[Queenie's AU] November 17, 2010

[unionfran]

The sandwich shop stood in a busy part of town, across the street from an office building and between a pet shop and a video game store. Lunch breaks for employees at each of those buildings meant a visit to Queenie's, for one of their city-famous subs or a cup of the award-winning chili

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[low_key_angel]

Never, ever make a bet with Odin

[unionfran]

The stick-figure woman blinks at Gabriel. His confidence was a good sign, perhaps. She couldn't be certain yet. How would someone so sure of himself react to taking orders from a weak, stammering mess like her?

There's a pause to gather her words, feeling out the sentence to see what could possibly block her. In that moment, between her big brown eyes and the hunched, meek posture she tended to carry herself with, there was something rabbitlike to her.

"Oh, really? I c-c-c-c..." Dammit, the hard "c". Her worst enemy. She runs out of breath and tries again. "Need someone ssskilled. Try making a sssandwich--tuna, on wheat. D-d-d-drag it through the garden."

[low_key_angel]

He doesn't so much as bat an eye while she works her way through the sentence. Gabriel had been a Messenger a long time. Muhammad had a wicked stammer when he first started out. Moses had a profound lisp. So the words didn't sound like they'd come from an orator, that was never the point.

And she had very pretty eyes.

"Charlie on wheat with rabbit food. You got it boss." He clapped his hands together, gave them a brisk rub and got to work. In a short order there were two sandwiches. One toasted, one not. While she inspected his work, he ambled over to the coffee maker. Oh yes. He could make this thing sing once he got his hands on it.

Gabriel knew two things very well. Sugar and coffee. They went hand in hand when it came to his earthly addictions. "What's the verdict?"

(Mun has spent time researching stutters. >_<)

[unionfran]

She examines the sandwiches with a careful eye, opening them to pick apart. The sandwiches--the food in general are a point of pride. She can't allow inferior product to pass.

These aren't inferior, though.

"Will they all b-b-b..." A shorter block, but still frustrating. She pulls an annoyed face as she works her way through the "b". "Be as good as this?"

Further evidence how cool said mun is. <3

[low_key_angel]

He looks up from where he's been lovingly examining the coffee machine. Again, not even an eye twitch as she works through the letter. "That good or better, Boss. I've been in food-slash-drink service biz for years. You name it I can make it. Or fake my way through it."

Hanging out in Asgard meant he was up to date on most food trends. Vikings and their gods did food and drink well.

That and fighting. And gambling.

Or how much she was fucking up before.

[unionfran]

She picks up a pen and a notepad kept near the register and starts to write. Not saying anything, not looking at him.

She's writing a recipe. A recipe for chili. A recipe with big, obvious flaws--no salt, for one. Timing completely off. If one followed the recipe she wrote, they'd end up with a disaster rather than a pot of food. She tears it out once done, passing it to him. Still no words: the challenge is to see what he makes of it. Perhaps what he'd do with it. Or, perhaps, if he'd even speak up at all.

[low_key_angel]

Gabriel reviews the recipe, brow furrowing. There’s no way. No way a place like Queenie’s would have a reputation for an outstanding sandwich joint with this disaster of a chili recipe. Where was the Mexican oregano? Salt? Onion powder? Heresy. Sheer food heresy. He’d never be able to make this without fudging at least two thirds of it.

“Interesting recipe. Mind if I fiddle with it a little? Looks like you’re missing a few bits and pieces.”

He can do diplomatic when he puts his mind to it, really.

[unionfran]

Her eyes twinkle, but she still holds back words, gesturing with one hand in a manner that expresses one thing clearly: "be my guest". She's certain he won't hit the real secret recipe that Regina had passed down before she died, but that's not the point of it.

[low_key_angel]

Gabriel grins easily and heads into the kitchen. He spends at least a good ten minutes poking around. Checking out spices, unscrewing the top and smelling them, testing the weight of pots until he settles on one he likes.

His initial investigation complete, he sets to work. His hands are quick and sure in the kitchen once he gets started, even kicking the oven on and starting chocolate to melt over steaming water.

Hey, if this is a job interview, he's not going to hold back.

He also talks the entire time. Idle observations, ramblings, a few general questions about the store here and there.

[unionfran]

The chocolate catches her eye--that can't be for the chili, can it? What might he be making to pair with it? It's too early to guess. She simply watches, curious. When he asks questions, she gives short, choppy answers, content to let him fill the air with his own babble.

And smells. Between the spices he's picked out and the chocolate, there's a rich aroma beginning to fill the kitchen that envelops her like a cloud. It's nice, to have someone else make that for you. She might take him on as a full-time chef, if whatever he's whipping up is good.

[low_key_angel]

The chili bubbling away, Gabriel continues to fiddle with it, poking around in the kitchen and putting the chocolate to good use. Warm scents of ancho and cinnamon blend in with the dark chocolate he's found. A few moments and rambling stories later, he's got a cupcake pan loaded and is shoving it in the oven.

"Chili's almost there. Gotta let it cook down some. Not a proper chili unless a spoon sticks straight up when you jam it in there." He's half talking to her, half to himself, anything to fill the kitchen with noise while he works. It's unsettling being stuck in his own mind. Gabriel is used to the constant background hum of other minds and powers. His own head is a little too quiet.

He shrugs out of his jacket, stirring a ganache slowly on the cooktop, crumbling just a touch of ancho into the silky chocolate blend. "And you can't do chili without a proper dessert."

[unionfran]

"Are you looking to work fffull-time?" She leans in to smell the ganache, nodding her approval of the scent. He's already got the job--though she may need to talk to him about acceptable levels of 'above and beyond'.

Or maybe not. It would be nice to not be the only overachiever here.

[low_key_angel]

Above and beyond also usually means over the top, which is something of his motto. Gabriel doesn't do subtle often, or well. Satisfied the ganache is perfectly melted, he pulls it off the heat and offers her the warm spoon to sample with an easy grin.

"I can do full time, no sweat."

[unionfran]

She licks the spoon with a lack of conscientiousness that shows that she's got no clue of exactly how she looks in doing so. It's just a thoughtless gesture. And one, though he doesn't know it, that she'll skip dinner to make up for. "G-g-g-g-good. You're hired."

Once the spoon is completely clean, she tosses it in the dishwashing sink before returning to Gabe. "I'm Francine."

[low_key_angel]

A thoughtless gesture on her part, one that has Gabriel very deliberately looking somewhere else. She's thin, but very pretty, even if she doesn't realize it.

With a grin, he sticks out his hand. "Gabriel. Or Gabe. Or hey you, I answer to just about anything. You're not gonna regret this." Gabriel winks. "Feel free to tell me to shut it since you're the boss. I'm a talker. Always have been. Love talking to people."

[unionfran]

She takes his hand lightly, her grip gentle--almost delicate. "Hey you w-w-w-works." The spoon is set down so she can check on the chili curiously. It smells good, close to right. Perhaps better than right.