The One Eyed Bandit
rotworm
Passeri Park
SCENE:
Lady Madonna
TIME:
June 24th, 2022 | Post Arc 3, Timeskip 1
LOCATION:
Our ✰ Dream Soup Kitchen, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Eric
Lady Madonna
"Oh." Passeri had been so rapt up in Eric and the strange customer's comedy routine, that she'd almost forgotten herself. "Right. Well. I think this is Potato and Cabbage?"
That was what the label said, at least.
If she recalled correctly this was Katsura's specialty, the bespeckled accountant whose constant levels of stress managed to surprise even her. They'd never interacted much, but she'd never known her to be anything short of completely competent at whatever she set her mind to.
She didn't care much about the soup right now, though.
Her ladle plunged into the swirling, creamy broth, and scooped a hearty serving into the fanged menace's bowl. There was a tic, stuff in her head. A thought that she couldn't quite banish. That was what had captivated her so completely that she'd stood by and played audience to the pair's nonsense back and forth. A spark of innovation wriggled in her brain, fueled by her acumen as a businesswoman and nose for talent as a performer.
"Do you do standup?" Passeri blurted out as she dropped the soup into their bowl. "You know, like that straight-man funny-man kind." She hadn't laughed, but the pair's exchange had been funny. She thought. A little. "You two should give it a shot! There's a good bit of money in it, if you hit it big."
And she presumed that anyone eating at a soup kitchen could have done with whatever extra change they could get.
"Hey, Eric, are you listening? You guys should exchange numbers." She returned the ladle to the pot with a flourish, as if that made the idea any less dreadful. "Worst that could happen is it not working out, right?"
That was what the label said, at least.
If she recalled correctly this was Katsura's specialty, the bespeckled accountant whose constant levels of stress managed to surprise even her. They'd never interacted much, but she'd never known her to be anything short of completely competent at whatever she set her mind to.
She didn't care much about the soup right now, though.
Her ladle plunged into the swirling, creamy broth, and scooped a hearty serving into the fanged menace's bowl. There was a tic, stuff in her head. A thought that she couldn't quite banish. That was what had captivated her so completely that she'd stood by and played audience to the pair's nonsense back and forth. A spark of innovation wriggled in her brain, fueled by her acumen as a businesswoman and nose for talent as a performer.
"Do you do standup?" Passeri blurted out as she dropped the soup into their bowl. "You know, like that straight-man funny-man kind." She hadn't laughed, but the pair's exchange had been funny. She thought. A little. "You two should give it a shot! There's a good bit of money in it, if you hit it big."
And she presumed that anyone eating at a soup kitchen could have done with whatever extra change they could get.
"Hey, Eric, are you listening? You guys should exchange numbers." She returned the ladle to the pot with a flourish, as if that made the idea any less dreadful. "Worst that could happen is it not working out, right?"