Been a Long Time Coming for the Working Man

[burnthemall]

Hansel liked the times where he was alone in the coffee shop best. Early in the morning when he was baking or late at night when he was cleaning up, or making doughs to rise overnight. It was quiet, except for the radio he left playing in the kitchen. He was alone and allowed a moment of peace and quiet.

If Gretel stayed some nights that was okay. He never minded his sister's presence.

Tonight, he was alone though, moping the floor and singing along to the radio.

Comments

[chromatist]

"Stiles is in California, and Dean is at work," she says, counting them off on her fingers. They're the only real friends she has who know anything about her life before New York, well, except for Hansel right now. "I work with the others, they're kind of the last people I want to see right now."

[burnthemall]

"Who the fuck names their kid Stiles?" Because that's the dumbest shit Hansel has ever heard. At least his name made sense and was an actual name.

[chromatist]

Finally, she cracks a smile. "He's Polish. Named after his grandfather. You know, I never found out what his real name was until after college? It's Gościsław, for the record, which makes him going by Stiles, a bastardization of his last name, make total sense."

[burnthemall]

"There's nothing wrong with an ethnic name." He's Hansel Jager, the most German name to ever exist. He thinks Goscilaw is pretty damn cool in comparison.

"Look, if you're going to stick around just sit and get out of my way. You'll cause me more problems then you'll solve." She might listen if he's rude. That tends to work.

[chromatist]

"Hansel is a lot easier to pronounce than Gościsław, honey." Of course Lydia can do it perfectly, though. "And apparently it's a weird-ass name, even to the Polish, I checked."

She huffs a little and gives him a sour look. "Rude."

[burnthemall]

"Yet everyone says it with the wrong accent." He goes back to his mop to keep his hands busy.

"Why the hell does it still surprise you? I'm a rude guy." He is. He's an asshole and he knows it. Occasionally, he can be a decent guy but in the end, he's an ass.

[chromatist]

"I don't," she points out, quite reasonably in her mind.

Rolling her eyes at him, she moves over to the sink and starts in on the dishes. "No you're not. If you were, you'd never have let me cry on your shoulder. Hell, you wouldn't have even let me inside in the first place."

[burnthemall]

"I'm rude, not heartless. There's a difference." He's really not sure she's allowed to do that without being on the payroll. He'll have to ask Gretel tomorrow.

[chromatist]

"Mhmm." She seems content to let the subject drop for now, focusing on scrubbing cake crumbs out of pans before filling the huge plastic trays with dishes and pots and utensils and sliding it into the sanitizer. Slamming down the contraption over the tray is always so satisfying.

[burnthemall]

He doesn't like her helping. It's not what she should be doing after a bad day. He grabs her wrist and looks at her. "Lydia, will you listen to me for just this once and sit the fuck down? It can be on a counter if you insist on hovering but stop working. Stop doing my work. This is my routine and I don't appreciate you messing it up."

[chromatist]

"You shouldn't have to do all this by yourself, Hansel," she says, looking down at his hand on her wrist. "I know this is a small business, but still, this must take you forever..."

A beat, and then she shrugs and throws up her hands, dislodging his grip on her. "But fine, if that's what you want, I'm just going to sit over there."

[burnthemall]

"I like to do it all by myself. Gretel does a lot of the offsite stuff, the marketing and the payroll, all that. I get to do this, which I like." He's an introvert. Only his sister really knows him. Peace and quiet are what he likes best after a hard day of dealing with customers.

At least she was off her feet and no longer in his way. He would be done at his own pace and he would be certain everything was right for tomorrow morning, when cutting down on wasted time was more important. "Attagirl."

[chromatist]

"Okay. If you're sure." She still gives him an uncertain look as she goes off to sit down, but she does go sit down, over on the counter by the wall where her coffee sits, cooling.

She hoists herself up and settles back against the wall, picking up the cup and wrapping her hands around it. "So, you seen any good movies lately?"

[burnthemall]

"I have a feeling you don't watch many movies." At least not the ones out in theaters. She's more of a book and theater kind of girl, he'd guess.

He goes back to his moping. The floor always needs moping.

[chromatist]

"Then why don't you tell me about some?" She's just trying to make conversation, here.

[burnthemall]

"You want to hear about the senseless action movie of the month?" He's got a weakness for car chases and explosions, so sue him.

[chromatist]

She nods, taking a sip of her now much-cooled coffee. "I certainly do."

[burnthemall]

"Alright." So he talks about the latest movie he saw, something about a brain washed secret agent who has to go on the run. There's some science thrown in there but mostly it's car chases and fight scenes.

[chromatist]

Lydia gets surprisingly into the narrative, asking questions and making appropriate noises when stuff happens, her legs kicking idly under the counter.

[burnthemall]

It gets easier to talk now that she's not arguing with him constantly. He just goes from one task to the other while he chats with her.

[chromatist]

And chatting it is, Lydia briefly imparting all the gossip she knows about the stars of his movie, then letting the subject shift over to this summer's line-up, something she knows intimately thanks to endless updates from Stiles.

[burnthemall]

He's done before he really expected to be. He tosses his apron on a counter and looks at her again. "Alright, now you've got to leave."

[chromatist]

She chuckles, slithering off the counter and stepping back into her shoes. "Aw, you mean I can't sleep under one of the cooling racks?"

[burnthemall]

"Fuck off." But he's smiling as he says it. He gestures for her to lead the way so he can hit the lights.

[chromatist]

"Mhmm." She swings by the front of the store to collect her briefcase again and shrug back into her coat, then waits for him by the front door.