Two officers are introduced to fast food, and awkwardness insues over a napkin.
This one is set shortly after all of the boys end up in the future, and we see Amelia's struggles with taking care of 18th century men. Really sorry that it has been a while since I updated, but take this super long chapter as a token of my apology!
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"Would you be so kind as to inform us where we are going instead of blindly leading us?" Major Bordon griped at the thin girl as he and James followed her down the street.
"We're just getting something to eat real quick." Amelia quickly answered before she fell into silence once again. From directly to his right, Wilkins could hear Bordon mutter under his breath, something about her apparent inability to cook, and the captain had to restrain his eyes from rolling into the back of his head. Now, it wasn't that he blamed the Englishman for his sour mood. Hell, these new and unheard of circumstances were a reality that they all had to come to terms with somehow! However his surly and at times pedantic behaviors were normal for the Major, and if Wilkins was forced to hear one more complaint about every little detail within this new world he felt that he was going to delve into madness! Amelia led them further, towards a red building with bright glowing yellow arches.
"Well, here we are!" Miss Smith's suddenly chipper voice only barely registered in the dragoon's head as he stared up at the bright 'M.'
"Mc...Donalds? Huh. It... doesn't look like much." With a shrug, Wilkins crossed his arms and eyed the place with feigned indifference. In truth, he was attempting to cover up his insecurity.
"Well, I guess you're okay with leading the way then?" James's eyes met Miss Smith's hazel ones as she swept her dark ringlets away from her face with a chuckle. One skinny, dark arm stretched out next to and behind her as an open invitation for him to move ahead. He bit back a remark and stiffly marched towards the red building with his nose in the air. A brave front for a soldier charging into the front lines. And he was almost there, but his courageous exterior cracked when he unknowingly stepped in front of a car that was backing out of its space. The man unleased a startled yelp as it lightly struck his left side and the sudden, ungodly din from the carriage caused him to quickly scurry away like a giant mouse.
"What the hell are you doing man?"
Now out of the way, James breathed heavily as he stared after the car and the young man driving it. He froze up like a frightened deer, and it took Amelia physically leading him to get where he intended to go. He started to recover though, once he was inside. His wide eyes scanned the overly-lit area-- it was like a tavern, but a very unusual one at that. For one thing, the kitchen was in plain sight and bustled with activity and far too many people to cook at one time! It also seemed that customers must wait in line to purchase their food rather than wait at a table. So that is what Wilkins did, joined by Bordon and Smith.
"I don't know what any of these things are... And why on earth would you put a fish filet in between two slices of bread?"
"I don't like their fish sandwiches, they're nasty." Smith responded to James's musings. "I prefer the the number 4, myself."
"The... quarter-pounder with cheese?"
"Yeah."
"I still have no idea what that is, but I guess I could try it..."
From the picture, it still looked a damn sight more appetizing than 'chicken nuggets!' He hoped that nuggets' did not mean what he suspected, if so... Why on God's Green Earth would they be served as a delicacy? He held back a shudder as he stepped forward in the line. Soon enough it was Wilkins' turn and in a voice that was forcibly gruff and guarded, he ordered his supper.
"Okay uh..." The young boy behind the counter pressed his finger into the little black box in front of him, and Wilkins could see his order appear in glowing green letters.
"What size would you like?"
"Large...please." Whatever modern delicacy he about to be confronted with now, he was willing to eat the quantity that a small army could consume. Taste or texture be damned, he had a long day moving furniture and clutter around and he was hungry!
"Your total is seven-fifty."
At this, the massive soldier's body deflated and uncertainty crept in once again. Seven-fifty what? Surely he didn't mean seven hundred and fifty of any coin!
"I'm paying for him, and for the guy behind him." Smith piped up and crept forward in the line, handing the boy green rectangles of paper, with the faces of men on them. Was that General Washington on one of them? The exchange was so quick he could not tell properly. No... no, that was impossible.
His gaze was focused downward and he stood frozen in place, until the acne-infested whelp behind the counter shoved an empty white cup at him. The distracted southerner took the cup from his hands, swept his large form out of the way and retreated without bothering to give the kid the stink eye as he usually would have. His elbow rested against a metal counter, he turned his head suddenly and that was when he took notice of the odd appliance on the counter, and the giant glowing red rectangle with 'Coca Cola' emblazoned on the front. His brow furrowed as he silently attempted to guess its purpose (none of which were even remotely correct of course) when a stranger approached it from his peripheral.
"Excuse me." She meekly phrase without looking up at his towering frame, and he kindly stepped aside with a polite bow of his head.
"My apologies, Miss."
The young lady placed her white cup over the black bars that lay horizontally over what he could describe as a miniature trench, and pressed it forward under a chute that was labeled 'ICE.' Astonishment and realization lit up his chiseled features when he watched her replace the cup, now halfway filled with frozen cubes of water, under the chute that read 'Sprite.' Oh of course, that was where he was supposed to get his beverage from! Sure, why not?
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A short time later, far shorter than either of the officers expected, Amelia approached the table where they had settled carrying a tray that was absolutely piled with enough food to feed a small army. As soon as she placed it, the surprisingly tempting aroma made James waste no time. He took one red carton filled with yellow sticks and scooted it closer to him, then grabbed the round, paper wrapped form that was identical to the one that Amelia claimed.
"Where are the forks?" Bordon's baritone voice piped up from his seat on the edge of the booth.
"We don't have any. We use our hands for this stuff."
"But it's greasy!" The major complained after he took one hot french fry and proceeded to drop back in its place in the carton. Wilkins scoffed as he tenatavely unwrapped his burger.
"I suppose it will only serve as another excuse for you to wash your hands again, won't it Bordon?" His mouth curled into a smug grin when the officer huffed and silently brought his attention back to his supper. The convenience of indoor plumbing has made hygiene standards far tighter. The 21st century habit of daily washings, although an overindulgence based on his experience, was something that he and Bordon both had no trouble embracing. However, only Bordon insisted on utilizing the hand sinks as often as he could, so much that the skin has begun to turn raw. So while the other officer fussed a bit over the grease on his previously clean fingers, James took his sandwich and boldly took a bite out of it. The flavors from the meat, the cheese and the condiments immediately hit his taste buds and made him close his eyes blissfully. All the while Smith peeked up at him from the corner of her eye.
"It's good, right?"
The captain nodded, then he swallowed, and took another bite that was far more zealous than the last. In less than five minutes that sandwich was gone, and he found himself reaching for his foam cup. The contents of that however were far less enjoyable and James ended up gagging and sputtering the awful beverage down.
"It can't be that bad! Which one did you get?" An alarmed Amelia declared.
"All of them." Wilkins answered miserably. "Except for the Pepper one. Now that I got to taste it, that was probably a bad idea." He chuckled despite his foolishness.
"I'll say. Just dump that out in their little um... Moat under the faucets. Then pick one, two minimum, alright?"
He nodded and obediently did as she said. Meanwhile, Richard got up the courage to try one of the golden forms of chicken that lay in a pile in their little carton.
"Awfully soft for poultry..." He mused after he swallowed the minuscule amount that he had experimentally bitten off. "But it is... not horrible I suppose."
"You can try ketchup if you want. You can have my second one." Miss Smith scooted one paper carton filled with the red sauce towards him and his lip curled.
"That is very kind of you, but I would rather not. It looks like blood." With a shrug, Amelia scooted it back towards her as she continued to eat. That just meant more sauce for her fries, then! James returned next to her, appearing much more pleased.
"Better?"
"By far. The flavor of this uh-- Coca...Cola... slightly mimics that of rum!"
"Good!" Just then, she noticed the sauce stain on the corner of James' mouth from his endeavor with the quarter pounder.
"Hold on, you have a little--" Without thinking, she grabbed one of the three napkins neatly placed on the table, and attacked the stain on his lips and close-shaven cheek. James froze, his widened cobalt eyes glanced down at her working fingers and back at her. All action with the trio ceased at her innocent gesture, even Bordon's gaze scanned between those two at her breach of etiquette and personal space! After she finished her brief task, she awkwardly lowered the napkin and crumpled it onto the white table.
"I-I got it off. Sorry." She muttered uncomfortably at him, her face heated up and she averted her gaze.
"...Ah, Thank you. And there-- there is no need to apologize." James relaxed and sat back, wiping the side of his face with his own hand and displaying the fingers to her after he was done. Then he grinned.
"See? No harm done. Can't stand to have sauce all over my handsome face, can you?" He teased, causing Smith to hide his head in embarrassment. Then she raised her face back up to meet him, for the first time that he's seen, she smiled back at him. Albeit it was a shy smile, and one that she was struggling to supress, but he found that it was still rather lovely.
Their silent moment was interrupted by Bordon, who had abandoned the meager morsels that he has not eaten and had unwittingly watched the entire exchange unfold.
"Shall I leave you two alone, then?"
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Yeah, this one was really an excuse to see more of James Wilkins, and his inner monologue with what he thinks about all this new stuff! But hopefully it was satisfactory after my mini-hiatus! (I also hope that you all had happy holidays, by the way!)