Oh blessed break room couch. Hazel lets himself flop onto its plush cushions with a muted pomf! He breathes out the rush and the excitement, and in its place fatigue steals over him.
The last few hours are a blur. A sparkly, dizzying blur of lights, faces, food, and laughter.
Who knew waiting tables could be so much fun? For that matter, who knew a cafe could be so shiny? He would’ve thought they’d go for a forest theme but, well. Vespergift. And really, Thellamie sees deer more as an Outside thing rather than a forest thing, you know? So instead, everything is gold and shining. Fixtures of brilliant Crevas glass hang from the ceiling, casting everyone in dreamy faux-starlight. Gold trim on the tables, gold trim on the menus, everything shines beautifully without crossing the line into excess. Where there is not gold, there are antlers, twisting, branching, adorned with ribbons and bells. The Hunt can’t be more than a few weeks old, but somehow the walls are covered with art of deerboys; leaping, prancing, free and wild.
It is a magical place. And the staff complete the spell. Not just the hosts! In the corner, a duet of musicians strum a lovely ambiance. Sometimes a lively hunting song, other times a soft midnight dream. In the kitchen, chefs cook up a storm, turning out an endless stream of fancy, tasty-looking dishes. All Golden Faun-themed, of course. Every now and then, they sneak tasty little morsels to the hosts. For testing, you see. They need some brave soul to make sure this is good enough for their guests, won’t you help them out? And of course, they are only too happy to help. What are hosts for?
The hosts. Gosh. They’re all so talented? And so much fun to work with? Alcideo had hardly finished introducing him, and already they’d happily welcomed him to the front lines of Cafe la Faune. Good luck out there! Let’s give them a meal to remember! Watch out for that table, it always wobbles a bit more than the rest. Then to see them work, just. Wow. They were so fancy and polished and skillful and smooth and they gave their all to their performances, each and every table, each and every guest. Everyone was having such a great time with it, he couldn’t not join in on the fun.
And that’s the secret, right? If the hosts are obviously having a great time, then the guests feel invited to have a great time with them too. They feel welcomed into this magical place, where they can be waited on hand and foot by otherworldly fauns, prized and special and lovely. For a meal, everything can be a little silly and special. When he kindly asked his guests to save the hunting until after the meal, every single time they laughed, or solemnly swore to put down their blades and bows, or joked along with him. (And one wolfish guest asked if she could have the hunting as the meal, which. Ha ha h a was not. Was not ready for that one. Thank goodness for his antler-adorned notepad and the good sense to hide behind it.) Sure, it’s hard work, but for a place like this, it’s so, so worth it.
What an adventure.
He’s lucky, you know? To be working in a place like this. He still can’t really figure out how it happened, much less how it’s still happening. Every new table feels like it’s going to be the table where things go wrong. Surely this group is going to be the one that requests one of the other hosts. Which, okay, that would be a wild thing to say, but it wouldn’t be the wildest thing he’s heard waiting a table before. Still, maybe this’ll be the table that’s just a little disappointed they got him instead of anyone else. But, well, people seem like they’re having a good time? He’s giving them the best service he can. He greets every table warmly with his best smile. He performs the magical spell of deliciousness with all due seriousness, pouring all his heart into the hand motions. He hasn’t dropped a single dish, and carefully delivers each one to its delighted guest.
Come to think of it, if they’re here to be waited on by a Golden Faun, then, technically, he’s giving them the authentic experience!
…not that they’d have any way to know that. Right.
Still, no matter how confusing it may be, people smile to see him approach their table. People ask him for pictures. People call him. People. Um. People.
(Cutie.
Cutie.
Cutie.
He can see Alcideo writing it out on a nametag. Dotting the i with a heart. Hazel held so, so still when he told him do. While he pinned it to his shirt. Clasp clicking like a lock.
His hand reaches up on its own accord to run a finger across the edge of it. To feel the slight weight, the gentle nudging against his chest. Cutie. Cutie. Him. Cutie…)
H-he should review his lines. Just to be safe. He’s been falling back on “Welcome to Cafe La Faune, hunters and dreamers! Let me and the stars show you to your destiny!” a lot. If he keeps it up, it might start to sound too rehearsed. They might think he wasn’t actually happy to serve them. He’s been keeping his ears open, plucking out lines and words from the other hosts that sounded particularly good. Yes, he’s probably not going to greet a table by bowing, clasping a girl’s hand in his, and thanking such a catch for braving the hunt??!!? (Even the chefs could hear the squeals from that one.) But he’d picked up a few good pointers. For instance, he could-
Hazel’s brain turns to soup.
Ohhhhhh gosh. Oh gosh. It’s just like, like, when someone wakes you up via scritchies in your hair, and you’re gently rising from the depths of sleep, floating on the edge of waking up, and the only thing you know is scritchie scritchie scritchie aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
(Nobody’s here? Nobody’s here. Just Alcideo. Then. He’s safe to…)
“Mrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” he says, long and slow and so, so contented. He simultaneously melts into the couch while stretching his neck up for all he’s worth, pushing his curly hair into those wonderful, scritchieful claws of his. Yes, oh yes, that’s the spot. No, wait, hold on, that’s the spot. Forget everything, those Hazels can’t be trusted, that’s the spot.
(It’s just waiting tables. Anybody could do that.)
He’s doing great. Alcideo can’t believe how great he’s doing. He said so. He’s beaming. Yes! Yes! Yes! He wasn’t sure about half of it and he could’ve sworn he was flailing but, but! Good! Great! Him! He did a good job! He’s such a big help! He’s helping! Eeeeeeeeee!
“Aww, thank youuuu.” Hazel beams in his general direction. It’s hard to tell exactly, his eyes have almost fluttered shut. “I did help out for a summer or three at a local diner back home, so I do have a little experience here and there. We didn’t set so many things on fire though. Not nearly as good magical spells. Uniforms only slightly less sparkly.” You know, professional business talk, between professionals. (Hee!) “Oh! And I did spend half my childhood on skates. Got a pretty good sense of balance and all that. Good for keeping my footing.”
(He was Aware of every table assigned to him. He saw each of them, every pass through the restaurant. He tracked how long it had been since he’d visited them, and how long he’d spent there. He remembered who had ordered what. He remembered who he had spoken directly to, and roughly for how long. No one was getting neglected. No one was going to have to wait for him. Everyone was going to have as good a time as he could give them.
He doesn’t realize why his mind so eagerly melts under Alcideo’s careful touch.)
“Gonna keep trying my best.” He tries to nod. He really does. (Alcideo liked it when his ears flopped around like a sillyhead.) “I. Uh. Still don’t really understand the Pants Money thing. I mean, folks seem to like it? So, I just say ‘thank you so much’ and I think that’s been good enough?”
(His hands find his shorts. His fingers curl around the cuffs, idly tugging. As if that could somehow make them cover up more of his long legs. Ugh, his thighs squish out so terribly when he sits down. Muscle? Fat? A little of both? Whatever, they shouldn’t look like that. He could forget when he was rushing from table to table but now that he’s sitting here. Now that the show’s out there and it’s just him here, he remembers…
He’s no acrobat. He’s no model. He’s no pretty girl presenting as a pretty boy.
Should he really be showing this much of himself?)
[Activating Friendly Benefits on Alcideo.]
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