Noodle Incident [open]

[Phoebe Minola]

Phoebe sighed in content. The smell of noodles! Nothing beats the smell of freshly-cooked noodles. The aroma of broth, the delicate scent of seasonings and cooked meat, the fizz of beer or soda and the simmering soup -- it's heaven. She loved the smell of noodle shops. After a long morning working at school she came all the way here to Queen's Arch to treat herself to a bowl of her favorite chicken yakisoba noodles dish. As usual during lunch time, the eatery was very crowded. This particular shop was very popular with the younger crowd and there were always many kids here after school. Phoebe always supposed the attraction lay half in the good food and half in the attractive atmosphere of the place; the owners were young and the place was accordingly decorated and arranged in a modern, tasteful style.

Hauling her heavy bag, Phoebe went in and inhaled the heady mix of wonderful smells. She loved it. She went straight to an empty seat at the counter and hopped up on a high stool. Now there was only one seat at the counter free, the one next to her.

"Good afternoon, Miss Minola, how are you today?" one of the chefs behind the counter said kindly.

"Good afternoon! I'm fine, thanks. Can I have a bowl of chicken yakisoba and some spring rolls, please? Oh and I want a big glass of cold cola. I'm parched!" Phoebe replied, settling in her seat.

Chatting with the chefs wasn't unusual. People who work hard can't always be expected to do so in silence, especially when surrounded with people. She always wondered why she never started these conversations but she was fine with answering when addressed.

"Had a good day at work?"

"Oh yes, it was pretty good. I've been asked to do counseling for students. Today was my first."

"Counseling! You're so mature Miss Minola."

"More like I'm the only one with an open schedule..." Phoebe huffed with a wan smile. "Ah! Please don't make my dish so huge, I can't eat all of that!"

The chef was about to make her a bowl of yakisoba big enough for two people. Really, she ought to know better. This place was famed for portion size as well as quality. It always made her conscious of her weight when she came here to eat. The noodles were delicious but they also packed a heck of a lot of calories. And the chefs always assumed she liked to eat a lot because she was chubby.

In fact, she knew that quite a lot of giggling from a table behind her had a source: 'Oh my gosh, look at that lady. Her butt is wider than the stool she's sitting on!' She felt her face get red and fidgeted in her seat.

Par of the course, that's what happens when you eat in a place full of middle and high-schoolers.

A bowl of noodles was placed on the counter for her and she pulled it in front of her, along with two spring rolls with sweet and sour sauce and a large cola.

She snapped apart her chopsticks and smirked, putting aside her resent.

And I don't give a fuck. Noodles! I'm gonna work out later so I'll need the energy.

[David Moore]

The smell of hot, salty, thick, creamy noodles hit him like a mysterious blonde woman's freight train. He once again found himself at a restaurant with a reputation. Hopefully it would fare better than the last time. He had been taken hostage at the last restaurant he had been to. In fact, that might actually have something to do with those people that had attacked him. It just goes to show you can't escape from your sins... or something like that.

The place was crowded. Perhaps a bit too crowded. Dave liked to go to places with more people. He liked the energy, he felt that maybe he got some just by being in the place. Of course there could be too much of a good thing. This means if he sat down, somebody else would probably be unable to sit anywhere.It would probably be a good idea to walk out. But the people working had probably already noticed, so it would be rude to walk out. He would have to eat quickly.

He surveyed the room, only seeing a single seat at the bar open next to some woman and some guy in makeup and a dress. It was obviously a guy, not only because the dress was extremely low cut, but he was also neglecting any undergarments. The truth hung loosely in the air. He would have to eat quickly.

He hopped up into the seat, edged slightly closer to the woman and praying to god she didn't think he was making a move on her. Whatever, she probably didn't even notice. It took a long time for the staff to notice him, they were too busy making some noodles for the lady next to him. It was a large batch. Did they usually offer that much? It was only after they finished making the noodles and several more minutes of awkward sitting that somebody finally noticed him and came to take his order.

"Uh... water?" He said, in the typical question format. He then pointed at the food of the woman next to him. It looked pretty decent. Hopefully the point would indicate that the noodles were what he wanted. He would have tried to say it, but it was kind of loud in the restaurant. It was rude not to say anything, but hopefully he had an excuse for it. He would have to tip well. Also, he would have to eat quickly.

He watched them prepare the noodles in much the same way as they had for the woman. It took only a few minutes before he himself was presented with the overly large bowl. He broke apart his chopsticks and placed them in his left hand with practiced precision. Just because school had to eff up his entire life by teaching him to write with his left hand as if it was his right didn't mean he had to let it destroy all of his dexterity.

He started to digin to the noodles before grunting in shock and dropping his sticks into the bowl, noodles sputtered out of his mouth. That was hot. Maybe he wouldn't be able to eat quickly. He downed his water in a few gulps.

[Phoebe Minola]

Phoebe was taking her time enjoying her meal. The chefs were now too busy to chat, but that was fine with her. She could just take her time with her meal and think over some things. She noticed someone taking up the seat next to her so she unconsciously shimmied a little to the side to make sure they'd be comfortable -- she was, after all, arguably wider than most and on the other side the other woman...

Wait. That was a guy. In a dress.

Oh well. To each their own, I suppose, she thought and tried not to think about that too much.

She cast a quick glance to the person who just sat next to her. It was a young man who looked a bit... downcast or maybe he was just a bit tired. He ordered a bowl of yakisoba too. Even without looking at him, from the amount of fidgeting he did Phoebe could tell he was uncomfortable. She didn't blame him. Overcrowded places like the noodle restaurant could make her nervy too but she always did her best to keep that under control. Then again, he was sitting next to a cross-dresser and it was likely that didn't help his discomfort.

Oh dear. He seems to be having a wonky day, she thought, hearing a small gasp coming from him after he got his order -- more or less the typical sound someone makes when they burn themselves on the hot noodles.

She glanced at him again. He seemed alright but then she eyed his shirt. Biting her lip discreetly, she reached up on the counter and plucked one of the free, individual wet-wipe packets the restaurant provided for the clientele. They were rather cheap but they did the job well enough. She felt quite embarrassed about doing this but it was only the right thing to do.

"Excuse me," she said gently. "You got some broth on your shirt. Better use this, because that thing can stain like nobody's business," she added, handing him the packet with a small smile. "Give the noodles a moment to cool, it can be like napalm when it's fresh out of the wok."

[David Moore]

"Napalm? But it didn't explo- oh!" Dave had unconsciously begun to respond with the first thought that had popped into his head. He didn't even register that he was talking to anyone at first. He eyed the wet wipes she had offered, trying to process them. People didn't give him things very often. Most recently, he had gotten a fist to the face.They looked like wet wipes, maybe covered in bleach?

He took them tentatively. "Sorry," he mumbled. "You didn't have to do that, I would've been fine either way." He unwrapped the package and began dabbing at the spot where the broth had spilled. After a few seconds, the spot seemed to be clean, although it would probably still stain because cleaning shirts from sudden spills was damn near impossible.

He began to delicately fish out his chopsticks, taking care not burn his fingers. He placed them onto a napkin and wrapped them. That should dry them out until the food had cooled off enough. He should probably have gotten another pair, but that would be a waste of chopsticks and their money.

The crossdresser was staring at him. He could feel it. Oh god, this was weird. He glanced over and was briefly captivated by the deep green eyes that reflected all the glorious colors of a new spring day, bringing with it fresh life, love, and glorious bounties. Then the guy's smile made him look like a rapist so Dave's gaze went straight back into his food. "Sorry." he said habitually to no one in particular.

[Phoebe Minola]

Phoebe smiled awkwardly at his skittishness and constant apologies. It was like looking at herself several years ago. Although, why would he be apologizing for something so simple was a little beyond her. Then again, she'd met enough strange personages in Mosaic City already that there were times when she wondered whether she was the most normal person in there.

"Oh, no need to apologize, it's fine," she said kindly. "Just enjoy your meal."

She took a gulp of her cola. She winced a little bit to see the person on the other side of the young man leer at him so obviously. Yikes, she'd really underestimated the kind of people who came into the little eatery.

"Just ignore him," she whispered to the young man when the crossdresser looked away for a moment to have a drink of beer. "Pretend you're talking with me or something," she said before she could think about it properly. "Uh, I'm Phoebe."