And Goodwill to Men
By Shahrezad1
Summary: Blinking, her hands laying flat on desk's worn countertop, Helga G. Pataki stared in complete silence, "Seriously? You're not pulling my leg?" "Seriously, Helga."
Disclaimer: Happy Christmas! I don't own Hey Arnold or the characters therein, but I definitely own the copy of season 1 I just received. Much rejoicing! :D
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"No. No, no, no. Look, Ma'am, no matter how many times you ask we can't take it back without a receipt," leaning one long limb against the counter, Helga discretely rolled her eyes as the stubborn, middle-aged woman readied herself for another stream of arguments, jowls reddening as she held her breath in anticipation for her chance to be let loose.
Her hair was the grayish yellow of a blonde that had taken to the wrong kind of bottle, choosing the off shades again and again till all original color had been destroyed. And sitting upon her unkempt perm was a hand-knitted hat of some unknown hue hovering between army green and chartreuse.
As Arnold waited patiently in line he noted that she seemed like the kind of woman whose house was littered with cats, clutching her accordion folder of expired coupons and so-called sales for price-matching purposes. Not that there was anything wrong with either, but having observed the so-called "Guest" for roughly ten-plus minutes he'd quickly learned that perhaps she was the type to take it to extremes. Consequently Helga was starting to lose patience.
With one final not-quite shout of "No," the woman's dented, cat-hair covered RC car was shoved unceremoniously back into her arms then promptly ignored in favor of the next person in line. Looking affronted but getting the gist of the blonde's rejection, the customer gaped openmouthed for a few moments, lips opening and closing like a particularly elderly fish before turning on her heel with a huff.
In the corresponding next five minutes the terse young adult was able to help seven people without pause, returning, refunding, and exchanging items in a steady stream of professionalism. None of the irritation from the previous incident showed through as all that was left standing there in the end was Arnold himself. Eyes half-lidded as he sported a brown paper bag from his work, its logo of "Olive Orchard," blazed elegantly across the front.
Releasing a sigh of exhaustion, his old schoolmate huffed away one bothersome blonde bang before once again leaning against the counter. As if they didn't see each other on a fairly often, anyway, the restaurant he worked at exactly across the road from the toy store she headed as Service Desk Associate.
"Heya, Football Head. What can I do for you, Arnoldo?" no other insults were attached to his name or presence and even the one's she'd chosen were rote fallbacks from their childhood. Which said without saying exactly how exhausted she really was. Immediately he shot her a sympathetic look, which she appreciate for a moment before fending it off with a trademark scowl. Again, out of rote habit but no malice.
The sympathy turned into a straightforward, half-lidded smile, which he could tell shook the blonde more than she would admit, her blue eyes widening, then again motioned towards the bag, "it's more like what I can do for you today, Helga."
That took her aback, "what?"
"The managers and everyone at Olive Orchard asked me to bring this over. They wanted to say just how much we appreciate what you guys here at Toys 4 You dofor the area. We know how hard it is for you during the season, and we wanted to show our appreciation by bringing over some breadsticks and salad. Free of charge."
Blinking, her hands laying flat on desk's worn countertop, Helga G. Pataki stared in complete silence. Meanwhile, concerned Arnold shot her a worried look and was about to snap his fingers but she somehow pulled herself out of the trance just before he could move.
"Seriously? You're not pulling my leg?"
"Seriously, Helga."
Suddenly a suspicious look overcame her features, and she looked at him with the bushy Pataki brow furrowed like an angry little caterpillar, "you did this, didn't you? You talked them into it."
The second sentence was more statement than question, but the youth just laughed, melon-shaped head shaking back and forth as he held up a reassuring hand, "I can see how you'd think that, but no. It wasn't me. The managers were the ones that decided to do it for you. We really do appreciate you guys over here, and how difficult it's been for you. We just wanted to say thanks--I'm only the spokesman."
"Well," shifting uneasily where she stood perched, barrier spanning between them but not so very far that he couldn't see the appreciation glowing from her lovely eyes, Helga smiled. Hands twiddling, cheeks blushing, "thanks…Arnold."
He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as the feel of something overwhelmed his senses. The waiter wasn't surprised to feel his own cheeks redden, but he couldn't figure out why. Thankfully she'd been looking down long enough to miss it, but it was still a reaction to wonder at. So much that he nearly missed her next words.
"I really, really appreciate it. We all do," and with that she waved a hand at the stream of cashiers behind her, all chatting away to a variety of customers as their expressions varied from cheerful to apathetic. The only one he really knew, outside of Helga herself, was perched at register two, long blue-black hair held back by her trademark hair band, this time complete with reindeer antlers. The slim girl laughed at something someone said, but he couldn't hear it from where he stood. The din of registers chiming and plastic bags being ripped open rising liking a wall of exclusion between the two of them and everyone else. Somehow making the exchange all the more intimate.
Blushing again, she continued wringing her hands rather than accepting the package, and Arnold wondered if he'd be late returning due to her awkwardness. Not that that was a bad thing, either. Any time spent with Helga was better than that being at work, that was for sure.
"I'll make sure it gets to the break room, but…um…can I have one first?"
Ah. That's what it was about. Outright grinning, the man nodded and handed over the bag, "sure, Helga. You can have one."
"Thanks Arnold," and there went his heart again. Saying his goodbyes before he could further get sucked into the color of her eyes, Arnold left with plenty of things to think about. Like the look of rapture that had filled her face as she'd chewed her first bite of butter-drenched bread, like experiencing heaven for the first time.
And so it was that he missed her motioning over her coworker and friend, handing over the bag with the air of one bestowing the greatest of honors.
"Can you put this in the break room, Vi? Olive Orchard brought us breadsticks and salad."
"Wow! Seriously? I love them."
"Yeah...me too."
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AN:
Olive Garden brought breadsticks and salad to my work, Toys R Us, with pretty much those exact words (but less flirting, since it was a girl that brought it over. XD ). This is sort of a continuation of the "Green" installment of Synchronous, a Synlet fanfic, with Violet Parr as me and Helga in place as the friend who originally got me the job (whose personality is just as loud but less abrasive. ^^;; ). It seriously was a lifesaver, since it came the day before Christmas Eve. I honestly love them now. –hugs Olive Garden-