Belle of the Mall
There was something horrendously familiar about the voice coming from the other side of the diner. Behind the disgustingly fake French accent, neither Cheren nor Silver could shake the feeling that they knew the waitress, even though they were sure they'd never met her, and it was making their respective lunches impossible to enjoy.
In reality neither of the boys could stand each other to begin with, but they shared lunch once a week anyway based on the sole shared interest of “getting the fuck away from the noisy bastards at their house”. Which of course mostly meant Barry and any of their friends that had wandered over. And now their peaceful lunch, the one time each week where they were willing to put aside their differences and just plain not talk, period, for the sake of some quiet time, was being blasted wide open by the bimbo apologizing repeatedly a few booths over.
Cheren caught sight of her first, his face falling instantly. “Silver,” he started, and the redhead held his hand up.
“No. She's bad enough, I don't need to hear you talking too.”
He shook his head and sighed. “I know, asshole. But you should really see this.”
Silver put enough effort behind the sigh that followed to make it *very* clear to Cheren that he did not appreciate any of this, then turned to look anyway. When he turned back, he sank very low in his seat and covered his forehead with his palm. “Was that...”
“Yes, it was.”
“...Barry in a dress?”
“What? No.” Cheren stared at him with concern, craning his head to see the girl's face as she came toward them, heading for the kitchen. “Way too cute to be that fruit. Same hair, though.”
Silver rubbed his forehead harder, hoping that he could massage out all memory that his roommate had even vaguely used the term “cute” in reference to Barry. “What's your point? Finish talking quickly?”
“Doesn't Barry have a sister?”
“Barry's French now?”
“No, and neither is she. She's been faking that stupid accent. It's a theme restaurant, if you hadn't noticed.”
“I come here to eat. And to avoid Barry. And avoid talking about Barry. I don't worry about the décor beyond being sure it's not on fire.” Silver emphasized his point by returning to his food, and Cheren cleared his throat and pushed up his glasses, choosing to pretend the conversation hadn't happened to begin with.
Until she tripped at the next table, leaving several drinks on the ground and him with a perfect view up her overly-fluffy skirt. He spent the moment trying very hard not to look like he was staring at her petticoats, trying instead to look very interested in the desert menu perched at the edge of the desk. Silver, meanwhile, sighed again at the blush forming on his roommate's face and hopped up, going over to check on things. He didn't particularly care if she was alright, but the crash sounded like glasses might have broken, and no one else deserved to be injured over one stupid girl's clumsiness.
“Oh, monsieur, I am so so-ree...”
“You keep that stupid accent up even when you're injured? How do you ever get anything done?” He shook his head and grabbed her tray, placing it on the empty table and glancing at the cups lining the ground; none seemed broken, but it was better safe than sorry. “You should get a mop,” he commanded, picking up the glasses as well.
She sputtered another apology, tears streaming down her face, and dashed off to the kitchen, though not without slipping on the spill along the way.
Silver was scowling when he sat back down, half grateful the clutz wasn't their waitress and half considering never coming back to that diner again anyway. Cheren, on the other hand, had a smirk across his face, which only made him more annoyed on sight.
“Look at you. You do care.”
“About possible injury liability suits? Yeah. This place doesn't suck enough to deserve court fees over that idiot.”
Cheren just chuckled and returned to his food, though he watched through one eye for the cute-but-stupid waitress to walk by again.
A few minutes of mopping and scurrying later, she stopped by their table. “Monsieur,” she began, holding something nervously to her chest and addressing Silver.
He answered with an annoyed deadpan instead of a question: “What.”
“I-I... wanted to say, zank you, for ze help before-”
“Uh-huh.”
“Please. Take zis. It is a cue-pon, for whatever monsieur would like from our di-ner.” She held out her hands, offering him a card with the restaurant's logo on it and something to the effect of “customer appreciation coupon” below. He looked at it, scowled slightly, then glanced back up at her.
“Can I use it to have you never call me 'monsieur' again?”
“Huh?” She blinked, holding one hand back to her chest in surprise. “Ah... oui! You...” she stared for a moment at his blank expression, then coughed lightly, trying to get out of “work mode”. “Yes. You can use it for that... but I can do that anyway. You should use that for a free entree or something instead.”
Her regular voice was slightly less obnoxious, and made her stop scrunching her nose every time she said a vowel, but it still carried something on it that made him just *know* this was Barry's sister. “You have a kid brother?” he asked, still not taking the coupon.
She looked puzzled. “Yes, I do. He's a pokemon trainer. Why... Do you know him?”
Cheren spoke up, plucking the card from her hand. “Yes, we do. And I think I met you once before as well, though it might have been a dream.” He flashed a small smile, and for a moment she just looked between the two boys, as puzzled as ever.
She studied Silver's long red hair and his scowl... then Cheren's very private school attire and glasses... and it suddenly dawned on her.
“Merci-” she caught herself before work mode kicked back in, and cleared her throat. “Oh my. You're his roommates, aren't you? Oh goodness, Barry's told me so much about you all.” Suddenly her face, a mess of nervousness the whole evening, cracked a large grin and she giggled. “I'm Belle! So good to meet you! You're treating him well, then?”
The two looked at each other for a moment, and Silver sat back in his chair as Cheren took the stage. “Oh, yes, of course. He's just a riot. And so tidy.” His words were spoke through a clenched jaw but he managed to maintain his smile the whole time.
“That is so sweet of you. I know he can be a little overzealous sometimes, but that's just the way God made him.” Her grin got wider still and she tilted her head in a way that even Silver had to admit was a little cute... the same way a curious Wooper was cute, which was in a vague, more humorous than endearing sense. Cheren, meanwhile, was trying even harder to keep the smile upon the sudden revelation that she was just as religious as her pent-up brother was, mentally watching his chances of getting laid tweet away out the window. “I'm so glad he has such good roommates.”
“We try,” Silver mumbled, and she laughed again, reaching down to grab his hand between hers.
He cringed and tried to pull back, but her grip was too strong, and her head was bowed too far for her to notice his annoyed face. “It really, really means a lot though. I'm glad he's safe somewhere.” She let go and stood back up, grinning broadly, and Silver grabbed his napkin from his lap to start wiping his hand off. “Oh, I know!” she chirped, “Maybe I can come over and visit you boys? This weekend? I promise I won't take up much room – it's just hard to know my little brother's so close by and I barely get to see him, unless he comes by the diner.”
Silver opened his mouth to protest, but didn't manage to before she clapped her hands and cheered. “Oh thank you. I'll go call him and make plans, right away!”
As she skipped away, Cheren leaned slightly out of the booth to watch her receding backside, then turned back to his roommate. “Man, you are smooth.”
“And you,” Silver grumbled, no longer in the mood to finish his lunch, between miss sunshine-and-broken-dishes Belle and the discovery his bunkmate was a letch, “are disgusting.”