2013.08.22 - Making a new "Fren"

A little past 1PM sees Anita Bella in Brooklyn strangely quiet. The lunch rush was fast and furious, the staff a little short since they're currently spread between the Stark Expo booth and the restaurant itself. Right now it's just Fern and one other waiter, plus half of the kitchen staff. Most of the tables are empty, only a few customers lingering over their lunch in Bryan's section, so Fern is taking the time to wipe down the tables that are empty, keeping an eye on the door for anyone new wandering in. While the dress code has been relaxed at the Stark Expo, back in the restaurant it's the usual mustard yellow dress, with the misspelled nametag that insists her name is "FREN". The young woman's sneakers squeak lightly on the floor as she moves to the next table, spraying it down, then wiping it off, her movements quick and efficient. It's not the first time she's done this job. Dean Martin is playing on the stereo system, and she sings along softly to 'Sway', her hips unconsciously obeying the song's title.

The distinctive sound of a Harley Davidson motorcycle can be heard as it pulls up out front of the restaurant, and idles down before the engine is cut. Moment's later the front door opens, and a man steps through, ducking his head as though worried about banging into something. Of course, he probably doesn't need to, but it's likely force of habit for him. Eddie Brock pauses inside and takes a deep whiff of the place, and then smiles. Of ALL the places he was known to frequent before his incarceration, Anita Bella's was the only place he knew to get a proper italian meal and in the 4 years he was in prison, he'd missed it. He steps in looking around, and moves toward the hostess station waiting to be seated as he unzips his leather jacket, looking around.

The jangle of the little bell gets a rather Pavlovian response from Fern, as her head turns automatically to see who's arrived, a smile coming to her lips in her natural welcome to new guests. She leaves the spray bottle and rag at an empty table, giving her hands an absent wipe on her skirt as she squeaks over to the man who entered. "Afternoon," she greets, her voice warm and welcoming. "Table for one or will someone be joining you?"

Eddie looks to the redheaded waitress, and shakes his head. "No, it's just us...." he says and winces a bit "Me...I mean me." he says and smiles, looking at her nametag "Fren? That's gotta be a misspell...." he says lightly, his brown eyes twinkling "and if not...then it's gotta be short for something incredibly interesting." he adds lightly

Fern's smile brightens with the notice of her nametag, and she supplies, "It's Fern, actually. I've been promised a new one, but... I'm kinda used to this one now." She takes up a menu and turns, adding, "I have the perfect table for you." She leads him to her section, and a table by the window. If his bike is out front, he'll have a view of it to keep an eye on it. She sets the menu down, stepping aside to clear the path to the bench seats, asking, "How's this?"

Eddie follows her, standing up just a bit straighter. It felt good to be back in familiar surroundings to him, and you just couldn't beat the smells in an italian restaurant. Of course...he mused, the view wasn't too bad either. "Well, I like it. It makes for a great ice-breaker...." he says and then nods as he takes a seat at the window "Works for me...thanks Fren..." he says purposefully mispronouncing her name playfully. He doesn't mind that he can see his bike, but he wasn't worried about it being messed with. Venom would see to its security after all.

He picks up the menu and strokes his chin "So what's the special today?" he asks looking up at her again.

Clearly, she doesn't mind the mispronunciation to gauge by the smile that never falters. "Today's special is seafood lasagna, but we've also made it a double special day with cheese ravioli and meat sauce. Because some people really don't like seafood," she adds. They do try their best to please all the customers. Blue eyes are warm as they linger on the gigantic (to her, anyway) man, who seems imposing even while seated.

Eddie looks down over the menu again and then grins "I'm feeling adventurous." he says "Let's go with an order of the lasagna....what would you suggest to drink with that, Fern?" he asks, pronouncing it correctly this time. "I know you're traditionally supposed to drink white wine with seafood, but I can't recall if Anita Bella's seafood lasagna is a red sauce, or a white sauce..." he says giving her an opportunity to inform him.

"It's a white sauce," Fern confirms, "So it would be best with a white wine." There's a pause before she adds with a grin, "I prefer coke, myself." A curious light sparks in her eyes as she catches his words, her head tilting as she asks, "You've been here before?" It wasn't during her time here, she would bet money on that, because it's not like this guy is exactly that forgettable.

Eddie's head nods, and he sighs "I actually prefer water to be honest, but you know what? Make it a glass of white..." he says and then nods, his eyes going a little sad "Years ago now." he says "Every chance I got to come out this way from downtown....but...I've been away for a few years." he says glad she hasn't recognized him. Eddie Brock's face had plastered the news after the Sin-Eater killings as the reporter who had mislead the authorities through negligence, sending them on a wild goose chase. The killer was caught, but not before killing two more people, and Eddie had been the sacrificial lamb to the public outrage.

The answer to him having been here before brings Fern's smile back even brighter, and she says, "Welcome home, then. White wine it is, with the seafood lasagna. I'll get your order right in, and it shouldn't take long at all." She turns on one foot, only bringing her order pad out of her pocket when she's halfway to the kitchen to scribble the order down properly for the kitchen. The doors flap lightly as she disappears. It's only a few beats before she returns through the kitchen doors, a tray balanced on one hand as she moves easily back to Eddie's table. "I bet you've missed Anita's rosemary bread," she says as she puts a bread basket down onto the table, followed by a little dish of butter pats. The bread plate and silverware are already at the table, and all she has to add is a glass of water. "We have people who come in just hoping to get some." She doesn't rush away, there's no one really calling for her attention, and leans lightly against the opposite bench seat, tucking the tray under her arm.

Eddie watches her go. He had a discerning eye...after all, he had once been a pretty good photographer. This girl's pretty in ways that aren't typical, even in New York, and she moves with an honest grace that you -really- don't find much in New York. Definitely not during Expo week. "Wow you're good...I didn't even have time to wonder if I was going to get some, and here you are with it...." he says concerning the bread.

"So Fern, where are you from originally? I can't place your accent..." he says. He himself has a slightly faded but still audible new york accent. "And tell me you're not a model...." he says as he picks up the water, and takes a sip or three.

The compliment on her service has Fern all but beaming, "Thank you." It's important to her to be good at what she does. It can make or break someone's day, how they're treated at a restaurant, and she always tries to hit the 'make' mark and not 'break' anyone. "I'm from Ohio," she responds to the question. "A little town, barely a speck on most maps. And I'm not a model..." There's a slight hesitation before she adds, almost sheepishly, "I'm an actress."

Eddie nods and smiles "Ohio...alright. I was in Ohio just a few days ago....riding this way from Arizona." he says picking up a piece of the bread and eating it dry sans butter. This he washes down with some more water, and just MMmmms, his eyes closing in pleasure as he savors the taste of the bread, before he opens them again. "YOu do not know how much I needed this...." he groans softly.

He smiles "Well, if that acting thing doesn't work out for you, you should consider modeling. You've got a real fresh look." he says "I used to be a photographer..." he shrugs "So...sorry if that sounds like a line..." he says

"Arizona?" Fern questions, brows lifting. "I have cousins out there. It's quite a trip." There's a light blush as his words, definitely not the reaction of a seasoned New Yorker. "Thanks. I actually have a friend who wants me to pose with her for a charity calendar." The way she says it, touched lightly with disbelief, might give the impression that she really doesn't have any idea why this friend would suggest it. There's a soft laugh, and Fern waves a hand, dismissing the apology. "It doesn't sound like a line at all." Although Fern probably wouldn't know a line if it hit her. "Coming home again, then?" she asks. "I don't think I could do Arizona in the summer. My cousin says it's a 'dry heat' but really... hot is just hot."

Eddie is stuffing another piece of bread into his face as she asks him about home, and he nods "Yuf..." he says and then covers his mouth "Sowwy..." and swallows the mouthfull with another drink of water. "Yeah...just got back." he says and then smiles "It has been a...." he pauses as though listening to something, and then shakes his head as if to clear it. "A very very long trip." he says

"Yeah Arizona is much too hot...that's why I came back east...home." he says "So your friend wants you to pose for a calender?" he asks "Who's your friend if you don't mind my asking?"

"Welcome home again then," Fern says warmly. "I bet it's nice to be back." It's not so hard to come to that conclusion, given that he agrees Arizona is too hot. She can't help the words that come next, it's just her nature to mother hen people. "Eat slow, it's not going anywhere. Enjoy it." Even so, her words are gentle, not quite an admonition. "My friend? She's Millie Collins." And she waits for the ooohs and aaaahs that always seem to come when Millie's name comes up. Fern's got no problem with it, Millie is gorgeous, and really nice on top of it, so how could Fern begrudge her getting deserved admiration?

Eddie smiles and does then begin to eat more slowly, taking smaller bites. It was habit to shovel it in...hey you spend 4 years having to do so, or lose your meal to someone bigger, and more violent while in prison! He leans back deciding he's had his fill of the bread for now anyway, and tilts his head. "You know Millie Collins?" he says "That's cool. I hung out with Heather Danielson and her friend last night. Nice lady..." he says "Well, ladies, they were both really nice....." he says "They asked me to take pictures of them dancing..." he says. If he's super impressed that she knows Millie Collins he isnt' falling over himself like many people might. Either he's just not that easy to impress, or he's actually been around famous people before. (or in his case..WAS a famous person..or was that infamous?)

There's a light frown as Fern paws through her mental 'who's who' files, and finally comes up with, "I think that Millie and Heather know each other." They're actually working together on the Gifted Foundation, but Fern hasn't really learned all that much about the project. Yet. She's sure that eventually Millie will give her the complete rundown. She shrugs, not entirely positive, her smile back immediately. "Did you take pictures of models, or was it more like scenery?" There's a beat, before she tacks on, "Or impossibly cute pictures of puppies and kittens?" Yeah, there's a bit of a grin taking over the smile again, and a light, friendly tease to the words.

Eddie looks around for a second, and smiles. Let's face it, he may be trying to lie low, but he was always vain. "I was actually a journalist..." he says "I'm kind of keeping a low profile...but...I used to be kind of famous." he says "I'm Eddie Brock." he says as if she's supposed to know who he was. Granted, he was convicted over 5 years ago, and went away to prison 4 years ago, but he was all over the national news. "I'm sure you've heard of me...but..." he chuckles "Don't believe everything you hear..." he says

"I'd never met Heather before last night, and I don't think I've ever met Millie The Model." he says "but you know, Fern, you really are quite striking. You should do that calender with Millie...it might even help your acting career..." he shrugs "You never know, right?"

Again, the light frown comes as Fern studies Eddie more closely. But, at the height of the 'controversy' surrounding him, she was a senior in high school, and had much more important things on her mind. Like standardized testing and boys. But she's always diplomatic, and says, "Oh yeah... I thought you looked kinda familiar. And I never believe everything I hear, so don't worry about that." Her expression shifts again, easily changing, showing her emotions plainly. This one would be mild disbelief, with one brow arching ever so slightly at his assessment of her as striking. "Well, I think you're being very generous, but thank you, Mister Brock. Millie thinks it might help, too. I don't figure I've got anything to lose by it, and Millie is so sweet that I think it'll be a lot of fun even if nothing comes of it." She glances toward the kitchen as a bell rings, a different tone than the bell over the door. "That'll be your lasagna, let me go get it for you. And stop talking your ear off," she adds with a soft laugh. Again, she turns on one foot, the movement easy and relaxed, and squeaks lightly off to the kitchen.

Eddie calls out "Actually, Fern, I hate to do this, but do you think you could make it to go?" he asks. "I really hate to, but I just realized I've got someone waiting on me, and they're getting...." he pauses as if listening to someone "Very very impatient...." he says "There's a big tip in it for ya!" he adds.

Fern stops halfway to the kitchen, turning back with her sunny smile, "It'll be no trouble at all. I'll have it for you in two shakes of a lamb's tail," she promises lightly. She squeakily crosses the rest of the distance, disappearing again through the doors. It's more than two shakes, more like... three... but she's back promptly with a brown paper bag. "I had it all packed up for you, and then double wrapped it so there won't be any spills. I couldn't do the wine to go, but I took it off the check for you." She sets the bag down, laying the check face down next to it, and looks into the large man's eyes. "Now, I hope it won't be so long before you come back again. Thank you for coming by, Mister Brock." She leaves him to sort his bill out, retreating again to the kitchen. And, when he gets around to eating, wherever he goes, he'll find a small container with two cannoli added in that wasn't noted on the check.

Eddie stands up then, and smiles, pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket. He looks at the check and then overpays by about $50 and grins at her. "Keep the change, Fren..." he says mispronouncing her name playfully "And you can bet on it...." he winks, and picks up the bag, turning toward the door, and seeing himself out. If she watches out the window, he makes his way out to the bike, opening the bag. He pulls out one of the cannoli, and eats over half of it right there, standing on the sidewalk before he walks across the street to a homeless man who lounges at the mouth of an alleyway. To him he hands the bag off, and gives the man some money before he turns, and makes his way back to the motorcycle, gets on..starts it and rides off down the street.