So I've been preoccupied lately.
Sorry for the wait!
50. Whose Side – 13
It could have easily been a day like any other, but it wasn't meant to be.
Shilo could have done without Gail reminding her of the little blonde affliction on the oasis when she wondered if Shilo knew what had kept the new residents out so late. In reply, Shilo merely curled her lip and shrugged it off without voicing an answer. She didn't need Buckley's girls knowing Priscilla had gained access to the lair when they themselves had been interested in a tour since day one. She especially didn't need them to know it was only because of a security breach that Priscilla had gotten in at all.
Aside from the brief interrogation, the day was ordinary.
Almost ordinary.
Abigail's spirits seemed to be low, and Chester leaned through the order window to try to shoot the breeze in between customers more than usual. Suspended from school after her prank on the gym teacher, Jenny was grounded to the office for endless homework, only briefly making appearances to bus tables and wash dishes, voicing loudly her envy that Chester had been chosen as a candidate for LHU.
"Hench has contracts and quotas to fill," Buckley chastised, shooing Jenny back out of the kitchen. "But he's not getting your head until you've got a strong spine to hold it up." Peeking through the window, Shilo caught a glimpse of the woman adjusting her teenage daughter's posture, straightening her back and lifting her chin up to make her point.
Shilo couldn't help checking herself to make sure she wasn't slouching too.
The bell jingled and she spun away from the window, opening her mouth to greet the customer, as per protocol. "Welcome to Buckley's Brew, what can I—oh, it's you." The forced smile fell from her face as she narrowed her eyes on Priscilla swaggering up to the counter, Mickey shadowing her.
"Hey, hot stuff," sang Priscilla, leaning far enough across the counter for Shilo to feel justified in reaching out to unceremoniously shove her back with a palm to her face. She got the hint and leaned back to her side. "Two – oh, what was that you two call them? Chocolate moomoos?"
Hot stuff was right. Just like that, Shilo felt herself burning up with a rush of embarrassment, but she clutched her fists at her sides and glared at Priscilla standing before her with a smug smirk. Letting her flame burn freely wasn't an option – but really, reaching for Jenny's cup of decaf forgotten on the counter shouldn't have been one either. Priscilla yelped in surprise and leapt back from the coffee splashed at her, narrowly avoiding stains on her white stockings.
"Why don't you try black?" Shilo suggested.
"Hey! You're cleaning that up!" snapped Gail, giving Shilo's shoulder a rough shove. "Kill each other on your own time, will ya?"
"Oh, you can count on it," laughed Priscilla wryly, stepping around the puddle of coffee spilled across the floor. Ignoring Shilo's warning glare, she reached out to a basket of tiny creamers on the display case, peeling one open and downing it like a shot. "Hot chocolate, please. Two of them. Oh, and do that thing with the whipped cream on top. You know how I like it."
Mickey stepped up to pay as Priscilla clearly had no intentions of it.
Shilo could hardly tear her glare off Priscilla even as she mopped up the mess she'd made. Mickey had taken his hot cocoa and sat at the furthest corner of the café while Priscilla had opted to sit at the back nearest the counter. She wondered inwardly if they had been in a fight. She almost hoped so, but Mickey was calmly watching out the window while Priscilla swung her feet and sipped her hot cocoa and read a brochure. Shilo did a double take once she recognized a logo on the front, but it wasn't surprising the miscreant was looking over the same LHU pamphlet she had received during her interview with the headhunter.
A handful of customers came and went, but Prissy was still slowly working on her hot cocoa. Mickey had finally grown bored of watching traffic, because he heaved a huge sigh and stood.
"Where are you going?" called Priscilla. "Sit your ass back down."
Shilo glanced up from reorganizing a stack of individually-wrapped muffins, watching the tendons in Mickey's hands go taut as he balled up his fists. There was a moment he looked like he was about to follow her command and return to his seat, but he turned a blind eye and stalked up to the display case instead, tapping the glass above the fresh lunch items. "One of those to go," he said, making a point to not acknowledge the daggers Priscilla was shooting him.
It would have been easy to stir the pot and question them or make a remark, but Shilo kept her lips zipped. She quietly bagged the turkey hoagie and rang him up. "Have a good day, Mickey."
He grunted quietly and gave a small nod, but didn't return the farewell. Priscilla was fuming, her nails drumming on the table as she glared at the young man's back as he took his leave. When he paused, he failed to even cast the pink menace a glance, though he met Shilo's eye and wondered, "Know where there's a payphone around here?"
"Smoke shop across the street," supplied Shilo.
"She's not gonna answer," twittered Priscilla.
Mickey grunted unappreciatively. "You don't know that," he shot back and ducked out quickly.
"Who's he calling?"
"His granny." That was no surprise, as Mickey had lived with his grandparents as long as she'd known him. Priscilla slouched back and let her head loll to peer across to Shilo. She tried not to look back at her, focusing on stacking up another variety of muffins instead. "His grandpa died last month."
Shilo dropped a muffin, failing to catch it before it could fall to the other side of the display case. She swore in frustration and resigned herself to walking around and passing by Priscilla to get it. "Really," she huffed. "So he left her all alone to tag along cross country with you?"
"He's homeless."
"What?"
"She went to live in an old folks' home," Priscilla went on. She put on an air of dismay then, though she'd win no acting awards with it. "Don't tell no one, but I think he killed his grandpa by accident. I think his gran knows it too." Some secret it was when Chester was eavesdropping through the window and Gail was at the far end of the counter polishing coffee mugs.
Shilo found herself rooted to the spot for a long moment before turning her glare down to the poppyseed muffin in her hands. "So that's why he's forced to slum it out with you," she muttered, and made to stalk past Priscilla.
She plucked the muffin from Shilo and unwrapped it, taking a bite before it could be reclaimed. "I'm not forcing him to do anything," she said confidently around a mouthful. "If he wants to come and help out a friend and run away from a crime scene, I'm not gonna stop him. What are friends for?" She spat out the bite into a napkin then, groaning. "This tastes like shit."
"Maybe don't eat shit off the floor," remarked Gail, coming over to take the muffin from her.
Priscilla twisted in her seat to scowl at the stout young woman returning to her post. "What, are you gonna eat it, Miss Piggy?" she sneered back.
"Lay off, Prissy," warned Shilo.
Despite the tension in the air, Gail almost playfully took a stance, fists raised. "If you're that hungry, I can make you a knuckle sandwich," she jeered with a certain excited gleam in her eye, as if she were genuinely excited for fisticuffs in the middle of work.
Buckley leaned through the order window then, only fitting her head out really as her shoulders were too broad. "Hey, you. You're on the clock," she reminded. "You can brush up on your kickboxing later." She butted out of the near-quarrel then, the ringing of the telephone interrupting her.
The bell above the door jingled, signaling it was time Shilo return to her own post. She didn't get to open her mouth for the rehearsed greeting this time, clamming up when she recognized the frowning mug of Miss Hatchet.
"I'll take a cup of donkey piss," growled the crass woman as she made straight for Priscilla, though Shilo had a hunch it was intended as an order.
She looked to Abigail in confusion, but it seemed even she had to pull out a cheat card for Jackass Joe's secret menu to understand. Though Gail hurriedly whipped up a steaming cup of tea from Buckley's own special blend, she pawned the mug off on Shilo to serve. It wasn't so much an aroma as it was an odor that made her eyes burn, the steam wafting up from the mug as she hurried to set the order in front of Miss Hatchet.
Meanwhile, another customer arrived who needed tending to. Miss Hatchet said nothing for a long moment, giving the tea a stir and keeping an eye on the patron until they left. Finally she addressed Priscilla. "This had better be worth my time," she said.
Priscilla must have been waiting to see the terse woman relax and sip her tea before beginning. "You told me I needed proof of experience," she said casually, unzipping the fanny pack at her hip.
Shilo's stomach curdled at the flippant air Priscilla exuded, and a spike of fear and curiosity had her wondering what proof she had that she was worthy of the headhunter's consideration. The answer must have been on a tape recorder, as that was what she pulled out and set on the table. Priscilla sat back and her hazel eyes cast a sidelong peek toward Shilo, giving her a cheeky smile.
"Is there no one to vouch for you?" grunted Miss Hatchet, nodding toward the baristas.
"Nah. Don't think I need it." Priscilla sounded awfully sure of herself. "Well, I guess she can, if she opens her mouth as easy as her legs."
The suggestion caught her by surprise – but really, this was Priscilla she was dealing with. She should have expected it. Still, the remark was uncalled for.
"What?" Shilo choked, her voice cracking. She wished she could blast off the thumb that was jabbed in her direction. She knew better than to let the comment get to her, but it was a little hard to recall the fluster now that her face was hot.
"Sheesh, Shi, you get your panties in a twist so easy," Prissy laughed. "We all know you're sleeping with the boss." She flapped a hand dismissively.
"Can you back up that claim?" pressed Miss Hatchet, a note of disapproval and suspicion thick in her voice. Shilo felt her chances of acceptance into LHU were slimmer than ever now.
Priscilla shrugged. "I'll bring a camera next time."
"I am not!" Shilo barked in defense, the fire back in her urging her to dive for Priscilla to beat her to a bloody pulp herself. She felt herself burning up – quite literally. Fire in her hands crackled to life without her consent – and she almost whirled on Gail even when the coworker pushed against her back to shoo her into the kitchen where she could lose her cool out of view of potential customers.
Being in the kitchen wasn't much better, except it put a wall between her and Priscilla. She stayed away from the order window, rooting herself in front of the sink to forcefully scrub her hands and arms free of plasma before the alien fire could eat holes through her shirt.
Still, she listened intently, leaning to glance out the window and standing on her tiptoes to catch a glimpse of Miss Hatchet taking the tape recorder and hitting play.
Shilo felt even sicker when, after a moment of shuffling and crackling against the receiver, she heard Drakken's voice cutting clearly through the white noise.
"Shego? Is that – you!" The accusation in his voice was thick, fear dissipating and anger replacing it. "What are you doing down here? How do you keep getting in my lair?" She might not recognize his roar of frustration if she didn't know any better.
She could recognize Priscilla Kimbley's laugh anywhere too, even over a shitty tape muffled by the fanny pack it must have been in. "I saw the restricted area sign posted at the door and couldn't help myself."
"What is the point of all the signs that spell out danger if no one listens to them?" Drakken bellowed, his temper making Shilo flinch even over the recording. His indiscernible grumbles followed but stopped short. "And is that—," he gagged and his rage turned to worry again. "Was that—?"
"Psh, no," scoffed Priscilla's voice. Shilo gravitated toward the window, her heart beginning to thud. When had she taken this recording? "I just threw his uniform on the transformer thingahoozit to freak you out. You lovebirds were making me sick. Someone had to do it."
Shilo realized with a lurch of her stomach the recording was from last night during the power outage. She briefly hoped Drakken would cause a scene to put the headhunter off the idea she was using cheap tricks to keep her position as the rogue's partner in crime.
"Lovebirds? Nng – then where is—? Oh. Why is Collins naked?"
A third voice, though not so much a voice as a muffled mumbling could be heard through the white noise. It must have belonged to Collins. Shilo couldn't put a face to the name, but she was sure he must have been one of the newer men on the crew.
"Hey, I can't help it if your henchmen are going commando under those pajamas."
"That doesn't answer—"
"I'll give you a demonstration after you restore the power, how 'bout that, Dan?"
"It's Drakken – and don't you touch me."
The audio cut out to silence then, the rest of the tape blank.
"If you want more, I can get you more," Priscilla offered the headhunter.
Shilo could hardly be pleased to see Miss Hatchet reach across to grab the pink-clad candidate's face to forcefully turn her head back to attention when Priscilla made to peer smugly back at Shilo through the window. "Look at me when you're speaking to me," growled the headhunter in warning. Chair screeching, she stood abruptly and nodded to her. "When we're done with you, manners will be first nature. See you around, kid."
As soon as Miss Hatchet was gone, Gail was on Priscilla's case. "If you're done loitering, get outta here," she badgered, practically pulling Priscilla's chair out from under her and tipping it.
Reluctant to let her butt leave the chair, Priscilla finally groaned and stood. "Any of you crazy chicks wanna hang with me today?"
"Count me out," said Chester.
"Ooh! Me!" piped Jenny, leaning out of the hall to the back to wave her hand.
Buckley was behind her to pull her back however. "You're still grounded," reminded the woman, turning the girl around to usher her back to the office for homework.
"And I'm not going if Chester's not going," Gail decided. She pulled up a stool and crossed her arms to make her point.
Which left Shilo glaring out the order window at the blonde blight, eyes narrowed. Priscilla was not deterred, batting her lashes and pulling on a sweet look made of imitation sugar. It wasn't so much that the doe eyes weakened her resolve, but knowing the girl was liable to make her life worse if she didn't comply, that made her sigh and grumble, "Fine. But only for a little while."
Chester barred her way out of the kitchen when she made for the door. "You sure you wanna be alone with her?" she whispered.
"I can handle her," Shilo muttered back. She cracked the knuckles as she ducked past Chester. "Just like old times."
Thankfully Priscilla was one foot out the door as Shilo took her place behind the counter once more. "See you for our date!" she called, and swooped out as a new customer entered.
Needless to say, she wasn't looking forward to it. She had no appetite for lunch, puffing away on a cigarette instead in the back alley, frustrated it did nothing to put her at ease. In between customers, the only thing Buckley's girls had to talk about was henchschool this, henchschool that, how much everyone envied Chester's upcoming tour of the place before her official enrollment, and warnings from Buckley that the glorified boot camp would be no piece of cake. Shilo couldn't help wondering aloud why Chester – or anyone, for that matter – would want to go into the hench line of work, but Joanne Buckley intervened with some ambiguous answer that they each had their own private motives.
Shilo stewed on that answer. Her next question would be what Priscilla's motive was, but none of Buckley's girls knew enough about the stranger in town to shed any light. As Shilo left out the back for the day, she hoped at least one good thing would come from fraternizing with the enemy this evening.
She couldn't tell if it was a good thing it was Lux who had come to pick her up in his Beetle. Had it been Drakken, she would have gladly hopped in to retreat to the safety of the lair. Priscilla wouldn't take kindly to being stood up though.
It was surprising when Lux cut the engine and hopped out. He was in his henchman attire, sans mask and with an additional mismatched jacket. His messy sweaty hair stood up at every angle, and the body odor wafting from him from a hard day at work had Shilo jumping back out of his way as he made for the back door.
"Do you think she has any day-old cinnamon buns?" he wondered as he snuck in.
"No, but she's got some oatmeal cookies," Shilo supplied, watching the eager henchman with the big belly vanish into the café. Even from the alley, she could hear Buckley's groan when the snack-scavenger arrived to collect stale goods unfit for sale.
With the chauffeur Drakken had sent distracted, Shilo was allowed to sneak away without an issue. She could only dread what Priscilla had in store for her, but as she clenched her fists at her sides, she reassured herself she could handle the nuisance.
Still, she couldn't believe she hoped the headhunter would pick the blonde's head to haul away soon.