Page 51 of Midsummer Phoenixes
“That’s commitment.”
“Yup, and I love it. Okay, food here is going to blow your mind.”
Tate walked up to the display counter. The cafeteria looked like a lot of airport bistros, fancy, food displayed attractively behind glass. Above the oval glass display, there was a reminder for students to have their student ID ready. Next to it, written out in fancy script was the drinks selection and daily specials.
Normal enough, but it had the added info that all drinks could be made with saltwater instead of regular, and they had brine broth. Brine broth was the equivalent of drinking from a filthy puddle on some battlefield post-battle because you were dying of thirst, but some pawns and cursed loved the stuff.
“I’m always ready to have my mind blown,” I said just as the pawn server turned around to greet us with a smile.
Predictably, he paled.
Yeah, Freak High was a lot nicer than dealing with those insolent triglav brothers. Or at least the one insolent triglav brother.
Tate went ahead of me with the confident air of a man who thought he had discovered an unknown continent. “I had those flaky pastry things last time. Spicy but oh so good, and those long pastries over there are filled with vanilla cream. Also good.” He looked up at the server, presumably an older student here. “Hey, are you okay?”
The pawn closed his mouth, nodded, using the motion to cast his eyes down in a gesture of submission. He wiped his hands on his apron.
“Of course, sirs. What can I do for you today?”
“An everything bagel for me, please,” Tate said and rummaged around in his massive bag for his wallet. “Bennet? My treat. For keeping me company.”
“Oh, that would be rude of me,” I said and dropped a bill on the counter in front of the pawn. “This is absolutely on me. Get the man his bagel, and coffee for me. You have pancakes?”
The pawn gasped. “No, I’m so sorry, sir. We, erm, there are wraps. I’m very sorry. If you’d like, I can run to the main kitchen and—”
“A wrap will be fine. Avocado, tomato, cucumber.”
He jumped to it in the most satisfying way.
“I guess he’s new,” Tate whispered. The pawn could probably hear him still.
“Oh, you think so? It’s as important for new people to know their manners as it is for those with all the experience.”
The pawn squirmed. He was probably wondering if he’d done anything wrong, if he’d offended me. That was satisfying. I forced myself to relax my shoulders and look around the mostly empty cafeteria.
And fuck me. Sitting at a table with the same Star-Garbed I’d caught her with yesterday was none other than Ella, proving once more that children were an unconscionable bother and didn’t fucking learn, ever.
The kid had spotted me, of course, because the Star-Garbed wouldn’t have missed the pawn server’s unease. The two of them had drinks and some food gathered around them, but spread out on the table were books and papers, making this look as if they were doing schoolwork.
I let my gaze bore into the two of them until the pawn came back with two trays and the food Tate and I had ordered.
“There you go, sir. Please let me know if there is anything else you need.”
“Sure. Keep the change,” I added when he was fumbling around in his register.
I grabbed my tray, and so did Tate.
“Did you just give the server a hundred dollars?”
“I like tipping my server.”
Tate ooh-ed. “That’s generous. Don’t tell me. You’re rich. What, do you work in fashion?”
I stopped in my tracks. “In fashion? Why on earth would you think that?”
Tate had taken me stopping as his cue to take a seat at the table next to which I’d stopped. It wasn’t as close to the annoying infant as I would have liked, but it was close enough.
“Oh, you know.” He gestured at me. “That fancy coat. Your nail polish, the way you carry yourself. And you only wear black. I feel like that’s something fashion designers do.” I wanted to slap him again, but of course my nail polish was very much in order, and it was kind of nice of him to notice. He lifted a finger. “And the guyliner!”
