riverviewlogs | For Want of a Nail... (Open)

who: ~~Lola~~ Dolores Pacini and YOU.
what: It's like any log with Lola but she's now trash and mean.
when: AU Event (14th - 24th)
where: Floor 2, Diner, Shops, School, Bar
warnings: Dolores swears a lot more than Lola. Otherwise nothing comes to mind.

A. Floor 2 - Morning of the 14th

Dolores wakes up and grumbles at how much like a day it is. Doesn't matter what kind of day, the sun rises and sets in all the same ways, and all of the days are just filled with the same crap as always. Only now she was living in a floor with nine other people sharing a room with four other people and that can't be good for her developing mind, right? There should be like standards for how minors are housed.

She drags herself out to the kitchen to pour herself some cereal, grap a fruit that almost passes for an apple, and make coffee. She has some memories of a dream where she made breakfast, but... that can't be right. Plus in the dream she was all sunny and happy with cotton candy hair. Fuckin' weird.

So for anyone on Floor 2 expecting the huge breakfast Lola usually spends the morning cooking up, what they get is nothing. Because Dolores can't cook for beans. She can barely work the instant coffee.

B. Sunset Diner - Any Day

People in the Quarentine were aware of how... strange, things had gotten since the tenth. People not always being who they should be, younger, older, just plain different from who they are. And Lola is so sweet that the cooks are giving Dolores the benefit... but man is she hard on customers.

Dolores has her hair in a pair of tiny pigtails to keep it away from her face and out of the food. Her apron is on over a rumpled looking uniform she hasn't properly taken care of today. Her attitude is crap, and she's been surly with everyone who has come in.

"What do you want? Make it snappy." Pen out, pad ready, she can take your order in less than a minute if you don't hold her up and waste her time.

C. Shops around Town - Any Time

After a quick stop to buy herself some clothes that weren't super colorful, childish, and stupid. Dolores had been browsing the shops for better music equipment. Looking for a better set of headphones or possibly a new rig to hold her music entirely. Her phone came through the portal with her, it wasn't in the best of shape before and hadn't been doing better. This place had cool tech, they had to have something fancier than a cell phone for storing music.

Of course she was also rifling through what they had on vinyl because vinyl will never die and clearly some of it came through the portal here. She looked entirely at home in this beat up music shop, off on a corner, in her leather jacket she found in a clearance section, ratty black tank top, and distressed pair of jeans.

D. School - Any Day

Dolores had noticed the other kids looking at her, maybe it was the fact she turned her hair white today. Maybe it was the fact she had to rip up some cute girly thing to make it more her style. She was used to kids whispering, being friends with Esme did that at home, but they seemed even more focused on her. She grabbed her lunch and stalked off to the edge of the cafeteria, bypassing the tables to eat in a stairwell hopefully avoiding everyone.

"The fuck is up with people today, like they've never seen me before..."

E. A Dive Bar

Universal constant: there is always a bar that has seen better days. The alcohol is watered down, the atmosphere is bleak, half the bulbs are dead, and something shows signs that it was used to bludgeon someone the previous night. Exactly the sort of place Dolores wants to spend her evening. Nursing something bitter and angry, letting the alcohol ebb away at her own bitterness and anger. Maybe she'll meet a guy, maybe a girl, maybe she'll start a fight.

Who knows, the whole point of a place like this is you don't know what'll happen any given night. And nobody knows your name.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Letha is still looking through the menu when Dolores comes up to her, doing her best to look like she's trying to decide and not struggling to read the menu. She may be very young, but she also has even more pride to uphold.

After wasting several precious seconds tipping her head one way and the other, she looks up at the older girl, "Two poached eggs, bacon, toast with jam, griddlecakes and- cut the tops off of two muffins, the tops are the only good part." From her tone, her posture and the gesture with which she hands back her menu... clearly she's one of those kids who thinks they own the restaurant because they're rich.

Dolores quickly jots it all down without much fanfare, ready to get on to customers that might actually tip. Kids. Really. Only problem with this stupid moon is no adult supervision on some of the brats. The only thing that causes Lola pause is the last request.

Dolores pulls the knife out of the bundled utensils at Letha's place, "See this kid? This is a knife. You use it to cut the bottoms off the muffins. Don't stab yourself with it." Hardly rocket science, even a kid can manage to use a table knife without killing themselves. And if she does kill herself with it Dolores isn't cleaning that up. "Do you want juice or coffee with your meal?"

She isn't the kid's parent, it isn't her damn problem if the kid has coffee.

Edited 2017-06-12 22:27 (UTC)

"And you're a servant, it's your job to make sure my meal's up to my expectation." She gives a moody little huff as she takes the knife and places it beside her to be ignored. Her mother would absolutely not stand for this, and neither will Letha.

Still, for the moment making demands takes precedence over correcting what her parents have enforced is a lower life form. "Cafe au lait. With cinnamon."

"You seem to think you're at home with your maids and cooks," Dolores's smile was far too pleased and happy given this kid's huffy attitude. "You're not. So here's what'll happen. I'm going to take your order back to the chef, and tell him to take his time, put the other orders first. You're young, you can wait, you're not on your way to a job, or on your way to get home to your family. Literally everyone else that comes in goes first until you just put a twenty on that table."

"Because, kid, you're not important. You don't matter here. You're just some brat who didn't belong, and now you're here. Your mommy and daddy can't set me straight, and whatever stick up your ass is driving you to act this way doesn't mean jack to me." And Dolores is going to just saunter away.

And Letha is left staring at her, indignant and shoked, as Dolores walks away. And before she can disappear behind the counter, Letha hops down from her booth seat and marches over to follow her.

"You can't talk to me like that." She proclaims as if it's an undeniable fact. "You're poor and I'm a paying customer. You can't afford to make me upset."

"I'm... not poor, I can't afford to let a kid like you walk over me like you're trying, and I'd be alright without the job. How rich do you think you are, without mommy and daddy to bail you out?" Dolores rested her weight on the edge of the counter, waiting. She was on a government stipend here, the job was just a way to add a little extra cash for her beyond the normal expenses. This could be any job and she'd care just as much. On her paycheck.

"How about this? If everyone like me refused to serve you, could you cook yourself your poached eggs, bacon, toast, griddlecakes, or muffins? I can't, which is why I'm really nice to whoever is providing me with such food. I also prefer not to have my food spat on before it gets to me."

Letha has no idea how much money she has, it's never a concept she's had to deal with. In fact, she was learning the concept from her husband the year before she came to Riverview. As a child, she only knows that she has more than other people and can do what she wants.

"At least I'll be pretty when I'm as old as you are." Great counterpoint, Letha, A+. "When I grow up I'll be a guard, if you get hurt and I don't help you you'll be killed. So you'd better be nice to me when I'm too small to hurt you first."

"Depends," Dolores smiled as she looked around, "If you keep being spoiled like this someone will play some wonderful trick on you like itching powder in your freshly pressed clothes or hair remover in your shampoo. Maybe a bit of ipecac in your cafe au lait. Enough of that you won't look any better than a homeless woman. With less friends."

"Do you even have the money to pay for your meal? You act the part but you certainly haven't shown you know the value of a dollar." Dolores was enjoying having someone shorter than her to mess with. Even if she should feel bad about it being a kid. This kid deserved what she had coming.

"I do too have money." She's puffed up with anger, trying to appear tough and dangerous despite being dressed in a frilly, ribbon-covered dress and barely scraping 4'9". "I'm not stupid, I can take care of myself perfectly fine and I don't need my parents to help me. And I'm not spoiled, I just know how much I'm worth - I'm a pureblood Regis, which makes me a noble. Unless you're a princess, you're below me."

Confident that she's on top, she aims a petty and gentle kick at Dolores' shin. "Now move, I'm hungry!"

Dolores smiled. It wasn't really friendly, or nice, it was for what she was about to do. And how good it'd feel. The kick was no worse than anything she'd been through, and honestly that kick was what she needed to do what she wanted. "Kicking me was a mistake, brat. Because, sure, you're a pureblood whatever and noble born. But there's something you've missed."

Dolores had only a few inches of height on the girl, but what the girl was lacking was experience and mass. Dolores got into a few fights, and did a few sports and weights to stay fit. So she had no problem walking past Letha, grabbing the girl by the back of the collar and dragging the little brat to the door and casually sending her to the street. "Listen, Duchess Gothypants, if you go around kicking waitresses you'll starve to death. So learn some manners and don't come back, okay?"

As soon as she's grabbed she lets out a loud "Heeyy!!" and starts to struggle, but Letha has always been small and frail and being eight has only made her smaller and weaker. She is built for channeling magical energy, not using her physical body.

And as soon as the door is slammed on her face, she lets out the loudest scream she can muster, kicking at the door and shrieking, disrupting the meal of absolutely everyone in the diner before she finally runs out of energy and sulks away, kicking rocks and cans on the way.

For Want of a Nail... (Open)

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