savetheearth | and they say goldfish have no memory

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and they say goldfish have no memory

Who: Aria Megido

eras & Avery Strider

counterclock
What: Running into one another, having no idea who the other is.
When: Late evening, Aug 21.
Where: Some 24/7 hipster diner place.

A forkful of hash browns makes its way into Avery's mouth, and she chews around the hideous helpings of cheese, sauteed vegetables, and sour cream liberally applied to the top of the creation. At the moment, her attention is on her phone. It's late enough that she isn't worried about checking the network in an unsecure area; no one's going to look over her shoulder and ask what website she's on in here, so she leaves her phone on the counter of the bar as she slowly decimates her meal.

On her other side there's a really beaten up looking kindle, and she is actively switching between favouring the food, her phone, and the kindle with her attention. She doesn't seem to be in a hurry to finish, and in fact seems quite comfortable to sit there for the next two hours nursing a couple cups of coffee and this giant plate of loaded hashbrowns.

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In the booth directly beside Avery is another lone diner warrior: Aria's sitting cross-legged on her booth seat, a crossword in front of her and a pen behind one ear; she's taking a break to sip her water, a little absently. Her food hasn't gotten there yet, so she's got nothing in particular to do except the crossword.

And, of course, the network. Aria's only browsing it half-heartedly on her phone, a bit too distracted to give it her full attention. Besides, she rarely fully pays attention to it unless at home or in private.

So the crossword is where most of her attention is going, although this involves a lot of frowning. "It puts the "pop" in pop?"

This should not be this hard.

There's a voice behind her, and Avery is just turning around to see if the person was talking to her when someone slams the door to the restaurant open, sending the bell at the door into a pathetic cacophony of sound. "Maria! Get the fuck out here, you stupid bitch!"

The waitstaff is in the kitchen and silence falls over the diner. A large man looks irritably over the counter, then turns to one of the other patrons. "Is Maria working here tonight?" There's a brief, worried exchange from the victim, and just as soon as he entered, the man huffs and turns around, slamming the door behind him.

"Holy fuck," mutters Avery. "Someone needs a hug." Appropriate response as always.

"What on earth?" Aria's startled from her frowning contemplation of her crossword, glancing up. She normally goes to places where this sort of thing doesn't happen, because - well, quieter, homey places are her bread and butter, and she likes to go to places in Japantown where she'd been known to the owners since she was knee-high.

She does slide her phone closer, just in case she needs to call someone, but...

Nope, the guy left.

"That was exciting," Avery comments to no one in particular, as an alarmed looking waitress steps out from the kitchen, wide-eyed and confused.

Feigning apathy, Avery shoves a mouthful of hashbrowns into her mouth.

"More than that, wouldn't "worrying" be right?" She's not sitting with anyone, and the comment sounds like something you'd make to someone, so Aria half-turns in her booth, frowning.

Starting a little, as she wasn't expecting a response, Avery seeks out the source of the voice. Her eyes settle on Aria a second later and she scrunches her nose a little in thought, before responding: "Both are apt, I guess."

"Well...At least nothing that bad happened, I guess." She sounds a bit doubtful, mostly because she hadn't been expecting that to happen at all, and it sounded like a problem that wasn't just a one-time thing, but...

"He wouldn't have started shit. I come here all the time, one of the guys who works here is this big Arab guy from Michigan. He's actually a sociology student but he looks like he majored in causing severe amounts of physical pain. I fear for his future subjects.

"I don't know who the fuck Maria is, ain't nobody named Maria works here, so it's probably just a one-off abusive ex-boyfriend looking for his girlfriend's old haunts and got the address wrong. In which case someone should probably call the cops, but I doubt the cops'll give a shit given this city's currently stunning track record of avoiding things like negligence and police brutality. Keep an eye on the front page news, I guess.

"Or you know, the third page somewhere in the middle, where they put the unimportant murders during football season an' shit."

Aaaand she's off. Most of the tirade is half-mumbled to herself, like she doesn't expect Aria to be listening, and halfway through she turns back to her hashbrowns and fucks around with her fork while she babbles uncontrollably.

Anyone who had to guess her nervous habit in a jeopardy game would probably win at least ten thousand dollars.

"...I, um, suppose it's good there isn't a Maria here, then...?" Aria sounds doubtful, mostly because she's not sure if any of that was addressed to her, or, if it were, how much of it she was meant to answer or...how to answer, really.

"It's the first time I've ever been here, is all." That seems safe enough to say.

The fact that Aria was actually listening comes as a bit of a shock to her, but not so much that Avery loses her cool. Casually, she shoves a bite of hashbrowns in her mouth and spins around on the barstool, giving her a curious eye over the rim of her shades. "You freaked out bad? Legit, I am here all the time and this has never happened before."

"Not too much. Just...startled. Though if I tell my sister she probably wouldn't want me coming here again." Since Mara is pretty determined about the whole Guardian part of things. Aria shrugs, half-turning as well. "I honestly came in because it looked - hm. Interesting?"

"Yeah, I mean." She spins her head, scanning the decor of the cramped little hole-in-the-wall set-up, even though she's seen it probably a thousand times. "You're gonna find some shitty hipster places anywhere you go, espesh with a prominent student presence in the city, but only a couple are going to be genuinely quirky and worth their shit, y'know? Sometimes you're just paying out the ass to feel like you're so edgy and alternative and against the grain.

"This place, though, actually does it. I mean they do the regular diner spiel but they've really got some unique menu items that seal the deal on "you won't get this shit at an average restaurant" and they don't even do some Starbucks latte bullshit and mark it up ten goddamn bucks."

It's at this point that she realizes she's rambling about a hole-in-the-wall diner just because she really likes their loaded hashbrowns, and so she pauses to bite self consciously at the corner of her lip and stare down at her hands so she can disinterestedly chip at her nailpolish with a thumb. Suave. As. Fuck.

"Well, I'm glad they don't do the Starbucks thing. Babysitting doesn't really pay for Starbuck lattes with other things I'd rather spend my money on." Like, you know. ...Clothes, books, games. The extras in life. And contributing to the household funds, so.

... Wow. Chick hasn't stopped talking to her and given up yet. That's a first. (Not really, but it's still a little surprising.)

"Starbucks has shitty drinks anyway. One time I got a smoothie there and it tasted like watery mango and depression." Then she whirls around in her chair to steal a bite of hashbrowns before spinning back to face the other girl.

"What does depression taste like? Strawberries?" Do they offer strawberry mango smoothies at Starbucks? Aria just can't be sure.

"No I think it tastes like, disappointment. Disappointment and depression are similar tastes. Like when you're expecting something awesome and then it's just shitty and awful, I think that's what depression tastes like. Like when you expected college to be fulfilling but instead you're only halfway through a degree and fifteen K in the hole and you have no motivation to continue anymore so you drop out and get a job washing tables and the only place that has cheap drinks near you smells like weed and has milkshakes that are like fifty percent water."

She clears her throat. "Anyway, that's what I feel when I drink Starbucks smoothies."

Aria...blinks. She's not sure she's ever tasted anything like that - but then again, she's generally optimistic and upbeat. Even when she isn't. "I think I'd prefer the strawberry, honestly! Or, well - I guess most people would."

It occurs to her, belatedly, that if they're still talking, she should offer up her name. "I'm Aria, by the way."

"Ava," she says distractedly, because she's really in the headspace of trying to describe the exact taste of depression. Of course you'd prefer strawberries.

Everyone prefers strawberries to depression. Even people who are allergic to strawberries, probably.

Not distracted with strawberries and depression, Aria does give the other girl a second look. But...Locke is pretty big. There is probably more than one Ava. Still, it doesn't hurt to ask - in a roundabout way. "With Charlie?"

She can play that off easily enough if she gets a weird look.

She does get a weird look, but it's followed by, "What, the hangman?"

"With the pen protector!" Aria completely abandons her water and crossword, grinning. "Yes, him!"

Almost a little awkwarded out, Avery scratches the back of her head. "Well, hot damn. Couldn't have called that if I tried."

"I suppose it's actually not that odd - I mean, we already know everyone lives in Locke. Even as big as it is, isn't it normal to meet up with people?" You know, just...probability wise? She figures that is a thing that sounds like a thing.

"I guessso," she says, shrugging. It sure is a thing, Aria. It sure is.

"Well."

She has no idea what to say anymore.

"Good taste in restaurants, I guess." Oops, awkward time.

"Well, it's the first time I've ever been here!! Like I said. But thanks!! I like to think I have good taste. At least, I do when I think about my taste. Which is admittedly not often. It is not something I ever really give that much thought to." Aria, however, doesn't seem to feel awkward at all - although she's rambling more now, cheerfully.

Some day these two are going to alienate an entire room of people because they are both feeling talkative at the same time and no one else will be able to get a word in. This is basically guaranteed at this point.

"No dude, be proud of your taste and shit. A lot of people ain't got jack in the way of good taste."

Here's a fun game: guess whether or not Avery is a hipster. It's slightly harder than it sounds. Does everyone have shitty taste because they aren't ironic enough? Are hipsters included in the people who have shitty taste? The world may never know.

"Well, that's sort of a matter of opinion! I mean, I am sure all those people think they have good taste, too. Who decides what's good taste and what isn't? Miss Manners?" Or does she only have control over problems of etiquette?

"Well I mean, ain't no taste judge, but just remember that Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber gained fame somehow. And like. People actually like Robin Thicke and Chris Brown." And, ew.

Ew ew ew.

(Somewhere she just started talking about music, which is where taste really becomes relevant.)

"And... Buffalo Wild Wings. What even is that shit. Gross."

"Well, they were...Miley Cyrus was a lot different?" She'd never liked Hannah Montana herself, but her babysitting charges had. So. Aria had seen a lot of it.

"Different doesn't matter when different is still consistently shitty, though." Avery rejected the mere thought.

"That's just your opinion, though! I mean, people probably think the things you like are shitty, too." Now she's just being contrary for the sake of it.

Oh my God, Aria, rude.

"Well, yeah. And I hope those people are okay with being wrong, because the shit I like is quality." Which is exactly why she has every single Ke$ha CD ever released.

"So does that mean you'll let me listen to all this music sometime?"

Wow, kind of presumptuous. But cute, too. "Sure, babe, just say the word and I'll totally regale you with my collection of awesome tunes. Your ear drums won't know what to do with themselves."

She was at least half teasing, but then - well, Aria's always been super friendly from the start of any conversation, always. "They'll just lay down and die from the sheer amazingness?"

"Naturally. My eardrums have had to resurrect like, at least ten times already just from how good my taste in music is."

"You have jesus eardrums, then?" Okay - she can't help but laugh, although her tone hasn't been serious for a while now.

"Shit, I let the goddamn cat out of the bag there, didn't I. Yeah, you found out my secret. I'm actually Wolverine."

"...Does Wolverine have jesus eardrums?" Maybe she should refresh herself on X-men lore here.

"...well, I mean. They probably regenerate just as well as the rest of him.

"So yes. Probably."

"Oh, that's true. I mean, I never really thought about it? I guess he doesn't ever have to worry about hearing protection, though." Because that's the superpower application that ought to be focused on, yes.

"Yeah, son. My superpower? Seeing around corners and not needing earplugs at concerts. I'm a real goddamn hit in the league, 'f you know what I mean."

"You're a popular superhero?" Was that innuendo?

"Ain't that what I just said?"

If there was an innuendo there, she missed it.

Oh, IT WASN'T, she wasn't sure. "So what's your theme song?"

"Theme song?"

Huh.

"Ten Inch Hero." That is actually a movie but we'll pretend in this universe it is a song.

"I don't think I've ever heard that one. How does it go?" Things Aria listens to: pop, classical, and some stuff inbetween.

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and they say goldfish have no memory

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