[the deli] motion sickness

"Watch your eyebrows, Russo," Frank pulled a pizza from the brick fire oven, almost certainly overstepping his boundaries as the owner of the place, only vaguely looking at his friend who he decided had the bushiest eyebrows any real person should be allowed. The wizard, despite himself, still liked to get on the tools every now and then, especially late on a Friday night— one of the few times that The Deli served pizza, by the pie and by the slice.

As most of his critics would say (and had said)— he was a dick like that— limiting one of the more popular late-night food items to two nights a week, or whenever else he felt like it. And they weren't wrong.

Francis slid the pizza onto the wood handle with practiced precision, though a bead of sweat carried down his forehead, clearly not immune to the open flame. "Service—" Bad habit. Fucking New York. "Er— pick up," He corrected himself more quietly as he sliced the pie into triangles. As he dropped it on the pass, ready for someone to come and collect and bring to the table, he spotted a familiar white-blonde head of hair as it bobbed through the front door, straight to where she knew the little bar in the back was.

This fucking woman.

He threw the apron over his shoulder and made his way to the front where the rest of the staff were cooking in front of the bar, the place all of the sudden alit with weekend energy before his eyes. In a moment of lightness, in the throes of a good mood, he'd even opened up control of the music to the public, which certainly explained whatever shitty non-descript static noise was pumping through the brick walls themselves.

"Hey, Wednesday Addams—" Frank called after Senna as she reached over the bar to pour herself a drink. Thankfully, the worst kept secret in this whole place was tucked away from the general customers, a broom closet of a bar with only enough room for a few booths and stools. Again, it opened when he wanted it to. "You know you can't just—" She turned back to him with a little grin and he lost his train of thought for a second.
 
@Senna O'Shea

It had been a weird day, Senna had decided.

The tarot card reading she had done this morning had left her feeling a bit unsettled. That, plus the fact that the poltergeist she was sure was living in her neighbor's flat didn't say hi to her after lunch like he normally did. And the song she had been writing felt all bottled up and she didn't want to force the creativity. All of it rolled together to form a big blob of bleh. So she had sought out some comfort food. And that really only meant one place: The Deli.

Wearing a honey colored, flowing velvet mini dress that skimmed at mid-thigh and a pair of chunky black boots with lacy frilled socks peeking out, Senna breezed into the Deli and headed straight for the bar to help herself. She grabbed a bottle of her favorite beer, easily popping the cap off, before she heard his familiar voice.

"Hey Frankie, good to see you too," she called in a singsong voice, completely ignoring his 'rules' about 'only employees can use the bar' or some such. She turned and gave him a dazzling smile as she flitted to one of the stools just beside the bar and leaned her elbows on the counter as she looked over at him. "Pizza night tonight? Can I get a slice? Didn't I tell you that you should have pizza every night? It's not fair to deprive people like that," Senna told him, her honey-colored eyes sparkling as she smiled at him.

"What kind of dessert do you have for me today?" she asked, her dimples showing as she looked up at him. just waiting for his complaints about her dessert habits.

Rheya followed behind Senna as they headed straight for their favorite spot, right by the bar, and she smiled when Senna went right for the drinks. The tall witch pulled down the oversized wizarding rock shirt she was wearing like it was dress absently before she slid into a seat on the stool. Lifting her sneakers onto the little bar on the bottom of the stool she waited for Senna to finish before she'd work on getting her own drink. Before that time came though she heard the owner's voice and her lips turned up into a little smirk. Leaning against the counter she looked for him and held out a record she'd found in some old crates at the shop. "For you," she said with a smile that only grew as the idea of pizza night was upon them. Rheya loved anything greasy and cheesy and especially if she could put hot sauce on it. And the hot sauce he brought with him from the states had to be the best she'd ever tasted, she put that stuff on everything.

She looked around the counter for the red bottle she needed but was distracted by the sounds of something playing through the wizarding speakers on the wall. Scrunching her nose up she pushed off the seat and moved into the little entryway cut out of the counter that separated the customer area from the employee area and gave him a look. Pointing behind her with a tattooed finger she motioned to the record player and spoke, "Can I?" She asked, even though she was already halfway behind the counter with a coy smile.

He ignored the use of the nickname. Frankie. It made his skin crawl. And his actual name was Francis for christ's sake.

"That's the idea," The wizard explained for what felt like the millionth time, tapping a pointer finger to his temple. "People always want what they can't have," Same could be said for almost anything. While the decision to limit the pizza nights really stemmed from his insatiable need to differentiate the place, and himself, that idea lent itself well. "You'll have to ask someone else about the— "  Dessert, he was going to say, but then came the other one.

"Of course..." He raised his voice so that Rheya could hear as she strode through the restaurant like she was Senna's co-owner. "Hey, you forgot your pants, kid—" Frank was going to give her a harder time but then he saw what she was holding in front of him. "— and it looks great, really," He was quick to correct as he gently accepted the record he'd turned Spinners upside down looking for nearly every Sunday for the past four weeks.

"Alright, fine, help yourselves..." He conceded, nodding to the bar, voice almost dreamy (for him) as he ran his fingers over the worn plastic wrapping. Then Rheya was up and heading toward the record player. He supposed if he'd let the rest of the patrons use it. "Only if it's not that band of yours..." He cast a glance to Senna with half a grin before heading behind the bar to open a beer for himself.

"What kind of pizza?" He leaned back on his elbows, looking at Senna. "You strike me as vegetarian, or vegan, or some shit," She could take that elsewhere.

Senna smiled as she sipped her drink and glanced between Rheya and Frankie, hoping that he would like the little gift even though she had nothing to do with it. She tinkled a laugh as he quickly changed her tune from commentary on her outfit to thanking Rhey for the gift. Besides, her friend looked great in that shirt dress, she thought with a glance at her legs. Frankie didn't know what he was talking about.

She hoped he knew his permission to help themselves was something she would remember every single time they stopped in. And still he complained, but Senna didn't mind too much. He was kind of cute with all his bluster and ire, like a big angry teddy bear. She laughed at his words and the sight of his grin, but shook her head, her silver blonde his bouncing on her shoulders. "I'm not worried, Frankie. Eventually you'll admit you love our sound," she told him confidently, watching as his deft hands opened a beer for himself.

"I was vegetarian last week," she corrected with a look. She had caved when Rhey had made bacon the other day. She was sure she was going to get back into it, but for today, it was a different story. "Can I get the meat lovers? Oh! No, ham and pineapple. No. I really want bacon so meat lovers," she said, waffling for a few moments before deciding with a nod and a small smile in his direction. "Rhey? You getting pizza?" she asked with a glance over her shoulder.

Rheya stuck her tongue out at Frank as he started in about her dress, well it was a shirt, but it was two times longer than a shirt should have been worn. When he changed directions she caught him looking at the record and gave him a big smirk. "Smooth," she told him before helping herself to the record player and ignoring his remark about their band. The band was great, soon enough Frank would be begging for them to make appearances, just wait. Of course... she didn't really think that was true. The diner had a different sort of vibe, and Frank liked what he liked, not that she could fault him for it. Nothing wrong with knowing who you were and what your preferences were.

As if part of the same thread of thought Senna waffled on being vegan and getting the meat lovers and Rheya grinned at her friend. Nothing wrong with trying out everything and never deciding either. Rheya never picked things, she wanted to try everything, she never put herself into a box or behind any sort of label. She was as likely to be a vegan as she was anything else really, but she was thankful when Senna moved past it last week. She loved going out to breakfast too much to be confined to meatless options. "Mmm yeah bacon," she said in response, placing the needle on the record she'd put into the player on the wall and returned to them lithely.

Spinning on one of the chairs at the counter she looked from Senna to Frank and back again. "A slice of that and also a plate of whatever you been dreaming up back there." Stretching to see behind the counter but unable to figure it out she turned back to Frank. "Is that cumin? Smells good." Rheya loved spicy food, the hotter the better, and she loved coming to Frank's because he was always showing her new recipes she couldn't find at your typical London pub.

Of-fucking-course.

Everything Senna said lent itself all too easily to what he had already assumed about her. Vegan one week, the most meat of all meats the next, like a bird carried by the wind. If he were being honest— not that he was going to be— he was jealous. The kind of openness that both she and Rheya so openly displayed was everything that he wanted to be.

"A.. bacon pizza," He hadn't meant to make a face but he did. A bacon pizza. Bacon, sauce, and cheese. How cavalier.  "I'll tell the guys to put some green pepper and onion on there, too," Frank decided as he set down his now half-empty beer bottle, making his way around the bar.

Looking over his shoulder, he raised his eyebrows at Rheya after she offered the allowance of his culinary creation. "You asked for it," He warned, more seriously than he meant, wiping the condensation from his beer on his dirtied black denim jeans. Frank returned with a half-grin after a few minutes, order placed. "So, what's the occasion tonight?" Not that they needed one to assume the role they'd made for themselves of silent partners of The Deli.