There was one thing Riley was absolutely certain of: she really needed to get her own place. Of course she had nothing against her father, but all his affection and attention and father-daughter time was almost more exhausting than work itself. It used to be worse when she was younger but that was also when she was young enough not to know what helicoptering was. Since she got older she got better about talking to her father about her little concerns without arousing suspicion...not that there was anything suspicious about Riley in the first place, other than the fact that she was and ever remained an ordinary figure in an extraordinary community. Though the thought that she was probably extraordinary to the others had kept her up late on more than one instance.
But as she descended the stairs and saw the breakfast, note, and brown bag waiting for her - stopping to place some eggs on a slice of toast to eat on the go - a thought rang in her head that maybe staying at home wasn’t really the worst after all. She probably would’ve used fewer hearts and none of the cutesy talk but...to her father she was probably barely out of childhood in comparison.
Or maybe he just liked to give her a bit of embarrassment and paternal affection in the morning.
Much like the days before it, Riley was awake and outside shortly after the sun announced its arrival to Foxbridge and its inhabitants. This was her favorite part of the day, when the breeze was just picking up and it felt as if the world itself was waking up from a deep, deep slumber. With one hand in a pocket and the other holding a small case containing her tools of the trade, Riley felt on top of the world. The only time her hand left her pocket was to wave at strangers she passed on the street; sometimes they even waved back.
She didn’t live terribly far from her place of employment but even so she was often the last of the kitchen crew to arrive but then she didn’t have the advantage of taking up residence in the cafe itself which was a totally unfair move. Standing outside the Morning Star Cafe, her place of employment, she pulled a small keyring from her pocket, inserted a key into the hole, turned it, and went to open the door only to pull and pull at a locked door. After the fourth attempt to open the door she pressed her face close to the door and cupped her hands around her eyes. Fiona was inside...or was it Flint..she couldn’t tell through the glass.
Realizing her mistake of locking an unlocked door, Riley properly re-unlocked the door and stepped inside the cafe, hanging the sweater she always wore around her waist up on the coat rack.
“Mornin’, Auntie Fiona.” Riley waved to her coworker, stifled a yawn, and headed to the back kitchen that was her cohabitated domain. Back when she didn’t know any better, Riley stubbed her toe on her fellow chef’s body and that had hurt like the dickens for a day. Now, however, she knew better.
“Rise and shine, big guy.” Riley turned the lights on in the back and carefully stepped around Artaide.
“Hope the rats didn’t eat ya.” Riley knew there weren’t any rats. Well, other than some of the customers.
Dark, purple gas started to ooze out of the suit of armor as it started to animate. A loud groan could then be heard escaping the armor as it started stretching as if it was a human that just woke up.
"Woah, what the hell?" said Artaide groggily as he began to pull himself up. Most of the time, Artaide was an early riser, and would be the first one awake and unlock the cafe for everyone else. Unfortunately for him, he spent the night before cleaning up the mess some ignorant, messy, and perhaps drunk, customer made.
"You're already here? Damn, I thought I could still rely on my body clock even after what happened last night." Bringing himself up to his full height, Artaide let out a groan as he looked around the kitchen, making sure that nothing was out of place.
"Heh, as if any rats would even want to eat me." He replied to his co-worker. The oniwha then paused for a moment, almost as if something just clicked inside his brain before asking Riley,
"Please tell me we're the only ones here and that Walker didn't stare at my deadbeat crumpled hobo body earlier with contempt while I was still asleep." While the taller of the kitchen staff was rising and shining, Riley was setting her cutlery and tools out in her work station; unlike her they would get some extra time to sleep before their services were truly needed. It was kind of unfair but then, as long as her knife was asleep it wasn’t yapping her ear off and tricking her into miscutting something - often a nick of her finger - so it was really a boon more than anything.
“Fiona’s here, got here before I did. Fortunately I don’t think she noticed you so you’re in the clear.” With her tools aligned and her kit tucked away for safe storage, Riley grabbed a waist apron and promptly tied it in place.
“You don’t have enough for your own place yet? Man, how bad is real estate around here? I’m definitely gonna get you a raise soon, if only so you can know the joys of an actual bed.” Artaide let out a sigh of relief.
"Oh, good, because that has happened before and I think he might cut my pay if he caught me doing it again." The suit of armor then walked around Riley and headed towards the pantry. Moments later, he came out bringing several different spices and sauces, such as salt, pepper, oregano, olive oil, and Worcestershire sauce. Artaide's forte was cooking up savory dishes, like entrées, unlike his kitchen companion's which was making sweets and desserts. After setting all of his ingredients down on his own workstation, he replied to Riley.
"Beds are scams and so is real estate. Although I've never tried either, I'm sure they're just as good as sleeping on the hard, cold, and maybe a little bit dirty floor. I would appreciate the raise however. There's some stuff that I'm planning on ordering from the outside but I have no idea how much it costs, so I'm scrounging as much money as I can find. He would then follow suit and put on his own apron. There are some parts of the armor that he would rather not spend five hours cleaning.
“Real estate I’ll maybe grant you, but then again I don’t have to pay rent until I move out so what do I know. But beds? BEDS? If I could I would literally not ever leave my bed. It’s like...sleeping on a cloud that’s also... sleeping on a...marshmallow.” Riley searched and struggled for the perfect metaphor and settled on one that seemed just descriptive enough. Effort was better spent elsewhere, such as checking on the goods she left in the chiller overnight and grabbing a carton of eggs and making sure there was filling in the frosting bags. In contrast to the more savory side of things, the sweet kitchen often required a more delicate touch and Riley’s small, human fingers were delicate enough to spread icing evenly or make sure there was an equal amount of fruit in any given fruit cake. It was stressful work but every dish she made and displayed was done with care. One time she once said she put a piece of herself on every plate she sent out and several customers complained that they were eating zombie skin. That was a fun day of explaining idioms. Her dad would’ve been proud to see her explaining something to people.
“When you do get your own place...are you going to still sleep on the floor? I would say that’s uncomfortable but to me...your entire, like, body looks totally uncomfortable. I could never wear something so bulky. It would hide my shoulders.”"IF I get my own place… then yeah, I'll probably still sleep on the floor. But your bed ‘proposition’ does sound intriguing, I might try it sometime. Also, I don't wear this suit, I am this suit. I am literally just gas and a tiny flesh ball underneath this, so yeah." Artaide didn't really plan to get his own place anyway. It was mostly because he couldn't afford it alone but also because he was already mostly satisfied living in the kitchen itself. But there was this small part of him that wanted to try living in an actual house, maybe he would take up an offer if it was presented to him… someday.
"Hey, I'm gonna head out for a bit and get some fresh air. You wanna come with or are you just gonna stay here?"“Fresh air?” Riley repeated, keeping her comments about if air even felt noticeable on armor promptly to herself - the last thing she wanted to do was cause some kind of awkward faux pas. Her answer followed physically before it came verbally; Riley shook her head while maintaining an oddly chipper morning grin about her person.
“Nah, got plenty of that on the walk over. Besides, got eggs to crack. Just get back before the morning rush, yeah?” "Yeah, yeah, no problem mom." Artaide said jokingly as he walked out the kitchen door. Fortunately, the doorframe was a little bit taller than him so he didn't have to bend to get through. While heading towards the exit, he also greeted the fiery bartender with a simple
"Mornin, Fiona.", before going outside. The sound of a deep inhalation could then be heard from the suit of armor as he looked up at the sky. He continued staring for several minutes, reminiscing about the world he came from and how Earth's blue sky was a stark contrast to the constant bright red and orange of his homeworld.
"Another day in this new world." he said to himself before heading back inside the cafe.
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