This was the day Eridan tried to get a job at the coffee shop.
Of course it really wasn't a matter of earning money. As irritating and obnoxious as Karkat was, he hadn't been wrong. Nothing, for Eridan, was ever about the money. All he had to do to spend the rest of his existence on the comfort of his parents' dime was to ask. One phone call, and he could end his adventure, return home, and spend the rest of his life watching the clouds through the window.
The very thought of it made him sick.
Eridan was done with that.
Done with being comfortable.
So perhaps it was for that reason that he packed up his guitar, wrapped a thin purple scarf around his neck, and made his way to the local café.
He had spent the first few days after the initial move-in simply taking walks around town until he'd felt as if he had pinned down the usual haunts. The most obvious had been the mall. It was a large indoor complex near the highway. As such, it had taken a bus ride to get him down to it. Eridan had not been impressed with the establishment or its selection. He decided he would have to rely on the internet if he was going to keep any decent sort of wardrobe while living in this city.
Aside from the mall and its rather garish array of products and people, there were a few other places much nearer to his home that had given Eridan the quaint impression that had drawn him to the town in the first place. There were a few roads that cut through the main district, with large sidewalks bordering each of them. It was an area made for walking. As such, there were many small establishments. Privately owned eateries and shops. But the most stimulating of these, to Eridan, were the cafes.
There were about four cafes just in that one area. All privately owned with the exception of the ever-present Starbucks. After sampling each one, Eridan decided that the one with the hardwood floors that had turned some old doors into tables was his favorite. Not only for the atmosphere, but for the open mic sessions they held every Wednesday night.
Plus, he liked the name.
Apple Core.
Like something eaten down until there was nothing left. Just a few fibrous strands housing a bed of seeds.
For some reason, it made him think of Sollux, sitting on the floor of his room and looking up at him with those mismatched eyes.
It didn't make sense for Eridan to think of him. He hadn't seen the man since moving day. But what he had seen—that glimmer of a smile cutting through a face fossilized with grief—had branded itself onto the inside of his chest. If his heart beat a bit too hard, it would brush up against that image of quiet hope.
And his heart often beat a bit too hard.
Eridan had tried to commit to walking to all of the cafes situated in the area of town that seemed specifically designed for foot traffic. However, so much physical activity was not something he was used to. At all. On one particularly hot day, he'd had to take several breaks in the shadows of some of the buildings' awnings, wiping sweat from his face and breathing raggedly.
Today was not one of those days, however. Carrying the guitar case was a bit of an effort, but luckily the Core (as many of the patrons liked to call it) was one of the closer cafes. And it was a sunny day with a pleasant breeze. And so it was with supreme confidence that Eridan carried himself over the threshold of the establishment, ready to demand a job.
Only to quickly duck into a corner.
He put his guitar case on top of the tiny round table he'd retreated to, flipping it onto its side to provide him with as functional of a barricade as he could create. He peered cautiously over it toward the front of the café where the barista was working.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth.
Just behind the counter was a woman with a pair of glasses, blue lipstick, and a tangled mass of black hair. Even though it was pulled up this time, there was no mistaking her. It had been that horrid bitch he'd met on Karkat's lawn on his first night in town.
He clutched his guitar case until his knuckles turned white. How had he managed to miss her? He had been to the Core at least twice. It seemed silly that he'd managed to avoid her shift entirely during both those times. How many employees could a small establishment like this cafe possibly have?
He put his head on his guitar case and cursed silently and profusely to himself before sagging back in his chair. He watched through narrowed eyes as the girl went about her business, wiping off mugs and organizing things around the register.
Eridan let his eyes slide to the other patrons in the café. It was a bit emptier than usual. Only two other customers were present. One, a small, tanned boy putting together a cat puzzle, was sitting on the far side of the room. The other was a more put-together looking young woman, with skin the color of her iced mocha. She twirled a strand of her short, black hair on a finger as she pored over a novel.
She was much closer. So Eridan took his table and, making sure to never lift his head far above his guitar barricade, scooted the whole arrangement over to the woman's table.
She jerked back in surprise as Eridan's table knocked against hers, nearly sending her drink toppling to the floor.
"Hey," Eridan said, raising a hand in greeting as he pulled a chair up next to the woman and sat down.
She regarded him stiffly. Her eyes flicked to her drink. "You nearly spilled that."
"Yeah, but I didn't, so that's hardly the fuckin' issue here."
She frowned and leaned back a bit, as if trying to get a full picture of him. "I'm sorry, but do I hold any kind of relation with you that wouldn't warrant me upending your obtrusive table as a reaction to this sort of greeting?"
"If you're askin' about whether you know me or not, then the answer is not," Eridan replied. He then put both hands over his guitar case. "Though I wouldn't really recommend flippin' any tables seein' as how that's likely to get my instrument damaged and I'm not very fuckin' pleasant to be around when any a my personal shit comes under attack."
"I'm reserving the inversion of any tables strictly on account of pure curiosity at this type of greeting." Her eyes swept over him again. "Is this a typical method you employ when engaging in introductions with strangers?"
"No, not really. I mean, to be honest, I'm kind of using you as a diversion. Like, if my guitar case here is a force field," he began, patting it for emphasis, "then your role could be thought of as somethin' akin to a type a ward or whatever. I mean, if any a that shit was real, which it isn't, but I'm just usin' it for illustrative purposes."
She picked up a napkin and slipped it under her drink. "Entertaining the, also purely fictional, thought that describing me in terms of an inanimate object does not strike me as something completely beyond the bounds of acceptable conversational content, what is it you are trying to divert?"
"I'm tryin' not to let that fuckin' wench spot me, is what," Eridan replied, peering over his guitar case for just long enough to point a finger toward the counter. The woman next to him looked up to where he was indicating before quickly dropping her gaze back down.
"Wench seems like a rather antiquated term to be throwing about so casually," she replied, her tone careful.
"Whatever, she was fuckin' horrible to me at Kar's party and now she's fuckin' workin' here when I was just about to go apply for a job. Like that's ever gonna fuckin' happen now. I can't believe this, she is ruinin' my whole fuckin' experience here."
"I don't pretend to have any insight to your situation, as I think it's been clearly established that we don't know each other. But have you considered that you may be blowing this wildly out of proportion?"
"Okay, you don't have the slightest fuckin' clue what I've had to be dealin' with here, so your input is appreciated and shit, but I'm really just sittin' here to avoid her and any dirty glances she might happen to throw my way."
The woman slipped a bookmark between the pages of the volume lying open before her. "Also consider that I have no reason to remain here and continue to serve as a means for you to avoid confrontation."
"Wait, you're leavin'?" Eridan looked to her, mortified as he realized that she had closed her book and was opening up her bag.
She looked back up to him after she had packed her novel away. "I came here to read, not to be subjected to the melodramatic weavings of a complete stranger."
"All right then, if that's how you're gonna be." He thrust out his hand. "I'm Eridan."
She blinked at him.
"Well, go on, fuckin' shake it or something," Eridan urged.
"I hope you realize that giving me your name does not make me any more inclined to stay here. If anything, it encourages me to hasten my departure."
"Okay, look, I'm just tryin' to start a fuckin' conversation with you. I understand that you were readin' and shit, but it's not like I'm demandin' a whole bushel a your time."
"Bushels aren't typically employed as quantifiers of time, so I'm afraid that visual representation falls somewhat short of being any real use to me." She set her bag back down, however, and folded her hands on the table in front of her. "But I'm Kanaya."
She gripped his hand in hers, and he was a bit taken aback by the strength she held in her delicate fingers. When she released him, he put his hand quickly under the table, for fear of being seized in her vice-like grip again.
"So, Kan, you were readin' here, is that right?"
"Yes. A rather dark tale for such a bright summer day, but I find I enjoy the contrast—"
"So do you know that fuckin' bitch behind the counter or something, is that why you were defendin' her before?"
Kanaya pressed her dark lips together. "I don't think 'defend' is an accurate description of what I was doing, but yes. I do know her. And her name is Vriska, but the only reason I'm telling you that at all is to give you something other than expletives to refer to her with."
"See, that's what I'm talkin' about though, that sounds like a defensive stance to be takin' on the subject from where I'm sittin'." Eridan leaned back in his chair, regarding the woman with a haughty expression.
"If your definition of defensive includes someone who's simply tired of your churlish vocabulary, then the only way I can hope to make you regard me otherwise is to do some heavy lifting as far as your paradigms are concerned. Which I just don't have the energy for, I'm sorry."
"You know, it's fine if you guys are friends or something, I'll just stop bringin' it up. I can spare some tact once in a while on account of other people's feelings, I'm a pretty decent guy."
Kanaya put a hand to her forehead. "I'm rapidly beginning to regret the decision to continue this conversation."
"What? Why? Do you hold some other kind a relationship with her or something, I mean, is that why you're bein' so fuckin' dodgy about the subject?" Eridan pushed himself forward, propping an elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand.
Kanaya's skin turned an even darker shade. "That's a bit brazen of you to suggest, given that the only fact you currently have about our relationship is that I happen to know her name."
"I'm just askin' for some clarification, Kan, fuck. I mean, what kind of insightful remarks do you really expect me to make if you're not gonna bother enlightenin' me at all?"
"Truthfully? I don't expect any insight to occur here other than a self-loathing epiphany regarding my own carelessness in adopting conversation partners." She had dropped her gaze back down to her bag, and was looking as though she was ready to attempt another departure.
"All right, fine, we don't have to talk about her at all, then. Excuse me for bringin' it up." Eridan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms petulantly. "But if you don't want to talk about Vris, then can I ask you about someone else?"
She lifted her gaze to him, her smooth brow creased with the slightest of frowns. "Someone else?"
"Yeah. I'm new here, if you haven't already gathered, and so I really don't know much about anyone in this place. But I'm currently livin' in the house across from Gamzee Makara's place. Do you know that guy?"
A faint smile pulled teasingly at the corner of her lips. "It's quite safe to assume that anyone within our general age range living in this area has heard of Gamzee Makara."
"Okay, well, it's actually not him that I'm askin' about. It's one a his housemates."
Her smile waned. "Which housemate?"
"Sollux."
The smile all but disappeared. "It might be best if you left that particular area of knowledge unexplored. And I'm not just saying that because I find you generally tactless and unpleasant. Which I do."
"See, then you must know about him, because you wouldn't be so fuckin' touchy about the subject if you didn't. I mean, does everyone fuckin' act like they're walkin' over meltin' ice when they talk about him? It's seriously startin' to piss me off in a bad way."
"As opposed to the many amusing ways there are to capture your metaphorical goat?" Kanaya peered at him quizzically, her expression a bit less somber. "Actually, I can see that. But I maintain a bit of delicacy regarding Sollux's situation because I'm actually not that close to him. I know him largely through the ponderous network of friends and acquaintances that permeates this town."
"Oh. So you've never spoken with him, then?"
"No, I have. But if you're looking for accurate information regarding his situation, I'd suggest asking one of his housemates."
"I have asked one of his housemates," Eridan replied, scuffing his shoe against the wood floor. "And that resulted in me nearly gettin' my guitar splintered on the concrete."
A smirk played around her lips. "Somehow, I'm not surprised. You spoke with Karkat, then?"
"Yeah. And so I know about his situation or whatever. I just want to see if I can't fuckin' do something about it."
Kanaya lifted a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Do something?"
"Yeah, like, fuckin' help the guy out, or whatever." He sat up a bit, glaring down at his table. "Just try talkin' to him like any other person would talk to another person to let him know that he's a human being and not a fuckin' egg shell that no one wants to have anything to do with on account a bein' too afraid of breakin' off a piece."
Kanaya was silent for a time before she reached for her drink and took a sip. After she set it back down, she lifted her gaze to Eridan once again. "That's quite thoughtful of you."
"Well, that's me. Havin' lots a fuckin' thoughts about other people all the time."
"But I can't help but wonder if your vehement empathy derives from some sort of mutual experience." She lowered her gaze again as she took another drink.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Eridan snapped, shifting his glare from the table to the young woman.
"It means that I highly doubt you would be experiencing these throes of heroics if you yourself hadn't felt victimized in a similar fashion at some point." She continued to look down at her drink, but her expression was pleased. As if she had the man sitting beside her pinned quite neatly under her astute observation.
Eridan wanted to smack her coffee into her self-serving face.
"What the fuck do my reasons got anything to do with this? My shit's not the issue here, it's Sol that I'm askin' about. I just want to know a some way that I can get a hold a him that isn't through phone calls or house visits, seein' as both a those are clearly not very fuckin' effective with someone who gets a lot a pleasure from hidin' out in their room all the time." Eridan pulled his guitar down off the table in his frustration, kicking it under his chair.
Kanaya regarded him silently for a while as he seethed. She then reached into her bag and extracted a notepad and pen.
She spoke as she wrote. "If I didn't believe your intentions were anything but pure, I would never do this, because you strike me as a self-serving cur. But since you seem to have some, admittedly equally self-serving, motives couched in a desire to come to terms with your own poorly concealed difficulties, then perhaps it is to your benefit that you're a self-serving cur."
Eridan's frown melted away to be replaced with a rather blank look. "I didn't get any a that."
"It doesn't matter. What matters is that I think you may actually be able to make some headway due to your enthusiasm and brash sincerity." She neatly dotted a few i's before ripping off the paper and sliding it across the table to Eridan. "Do you know about Minecraft?"
Eridan picked up the piece of paper. "This is a username," he remarked as he peered at it. "DoubleMobius, are you kidding me?"
"That's Sollux's handle. Below it are the names of a few servers he hosts for displaying the modifications he creates. If you want to speak with him, I suggest downloading and installing that game. I've heard it's been his current obsession for a few months now."
Eridan slipped the piece of paper in his pocket. "So you don't play?"
"No. I enjoy spending my time on quieter pursuits." She gently patted her bag with the book inside. "But I do have a few acquaintances who are extremely enthusiastic about gaming."
"Huh. Well, thanks. I really wasn't expectin' this level a help."
Kanaya regarded him with a rather muted expression. "I wasn't expecting to give it. But I haven't thought about Sollux in a while. Perhaps because most of us felt like trying to manage him was similar to trying to redirect a river."
Eridan frowned, putting a thumb in his mouth and chewing for a moment. He then pulled it away and replied, "But you can redirect a river. If you do enough hackin' at the ground or whatever."
"Exactly my point. And I'm beginning to think that none of us ever did enough hacking. So you have my pickaxe in your pocket. I only advise you to take care with how you use it. Because you're incredibly thoughtless in your swings."
"Yeah, whatever you say. But I feel like this whole town could use a little bit a thoughtlessness and spur-a-the-moment livin'," Eridan reached down and thumbed the piece of paper in his pocket through the fabric of his jeans.
"Spur-of-the-moment, hmmmmmmmm?"
Eridan quailed and looked up, seeing Vriska standing over him, her teeth flashing a brilliant white beneath her blue lipstick.
Fuck, he'd taken his defensive guitar case down. How could he have been such an idiot?
"Kind of like your dumb decision to go back to Karkat's party without handing me all those smokes I guess you keep in your house, right?" She put a hand on the back of his chair and bent close, grinning.
Eridan leaned back, his lip curling indignantly. "I don't fuckin' owe you anything, especially not now that I'm in tight with that group. They'd never dare force me to make payments to attend their parties now, especially not payments with some fuckin' hag that I've never heard them mention once."
Vriska laughed, leaning away from Eridan. "Look at this guy, Maryam. The cool new kid thinks he knows a thing about living in this place."
Kanaya's expression was impassive. "Indeed he does."
"So what brings you here, new guy, if you're not going to hand over those smokes you owe me?" She leaned back in close to him.
"Well, fuckin' nothing anymore. You can forget it. Like I'd ever want to work here after seein' the standards they employ when makin' staffin' decisions." He gave her a significant sweeping gaze, from her ratted hair to her red sneakers.
"Oh, you were thinking of trying to get a job here? Ha! I would laugh a bit more if it were funnier and less pathetic. I guess it was a pretty good thing that I showed up and discouraged your advances. You should be thanking me, really. I just went through all the trouble of showing up today to spare you the pain of rejection."
"Whatever, Vris, like you know a thing about my credentials. Which are fuckin' awesome, by the way, and I could so land a job here if I had any sort a desire to be stickin' myself in the same establishment as some hag like you."
Vriska sneered and looked ready to reply when Kanaya interrupted. "If I may step in for a moment, I would like to say that, as a patron of aforementioned establishment, I find no satisfaction in watching the wait staff harass their customers."
Vriska's nose crinkled. "Whatever, Pompous McFussy-Face. Why don't you just stop hanging out here all the time if you don't like the way I do things?"
She gave the back of Eridan's chair a shove before stalking off. As she passed the other patron in the far corner of the café, she took a moment to shove his puzzle off the table before stomping into the kitchen. The boy stared at the floor, which was now littered with the fragments of the kitten picture he'd been piecing together. Eridan thought he looked as though he were about to cry.
"I suggest going home and putting the information I gave you to use," Kanaya sighed, touching her fingers to her forehead and closing her eyes. "My patience wears thin enough in dealing with one irrational child, let alone two."
"Like I'm not so done with this place as it is," Eridan scoffed, scooping up his guitar. He made his way to the door, putting his hand against the glass to push it open and make his exit. Before he did, however, he looked back over his shoulder at the young woman as she extracted her book from her bag once more.
"Hey Kan, I do just want to say thanks and that I owe you for this."
She glanced up at him before smiling mildly and opening her book, smoothing down the pages. "It's hardly worth mentioning."