Chapter 4: Since When Did This Story Become a Coffeeshop AU?
"I'd ask you to think outside the box on this, but it's obvious your box is broken. And has schizophrenia."
— 6 —
Weiss didn't know what exactly she expected when she called her father. Maybe he would look at what she was wearing and be disgusted. Maybe he would demean her for being a vegan. Deride her choices in life and laugh at her for reaping the reward for failures. Simply shrug his shoulders and say that those were the works, and there was nothing he could do, and so live with it.
She didn't expect him to look so frazzled. His cool blue eyes were nearly bloodshot. His suit was ruffled, with patches of oil and dust. His mustache didn't look combed. And the fact that he smiled the moment he saw her made every single hair on the back of her neck stand up.
Weiss immediately wanted to run. She wanted to turn away and hide. What she was seeing was wrong, like it shouldn't possibly happen. And this was all her fault somehow.
"Father," she said, and her voice hitched. She tried to keep a perfect posture, to be prim and presentable. But she couldn't even speak right.
"I know, snow pea," he said grimly. "I've been trying to reach you for days ever since I saw the reports from Montluçon. I worried that after what those fools did, you wouldn't be able to contact me. But I should have known you were resourceful and would have found a way."
Weiss didn't know how to feel about that. She hadn't spoken to her father in nearly half a year. And even when she did speak with him, they had been mostly brief encounters. Feeling him compliment her just made her stomach do a backflip. She knew instantly that something was horribly wrong with him. For a moment, she even wondered if maybe she was back in the reality marble and she was speaking to a skinwalker.
She hesitated. "What's going on?"
Her father rubbed his eyes. "You tell me."
All at once, Weiss felt more at ease. She had asked a dumb question and she knew it. Her father wasn't asking her genuinely. He was testing her to make sure she was actually following along. This felt more like her father, even if he was frayed at the edges.
She ran her hand through her hair, and was momentarily surprised when she remembered how short it was. "Vale is no longer allowing payment processing from Atlas. We can't pay any of our workers in this country. Even I don't have access to any of my funds." Weiss thought it through. "But we're also the only realistic supplier of Dust in the kingdom. This country will collapse without us, and they know it. If they're not going to resort to direct nationalization, which could be considered an act of war, they're planning on economically killing us, and then buying up what's left and taking it over?"
Her father smiled, and she hated herself for just how good it made her feel. "Yes. When I was a boy, Vale didn't have merely one Dust company like it does today with us; it was a complete wilderness. La Société Minière Valais, Magneria Dust LLC, Pylevaya Kompaniya Novovalska, and others. A disorganized mess from Eranstan to Vytal that the SDC came in and cleaned up. They couldn't even agree upon a single language to use! LaChance thinks he can go back to that. Drive us out of business, buy up what's left, and continue where we left off under new management. And maybe get any Atlesian nationals to leave the country without him having to force his hand."
"Their Dust situation was already precarious," Weiss said slowly. "I understand there were supply issues with terrorists and organized crime. Without the SDC, they're going to run out and fast."
"The civilian market, yes. Which is exactly why they think they can push us out," her father said. "Supplies from Atlas have been dwindling. Vale has enormous strategic reserves of Dust precisely so they can't be bullied by embargo or pre-planned Dust shortages we would use to adjust the market to our needs. The old government was already in plans to start releasing Dust onto the market to curb prices. I have no doubt LaChance will make good on that promise. His reserves will outlast our abilities to survive in the country. This is a long game Vale believes it can win, even if it means breaking its hand to bloody our noses, and so the wolves are circling. If that's not bad enough, I've received credible rumors of massive weapons orders from Damecrown to its factories in Graad and Montluçon; and there's great expectations of work from shipyards as far south as Eranstan."
The man stroked his mustache, his eyes distant in a way that seemed so unlike her father. So unlike a man who'd ever compliment her just because. "The Valean bear hopes to drown Atlas in flesh and steel. If war happened this very day, we might win. But it's no different than the Great War. The bear might be weak now, but give them time to mobilize and re-tool their industry, and for every ton of steel we forge, they produce ten; for every volunteer we enlist, a hundred fresh Valean conscripts roll off the trains. The new colossus of Atlas can't compete with the old bear if you rouse it, and they know this, and they're counting on that do-nothing coward Ironwood giving them the time to win."
He rubbed his nose again. "You know this. I should be keeping better track. I haven't slept much these past days dealing with the fallout. Arguing with politicians, investors, stockholders, and the innumerable other parasites that come with the cost of doing business."
Weiss stayed silent. She couldn't tell if it was because she didn't know what to say, or because she was so used to just saying nothing in the presence of her father even through a screen.
"I am not sure I can get you out," he said. "With tensions as they are, I can't conceive of anything I could force that wouldn't become a diplomatic incident, an escalation of tensions, or even a war if that madman LaChance is half as insane as our board of directors think he is."
"I don't want to leave," she said quickly.
The response seemed to catch him off guard. She almost expected him to get angry at her defiance. Instead, he simply asked, "Can you survive?"
"You saw me fighting on the streets for days in Montluçon," she said. "I can always tighten my belt and make do."
Another one of those elusive smiles that made her skin crawl. "I wouldn't have let you attend Beacon had I thought any differently of you. But no good father refuses to indulge in a child's ambition. You wouldn't be worthwhile as a daughter if you didn't seek to outdo me, Weiss."
The barrage of frankly nice things he was saying continued to feel wrong. It was almost as if he was a man on his deathbed trying to repent his sins to a preacher on the off chance he could go to heaven despite the depths of his evils.
She almost found herself wondering if maybe her father wasn't that bad a person. And then she remembered her mother crying alone in her room with a bottle of wine, or Klein telling her not to worry about the penal laborers the SDC licensed out from the government on the cheap. Weiss wanted to hug herself, but she just couldn't with him watching her like this.
She swallowed. "But what will you do until then?"
"I have no means to support you or even get you out. General Ironwood is besieged in his airship and is being forced to leave that country. Our assets are crumbling and I have no means to control or pay them. I can't even reliably communicate with you."
He turned to the side and briefly got into a conversation with somebody Weiss could not see.
"But if you need me, I'll do whatever I can. I'm still your father. I have my obligations to fulfill. But, I'm counting on you not to need me. I raised you better than that."
She nearly said, You hardly raised me at all, but bit her tongue. Instead, she simply nodded.
"I have to go, Snow Pea. I'm sorry. But don't let the bastards grind you down."
He ended the call. And Weiss just felt numb.
— 7 —
Weiss showered and just laid in bed. She would've gone to class, but Shamrock texted her saying class was canceled for Team BASS for the week. Something about the stress of a mission. She couldn't really follow along. It just meant she had nowhere to go. Nothing to do.
Normally when she had free time, Weiss would take a trip to the city to stock up on groceries. And then spend the next couple of days over the weekend systematically burning and destroying every single one of those in an attempt to create increasingly disastrous recipes until one of them finally came out edible. But she couldn't even do that now. She didn't have the money. Couldn't buy things.
She rolled out of bed and honestly considered leaving in her underwear to check what she did have left in the cupboards outside. Instead, she found the only good outfit she had left. She'd ruined her normal outfit in the caves along with her long hair. It was the snow pea getup with the black highlights for her. It felt like an eternity to get it on, from stockings to skirt to blouse.
And then an eternity to slink into the kitchen and examine all of her nothing. A couple of eggs that had gone bad since Montluçon. And the remains of a bag of corn flour and whatever the heck xanthan gum was. Only in Vale could you find edible things with the letter X in them. Oh, and a bag of pecans. She half remembered a plan to try to concoct a pecan pie.
She grabbed the pecans and collapsed in the chilly common room, right onto a couch. She booted up some social media app and just scrolled. Her hobbies were gone. Her ability to spend her free time productively had been robbed from her. She couldn't even go to class and try to focus on being the best. And all she could do was half-heartedly pretend like she was going to eat pecans on a couch and look at posts of people who pretended to be more popular than her.
It got boring quickly.
Where was the rest of her team?
You: What are you doing?
Jaune: I lift
Jaune: Now is this a booty call or do you want to join me?
You: No. My legs are still jelly from this morning.
She tried again.
You: What's up?
Blake (Some Relation): About 2 do the mission interview with the headmaster u?
You: I've got mine later, so nothing.
Blake (Some Relation): Sorry :(
Weiss sighed.
You: Doing stuff?
J. Shamrock: Oh no, cold texting. I'll send someone to get u
You: What?
J. Shamrock: u only do this when ur upset. I take it call with ur dad went bad
J. Shamrock: where u?
You: Dorm common room, simply existing.
J. Shamrock: hang tight cuz I'm busy
Weiss sat up, staring at the text. She didn't only text Shamrock out of the blue when she was upset, did she? Granted, there was that one time before she went up teaching Jaune to sing. Every other time she can recall texting Shamrock, she had a plan in mind and was pretty upfront with it.
If she just scrolled a little up, she could see where she was texting Shamrock her plans for Blake's surprise birthday party this Saturday and an invitation to show up to help make the cake. Although now she didn't know how she was going to do that, when she couldn't even buy ingredients. It just gave her more anxiety. She had promised to break a cake for her eighteenth birthday, something homemade and awesome and well researched, but now she couldn't even do that.
Blake herself right now seemed busy. And Weiss wasn't ready to put on tight workout pants in front of a crowd just yet with Jaune. She had always had a vague suspicion that the girls who did that on the campus gym were just there for a mild exhibitionist fetish.
You: Don't be silly. I'll come to you. Location?
It took a couple of minutes before Shamrock replied.
J. Shamrock: Campus cafe. Want some coughee?
You: What?
J. Shamrock: Coughee. Dirty bean caffeine water with sugar and cream
You: You mean "coffee"?
J. Shamrock: p sure that's not how it's spelled
Weiss returned her bag of pecans that she couldn't have eaten in any case, due to all the calories and fat and things she didn't really need. At least now she had a vague direction of somewhere to go. Something to do.
It was mostly just a hop, skip, and a jump from the dorms to the café. It was technically located in the library, a sort of large nook you could access from the outside directly or from the warehouse of books that Blake liked to haunt. It was past lunch time and that meant there weren't really any crowds here. Weiss supposed that made it perfect for someone like Shamrock who wasn't in class right now to stop in for a coffee. Much like the bagel store in the student center, technically you could get everything they had on offer at the cafeteria at some point, but the cafeteria was only open at certain hours today, had an incredibly limited selection, and it tended to be mediocre at best. As you would expect from a well-run corporation, the bagel shop and the café did it better than the government standard.
She looked around the tables trying to find Shamrock and join them. Until a girl in café uniform and a flamboyant tophat appeared before her.
"It's seat yourself," Shamrock said, taking out a notepad. "I recommend a comfy window seat. Empty enough that you have prime real estate pick. Our soup of the day is soupe à l'oignon, our special is a toa-ahi with parrot egg sushi, and we add an automatic thirty percent surcharge if you touch one of us."
Weiss blinked. "What?"
Shamrock shrugged. "A lot of boys and girls come from culture where giving us the goose is considered in good humor instead of sexual harassment. With all of the foreigners here for Vytal, it's become a kind of occupational hazard. Might as well milk those creeps since there's no way the charges will stick."
"What the heck!"
She sighed. "Beacon has terrible HR. I'm convinced it's no accident our school uniform skirts are so short. Bunch of horny old men probably designed them. Why do you think I prefer to wear the men's suit for class?"
"No, I mean—Shamrock, you work here?"
"Uh, yeah? Why is everyone surprised I actually have a job?" She put hands on hips. "What do you think I'm doing when I'm not hanging out with you guys? Do you think I actually have friends?"
"I mean, we do play cards with Jack and Yang."
"Those two are firmly under the category of 'you guys.' I need to get my betting money from somewhere! Now are you going to sit down and order something or do I have to throw you out like that monkey boy from earlier?"
Having no idea what else to do, Weiss found the best table she could manage and just sat.
Shamrock folded her arms, leaning her hip against the table. "So what's got you so upset and sad?"
"I'm not sad."
"Uh-huh. So after all of our heart to heart talks about your daddy in just how much he fucked you up in the head, talking to him didn't make you sad?"
"How do you even know I had to call my father?"
Shamrock shrugged. "Jaune told me."
Weiss played with her fingers. "So you know why I did it, then."
"Not really, no. Jaune just popped back into the room, told me that class was apparently canceled for the week for us, kind of just stood around there with this distant look on his face, and then said he was going to the gym."
"You would think he would find something more productive to do," she said.
"I don't think he has any hobbies. It's kind of sad. All he knows how to do is lift weights and send Blake mixed messages."
Weiss blew out a puff of breath. "Yeah, no kidding. I kind of feel like every time our team starts to fall apart or has trouble, it's because of Jaune or Blake."
"I feel like I'm missing out by not causing us emotional trouble," Shamrock said, twirling her pen. With a single gesture, she made it disappear. Only to pull it out from behind Weiss' ear and smile. "So if your dad didn't do it, how did those two idiots make you sad?"
"Nothing. I don't think there's anything they can do to make me sad. Angry and annoyed, that's a constant. But sad? No. Those two are just whatever. Even my father is just part of the cost of doing business, I suppose."
"If those things can't ruin your day, what can?"
"Horses," Weiss said simply.
Shamrock glanced at the entrance as someone came in. But another waitress came over to take their order, and Shamrock returned her focus to Weiss. "Are you afraid of horses or something?"
"What? No, don't be ridiculous. The mere existence of horses just upsets me. Not because I hate them; I actually really like horses. They're extremely rare in Atlas. Usually their hearts just explode if you get them that high up."
Sitting down across from her, Shamrock put her hat upside down on the table. "Did you once pet a horse and think you were getting pregnant?"
"I mean, horses are pretty much perpetually aroused, but it's because they die for pretty much no reason. It's why they're actually a little easier to breed than you might expect. We have a word in Atlas called snowhorse, or Schneepferd if you want to get technical."
"Let's say that I do?"
Weiss looked to the ceiling, remembering. "In old Mantle, horses were pretty rare. They don't survive that well in the far north. Unlike popular belief, Solitas isn't just ice and glaciers; that's just an effect of the seasons. If you go far enough, sure, that's all you'll see, but there are plenty of places where you can actually grow food during summer, and even a few volcanic hot spring areas that are green year-round. Despite it all, horses really don't like it up there. Even the ones we did breed for the climate are extremely expensive and take a lot of care. So the old king of Mantle used to put disfavored courtiers in charge of the royal horses. He'd give them a Schneepferd. This person would have to pay out of pocket to take care of the horses, and it would usually financially destroy them. But to refuse the offer, which was a prestigious position, would spit in the face of the king and ruin your social standing."
"So you don't like horses because they're expensive? And here I was thinking your family could afford anything."
Weiss widened her eyes theatrically. "Everybody but me! At least, as of this morning. By the way, I can't actually afford to buy any coffee or anything right now."
Shamrock frowned. "Weiss, I know you're my best friend, but rules are rules and I will kick you out if you can't find a way to tip me for good service."
Her eyelashes fluttered. "Wait, I'm your best friend?"
"Am I not yours?" Shamrock asked with a gesture to ward off the evil eye.
Drumming her fingers on the table, Weiss said, "It's… I know it's a little late, but I've just never really put a label on it like that, I guess? It's weird."
"Lemme put it like this: if you had to pick someone to kill—"
"Jaune," Weiss said quickly. "And Blake. I'll shoot her over you. If I have to spend the rest of my days here with one of you idiots, I'd rather it be you. Mostly because I'm pretty sure I'm getting close to finally being able to beat you in a game of cards, and I can't even beat Jaune at a jog."
Shamrock looked impressed. "I was going to ask you, 'fuck, marry, or kill,' but now I'm afraid you might not change your answer."
Weiss laughed despite herself. "Is that really a game people play after middle school?"
"It's an important friendship litmus test. A Huntsman team comes preequipped with four people, which is just designed to play fuck, marry, or kill with."
"And I suppose the correct answer is marry your partner?"
Shamrock put a hand to her chest, pretending to be offended. "Personally, I think I'd make a wonderful one night stand, thank you very much!"
"Don't quit your day job," Weiss said, flicking a little packet of table sugar at her partner.
"I mean if I married you, I could live a life of luxury off of your estate. Then I could finally quit this coffee shop job and pay off my gambling debt to Jack."
She made a face. "That sounds uncomfortable. I wouldn't trust owing anything to Jack. I feel like he's the kind of person to claim that pictures of your breasts would suffice for money."
"No, I offered that," Shamrock said casually. "To be fair, I was drinking. He said no, because he'd rather get his hands on blackmail material the honorable way." She sat forward. "Though if you get your hands on pics of Yang, I'd be down. I am convinced she stuffs her chest."
"That's mean!" Weiss laughed.
Shamrock rolled her green eyes. "Please. She tries to act all tough and sexy, but I think she's just pretending for some reason. I think being the hot party girl was just who she always imagined she would have been if she wasn't an unwilling teen mom for her little sister, basically."
Weiss was going to reply to that, but then paused. "Wait, what were we talking about? I'm completely lost here."
"Yeah," Shamrock said with a wink. "I dragged you out of your feelings kicking and screaming. You don't look so sad anymore."
Leaning back, Weiss sighed. A little laugh bubbled from her lips. "No, I suppose not. It doesn't change the fact that economic warfare has rendered me a pauper who can't even afford socks to stuff Yang's bra with."
Shamrock snorted. "Tits McGee aside, what are you gonna do now?"
"Well, it's not exactly like I can leave. I'm not going to go back home as a failure who couldn't make do when things got tough. And I'm especially not going to abandon any of you. Pretty sure Team BASS would die in a blaze of stupidity without me here to keep you all in line. So if Vale wants to go crazy nationalistic, then tough; I'm not budging."
Weiss leaned back, putting her arm over her chair. She looked around the room, eyes drifting to people passing outside the windows. "My grandfather had a problem like this once in Vacuo. The local beylik thought he could try to throw out the SDC while he was there to personally oversee the mission."
"Bey," Shamrock said. "It's Seljuk, my native language. A beylik is the territory of a bey. Like duke and duchy."
"Stop correcting me on my cultural insensitivity; I'm trying to tell a story," Weiss said, giving the gesture for pardon. "Point is, when he was all alone without support, he used what he had on hand. He refused to bend over and leave. He forced the system to work with and for him. Starting from nothing until he had built his own miniature SDC no one could go without, because those savages couldn't mine Dust like we could. No offense."
"Some taken," Shamrock said casually.
"My point is, he was given an awful hand, and worked with it until he came out on top. If my grandfather could do it, why can't I? I'm still a Schnee, one way or another. So I guess I'll have no choice."
"To do what? Make your own Dust company and subvert the market?"
"No," Weiss said grimly. "First I'm going to need a local bank account so I can earn money. And then I'm going to find a way to fill that bank account. With the fruits of my own labor. It's times like this when you have to ask yourself the three most important questions."
Shamrock looked like she was phasing out, her eyes distant and everything. "And those are?"
Weiss smirked. "'What do I have?', 'What do I want?', and 'How can I use the former to get the latter?' It's basic business. It's how you should approach every situation."
"Uh," Shamrock droned, twirling her pen.
"Obviously, I have my career as a Huntress, the fact that I'm smarter than pretty much anyone else here, and I have my name."
"I too have a name. It is currently Jetty."
Weiss waved her hand. "That's not what I mean. It is your name, but it doesn't have weight. See, my name is still good for something; I'm sure I can get a loan with a moderate interest rate and use it to start a business. But what will I sell?" She put her fingers together. "The trick is finding a niche in the market. Something that no one else is doing, or else doing it better than everyone already is. Quite clearly, I need to play to my strengths. I'm going to need to acquire a sample of every mass produced bagel out there, so I can then figure out how to do it better, but cheaper. The problem is, this country has startlingly high minimum wage laws, because some politicians thought it was smarter to enforce a wage instead of letting the market figure it out, because politicians are always so much better than the actual market. That was sarcasm by the way."
"I never would have guessed."
She poked her finger into her cheek. "Alternatively, this country does have penal labor. Perhaps I could exploit that? People like seeing reformed inmates playing with puppies and getting jobs. So why not convince people that leasing to my new business inmate labor at cheap cost to help produce bagels and breads is the way to go? Pastries are based on grains, and carbohydrates are already extremely cost efficient per calorie—"
"What the fuck is going on?" Shamrock said in a breathy whisper.
"So by using cheaply imported grain from Graad and prison labor, I can cut down on costs from the outset. And perhaps market my product at a premium, since it's ethically sourced using ethically treated non-consenting labor as a form of reform. But how will I master my recipe? Drugs are startlingly legal in Vale. I'll need to see food purity laws to see if I can add cheap yet addictive chemicals to—"
Shamrock slammed her hands on the table. "Okay, that's enough!"
Weiss blinked. "Wha'?"
"Look, I was waiting for you to make an obvious connection, but it's clearly beyond you." She reached forward and rapt her knuckles against Weiss' forehead.
"Ah!" Weiss yelled, shielding her face from the onslaught. "That hurts!"
"Work here. With me. It pays pretty good. Enough that I can keep my crippling gambling addiction without going to prostitution."
Weiss gasped. "Customer service!"
"And half the time we get away with pretty good tips. You're hot; you'd make a killing."
"But tipping is unethical!"
Shamrock raised her notebook threateningly. Weiss flinched.
"I was kidding!" Weiss said. "I don't—I don't really want to use prison slavery to make cinnamon rolls. It was just kind of fun to think about and I got carried away. It would probably still work, though. Just saying."
"You've got a weird sense of humor."
Weiss sulked. "It's because I'm funny and you're not!"
"Do you want me to help you get a job here or not?"
Gritting her teeth, Weiss asked, "Do I have a choice?"
"Not unless you've mastered cards and can rake Yang or Jack over the Dust."
Weiss made a gesture, breathing life into her Semblance. She created a 4 of Hearts out of glyphs. "Is this your card?"
Shamrock rolled her eyes. "Don't know why I asked. Point is, this job here is pretty okay. Occasional sexual harassment aside—which we are protected under via this kingdom's self-defense laws, if you are so inclined—it pays well, the tips are good, and all campus jobs must work around your class schedule and hours. I've been doing this a while. And we could really use the extra help. Plus, y'know, it'd be fun to hang out with a coworker I actually like."
"Me?" Weiss asked, pointing at herself.
"Uh, duh."
Weiss mulled it over for an uncomfortable moment. Putting her hands in her lap, she said, "Is there an interview process? Do I get to look at my schedule? Do I have to wear the same uniform you do, because that color is kind of tacky and I think it would really clash with my skin."
"Do you have any idea how a job works?"
With an awkward laugh, Weiss said, "No? I mean, I've helped around for stuff for my family. Business related stuff, you understand. But it wasn't exactly a job. More like training for when I eventually take over the SDC."
Shamrock stood, arms extended onto the table to prop her up. "Well, consider this training to be an employee. One of the countless number of faceless goons you'll wind up employing one day."
"I already feel a creeping sense of dread."
Shamrock winked. "Welcome to customer service!"
— 8 —
"Okay, you're hired!" the red-eyed girl with the blue beret said. "But only if you can score me a hot date with one of your teammates!"
Apparently, there was actually an interview process. Shamrock had explained it as more or less a rubber stamping. She had talked with the head of the café, who didn't have any objections to having more hands to help, and then sent her on her way. Weiss had gone alone to the girl single-handedly manning the front desk in the student center.
The name tag on her uniform read Cards, and she had a way of making Weiss feel like she was in a sting operation. Just the way she happily seemed to accept everything that came up, and then did stuff like this. Weiss would have called the girl small, except that they were about the same height. It was just that her uniform looked a little too big on her, like she had lost a lot of weight since she acquired it, or maybe they just ran out of toddler size during orientation after Weiss and Ruby. There was also the fact that she was wearing leggings designed to look like tentacles on her thighs, and it just looked unprofessional.
Which, in an ironic way, made Weiss feel more at home. Without a suit or even a good dress, Weiss was worried that she would fail the interview just because she wasn't dressed for the part. But if these were the standards that the student employees maintained, Weiss could have probably showed up in her yoga pants and been fine.
On Cards' desk were all of the bits of paperwork Weiss needed to get filled out and signed so that she could officially get a job, and start making an income. The girl would occasionally sign something or make a doodle, and then spin around in her chair while humming to herself. Almost as if she was lost in her own little world, only to be reminded that reality existed every time she saw Weiss. And apparently, whatever she saw in Weiss was grounds for disapproval.
"I do not operate an escort service?" Weiss said slowly, feeling more than a little uncomfortable.
Cards nodded. "Good! You passed the first test. We don't hire people who are running a secret prostitution ring on our campus."
"Has this been a problem in the past?"
"Eh, not really. But you can never be too careful. Kids these days." She tsked her tongue. "Usually, the worst we have is the occasional wannabe amateur porn star. Imagine being a Huntress who fights against the forces of evil and darkness by day, and at night taking pictures of your tits. Not that you would know, of course; you don't have any."
Weiss felt a lance of something hot and angry run up her back. She did her best to control her temper, just grabbing at the hem of her skirt. "Thaaaanks."
"Oh, no, don't thank me," Cards said happily. "I was insulting you. You've got to get used to that in customer service, especially in the café. People are dicks. I'm preparing you for a harsh life in the real world!"
Weiss looked around. She was sitting at the desk in the student center, in clear view of everyone passing by. She could even see the little bagel store she had stopped by this morning, and for a moment idly wondered if Jaune had actually bothered to eat anything today. This wasn't exactly a private place for an interview by any stretch of the imagination. She could feel people's eyes on the back of her neck as they walked by. She wondered how many of them were simply idly curious and how many knew her from the news footage.
"Are people really that bad on campus?" Weiss asked. "I mean, I've gotten stuff from student employees before. I don't think I've ever been mean to them or anything."
Cards shrugged one hand. "Honestly, it depends. I know this one guy who works with Croaker in medical. He tells me things. Most of the time it's 'please leave me alone' or 'why do you keep taking the free condoms; no one wants to sleep with you,' but other times he says that injured students who have to go to the hospital can get pretty nasty. My job here is pretty nice. I got it by accident. I was just trying to find umbrellas during initiation night and accidentally got the job because I was the first freshman to apply for one out of our whole year. Things pretty much trickled down from there because it's a pretty visible position and I don't really do anything besides chase parrots. So in my case, it's a really cushy position, and people seem to respect me for it, which is all the motivation I need to keep going with a smile on my face!"
"But what about as a waitress?"
Cards adjusted her beret. "I mean, it's a super public space. I don't hear much, but I can imagine." She threw up her hands in a kind of dude-bro gang sign. Deepening her voice, she said, "Damn, baby, are you a drunk college girl? Because I would literally violate your bodily autonomy without any respect to your consent if I thought I could get away with it."
She ended it with a big, goofy smile. As if expecting some sort of praise.
Weiss just blinked, and slowly pulled her head back in a kind of horrified disgust. She was nearly awestruck. In the worst way possible. She folded her legs defensively, arms crossed. "That actually happens?!"
"Eh, calm down, ice queen. It's probably not that bad. I'm spitballing the worst I can imagine. Not a real example."
Weiss hissed. "I—what—you—gods, you are creepy. That is not okay to say. To anyone! Even as a joke!"
Cards didn't look impressed. "Take it up with the complaint department. Which is me. I run way too many miscellaneous things from the student-side of things. Because the system is kinda stupid."
It took Weiss a very long moment to collect herself. She ran her hands through her hair before straightening out her skirt. Several breaths later, she thought she was able to swallow the indignant hatred to try to actually get back to reality with this cretinous little creep. "So, if you're in charge of HR and complaints, you hear stuff. Am I correct?" Weiss asked slowly.
The girl thought about it for a moment by spinning around in her chair. "Hmm, I guess so. Last complaint I got was from customers, actually. They were wondering why their favorite, most pretty waitress was gone. But it turned out she died on a mission, so it was out of our control."
She said it so casually, like someone's death didn't matter. It was enough to give Weiss goosebumps. She's stiffened in place.
Weiss didn't want to be anywhere near Cards ever again if she could help it.
"Is that a common problem?" Weiss asked.
Cards brushed away one of her black bangs, tucking it beneath her hat. "Hm. Depends. I saw your team on TV. I doubt a lot of people could make it through that alive. You'll be fine, but others? Sometimes I wonder. People die in this lifestyle. It's easy to forget when I spend most of my days messing around behind a desk here, and the missions my team goes on are pretty basic stuff like providing security for an archeology team in the Forever Fall Forest, but we're Hunters. We die. It's a part of life. More specifically, the very last part of life. Which is why you should totally try to score a hot date before you die if you can." She winked.
"Are… you using the ever-present guillotine of our careers to hit on me?"
Cards laughed. "Oh, please. Don't be so full of yourself, Weiss. My type is hot, tall, probably doesn't know my name, and—oh my god he's bringing me food right now!"
"That's a ludicrously specific type."
"No, I mean—hi!"
Weiss turned to find Jaune of all people setting a little plate of hand pies on Cards' desk. He looked like he might on any other day, except for how his expression seemed a mix between guarded and sour. He eyed Cards with distrust as she shoved one of the entire little pastries into her mouth without gagging, which was actually kind of impressive in a horrifying way.
"It's a deep fried cinnamon apple pie. Is this real life?" Cards asked around a mouthful of food. "Have I finally managed to steal Ruby's husband?"
"Jaune?" Weiss gasped. "What are you doing here?"
"I promised I'd feed Cards in an alternate dimension. She said that was acceptable because she is eternal in all realities," he said, as if that was a completely reasonable answer and not absolutely mental.
"I'm going to assume that means you had a dream about me," Cards said. "If so, hell yeah. I finally made it into the dreams of hot boys! Cross one thing off the bucket list."
"I lack the object permanence to discern fiction from reality, so your answer is as good as mine. But a promise is a promise. Anyhow, Weiss, how's my favorite girl boss doing?"
"I'm doing da betht!" Cards said in a kind of sultry baby voice that made Weiss' skin crawl.
"Cards," Jaune said with a contented sigh. "If racism didn't exist, I would invent it specifically to segregate you from the general populace and oppress you."
The girl in the beret nibbled on a second apple hand pie. "Honestly, for free food, you could do anything to me and I probably wouldn't go to the police. Mostly because my mom is a cop and it will be pretty embarrassing explaining how we got in that situation to her."
He rolled his eyes. "Drink some water. You sound thirsty."
"Wow, rude much? I thought we were cool!"
"I gave you my number to call in case anything interesting popped into the lost and found, and you never gave me a ring," Jaune said. "If it wasn't obvious, back then I was actually trying to hit on you."
The girl shrugged, over exaggerating the gesture in a cartoonish fashion. "I lost it. On purpose. Because everyone said you were a creep. A girl's got to protect herself. Momma didn't raise no fool!"
Jaune leaned against the desk, eyeing Weiss in a way that made her feel intensely self-conscious. She crossed her legs, hands in her lap. Then she remembered that this was Jaune, a boy who habitually neglected to eat. His opinion of her really shouldn't be something she allowed to bother her. If anything, she just found herself getting irritated.
"You see what I deal with when I try to be nice to a girl?" he asked Weiss, shaking his head. "Next you're gonna tell me you faked laughing every time I told a joke."
"I've never laughed at your jokes," Weiss said.
"Same!" Cards added, finishing the last hand pie. She was getting crumbs all over the desk and Weiss' employment paperwork.
"It's because you don't recognize humor when you see it," Jaune said, putting his nose in the air. "I'm currently performing the greatest joke of all time, and I am the only one laughing."
"You mean that thing you call a life?" Weiss asked.
"Oooh!" Cards cooed. "I thought you two were friends, but I am here for these sick burns!"
Jaune waved his hand dismissively. "Stop stealing my punchline, Weiss. Ya finna make me think I'm predictable."
Weiss made a so-so gesture. "Honestly, at this point, nothing you do really surprises me. It's more like a long, persistent chain of disappointments that I keep expecting you to learn from yet you consistently fail."
The boy almost looked offended for a split second. Before he just shrugged it off and said, "I mean, the whole fact I'm from a different reality and can't die seemed to surprise you."
Her eyes shot to Cards as soon as he said that. In public of all places. The short girl in the beret was idly kicking her feet as she finished up paperwork, only occasionally looking up to fake interest in the conversation now that it no longer concerned her. The various other students walking through the student center weren't close enough to overhear them, and in any case she didn't know who any of them were.
After a moment, Weiss decided maybe it didn't matter. If she overheard a conversation where somebody she didn't know claimed to be from another reality, she would assume it was either insanity or a roundabout metaphor. A part of her, however, continued to be mildly annoyed on a spiritual level that nobody, not even herself, particularly cared about this Remnant shattering revelation. She was honestly more amazed that she wasn't amazed than anything else.
"That didn't surprise me," Weiss said pointedly. "It made things about you make sense for the first time in my life. And speaking of sense, good gods what are you wearing?"
He looked down with some mild surprise. It looked like his typical tight jeans and a kind of open faced vest. "It's a weskit."
"What?" she intoned.
Jaune shrugged. "Look, fuck if I know. Grimm ate my good shirt out in Montluçon. And the cape Ruby designed with me. This is my last article of clothing that Coco and I went shopping for. Looks good, huh?"
She squinted in disbelief. "Congratulations. You have graduated from regular pornstar to gay pornstar."
He clicked his tongue. "My body, my choice. I don't appreciate you sexualizing me just because I exist in a feminized space. I do not exist for your viewing pleasure nor do I have to conform to your standards of decency."
"What kind of political jargon is that?"
"Of course, you know," he said smugly, putting a hand to his chest as if offended, "as a feminist, I believe in equality between the sexes, including my ability to free the nipple."
Her head hurt just trying to comprehend that. Stabbing her hand towards him in a knife gesture, she said, "No, you are not a 'feminist.' You made fun of that Yatsuhashi guy just for standing up to your wildly sexist language."
"He was just upset that I was badmouthing Velvet, who herself kept being a bitch to Blake."
"They started fighting after you made fun of him."
"Preemptive self-defense," he said quickly.
"That's not a thing. You were just mean to him for no real reason."
He had this look of blank incomprehension on, the kind of expression he only made when he knew exactly what you were saying, but was mentally refusing to process the words. "Lo, I deny the reprobate opinions of miscreants malappropriating gender equality simply because the moon is in retrograde."
"Now you're clearly saying words you don't understand!"
"I understand most things, sometimes those include the words I say. It's not a perfect Venn diagram, but, y'know." He shrugged.
Weiss sighed, leaning against the help desk as Cards hummed away her paperwork. "You don't even understand how to eat. Have you even put anything in your mouth today? Besides cigarettes."
He opened his mouth, but upon her clarification just went quiet in a boyishly stubborn kind of way. As he was searching for some way to shift responsibility for his lack of eating onto something stupid, Cards stood up.
"Here you go!" she said happily, holding out the paperwork. She wiped some of the handpie crumbs around her mouth away on her sleeve. "Normally, I'm all for hot people standing around me, getting all hot and bothered. But the more you talk, the more I feel like I'm the unwanted child of a divorce. Take this crap to the maitre d' of the café or whatever. Just get out of my hair before I decide to forget to include you on the next payroll out of spite."
Weiss gave Jaune one last sour look before taking the little stacks of paper. "I don't believe that's legal and you will be hearing from my lawyer if you try that on me."
Cards scoffed. "With this pay? Honey, you are not affording a lawyer. Unless you try taking nude pics on the side."
"Would that really turn a profit, though?" Jaune asked.
The girl adjusted her beret again. "Anything's possible if you're willing to sell your dignity while stubbornly insisting it's 'empowerment' and not 'prostitution.'"
The boy put his hands on his hips. "Huh. That was an oddly succinct critique, coming from you."
Cards shrugged. "My mom was a cop. She told me neither the legal system nor its enforcers treat prostitutes as human beings. And what is wage labor but prostituting the rest of your body save your groin?"
"What?" Weiss said, tilting her head. "That's literally so stupid I don't know if I misheard you or had a stroke. I mean that genuinely. I'm wondering if I can smell toast right now, after you just said that."
The girl looked away. "I don't know. It sounded pretty deep. My team leader, Jack, said that and I'm still not sure if it was really cool or just really dumb."
"Wait, Jack? Indigo Jack?" Weiss shook her head. "Really tall guy who is always carrying around a couple of knives? Compulsive liar? Probably a communist despite having literally zero grasp on economic theory on even a preschool level?"
"Das da one," Cards said. "Anyhow, Weiss, you're used to wage slavery. Be real with me here: what is the difference between what you're doing now, and selling ass pics?"
Weiss compressed a groan in her throat. "One is the honest use of your skills and abilities to earn a better lot in life, and the other is exchanging what should be something deep and personal for a couple lien. They're only even vaguely equivalent if you presume humans are just meat and not people. It's gross."
"Well, hold on," Jaune said mildly, "I'm not really sure she's in a position to judge fairly, philosophy aside. For one, she doesn't have an ass to sell. Secondly—"
Sucking on her lip, Weiss just turned around to avoid them seeing the only somewhat homicidal redness creeping over her cheeks. "Not dealing with this. Not dealing with this. Both of you are stupid and I'm leaving."
She barely made it to the sliding front door before Jaune caught up to her. Weiss gave him a harsh look as she negotiated around a team of junior Huntsmen entering. Outside, the crisp daylight air was nice, the sun reflecting off the snow before freshly salted sidewalks turned it all into a gray morass.
"But for real, where you goin'?" he asked.
Weiss clutched her paperwork to her chest. "Shouldn't you be off not eating somewhere else?" she snapped.
He kept pace with her, burning a mild Aura to stay warm. His expression was somewhere between mildly thoughtful and vaguely alarmed. "Sorry, sorry. I was making a joke and got lost in the moment. I wasn't trying to demean or ignore you."
She sideyed him. "I think you should stop there. There's nowhere that conversation can go that I wouldn't find uncomfortable."
Jaune shrugged. "What about somewhere positive? I like the new outfit. The blacks go well with the whites. I take it you lost the old one back in the city like I did mine?"
Half-heartedly, she rolled her eyes and said, "You don't have to act like you're hitting on me to try to be nice. If anything, it just makes you look sad and desperate, and I worry for Blake."
"Oh, no. If I wanted to hit on you, I would just do it without pretense. That's why I'm a feminist; I can punch smaller women in the face and not feel any kind of moral conundrum over it."
"So, is that what feminism is in your world? An excuse to punch girls in the face?"
He put one hand in his pocket, his eyes to the clouds as if considering his answer. "I've punched a couple of women. But they've all been of the superpowered variety, so they had the advantage over me."
"That White Fang girl wasn't."
Jaune looked puzzled. Rather than directly walk beside her, he stepped up onto the bricks of a little garden and balanced his way forwards like a toddler. "The Humming Lady? We never threw hands. Although I probably should have. Kept making Blake uncomfortable. Just a real bitch to her. Made my blood boil. It was like she got off on the fact that she could say whatever, and we wouldn't touch her because we were all too busy fighting Grimm."
Weiss shook her head. "No, even earlier. Way back during that Dust store robbery that, for some reason, you convinced us to go along with."
That seemed to take him genuinely off guard. "I did?"
"Yeah, it was… kind of brutal. You beat her face into a counter."
He hopped off the bricks and kept up beside her again. "I have… a poor memory of that. Even my first couple of days forcefully sober here, I barely recall. Talked to Pyrrha and Ruby, I think. I want to say that I apologized to at least one of them for something."
"Hm. Speaking of things you should apologize for, why exactly are you following me?"
Jaune shrugged a shoulder. "Spent most of my night trying to bake some treats and work on weapons with Ruby. Haven't really seen much of Blake, and… y'know, I saw you and figured it'd be good conversation. I like you. Mostly unironically these days, too."
"So you're saying you used to not like me?" she asked, more than a little curious.
He nodded eagerly. "Oh yeah. Sort of. I vaguely recall being fed up with you the moment we met. Just trying to ask for your help with my Aura felt like scraping my teeth with sandpaper. I knew you were smart and really badass, but, y'know."
For some reason, the lopsided compliment made her hold her head up a little higher. It felt nice, warming her better than her coat. "Pride and ego kept you away, huh?"
Almost surprised, he said, "No, none of that. Do you think anyone with a shred of pride would dress like this? I'm shameless. It was more—you just weren't good people. I didn't know a single person who liked you. And like I'm one to talk, I know, but I just didn't want to be near you. Now, fuck it, I'd be dead without you. We're a team. A little family, I guess. And I just like talking with you these days, y'know?"
"Family. What a particular word." With a gesture, she summoned a little snowflake glyph in her palm. She crushed it in her fist.
"Yeah. Which is why I'm having you all vaccinated." He winked. "The sooner you develop autism and become socially stunted, the longer it will take you to realize you'd probably be better off without me. I feed on them social attachments to keep from killing myself."
Weiss sighed. "Jaune, suicidal, on-the-ledge humor isn't funny. If we were better off without you, I wouldn't constantly be pestering you about your diet, or lack thereof. It's not a good sign. Making a joke of it doesn't make it better. If anything, it proves how self-aware you are of the problem, which makes you all the more deplorable for not addressing it. I know how much you like to pretend to be stupid, but you're a lot smarter than that and you know it."
Neither of them spoke. They passed by a pair of senior girls comparing weapons. Jaune eyed their guns, probably trying to figure out how they worked. Just anything to prevent him from having to answer Weiss' accusation.
"We handle what bothers us in different ways," Jaune finally said, examining the sheath strapped to his arm. He tapped his fingers against it thoughtfully. "Blake likes to avoid it altogether. Shamrock switches faces and becomes someone else. You'll work towards even the slightest improvement because you don't like sitting still. I… just don't think about it. I shut down, and I don't think about it, and I act like nothing is wrong because I don't know what to do."
"But we do know what to do," she said, turning a corner. "We're going to actually have Blake's birthday party and then I'm going to lock you in a room together until you wind up working through what's wrong; die in the attempt; or, I don't know, one of you gets pregnant. Just whatever it takes until you get the stupid out of your systems."
"But I don't need any more children; I already have you guys," Jaune whined. He reached out to her to do something, and paused. At his questioning expression, Weiss sighed and gave a slight nod. As if nothing happened, he grabbed Weiss around the shoulder and said, "This is my Weiss and teammate. I've only been her friend for, like, maybe a day, but if anything happened to her I would kill everyone in the world and then myself. Same for Blake and Shamrock. In fact, none of you get near my babies."
Weiss pushed him away, rolling her eyes. "Your paternalistic instincts to protect are backwards. If anything, I'm the mom of this family."
"Team teen mom much, Weiss?" he asked, nudging her shoulder.
She slowed down a fraction. "I… suppose. You could consider it practice. I've always wanted children in a way. Of course, if my children are anything like you, I should get my tubes tied and leave heirs to my brother." She flashed a smile.
More than anything, he just looked surprised in a way which got under her skin. "You, a mother?"
Weiss stopped outside the café door and bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped.
Jaune stepped backwards, raising his hands. "It's just—jokes aside, I never reckoned you the type. Figured you'd be more a career woman. Or…" He shrugged.
"Or what?" she asked sharply. "Do you expect me to want to become some old spinster with seventeen cats?"
"No, it's more—like…" He made a gesture like trying to conduct a small orchestra, as if physically trying to grab the words from his head and put them in order before him. Eventually, posture slumping sheepishly, he said, "I was pretty fucked up as a kid. Dad was born illegitimate and spent life as a sailor who kept getting sent to one war or another. Mom was raised by a drug addict and barely knew how to handle kids. They tried, and got me. Mom used to say I was the beta version so they could get all the accidentally fucking the child in the head shit out of the way first. It's why I left home. Ran away, almost. And it made me really believe in safe sex, you know? That I'd fuck up someone down the line like they did never sat well with me, despite a vague desire to have a family one day. With everything you tell me about how you were brought up, well…"
Weiss took a moment to process what he was saying, the underlying meaning. When it all clicked with her, she felt a sudden weight in her stomach. It made her want to grit her teeth and bite someone. "I'm not like my father. Nor am I my mother."
He seemed confused. "I didn't—that's not what I—"
"I'm a wholly original kind of messed up," she said, and ran her tongue over her teeth. "But I'm not about to let any of that stop me from what I want to do. The difference is, I've learned the hard way about what doesn't work because I was raised at its mercy. You should know it too. It's why I know what I'm not going to do when I inherit my birthright, either for the SDC or some theoretical child. I know what I want, I know what I have, and nothing is going to stop me from using the latter to get the former."
Weiss tried to toss her hair back, only to find it was short. She kept forgetting that. "It's a lesson I had to learn early in life, but it didn't click for the longest time. You're supposed to be older than me; what's stopped you from figuring that out?"
Jaune just stood there. Weiss stared back at him, feeling like she was somehow fighting him again on some moral principle.
The café door opened. And suddenly Jaune looked flabbergasted.
"Shamrock?" he asked.
"Yes, hi, me," Shamrock said, tipping her hat. "If this is the part where you express shock and admiration that I actually have a job, you can skip it. It's already happened twice today."
Weiss turned, only for Shamrock to grab her and drag her into the building. "Hey, hold on!"
"Nope," Shamrock said. "It looks like you're fighting. You are not allowed to fight on company time. And since you're back and have the paperwork, I am presuming you're on the clock right now. Jaune, no. Bad Jaune. Don't make me get out the spray bottle of water!"
"Uh," Jaune said. "We weren't fighting. Please don't leave me alone with my own thoughts. I can't handle the existential dread of merely being alive by my lonesome."
Shamrock closed the door. Jaune pawed helplessly at the door. And then just kept standing there with this comically sad look on his face as Shamrock prevented him from entering.
"No, really, we were okay," Weiss tried, leaning to the side to peek over Shamrock's shoulder.
Jaune continued to look as if someone had just shot his favorite dog, and then forcibly had his second favorite cat neutered for good measure.
Shamrock took the paperwork and looked it over quickly. "Well, if I spoke legal employment jargon, I'd presume this was in order. Take it to Milly in the back. She's our maitre d'. She'll get you fitted for your uniform, both this one and the special one we're going to need this weekend."
"Wait, hold on," Weiss said, holding up her hands. "Slow down. What's this about a second uniform?"
Shamrock gave a gesture to Jaune that meant ask me no question, I will tell you no lies. He just sort of frowned, folded his arms, and slunk away. Weiss' heart felt oddly heavy with guilt, as if she had just caused her friend some devastating emotional damage. She watched him go, passing by the windows, until Shamrock snapped her fingers to get her attention.
"Okay, hustle!" Shamrock said frantically. "We're about to go into the dinner rush and without you, we're short staffed, and that's going to really suck for me until you get suited up. You gotta really learn this one on the job. I'll do my best to teach you, but it's gonna be hectic."
"But what's with the two uniforms?"
"Oh, that. N'importe," Shamrock said, flopping her hand over. "One's for regular work hours. The other is gonna be your costume for café maid night. I'm sure you'll look drop dead sexy in it, or you'll drop dead in it."
Anyhow, that was the story of how Weiss would end up enduring the most awkward fitting session of her life, and come away fitted for the costume of an overly sexualized, short-haired Valais maid.
The tips were good that first night on the job, though.
Enough to be able to afford the ingredients to make Blake's birthday cake. Which was where most of the paycheck was going to in any case.
In hindsight, maybe Cards was right. There really wasn't much of a philosophical difference between wage labor and selling ass pics. At least Weiss would still have some dignity as an amateur pornstar.