2013.08.14 - Everything's Better When It's On A Stick

It's an unseasonably cool August evening, but that works well for the attendees of the Stark Expo. Crowds get cranky when it's too hot, although the lemonade stand does a better business. Fern was at the Expo again, working her second day in a row. She didn't really have to, but she's been enjoying seeing friends and meeting new people. It's a whole different crowd than the regulars at Anita Bella, and it's been fun to chat up folks and get them to promise to come by the restaurant sometime. But she's off work now, just in time to hear the announcements about the Lexcorp exhibition that is slated to start soon. She's got nothing invested in the Luthors, so opts to head in the opposite direction, where the crowd is starting to thin. There are more food places around, so she's checking out the options, rocking her own 'uniform'. Anita and Julius have allowed the staff to forego their regular work clothes and wear white button down shirts and black bottoms. Fern's opted for a short skirt, and wears her trusty sneakers with her messenger bag hanging from one shoulder.

Warren Worthington wasn't really going to come back to the Expo, but after having quite a few conversations with his father about Stark's challenge, it was deciedd that he should be the 'scout'. He was of high enough clout to make it look like the company wasn't snubbing the Expo and yet not high enough to make it look like they were snooping too deeply. Not terribly thrilled to be stooped to this particular level, Warren is sort of wandering about, trying to avoid most of the larger crowds. He did manage to grab a cannoli from the Anita Bella booth, but he may have missed Fern. It could be why he's surprised to see her wandering about.

Wiping some powdered sugar from his mouth, he approaches her, "Couldn't get enough of the crowds at the opening, huh?"

If he'd have approached her from dead ahead there's no way Fern could possibly have missed him coming, but it's the familiar voice from behind her that has her turning with a smile already coming to her lips. "Warren. I have the excuse that I was working. Guess you couldn't get enough either, hm?" she teases lightly. Still, she is a bit surprised, knowing that it's not particularly his thing, as he pointed out the other night. She takes a step closer to him, her hand coming up, thumb lightly smudging an errant bit of white from his chin. "At least you've found something to eat."

Warren Worthington wrinkles his nose, "No...I'm working too. I guess it's slightly better than sitting in an office, but my office is never this crowded." At least the ceilings are high in case he needs to make a fast escape. After she wipes some of the sugar from his chin, he does so as well, "It's better than the fried dough crap they sell. At least it doesn't taste like deep-fried fat." Glancing about at the crowds he asks, "You were working and still wanted to stick around?"

Fern grins at his question, "Of course. Thought that I'd find a handsome guy to hang out with... make him look good. You know." She's in good spirits, enjoying the people more than Warren might, and she puts on a petulant cast as she says, "I like the fried dough crap." At least she doesn't stick her tongue out at him. Her head tilts curiously, "You're working? Here?"

"Have any luck yet?" Warren asks, seeming to be serious. Somewhat. Maybe he's just practicing his 'straight man' face as someone needs to be the straight guy if the other is the funny one! An eyebrow arches at the pout, "Really? It's so...greasy." Such a snob. "I'm going around and seeing what else is being exhibited. Asking questions. Scoping out competition."

"I think I just got lucky, as a matter of fact. Unless your work precludes you from hanging out," Fern tosses back. She raises one brow, looking at him sort of cockeyed, "What's wrong with greasy? Sometimes ya gotta cut loose, Warren." She does remember who she's talking to, right? "Are you going to the Lexcorp demo? I think it's gonna be packed."

Warren Worthington can't hide a chuckle at the...sort of compliment paid to him. "Greasy has its place...I just don't like my desserts to be greasy." His eyebrows arch even higher, "Cut loose? By doing what? Going out and partying isn't 'loose' enough?" It's sort of a serious question. At the mention of the demo he gives a sigh and looks towards it, "I should...but I don't really want to deal with the crowds. Maybe I'll find a perch somewhere and watch from there. As long as he's not showing anything super-tiny, I should be all right."

Fern huffs a light breath through her nose, "That's not dessert. It's... fair food. Totally different. Like the steak on a stick," she says, motioning toward another vendor. "Everything's better when it's on a stick, you know." Now it's her turn to be serious, peering at him intently as she says that, nodding her head. But she can't hold it and her smile returns, though it may be down a notch from where it was. She ignores his questions about cutting loose, instead looking around again. "I'm gonna look for something to eat before I head home. I shouldn't keep you from 'work'." If he's listening closely, he might even catch a bit of disappointment that's crept into her tone.

"The only things that should be eaten on sticks are toasted marshmallows and kabobs," Warren offers almost absently. He then turns back to Fern and watches her for a long moment. "It's..." he starts, "...off and on work. I'm not expected to be here all the time and I'm sure there will be carefully edited video of the demo. No doubt Luthor will send out a transcript to all the large companies in the area." Blue eyes flick to the steak on a stick, "Did...you want to eat that, or do you want real food?"

Another set of blue eyes drift back, settling on Warren. "How about.... if you try steak on a stick, and if you really hate it I'll treat you to whatever your little heart desires?" Fern offers. Getting drunk with fake friends isn't her idea of cutting loose. Trying something you wouldn't usually with a real friend... that is more her idea of cutting loose. "I promise, it won't kill you. Probably." There's a gleam in her eyes with that, as she looks up at him.

"Let me guess," Warren speculates as he considers the steak-on-a-stick cart, "You also eat hot dogs from the street vendors." He also knows, though, that Fern's wallet doesn't necessarily work with his tastes. He looks back to Fern before nodding, "All right. Deal." He's made up his mind about something already though.

Fern's brows go up in surprise, "You don't?? I love dirty water dogs." She's not even afraid to call a spade a spade. And yeah... it's pretty much what she can afford most of the time, although sometimes even those are out of her range if it's too close to payday or when the rent is due. Her mock surprise turns thoroughly real as Warren actually agrees to try the steak on a stick. "Really?" He's actually stopped her in her tracks with that one.

Warren Worthington shrugs, turning as his wing brushes an Expo-goer, and then looking back, "Sure. Life is dull if you eat foie gras all the time. Not that I even eat foie gras anymore..." but it should get the idea across. "And no, I don't. I don't know what's in those dogs."

For a moment, Fern just looks at Warren, and then her smile returns. It's warmer, and her eyes linger on him. Then she nods, "Alright, that's fair enough. I don't want to know what's in them, I'd probably never touch one again," she quips, her grin back. The little waitress reaches over without preamble, looping her arm through Warren's, giving him a gentle tug toward the food stand she's targeted. She steps up, places an order for two, and turns back to her companion while they wait the minute it takes the steaks to be finished on a grill. "Been going out much?" It's not a prickly question, just one of general interest.

He can't help but look at his arm as Fern takes it and pulls him over to the cart. He hands over the money to pay for the 'meal'...it's the least he could do, really, especially if she ends up losing the bet. Even as he watches it being grilled, he looks dubious. At the question, he looks back to her, "Hmm? Oh. Some, I guess. It's the best way to be seen, you know."

Before the guy working the register can take the money, Fern reaches out and pulls Warren's hand back. "Oh no, this one's on me." She's already dug her wallet out, and she opens it to fish inside. There are several bills inside, but none greater than a five, most of them actually singles. Still, it's a treat for her to actually be able to treat Warren to something, it happens so seldom. "Why is it important to be seen?" she asks as she stuffs the wallet back into her bag.

Warren Worthington frowns at Fern, but he lets her pay. He knows better than to fight her on this. The bills are casually stuffed back into a pocket even as he offers, "Thank you." Tilting her head at the question, he asks, "Don't you like to be noticed?"

"Sometimes. By some people," Fern answers honestly as she snaps the clasp of her bag shut. She looks back up at him. "Thank you." 'For not arguing' goes without being said. "I like when people I care about notice me. Like..." Before she finishes the thought, it's interrupted by the cashier, handing over their food, "Here ya go, lady." He gets one of Fern's sunny smiles as she accepts both sticks, "Thanks!" She takes a couple steps away, clearing away from the cart, before she turns, holding one stick out for Warren. It's cubed meat, neatly browned and juicy, kind of like a kebab, but without those annoying vegetables getting in the way of the meat. "Try," she says encouragingly.

Warren Worthington follows Fern as she steps to a less crowded spot but also looks at the stick of meat rather skeptically. "Did you get napkins?" He looks down at his pale grey suit and pale violet shirt and tie as if already seeing grease stains on them. He did promise though. Holding a hand under the stick as if he could catch any grease or juice before it hit the clothes, he then takes a bite.

Fern takes a quick step back, snagging some napkins from the dispenser, and returns to Warren's side. She tucks a napkin into his empty hand before anything can drip onto it. As Warren takes his first bite of steak on a stick she bites her bottom lip, a bit anxious and hoping that he doesn't hate it, at least. With her eyes still on him, but not wanting to seem like she's staring, she takes a bite of her own. Her eyes close at once, the seasoned meat like manna from heaven, humming a soft, "Mmmmm." But those eyes open immediately, right back on the younger Worthington as she waits for a verdict.

Warren Worthington tries to keep a neutral expression as he tastes the meat. "Mmmmmm..." is offered a little flatly. But he catches himself, "It's not bad. Better than I'd expect for being meat on a stick served from a cart. But..." he looks at the piece he took a bite from, "It's a little well-done."

It's actually a better reaction than she'd expected, but it's still a little disappointing. She covers it by using her teeth to hold the end chunk of meat while she pulls the stick back, separating it neatly and taking a moment to chew and swallow. "It's not everyone's thing," Fern says mildly, her smile back in place. "At least you tried it." And that does mean something to her. "What does your little heart desire, and I'll get you that instead."

"No...it's all right. It's better the second bite. I guess I'm not used to the idea of eating food off of a stick unless it's a popsicle." And even then, Warren hasn't had those as a kid. He's also not going to make Fern pay for any fancy food though, either. "Do they have a milkshake cart around here?" Maybe he just doesn't want to disappoint her?

Again, red brows arch, "A milkshake?" Fern sounds genuinely surprised, because she never really pegged Warren as a milkshake guy. Maybe if it had scotch in it? But... bleh. She steps sideways, bumping lightly against his arm with her shoulder, her voice gentle, "You don't have to eat it. And I said anything your little heart desires. A milkshake is it?" She said it and she meant it.

"No, it's fine. It's good...you just might want to tell the meat-cart guy that most beef should really be cooked medium rare at most." And he will eat it, too. "It would probably be good on a salad...but that would be missing the point, I guess." He does take a few more bites...careful to not get any on his suit, before he looks to Fern, "Do you know how rare it is that I get a milkshake?"

Fern does look reassured by his words, and she laughs softly as Warren gives some cooking advice. "I don't think I'll tell him, but maybe I'll try and make it for you sometime and cook it to order," she offers. She falls silent, eating as he does, watching him from the corner of her eye as if she can't quite believe it. His question has her stopping to think, and she shakes her head. "I would imagine you could have one any time you liked, but I guess maybe you don't, hm? A milkshake it is, then." She turns, looking around, "I know there was an ice cream place here somewhere. I'm sure they must have milkshakes."

Warren Worthington doesn't answer Fern immediately when she mentions cooking for him, but he does look at her as if trying to figure her out. Women...are strange. No doubt they end up watching each other as they eat and he shakes his head when she mentions the milkshake any time he wants. "It's not like I can walk into a McDonald's and a real milkshake...we don't keep supplies like that at work."

If a milkshake would please him, then that's exactly what Fern is going to find for him. She pulls the last chunk of meat off the stick, looking around for the nearest trash can. It's only a couple steps away, so she turns and tosses her stick and napkin in, after a quick wipe at her lips. "Then we are going to get you a milkshake, Warren," she states, smiling at him.

Warren Worthington is still working on his meat on a stick, but he smiles back at Fern before leaping back to avoid a drop of grease. "You know...I haven't eaten 'messy' food in a long, long time." Maybe it's a reason for his aversion to it -- he doesn't want to ruin his fancy clothes. "Thanks, Fern..." is finally offered with a smile as he moves to carefully follow her in their search for a milkshake. It's also something he won't feel bad if she bought it for him.