on the bring of going out of business? The food seems to be quite tasty, after all. She washes this down with a sip of coffee. Which is also good, if not extraordinary.
She nods to Vanilla. "I'm glad to hear that," she says. If she were told of the recent destruction, she'd...barely bat an eyelash, really. She could believe it. Also could believe that no one really came out for the worse...at least permanently. Or something. "Hmm...I wonder who did send me the postcard, then." Well, she has her suspicions; her eye follows Milfie as she scurries around.
There is a moment as she realizes that Rei is with Ishida, and...she quickly suppresses the moment of instictive jealousy. No place for that. Really. Just just continues to eat her cake quietly, waiting for her friend to come over.
"Ah, excellent," Uryuu says in response to Rei. Milfeulle grabs his attention then (she's talented at that), and he nods to her. "Er, I suppose I'll have a cup of the herbal tea... and, ah, one of the sweet bean paste cakes." What can he say, he's developed a bit of a taste for it over the months. With that, Uryuu makes his way to Dizzy's table --
Or he would, if his elbow hadn't just been grabbed by a passing employee. "Where have you been, man?" the black-clad young man asks, dragging the Quincy toward the back, past Shinji. "You're late! Those girls are done, so you're up!"
"Wha -- e-excuse me?!" Uryuu stutters, too startled to pull away. "I don't --"
"Hey, don't worry about it, I'll get you a new jacket."
"No, but --"
Meanwhile, in the men's bathroom, a skinny beatnik with short hair and rectangular-lensed glasses is quietly recovering from the sugar shock of the cake he ordered.
Shinji Ikari isn't perticularly suprised that no one noticed him be shoved into and nearly through a wall. Taking a second to re-button his shirt, the Third Child sighs, wondering if they were just ordered here as a gag. He might as well at least /try/, so that he can say he at least investigated, and then he can go home before he ruins someone else's day. Okay, lesse.
"Excuse me." Shinji asks the robot who seems to own the place, "I don't mean to sound rude, but there's no nice way to say this. Is, um, this establishment a secret Syndicate hideout?" Shinji asks, as politely as he can. "...because, um, I might b-be looking to, y'know...commit some...crimes?"
Rei comes over to sit down near Dizzy. She looks at the strange woman briefly but does not comment; she seems to have had this sort of encounter before. She remembers the time they had to saw off her leg.
Of course, they didn't put THAT one in the medical record.
She sees Shinji's loud shirt and her head turns to glance at him, before she looks over to Vanilla and Dizzy. She decides that silent community is the best situation here, before folding her hands on the table.
Then Ishida is shanghaied. She blinks, before turning her head to look on Shinji, just in time to hear/see him ask about crime.
She worries briefly that he enjoyed being 'Professor R' too much.
Meanwhile, Vanilla has managed to devour an entire pie. She would of offered to share with Dizzy, but she seemd to be enjoying her cheesecake so much. Why deny her that pleasure? "I can't believe you ate all of that, Vanilla-san.." Normad says, clearly impressed by the girl's pie-eatting prowess. Vanilla, of course, ignores the plushie. She's having a 'conversation' with Dizzy after all. "I think, sometime, I would like to meet the other members of the group you told us about before." the girl says to the winged half-gear. Chances are, if she wasn't already a Black Sheep, Dizzy would have a Galaxy Angel working alongside her.
This time, Milfeulle's face doesn't fall at the herbal tea order; she knows to wait until the customer finishes ordering for the big money! She hurriedly writes everything down in her little notebook, before bowing to Ishida quickly. "Thank you very much, Cool Groovy Gone Crazy Customer-san! It'll be out right away!"
As she's heading away, she pumps her fist in the air and cheers as he's dragged to the stage. "Do your best to win the crowd! Faito faito!"
For some reason - possibly due to a continuity error - she's acquired roller skates. As such she slides across the floor to the counter to hurriedly place her orders with J2, and pick up a few more for some other tables with NPCs. "Milfeulle Sakuraba, rolling to victory! Whee, ha ha ha ha..." Her arms and legs pump with furious action!
Suddenly, J2 is busy, and he likes that a lot. "It's a good thing Milfeulle showed up," he says to himself. "I hear they make poor robots into switchboards at Galactic Telecomm." And then Shinji appears, causing J2 to jump slightly. "What! Who are you? Are you with the Imperial Revenue Service?" When Shinji asks his question, J2 lifts a metallic hand to his chin and strokes thoughtfully. "I see, I see," he says after a moment. "Well, before I can impart to you the sacred wisdom of the criminal underworld, I have to ask you a question, too." He pauses dramatically, before leaning toward Shinji curiously. "What's 'The Syndicate'?"
It is after a few moments of realization that the Quincy is not yet here that Dizzy looks up, frowning. Hm, Ishida is also not where he was sitting earlier. Or on his way over. Or....
That quick survey of the room has her looking at the stage briefly. And the doubletaking as she realizes that, yes, it's him up there. She blinks, looking faintly surprised. He's going to perform? Well! She starts to clap for him, then--she has to show her support, after all!
As she finishes applauding, she glances sideways at Rei. "Hello," she says, politely. She's...hm, this girl, she's seen before. With Shinji, in fact. Just didn't really have much chance to speak with her--even less than Shinji. Back to Vanilla. She ponders the other girl's words a moment. "The others...oh, do you mean the Relief Society?" She nods to Ishida, up on stage. "Mister Ishida is a member of the group as well, if you haven't met him yet. And Miss Orihime Inoue...." Quickly she rattles off a number of her fellow members--Yuna, Tatsuki, Hokuto, Sanji...all her friends, really.
Shinji's antics, meanwhile, just barely make it to her ears. "Syndicate?" she wonders aloud. She's heard of them, certainly. But isn't completely sure on what they're all about.
Shinji Ikari is here to investigate a crime! Its his job! So what if he's hidden a bakelite blaster in his room, its okay to have souvineers!
As it is, the Third Child twitches a little, and heaves a heavy sigh. "Read the theme files, old man." Shinji deadpans, deciding that, yes, this was a snipe hunt some jerk thought was funny. Shinji takes the Syndicate a little too seriously, perhaps, because he spent some time as a member, because they built a ray gun that made him go insane and nearly kill Rei and Asuka, as well as actualy killing one hundred and twenty six civilians in Von Braun city, and because he still sees the look on Haman Karn's face when Rei took the bullets the woman ment for him.
The Third Child frowns a little at the name of the orgnization that harbors Envy, a guy who he robbed Deep Space Nine with during that 'Professor R' stint, and crosses his arms.
Screw it, he's thirsty, and he's fairly sure Ayanami wouldn't forget him. Shinji meekly walks over to the budding legion of people, waving a little. "Hi."
"Ikari," Rei says. After a moment, she decides to continue speaking. This is done with some tentativity, but then, it's always an adventure. "Milfeulle has gone insane and is serving as a waitress. She will bring us coffee shortly."
She then looks at Dizzy. Her lips purse slightly. She considers asking the question... but decides perhaps that she has said enough for now, and instead laces fingers together on the tabletop.
Indeed, there is Uryuu now, shoved onto the stage with a new black jacket to cover up his white dress shirt. And looking, for a moment, completely bewildered. "Er..." he manages, microphone amplifying his voice and almost making him wince at how dim he sounds. He can see Shinji from where he stands now, and Rei, Vanilla, Milfeulle.... And there's Dizzy, who's... w-wow, she's applauding for him.
Okay, he can do this. Uryuu takes a deep breath... and wings it.
"Contrast surrounds me / light and dark / left and right / extremes on a scale in all directions.
Every moment is a choice, / every step an act of balance, / chances lost / and chances gained / with every breath.
The right path may seem dark / and the wrong path inviting. / I have felt painful missteps / but they have led me here.
Contrast surrounds me. / Birth and death sway in the breeze / and standing between them / the one chance I might have / to live."
The Quincy coughs and bows stiffly to the audience, cheeks nearly glowing red, and he hightails it backstage again.
Master J2, a crusty and cynical old sort, watches Shinji depart the counter. "Always a pleasure to wait on a friendly customer," he responds drily, before slipping inside the kitchen. He has to have those orders ready in time for Milfeulle's next pass, or she's liable to crash into something with her rhythm disrupted!
And sure enough, here comes Milfeulle on approach again. "Milfeulle Sakuraba, five by five, ready for supply drop!" Despite her fond nostalgia for the waitressing biz, suddenly, while on the skates, she imagines herself behind the stick - or rather, the HALO - of the Lucky Star, heading for a new planet to discover Lost Technology, open relations between a new civilization and the Transbaal Empire, or to find a rare and exotic dessert. "Split-second timing will decide our fate!"
J2 emerges from the kitchen with Ishida's and Rei's order, and a cry of "Ordaa PICKUP!"
Milfeulle picks up the food and drops off the fresh orders with one swift motion, before screeching to a halt at Vanilla's-Rei's-Dizzy's-Ishida's-Shinji's table. (J2 smacks his head with a palm. 'My hardwood floor,' he thinks to himself.) "Herbal tea, sweet bean paste cake, cappucino, coffee, chocolate mousse cake! Viola!" She deals each like from a deck of cards, and is about to ask for anything else when Uryuu begins his extemporization. She slows, calming down from her adrenaline high, and turns to watch quietly, blinking her eyes.
At the conclusion of his act, she turns back to the table. "He's really good," she says, eyes wide. Then, she seems to discover something in her hand, lifting it up to her face. Chairman Kaga stares back at her, pointing a leather-clad fist. "Oh! I forgot, I'm a waitress today." She lifts the notebook and returns to a more professional mien. "Will there be anything else? Water, bread, salad, alien delicacies? J2's has it all!"
The fact that Milfie has been declared to have gone insane is, by no means, the least bit surprising to Dizzy. The latent Commander Gear just nods quietly at this. "She is, at least, doing a good job of waitressing," she declares. After all, Milfie did an excellent job of taking her order and delivering the cheesecake and coffee very quickly. Which she now finishes, anyway.
And just in time, too--she quickly puts down her fork and listens in rapt attention to Ishida's poem. ... ..... Which she doesn't really get. But it certainly sounded quite deep and profound. As the Quincy quickly evacuates the stage, she applauds for him once again, smiling.
So she is not too perturbed at Milfeulle's sudden return. "Thank you very much, Miss Sakuraba; I think I am fine."
Shinji Ikari is pretty sure he should know what style Ishida's doing, up there. He seems like the type to secretly know how to bust traditional Japanese poetry out of nowhere, but for the life of Shinji Ikari he can't think of it. This is vaguely embarrasing, but Shinji is used to failure, being something of a professional in the subject, and shrugs it off by snap-clapping politely. Ishida seems to, at least, not be activly loathed like Milfie's life affirming rhymes were, and Shinji figures that's something.
Oh, hey, coffee. And cake? Shinji raises a questioning eyebrow at Ayanami-the others might notice just how similar the two look, in the right light. Maybe they're cousins?
"Um." Shinji pauses. "Milfeulle, have you gone insane? Because you seem, um..." Shinji pauses. "Maybe when you go crazy, you basicly loop around back to normal..." Hrm. Something to ponder. Shinji wonders if he's being rude, but figures as a Black Sheep member, its his duty to ask these sorts of things.
Cousins, or something.
Rei says, "I hope that you enjoy the cake," while letting Milfeulle act out her psychoses. At least they are constructive and friendly, Rei reasons, as she sips her cappuchino. Mmm - sweet.
After a moment, Rei looks at, of all people, Normad. She gives the plushie a piercing, calm look for a moment, before her lips part -
"Have you met 'Kon'?"
Well, if he'd had a bit more time to prepare, Uryuu would certainly have put together some sort of traditional poem. But on the spur of the moment, he could only manage free verse. So Shinji's actually not too far off. At any rate, the now-fully-black-clad young man sneaks back to the table where his friends are sitting. He's still blushing, pushing up his glasses as he takes a seat. He's still a bit embarrassed, but at least for now he can focus on the cake and tea that he ordered.
... It's good cake, too, he finds.
The poetry of Uryuu Ishida has just enough acceptable words in it - 'contrast', 'dark', 'extreme', 'lost', 'painful', 'failure', etc - for it to win approval by the audience. Snaps are still being snapped throughout the gathered tables as Uryuu disappears backstage, and then quietly reappears at the front table. When no one requests any new orders, Milfeulle is about to push off on her skates when she gets asked the question by Shinji. She blinks her eyes once, then twice, then leans forward. "How do you know my name?" she asks, incredulous, and of course completely unable to see through Shinji's disguise. "I don't know any beatniks! Have you been in trouble with the law before?" He does look a LOT like a young Patrick.
However, before she can hear the answer, someone raises a hand at a nearby table. "Miss!" calls out one customer. Instead of being morose, and dissatisfied with the world, and lethargic, they seem rather animated all of a sudden. "We'd like to place an order! Your enthusiasm and that young man's poetry have shown us that life is bright and happy. There's just no future in beatnikery! So we're going to have some tasty desserts! Later we're going out to buy some T-shirts!"
"I'll be right there!" calls out Milfeulle, raising a hand. "On my way! Excuse me, groove cadets!" she tells the Dizzy/Vanilla/Ishida/Shinji/Rei table. "I'll return with your check in a jiffy!"
Meanwhile, J2 starts counting the incoming receipts, his eyes flashing in happiness. "I guess Transbaal Station will have a J2's onboard for a little while longer," he says, not without a certain metallic satisfaction. "Maybe I could franchise..."
Oddly enough, the name 'Kon' does ring a bell, if faintly, in Dizzy's memory. Somewhere on the roster of the Relief Society members. But not someone she's met personally. At any rate, she just smiles at Shinji as the young man joins them; it does take her a few moments to recognize him, through the disguise and then the intervening time since the last she saw him. "Mister...Ikari, was it?" she says, kindly. "Hello there, I am glad to see you again." Perhaps it is just being polite, but she is sincere enough.
But the full measure of her smile is saved for Ishida, now that he has finally joined the little party. "Hello, Mister Ishida," she says, again with the slight blush. "I didn't know you'd be here tonight, but I'm glad."
Ah, young love. She isn't going to ignore the others completely, but she will largely be lost to this world otherwise, for the remainder of the night.
"...check?" Shinji says, wearily, as he looks at Dizzy and Ishida, who seem to have lost themselves in...themselves.
He then looks at Ayanami, realizes he's probably ending up paying for the cappachino, and decides to just shut up and eat his cake.
"Huh, not bad."
WHAT: An old friend from Galaxy Angel Season 1 opens a restaurant on Transbaal Station, but faces financial uncertainty due to miserly clientele and poor staffing. Milfeulle steps in to help out, for great justice!
WHEN: Open Mike Night
WHERE: J2's, on Transbaal Empire Space Station
WATCH FOR: Ishida getting abducted into performing improvisational poetry.
Transbaal Empire Space Station (TESS)
A gigantic space station in orbit around the planet Transbaal shaped like a pair of connected upside-down teardrops. It's not only the command center of the imperial military, its also a massive city complete with slums, abandoned schoolhouses, and even the best pizza shop in the galaxy. It's also the home and headquarters of the Angel Brigade and their Emblem Frames.
Transbaal Space Station. A local watering hole. One groovy Thursday night. All the happening cats and their kittens are in the house tonight, sitting around low-lit tables with the rising steam from hot coffees and herbal teas diffusing softly through the low footlights. A bass player strums his electric bass, shaking his head from side to side with the music, as if he couldn't believe such a smooth, soul sound could emanage from that piece of equipment. He's joined by the occasional beat of a groovy ice maiden in a beret, cool as you please, strumming the drum one-handed, an expression on her face saying she's way too cool even for this scene.
A man in a pin-striped suit and a fedora slides up to the stage. "Brothers and sisters, children of the night, welcome welcome. To the coolest. The easiest. The sleeeeeaziest... little juke joint this side of the White Moon. A place called - J2's. And tonight, as you may or may not be aware, is Open Mike Night. And I'd like to welcome our first little muse to take the stage, one groovy lady - Milfie. Give it up." He snaps his fingers as he steps off the mike, accompanied by intermittent snaps from the audience, and one pair of clapping hands, which quickly subsides as everyone gives him a dirty look.
Taking the stage, in her full uniform, is Milfeulle, who waves to the audience. "Hello everyone!" she says. Way too bright and sparkly for this crowd. In fact a few are shading their eyes at her pink hair. "I know there's some kind of rotation, but I'm good friends of the owner so I just went to the front of the line. If everyone's ready, I have a little poem I'd like to share!" She clears her throat, and pulls out some pink notebook paper. Hand on her throat, she closes her eyes to assemble her thoughts, then opens them and waves her hand wide. "Veni, vidi, vici / Everything is just peachy / When cake's in the oven / And you've got ice cream at the beach...y." She clenches a fist with passion, turning to the side. "A warm summer day, a cool autumn night / If you have a little sugar, then everything is just right." She opens her arms to the crowd. Keeping her eyes on her notebook. "I think I will never see / A pickle as happy as candy / Because pickles are sour, or dill, or too sweet / You might as well have fish, or eggs, or some meat." She points to the sky. "These things aren't bad, you surely protest / Why no, I say, but hear this attest / Beef is not fluffy, or sweety, or sponge / It's not a food to which I will lunge. / Cake is my favorite, my yummy, my treat / Above all else in the world, the thing, I shall eat."
Filled with emotion, she bows low.
There's a sudden silence in the restaurant. She straightens up again. "Thank you very much!" she says, waving her arms. "The management would like me to point out that there are lots of tasty cakes and pastries on the menu to go with your coffee. Have a lovely evening!" And she quickly scurries off the stage.
There's...a bit of confusion running through Dizzy's mind, really, as she arrives on Transbaal Space Station. She's not entirely sure why she's here.
Shortly after her release from the DS9 infirmary pending further word on what will be done about her injury, Dizzy arrived at her apartment to a small stack of mail that had piled up. Among those was a...well, it seemed to be a holiday postcard, if a postcard might resemble a ransom note of letters snipped from a magazine and patched together to form a message. It did tell her to come to Transbaal to see her friends the Angel Brigade. Or something like that. Open mic night was mentioned, though she has no idea what that means.
And so she is now here, probably against her better judgment (and Necro's burning desire to hurt some people--his memory runs long, after all), entering the restaurant which was named on the postcard. She is in her normal black dress with a long shawl over her shoulders, carefully placed to hide her arm--well, lack of one arm--as she walks in, glancing around for her, um, friends. She just barely spies Milfeulle leaving the stage...briefly fights against the impulse to turn around and run away...and enters, drifting vaguely toward where she saw the pink-haired Emblem Frame pilot go off toward.
"So much for undercover..." Shinji Ikari, stalward officer of the IPA and devoted Gloomy Gus, lowers his hip beret over his eyes and groans in a general sense towards the other occupatns of his table. "'Investigate the sleaiest juke koint this side of the White Moon', they said, 'Undercover work's fun!', they said, 'Steakouts build character.' they said..."
Shinji is a polite young man, however, and fingersnap-claps as Milefulle finishes her poem. It was actually kind of nice, if a little cheery.
Then he goes back to kvetching in a harsh, nervous kind of whisper, "What I want to know, is why 'they' never seem to t-talk to Milefuelle! What if we get...I don't know...beatniked?"
Rei seems to take well to the black turtleneck, beret, and the sunglasses. She has already resolved to keep them for later; the medicine reduces her glare sensitivity, but it still isn't FUN.
At least she isn't smoking yet. "Perhaps they have nothing to say," she answers Shinji, folding her hands in her lap.
You would probably never know it by looking at her, but Vanilla frequents this particular establishment. She never speaks to anyone while she's here, she never has anything to add. But there's one thing that makes her come back, and that one thing is the tea. It's filled with herbal goodness, and it helps her keep her nerves nice and calm. Despite her rather calm exterior, she is actually a boiling, seething mass of murderous rage. Who knows when she'll finally snap and start taking lives? It could be tonight!
She's sitting alone at a table near the stage. She actually isn't alone, of course. Settled on the table as she sips her tea, and occasionally being used as a rather fluffy coaster, is Normad. He doesn't seem to complain as the scalding tea is set on him. After all, he has no nerves. "Vanilla-san, we have paperwork to do, you know." And by we Normad means her. He hates to interrupt her, but perhaps she's forgotten? Vanilla however seems content where she is. "I think that I want a pie." Milfeulle's poem has inspired her!
Milfeulle Sakuraba is scampering lightly as she steps off the stage, but that turns to a quick scurry as she zips up to the bar, leaning over the side. "Master?" she whispers. "Master! Are you there?"
Below the bar, lifting his head up from where his oversize plastic hands had been tented over his eyes, is metallic yellow oval face with red optic sensors, which nictate quickly, if such a word could be applied to robots. "No," it says in a flat deadpan with a metallic undertone. "I'm not. Okay, yes I am." The robots straightens up a little, grasping the sides of the bar with his hands. "So did you tell the crowd about the cakes? It was important they hear about the cakes."
Milfeulle bonks his head twice with a fist gently. "Are you kidding? You bet I did!" she replies. "Since it was Open Mike Night, I thought, hey, they're not going to buy cakes if I just get up there and ask them to buy cakes. They'll think I was a square! But, I made a little poem about cakes, so they'd think I was one of them! It was really good. I spoke from the heart!"
J2's head lifts up a little more, with a little hydraulic wheeze. "A poem? You did? Really?" His face swivels from side to side. "Are they ordering any? Are my customers actually ordering anything besides the cheapest coffee and tea on the menu? If I don't sell some sweets soon, I'm going to have to sell this branch to the Cellnarians at a big loss!"
Milfeulle looks from side to side. Everyone still seems to be in a small measure of shock at Milfeulle's blazing debut into the poetic literature scene. She turns back to J2 excitedly. "The poem was so good - it's still sinking in!"
J2's head sinks back under the bar, and under his large pneumatic hands. "Let me know when bankruptcy court opens in the morning..."
Milfeulle pouts at his behavior, before turning around, catching sight of Vanilla in the audience. "Vanilla!" she blurts, then rushes over. "Hi Vanilla!" she says. "Did you just say ... you wanted a pie?" Her head whips from side to side for one of J2's waitresses. The nearest one's on her wrist-phone, talking a mile a minute about this nutty space force officer who just recited this crazy poem about cakes. Milfeulle frowns, grunting in her throat, before turning back to Vanilla. "Because - I can get you a pie! You too, NORMAD-san!"
There's another new addition to the usual crowd. Uryuu Ishida has just stepped in, pushing up his glasses with a bit of embarrassment. (His dress shirt is entirely too bright for this crowd, though at least his slacks fit in.) He's been meaning to do a bit of exploration lately, and he heard a rumor that the herbal tea available here is quite good. And so, completely unknowing of the chaos that approaches, the Quincy takes a seat at an empty table some distance from the stage.
Uryuu also has a beret on. He's not sure why. A passerby gave it to him, for some reason, when he was on the way to the Gate.
Well, no beret for Dizzy, but the shawl and black dress (and the wings) will make sure she blends in just fine. She continues to make her way toward Milfeulle, having finally done away with that voice that's been screaming 'run, please, for the love of sanity RUN' because it is now in the corner of her mind getting completely drunk on tequila.
"Hello, Miss Sakuraba, Miss Vanilla," she says softly, reaching their side. "This is...an interesting establishment." She glances around at all the rather solemn, artistic types gathered all about. She does not see the Quincy...although she does feel some familiar presence out there in the crowd. Perhaps those exercise that she's been doing to try to sense spirit energy on a smaller scale have been taking. Just not strongly enough, not quite. Ah well.
Turning back to her Angel friends, she murmurs, "What's going on tonight?" After all, they must have sent that postcard for a reason!
Tight sweaters make Shinji Ikari uncomfortable; in unrelated news, he is instead armed with a pair of white trousers, sandals, a terrifingly colorful Aucopoco shirt, a pair of yellow sunglasses and a candy cigarette held in his mouth with the kind of cigarette holder ZaZa Gabor'd favor.
Shinji Ikari, gonzo journalist, looks over to his filthy assistant with a wry eye. The beatnik look is terrifingly natural for Ayanami, and all Shinji can do is quick a smile at the girl's subtle witticism. At least, he thinks its a witticism.
"Well, maybe its not so bad." Shinji grumpily admits, looking over the establishment. "Huh, Dizzy's here, looking lost...but she wouldn't come to a place that's a Syndicate front..." Shinji frowns. And there's Vanilla. And Ishida. With a beret. Shinji suddenly turns a suspicious eye at Ayanami's beret, his keen investigative mind(lol) putting a few things together. "Ayanami." Shinji asks in that My-Friend-May-Be-Posessed-By-Terrible-Mind-Controling-Hat-Aliens tone of voice, "Where did you get that beret?"
Rei looks at the newcomers. The one that gets the most attention is Dizzy, if only because she has wings. She also looks at Ishida, and is almost certainly a comforting (if weird) presence.
Oh, Ikari is talking. She looks back to him, lowering the sunglasses to peer over them. There may be the brief horrific impression of black empty eyes with the same startlingly red iris as always, but it passes; instead, there are a great many variations on the shade of 'white'.
"Dr. Akagi lent it to me."
Perhaps Vanilla is just easily swayed by poetry. Or perhaps she secretly has a love for sweets. This would explain why she hasn't murdered Milfeulle yet. Speaking of which, the pink-haired terror is rushing her table. How exactly did she hear her all the way over there? This must be another of the Mysteries of Milfeulle. "I can't eat pie, Milfeulle." Normad reminds the girl. He's a stuffed animal, how is he going to eat? "I, however, would like one. With fruit. I do not care what kind." Which means that Milfie will probably bring her like Deathberry or something, but she's willing to take that risk. "And don't bring her Deathberry." Normad adds. Sometimes he's actually good at knowing what Vanilla is thinking!
Taking the stage behind Milfeulle are two women, one with long black hair, the other with wavy red hair, both in tuxedos, tails, top-hats, black hose and high heels. "Hi everyone!" shouts the redhead. "We're the Lovely Angels and we're thrilled to be here tonight!"
Suddenly, one of the hipsters lifts up in his seat. "D-did you say Galaxy Angels? Oh crap! Run everyone! We're all gonna die!"
For a moment, Milfeulle looks like she's about to run for the exit to block it physically, but then the brunette stamps a high heeled shoe. "NO! We said 'Lovely Angels'!" The audience looks uncertain as the brunette looks from side to side. "Or, uh, sometimes called..." She winces, looking sideways at the audience through one eye. "The, uh, 'Dirty Pair'?"
The audience retains its uncertainty for a moment, before the hipster who shouted gets to his seat. "Eh, well, whatever. As long as you're not the Galaxy Angels! Something always gets blown up when they're around."
Milfeulle looks sheepish and says nothing, while the brunette jabs her redheaded friend in the side. "Did you hear that, Kei? They don't know us!"
The redhead beams. "At last a new generation has taken our place..." At which point the two launch into a raunchy burlesque rendition of 'Me and My Shadow'. Even J2 peeks out from behind the bar a little.
Milfeulle of course doesn't notice - she only has eyes for Vanilla. Actually it wasn't all that effort to hear Vanilla, everyone's speaking in low, cynical tones and snapping their fingers. "Fruity pie, no deathberries. Coming right up!" She's turning to run to the counter when a familiar face appears. "DIZZY-san!" she exclaims excitedly. "You got my n-* I mean, what a nice surprise to see you! I bet you're hungry after coming all the way from... wher-ever it is... you're from. There's plenty on the menu!" Idly she wonders if maybe Dizzy's shoulder-buddy would prefer deathberries...
She quickly glances at the waitress again. "Like, oh my god Becky, some girl just came in with WINGS. Okay? I think she's looking for the cosplay bar, right, and she's totally lost or something... Man, I'm so bored." Milfeulle can of course think of at least three things wrong with her waitressing technique, as she looks worriedly over toward the completely unfamiliar looking couple at Table 6 (Shinji and Reichan), as well as the Quincy in the back... "Maybe I should get my apron and my notepad," she murmurs. Instincts taking over. Training kicking in. Her mind beginning to move in long-forgotten pathways. Milfeulle the waitress, lying just under the surface, ready for action!
Walk into a Syndicate establishment knowingly? No, never. Walk into one by accident? Sure thing. Even moreso when invited to one, because Dizzy is still on that naive side. But that's life. At any rate, she smiles at Milfie, a friendly smile that is naturally tinged with faint dread. But that is discarded quickly: she really does like the Angels, whatever the case it is with the forces of insanity that seems to surround them.
And yes, Necro would love deathberries. With a lowercase 'd', mind you; he doesn't swing that way.
At any rate, Milfie does spy Dizzy, and she waves to the pink-haired girl. "Oh, yes, I'll...take a look at the menu." She sits down at the table just next to Vanilla, mindful not to intrude too much unless invited directly.
Another brief look around as she picks up her menu has her gaze fall on Shinji for a moment--he looks familiar, but that beret skews things just a bit (especially as it hides a bit of his face from this angle), and she just frowns lightly trying to figure out if she knows the fellow. She'll probably figure it out eventually. "Um...hm, this cheesecake sounds good...and a cup of coffee."
Uryuu isn't paying much attention to the stage or the audience. He's just glancing over the menu, noting with some surprise the large array of available sweets. He should tell Orihime about this place some time... Haha, they actually have /sweet bean paste/ cakes. He'll /definitely/ have to let her know.
Uryuu would have just stayed that way, waiting for the delinquent waitress (or perhaps flagging the delinquent waitress down), but a cry of "DIZZY-san!" catches his attention. He glances up, cheeks already reddening just a bit, and indeed -- there's Dizzy across the way, sitting next to... a green-haired girl he doesn't recognize. Should he go over to her and say hello? He doesn't want to be a bother... The normally confident Quincy is struck with nervousness, but he does attempt to catch the half-Gear's eye, raising his hand in greeting.
Of all the Angel Brigade, Vanilla may be perhaps the least scary of them. She's the least likely to cause something to detonate, the least likely to be the one that stole the crown jewels, and the least likely one to end the universe again. So in choose to sit next to her, Dizzy has made the wise choice! Just as long as she doesn't say the secret word which makes Vanilla go on a murderous rampage! (Editor's Note: No such word actually exists. Or DOES IT?!) "Objection." Vanilla states, speaking to no one in particular. "Explosions follow the Galaxy Angels around only 87 percent of the time. This is clearly less then always. Objection sustained." That said, the emerald-haired girl turns to Dizzy. She remembers the girl. "Hello again. I did not expect to see you here." Clearly, the mystery note was not sent by Vanilla.
Shinji Ikari sees that his BRILLIANT DISGUISE may be in peril! Thinking quickly, Shinji folds his hands in front of his face and leans his chin on his thumbs, half looking at Dizzy from under those enormous sunglasses and seeing if the girl is still suspicious. She may have been infiltrated by the enemy, after all. They can't rest here.
This is bat country.
And then the Dirty Pair jump up on stage, and Shinji drops his cigarette holder. He feels a faint prickling on the back of his neck, the usual feeling of terror and the secret thrill that comes with an Angel attack, but he just blames it on puberty. "I, uh." Shinji's voice cracks like a brittle log a fat man stepped on, and he pushes his sunglasses back up with an embarrased flush. "I should, ah, g-go and investigate the boo...back, the b-back! Why d-don't you s-say hi to Ishida," Another crack, "Since I think he m-might be controled by barrett aliens okayI'mcountingonyouAyanami!" Shinji squeeks, stands up roboticly, and marches to the back room.
Perhaps he's drawn by some dark kinship to Milefuelle's waitress-instincts, perhaps he's just looking for a place to splash cold water on his face until he feels like he's sane again, but either way, Shinji stumble-slips towards the back room...and likely, DANGER.
Rei watches Shinji step off with great haste. She looks concerned, briefly, but does not follow.
She waits until he is well away before subtly adjusting the turtleneck. It had started to itch and she did not want to attend to that where people could see. Now, of course, nobody can. Having done this, she stands up as per Shinji's directions, and walks over towards Ishida, who is easily seen in the room because he is the dork wearing a white shirt. Good job, Quincy; you look kinda cool.
She is wearing black of various shades, which she does not seem to mind. This includes soft black sneakers, so it may surprise Ishida when Rei comes up near him and says, quietly, "Hello." But then, he wasn't looking in that direction, perhaps.
Milfeulle Sakuraba clenches a fist, and with her opposite hand, lifts a finger. "Cheesecake!" she announces. "One cup, coffee! Right away!" Burning with waitressing passion, she dashes toward the counter and does an expert flip over the top, landing next to her moping robotic pal. "Master! Master, are you there?" She leans forward, kneeling down, and raps her knuckles once or twice on the top of his metal head. *clankclank*
J2 looks up just enough to let one optic sensor peek out. "What now? Have you figured out a good escape route? I was having this wonderful fantasy about living in a robotic debtor's prison."
Milfeulle grins. "We've got orders, Master! One fruit pie, any fruit," she relates, "one cheesecake, and one coffee! You make that, I've got to go for a minute."
J2 unfolds from his corner, head lifting, major systems coming online with a metallic whirrrr. "Are you serious? Somebody wants food? Somebody wants to spend MONEY? I'm shocked. How do you like that. I've gone from financial ruin to a major system crash from shock. Well, I guess I'd better get started." From out of nowhere he slips on a tall chef's hat and whirrs toward the kitchen. "Where are you going?"
But Milfeulle's already racing toward the backroom at ludicrous speed, and without recognizing him, deftly pushes Shinji aside as she charges into it, approaching the speed of sound.
She explodes from the breakroom a moment later, clad in an adorable pink and orange waitress outfit! With a white lace apron and a little hat! An outfit needless to say, looks out of place in this establishment for some reason. It's certainly clashing with what everyone else is wearing. "Jan-jan-JAAN!" she says, streamers popping behind behind her with great drama. "Cuteness powaaa UP!" She charges out, pushing the earlier waitress aside just like she did with Shinji, and the chattering magpie goes sprawling with a *CRASH*. "Waitress Milfeulle, for great justice, is ready to serve you!" One of the Lovely Angels onstage points at Milfeulle's dramatic moment, and the two launch into a somewhat sexified version - with lots of gyrations - of the soundtrack from Steven Chow's "God of Cookery".
J2 pokes his head out from the kitchen, waving a wooden mixing spoon. "Milfie! Ordaa PICKUP!"
Milfeulle waves a hand, not skipping a beat, a dust cloud following behind her. "On my way! Time to serve the customer! Banzai!" In a flash, with expertise born of years waitressing prior to her finding her life's calling in the Angels, the pie, cheesecake and coffee are picked up, and delivered summarily to Vanilla and Dizzy's table. "Enjoy your meal and I'll be back later!"
Pointing a fist, she zooms off again, this time to Rei and Shinji's table, who of course she does not recognize at all. "Hi," she says, though of course only finding Rei there. "Are you ready to order, Miss Hepcat Customer-san, or would you like to wait until your boyfriend comes back?"
There's that familiar flare again. Dizzy frowns lightly and scans the room once more, eyes drawn toward a raised hand.... Oh. Well, this is unexpected--pleasantly, at least. She smiles broadly, even as a faint blush rises to her cheeks, and she waves to him as well. A moment, and she then beckons him over. He is always welcome to join her.
In the interim, she turns to Vanilla and nods to her. "Hello. I...I'm sorry that I haven't been around more often." She has a sense of self-preservation, after all--overridden in this case by her stronger sense of politeness. After all, it is rude to turn down an invite like that. "Someone asked me to come and see this, um, open microphone night. Thing." Her eyes dart up to the stage to the Dirty Pair momentarily. "I seem to have missed Miss Sakuraba's performance just barely, though." Such a disappointment. Oh well, there's cheesecake and coffee to look forward to!
...and Ishida's company. <3
As for Shinji--he is, for the nonce, forgotten as he escapes to the back room. Rei approaching Ishida is also missed as she resumes her conversation with Vanilla. "How have you and the Angel Brigade been, Miss Vanilla? --oh, thank you, Miss Sakuraba." And the Dirty Pair is, for the nonce, ignored by Dizzy as she starts to eat her cheesecake. Her interests lie elsewhere, after all.
Uryuu Ishida's beret is certainly /not/ an alien mind-control device.
That he's noticed.
The Quincy's blush deepens, but he smiles and nods at Dizzy's beckoning. Well, if she doesn't mind his presence, who is he to remain alone? He scoots out his seat to stand, and then suddenly: Rei. Uryuu looks a little surprised, but not as shocked as someone without spiritual senses would have been. "Ah, Ayanami-san, good evening." A brief pause, as he stands up next to her, considering a topic of conversation. "I was just about to join Miss Dizzy and her friend. Would you care to join us as well?"
"Okay...calm down Shinji..." The Third mutters, looking ashamed of himself. "Jeze, maybe I really am a perv-" And like lady justice herself, Milefuelle shoves Shinji Ikari aside, causing the boy to yell "WAUGH!" and slam right into the wall.
"Hello Mishter Wall." Shinji slurs, little stars exploding in his vision, "Fanshy meeting youuu...here..." Shinji's Hawaiian shirt is open enough that the reason he was so grumpy the other day can be seen; just at the nape of his neck, a scar, fresh enough to still be faded red instead of white, has begun, it travels in a straight line down the precice center of the Third Child's chest.
As for Shinji, he's a little too dizzy to be doing much more than sort of...stand in the Shinji-shaped hole Milfie's shove made, looking dazed, confused, and at the tender mercy of fate. This happens a lot to Shinji.
"It is okay." Vanilla reassures Dizzy. "We have been well here." Sure, the entire station was destroyed a few days ago, and no fewer then three different versions of herself died in the explosion, but somehow, everything worked out for the best. Such is life in Transbaal. It never makes even the slightest bit of sense. "I cannot imagine who would of asked you to come here. I did not." There's a pause before a metallic voice speaks up. "I didn't, either." Normad adds. And then, Vanilla enjoys pie! "Deathberry-free." she says, seeming as pleased as someone who's voice never really shows emotion can seem.
Rei looks up towards the waitress approaching her abandoned table! She is, of course, a distinctive individual and not that far away from it. She blinks once.
"I will have a cappuchino," she says, before considering as to whether or not she should clarify the nature of the relationship she has with Ikari.
Nah.
"He will have coffee with cream and sugar. We will also have the chocolate mousse cake." The whole thing? Perhaps they'll share with others.
The offer comes at an opportune moment. It is strange, Rei thinks, to recieve such offers. They are still novel. Almost distressing. And, yet, if she must, she can leave.
"Yes," she answers Ishida.
Milfeulle Sakuraba flips out her notebook and hurriedly inscribes Rei's order in the legendary Milfeulle waitress shorthand! Your own species of shorthand is something you never really forget. Her face falls a little at first, hearing an order for cappucino and yet another order for coffee - but then she brightens like a 1000 watt halogen lightbulb. "Chocolate Mousse Cake!" she repeats, writing it into her offical Chairman Kaga notepad. "Right away, Gone Groovy Customer-san!"
At that, she turns to Ishida as well. "Would you like to order something too? I'll bring everything to your new table, no problem! We have tons of excellent desserts from the famous Master Chef J2, who used to be head chef for the Transbaal President!"
The Dirty Pair take a bow, leaving the stage, leaving it temporarily unoccupied.
"This is good cheesecake," Dizzy remarks in between bites. "Rather light, not too sweet...." Really, why would this place be on the bring of going out of business? The food seems to be quite tasty, after all. She washes this down with a sip of coffee. Which is also good, if not extraordinary.
She nods to Vanilla. "I'm glad to hear that," she says. If she were told of the recent destruction, she'd...barely bat an eyelash, really. She could believe it. Also could believe that no one really came out for the worse...at least permanently. Or something. "Hmm...I wonder who did send me the postcard, then." Well, she has her suspicions; her eye follows Milfie as she scurries around.
There is a moment as she realizes that Rei is with Ishida, and...she quickly suppresses the moment of instictive jealousy. No place for that. Really. Just just continues to eat her cake quietly, waiting for her friend to come over.
"Ah, excellent," Uryuu says in response to Rei. Milfeulle grabs his attention then (she's talented at that), and he nods to her. "Er, I suppose I'll have a cup of the herbal tea... and, ah, one of the sweet bean paste cakes." What can he say, he's developed a bit of a taste for it over the months. With that, Uryuu makes his way to Dizzy's table --
Or he would, if his elbow hadn't just been grabbed by a passing employee. "Where have you been, man?" the black-clad young man asks, dragging the Quincy toward the back, past Shinji. "You're late! Those girls are done, so you're up!"
"Wha -- e-excuse me?!" Uryuu stutters, too startled to pull away. "I don't --"
"Hey, don't worry about it, I'll get you a new jacket."
"No, but --"
Meanwhile, in the men's bathroom, a skinny beatnik with short hair and rectangular-lensed glasses is quietly recovering from the sugar shock of the cake he ordered.
Shinji Ikari isn't perticularly suprised that no one noticed him be shoved into and nearly through a wall. Taking a second to re-button his shirt, the Third Child sighs, wondering if they were just ordered here as a gag. He might as well at least /try/, so that he can say he at least investigated, and then he can go home before he ruins someone else's day. Okay, lesse.
"Excuse me." Shinji asks the robot who seems to own the place, "I don't mean to sound rude, but there's no nice way to say this. Is, um, this establishment a secret Syndicate hideout?" Shinji asks, as politely as he can. "...because, um, I might b-be looking to, y'know...commit some...crimes?"
Rei comes over to sit down near Dizzy. She looks at the strange woman briefly but does not comment; she seems to have had this sort of encounter before. She remembers the time they had to saw off her leg.
Of course, they didn't put THAT one in the medical record.
She sees Shinji's loud shirt and her head turns to glance at him, before she looks over to Vanilla and Dizzy. She decides that silent community is the best situation here, before folding her hands on the table.
Then Ishida is shanghaied. She blinks, before turning her head to look on Shinji, just in time to hear/see him ask about crime.
She worries briefly that he enjoyed being 'Professor R' too much.
Meanwhile, Vanilla has managed to devour an entire pie. She would of offered to share with Dizzy, but she seemd to be enjoying her cheesecake so much. Why deny her that pleasure? "I can't believe you ate all of that, Vanilla-san.." Normad says, clearly impressed by the girl's pie-eatting prowess. Vanilla, of course, ignores the plushie. She's having a 'conversation' with Dizzy after all. "I think, sometime, I would like to meet the other members of the group you told us about before." the girl says to the winged half-gear. Chances are, if she wasn't already a Black Sheep, Dizzy would have a Galaxy Angel working alongside her.
This time, Milfeulle's face doesn't fall at the herbal tea order; she knows to wait until the customer finishes ordering for the big money! She hurriedly writes everything down in her little notebook, before bowing to Ishida quickly. "Thank you very much, Cool Groovy Gone Crazy Customer-san! It'll be out right away!"
As she's heading away, she pumps her fist in the air and cheers as he's dragged to the stage. "Do your best to win the crowd! Faito faito!"
For some reason - possibly due to a continuity error - she's acquired roller skates. As such she slides across the floor to the counter to hurriedly place her orders with J2, and pick up a few more for some other tables with NPCs. "Milfeulle Sakuraba, rolling to victory! Whee, ha ha ha ha..." Her arms and legs pump with furious action!
Suddenly, J2 is busy, and he likes that a lot. "It's a good thing Milfeulle showed up," he says to himself. "I hear they make poor robots into switchboards at Galactic Telecomm." And then Shinji appears, causing J2 to jump slightly. "What! Who are you? Are you with the Imperial Revenue Service?" When Shinji asks his question, J2 lifts a metallic hand to his chin and strokes thoughtfully. "I see, I see," he says after a moment. "Well, before I can impart to you the sacred wisdom of the criminal underworld, I have to ask you a question, too." He pauses dramatically, before leaning toward Shinji curiously. "What's 'The Syndicate'?"
It is after a few moments of realization that the Quincy is not yet here that Dizzy looks up, frowning. Hm, Ishida is also not where he was sitting earlier. Or on his way over. Or....
That quick survey of the room has her looking at the stage briefly. And the doubletaking as she realizes that, yes, it's him up there. She blinks, looking faintly surprised. He's going to perform? Well! She starts to clap for him, then--she has to show her support, after all!
As she finishes applauding, she glances sideways at Rei. "Hello," she says, politely. She's...hm, this girl, she's seen before. With Shinji, in fact. Just didn't really have much chance to speak with her--even less than Shinji. Back to Vanilla. She ponders the other girl's words a moment. "The others...oh, do you mean the Relief Society?" She nods to Ishida, up on stage. "Mister Ishida is a member of the group as well, if you haven't met him yet. And Miss Orihime Inoue...." Quickly she rattles off a number of her fellow members--Yuna, Tatsuki, Hokuto, Sanji...all her friends, really.
Shinji's antics, meanwhile, just barely make it to her ears. "Syndicate?" she wonders aloud. She's heard of them, certainly. But isn't completely sure on what they're all about.
Shinji Ikari is here to investigate a crime! Its his job! So what if he's hidden a bakelite blaster in his room, its okay to have souvineers!
As it is, the Third Child twitches a little, and heaves a heavy sigh. "Read the theme files, old man." Shinji deadpans, deciding that, yes, this was a snipe hunt some jerk thought was funny. Shinji takes the Syndicate a little too seriously, perhaps, because he spent some time as a member, because they built a ray gun that made him go insane and nearly kill Rei and Asuka, as well as actualy killing one hundred and twenty six civilians in Von Braun city, and because he still sees the look on Haman Karn's face when Rei took the bullets the woman ment for him.
The Third Child frowns a little at the name of the orgnization that harbors Envy, a guy who he robbed Deep Space Nine with during that 'Professor R' stint, and crosses his arms.
Screw it, he's thirsty, and he's fairly sure Ayanami wouldn't forget him. Shinji meekly walks over to the budding legion of people, waving a little. "Hi."
"Ikari," Rei says. After a moment, she decides to continue speaking. This is done with some tentativity, but then, it's always an adventure. "Milfeulle has gone insane and is serving as a waitress. She will bring us coffee shortly."
She then looks at Dizzy. Her lips purse slightly. She considers asking the question... but decides perhaps that she has said enough for now, and instead laces fingers together on the tabletop.
Indeed, there is Uryuu now, shoved onto the stage with a new black jacket to cover up his white dress shirt. And looking, for a moment, completely bewildered. "Er..." he manages, microphone amplifying his voice and almost making him wince at how dim he sounds. He can see Shinji from where he stands now, and Rei, Vanilla, Milfeulle.... And there's Dizzy, who's... w-wow, she's applauding for him.
Okay, he can do this. Uryuu takes a deep breath... and wings it.
"Contrast surrounds me / light and dark / left and right / extremes on a scale in all directions.
Every moment is a choice, / every step an act of balance, / chances lost / and chances gained / with every breath.
The right path may seem dark / and the wrong path inviting. / I have felt painful missteps / but they have led me here.
Contrast surrounds me. / Birth and death sway in the breeze / and standing between them / the one chance I might have / to live."
The Quincy coughs and bows stiffly to the audience, cheeks nearly glowing red, and he hightails it backstage again.
Master J2, a crusty and cynical old sort, watches Shinji depart the counter. "Always a pleasure to wait on a friendly customer," he responds drily, before slipping inside the kitchen. He has to have those orders ready in time for Milfeulle's next pass, or she's liable to crash into something with her rhythm disrupted!
And sure enough, here comes Milfeulle on approach again. "Milfeulle Sakuraba, five by five, ready for supply drop!" Despite her fond nostalgia for the waitressing biz, suddenly, while on the skates, she imagines herself behind the stick - or rather, the HALO - of the Lucky Star, heading for a new planet to discover Lost Technology, open relations between a new civilization and the Transbaal Empire, or to find a rare and exotic dessert. "Split-second timing will decide our fate!"
J2 emerges from the kitchen with Ishida's and Rei's order, and a cry of "Ordaa PICKUP!"
Milfeulle picks up the food and drops off the fresh orders with one swift motion, before screeching to a halt at Vanilla's-Rei's-Dizzy's-Ishida's-Shinji's table. (J2 smacks his head with a palm. 'My hardwood floor,' he thinks to himself.) "Herbal tea, sweet bean paste cake, cappucino, coffee, chocolate mousse cake! Viola!" She deals each like from a deck of cards, and is about to ask for anything else when Uryuu begins his extemporization. She slows, calming down from her adrenaline high, and turns to watch quietly, blinking her eyes.
At the conclusion of his act, she turns back to the table. "He's really good," she says, eyes wide. Then, she seems to discover something in her hand, lifting it up to her face. Chairman Kaga stares back at her, pointing a leather-clad fist. "Oh! I forgot, I'm a waitress today." She lifts the notebook and returns to a more professional mien. "Will there be anything else? Water, bread, salad, alien delicacies? J2's has it all!"
The fact that Milfie has been declared to have gone insane is, by no means, the least bit surprising to Dizzy. The latent Commander Gear just nods quietly at this. "She is, at least, doing a good job of waitressing," she declares. After all, Milfie did an excellent job of taking her order and delivering the cheesecake and coffee very quickly. Which she now finishes, anyway.
And just in time, too--she quickly puts down her fork and listens in rapt attention to Ishida's poem. ... ..... Which she doesn't really get. But it certainly sounded quite deep and profound. As the Quincy quickly evacuates the stage, she applauds for him once again, smiling.
So she is not too perturbed at Milfeulle's sudden return. "Thank you very much, Miss Sakuraba; I think I am fine."
Shinji Ikari is pretty sure he should know what style Ishida's doing, up there. He seems like the type to secretly know how to bust traditional Japanese poetry out of nowhere, but for the life of Shinji Ikari he can't think of it. This is vaguely embarrasing, but Shinji is used to failure, being something of a professional in the subject, and shrugs it off by snap-clapping politely. Ishida seems to, at least, not be activly loathed like Milfie's life affirming rhymes were, and Shinji figures that's something.
Oh, hey, coffee. And cake? Shinji raises a questioning eyebrow at Ayanami-the others might notice just how similar the two look, in the right light. Maybe they're cousins?
"Um." Shinji pauses. "Milfeulle, have you gone insane? Because you seem, um..." Shinji pauses. "Maybe when you go crazy, you basicly loop around back to normal..." Hrm. Something to ponder. Shinji wonders if he's being rude, but figures as a Black Sheep member, its his duty to ask these sorts of things.
Cousins, or something.
Rei says, "I hope that you enjoy the cake," while letting Milfeulle act out her psychoses. At least they are constructive and friendly, Rei reasons, as she sips her cappuchino. Mmm - sweet.
After a moment, Rei looks at, of all people, Normad. She gives the plushie a piercing, calm look for a moment, before her lips part -
"Have you met 'Kon'?"
Well, if he'd had a bit more time to prepare, Uryuu would certainly have put together some sort of traditional poem. But on the spur of the moment, he could only manage free verse. So Shinji's actually not too far off. At any rate, the now-fully-black-clad young man sneaks back to the table where his friends are sitting. He's still blushing, pushing up his glasses as he takes a seat. He's still a bit embarrassed, but at least for now he can focus on the cake and tea that he ordered.
... It's good cake, too, he finds.
The poetry of Uryuu Ishida has just enough acceptable words in it - 'contrast', 'dark', 'extreme', 'lost', 'painful', 'failure', etc - for it to win approval by the audience. Snaps are still being snapped throughout the gathered tables as Uryuu disappears backstage, and then quietly reappears at the front table. When no one requests any new orders, Milfeulle is about to push off on her skates when she gets asked the question by Shinji. She blinks her eyes once, then twice, then leans forward. "How do you know my name?" she asks, incredulous, and of course completely unable to see through Shinji's disguise. "I don't know any beatniks! Have you been in trouble with the law before?" He does look a LOT like a young Patrick.
However, before she can hear the answer, someone raises a hand at a nearby table. "Miss!" calls out one customer. Instead of being morose, and dissatisfied with the world, and lethargic, they seem rather animated all of a sudden. "We'd like to place an order! Your enthusiasm and that young man's poetry have shown us that life is bright and happy. There's just no future in beatnikery! So we're going to have some tasty desserts! Later we're going out to buy some T-shirts!"
"I'll be right there!" calls out Milfeulle, raising a hand. "On my way! Excuse me, groove cadets!" she tells the Dizzy/Vanilla/Ishida/Shinji/Rei table. "I'll return with your check in a jiffy!"
Meanwhile, J2 starts counting the incoming receipts, his eyes flashing in happiness. "I guess Transbaal Station will have a J2's onboard for a little while longer," he says, not without a certain metallic satisfaction. "Maybe I could franchise..."
Oddly enough, the name 'Kon' does ring a bell, if faintly, in Dizzy's memory. Somewhere on the roster of the Relief Society members. But not someone she's met personally. At any rate, she just smiles at Shinji as the young man joins them; it does take her a few moments to recognize him, through the disguise and then the intervening time since the last she saw him. "Mister...Ikari, was it?" she says, kindly. "Hello there, I am glad to see you again." Perhaps it is just being polite, but she is sincere enough.
But the full measure of her smile is saved for Ishida, now that he has finally joined the little party. "Hello, Mister Ishida," she says, again with the slight blush. "I didn't know you'd be here tonight, but I'm glad."
Ah, young love. She isn't going to ignore the others completely, but she will largely be lost to this world otherwise, for the remainder of the night.
"...check?" Shinji says, wearily, as he looks at Dizzy and Ishida, who seem to have lost themselves in...themselves.
He then looks at Ayanami, realizes he's probably ending up paying for the cappachino, and decides to just shut up and eat his cake.
"Huh, not bad."