Night 22: Platinum, Extra Large Potato Chips
The Late Night Diner is a part of Rhodes Island's canteen. That goes without saying – to whom had anyone ever heard of a diner in the boiler room?
As the name implies, it opens around midnight. There are only a handful of customers at a time.
Operators off their night shift could take an order and bring back to their quarters. Night owls could sit dining-in while leeching off the Diner's wi-fi. The Doctor would come for instant noodles from time to time.
Drinks are in the cooler. Anyone burdened by their own thoughts could take one and chug it down, anytime.
Menu? No such thing exists. What the Chef prepares is what you get. It all depends on his mood of the day.
Welcome to the Rhodes Island Late Night Diner. In here, you might even meet a familiar face or two.
"You know, I always feel that the armour of those Kazimierz knights is getting thinner and thinner by the year." The sound of talking was interrupted by that of potato chips being crunched between teeth now and then. "Even the lightest arrow could go through them with ease, like they are made of paper-mache."
"Hey, don't you get caught saying that by those little ladies from Pinus Sylvestris." The Chef said, wiping down the mug in his hands, and presented Centaurea with a small saucer of sour cream. "As far as I can tell you guys never saw eye to eye the moment you got on board. If you started fights here, don't go complaining when I throw you out. All of you."
"As if." Platinum, or rather, the former Platinum of Kazimierz Armorless Union, raised her eyebrow with suspicion. "Just by yourself? Be careful now, better not ending up cutting your own fingers with those potato slicers, old man." She dipped a chip into the saucer with lots of sour cream and send it into her mouth. The cool and sour-sweet cream coated the light yet crunchy chip, and the clear sound of crunching rung out throughout the dining area. "I think you are better suited wrestling with the potatoes – only then you can boast a complete victory."
The Chef picked up a round potato. Just when he was about to cut it into slices, he gestured towards the hallway to Centaurea. "Look, aren't those people from the Human Resources?" He said.
"What a bother. Why do I always get caught every time I sneak out for chips?!" She turned towards the direction of the Chef's gesture, and saw a few familiar faces coming toward her, searching while panting heavily from running. She swiftly put the saucer into the basket of chips and ran towards the other end of the hallway, carrying everything. "Put it on my tab. I'll pay you next time I come around." She said.
"You still haven't paid the last time!" The Chef's voice echoed down the hallway. The little pegasus was fast with her legwork, and she disappeared out of sight just in a moment's notice.
When Platinum came to the Diner again, the Chef had changed the set of blades for slicing potatoes. He used a wavy slicer, and the resulting potato slices were both thicker while keeping their crunches. A dozen of spices and beast meat powder were mixed together for seasoning, and it was evenly sprinkled into every wavy slices, and the new chips were much more flavourful than the traditional flat ones. Centaurea sent one into her mouth, and the crunching sound was much louder and clearer compare to the usual, ordinary chips.
What about the store-sold chips in paper cylinders, one might ask. Those were made from compressed potato starch and water. Because of that they could barely be counted as chips. If they had any culinary significance at all, then their existence was to bring out the crunchy deliciousness of the hand-made chips as a contrast. If any restaurant dared to use those pre-made chips to palter with the customers, then it would never stand a chance to become a reputable establishment among its peers.
"Pay up first." the Chef said, putting on a sullen face half-mockingly. "You own me three baskets worth of potato chip money."
"C'mon now, you are no fun just like those meat-head knights." Centaurea reluctantly took out her meal card from her pocket. "Why do you have to talk about money all the time. How about something nicer for a change, like vacation, amusement park, or the beaches—"
"Don't you forget you'd always ordered large chips each time you came. It's the size of three and half regular servings, and I had always used three or four potatoes just to serve you alone." Even as dexterous and attentive as the Platinum of Armorless Union, Centaurea never noticed when and how the Chef snatched the meal card from her hand. He gestured again to the hallway and said. "Look there, guys from HR are after you again."
"Annoying!..." She stood up and fetched her meal card from the Chef's hand. Yet when she turned around, she saw the hallway empty before her. There was nobody chasing after her, and she suddenly recalled that she had no night shifts tonight.
The chef passed her a saucer of sour cream with a snicker. She huffed and went back to her seat, and leaned in to stare him down. "You think yourself funny? No civvies dared speaking to the Platinum of the Armoless Union like this. If you don't want to see your throat slit by this slice of chip here, you'd better—"
Suddenly she stopped in mid sentence. Both her posture and breathing froze, and Centaurea saw the people coming her way from the reflections on the glass of the display cabinet. She closed her eyes, and took three deep breaths, then jumped off the seat and sprinted out of the Diner and disappeared before the Chef could even take a look at the ones in the hallway. The gust of wind she left behind was strong enough to bring the lamps above the counter to a slight swing.
On the other end of the hallway, Miss Nearl the Radiant Knight who just came back for vacation and Miss Gravel freshly off the night shift were coming for meals together.
"Chips." Centaurea sat down on the middle seat before the counter with ease. "Two large. Both wavy and regular."
Tonight, she was not on night shift. There was no Pinus Sylvestris nor Radiant Knight and her knuckle-head sister, neither was there the bothersome little groundhog who always circled around the Doctor for habit. Tonight, Centarea could finally enjoy her chips in peace. Yet when she glanced up at the calendar on the counter-side wall, she let out a long wail and slumped down face-first on the counter. She didn't even bat an eye to her snacks.
"She got a shift tonight?" The Chef asked, bringing out a saucer of sour cream like before.
"Uhhh...No? I don't think she had any shifts in next few weeks." The Human Resource operator sat beside her answered. He had always been there when they caught her slacking off and sneaking out. "Hey Centaurea, what's up with you?" He asked.
"Summer...Summer vacation is here..." The little pegasus said with a sniff in her voice. "I can't even fit in my swim suit anymore. How could I go down to the beach now?!"
Did she gain weight? The HR operator silently mouthed towards the Chef.
Yeah, a lot. The Chef mouthed back. He gestured a circle around his waist, shaking his head and frowned.