A boy named Sous

Priestly lay flopped across his bed as the sun made its way slowly across the room. Not sleeping, no, he still hadn't done any of that since waking up in Fandom, but just lying there, chin buried in his pillow, staring at the wall.

The talk with Tish . . . had not gone well. He'd known it wouldn't, but he couldn't help but hope. . . .

( There was a knock at the door. )

[ooc: Establishy again, though Priestly will be available for phone calls later in his day.]

"You know I don't mind cooking for us, right?" Priestly asked, balking a little as Tish led him towards the restaurant door by the hand. "I even really like it."

"Priestly," Tish said, stopping and turning to look at him without letting go of his hand. "You've been working double shifts all weekend to cover for Piper while she and Noah and Julia are at Disneyland. You need a break from cooking."

Priestly opened his mouth to protest again, and Tish pressed a finger to his lips. "And you look fine," she said. "There's no dress code, they're not going to kick you out for having a mohawk, and it's my turn to feed us and I don't cook so I say we get to have dinner in a fancy restaurant."

Priestly kissed the finger on his lips. "Okay. But I reserve the right to be snooty if their food isn't as good as mine."

Tish smiled. "I'm looking forward to it, even. Now come on, I want to get a table outside before they fill up." It was a gorgeous night, cool and bright under the full moon, the earlier cloudiness having mostly cleared up.

And, well, if an outdoor table would make them more visible and easier to stalk spy on observe, then so be it.

[ooc: for the sneaky shipper spies and slow-play.]

It was a slow day at the sandwich shop, which was probably for the best, since Priestly was too jazzed for Dinah coming to town for Spring Break to really concentrate on cooking anything. Instead, he was perched on the counter, doing one of his absolute favorite things: regaling Piper and Jen with his conspiracy theories.

"I'm just saying," he said. "Cobain wasn't trying to leave this world. He was just trying to leave Courtney."

Jen nodded. "I'll buy it." Priestly grinned at her. They'd for the most part made up after the whole ditching Fuzzy thing. Priestly understood, after all. He just wished he didn't have to.

Tish came in, slipping her sunglasses up on her head and not really looking at any of them, and Priestly's smile vanished.

( Cut for vaguely implied domestic violence )

And like that, by unspoken agreement, they let it pass.

For now, anyway.

[ooc: establishy, scene riffed straight from canon, as I enter into the final stretch of my catch-up!]

"I don't know, man," Priestly was saying. "I just really have the urge to watch a whole bunch of reality TV."

"What, like The Bachelor?" Tish asked.

"Mythbusters," Jen guessed.

"I like Food Network," said Piper. When they all looked at her, she shrugged. "What? I like to cook."

Priestly shook himself. "Man, that will never stop being weird." He grinned. "You know, we should totally do our own reality show. Like The Real World or Big Brother only with subs --"

He was cut off by the bell over the door. Two polo shirted, schwoopy haired preppy looking dudes walked in, paused in the doorway, and lifted their sunglasses.

"Oh look," Priestly muttered. ( "Synchronized douchebags." )

[ooc: second half ripped right out of canon. Open for SP phone calls and the like.]

Priestly arrived back on the street where he'd spent the last few weeks earning cash dishing out glass noodles to discover that Grody and his noodle cart had relocated.

As, in fact, had every other noodle cart in the area. Which unfortunately meant Priestly was broke, and without a clear means of making any extra cash. He wandered around the city for a bit, his worldly belongings all stuffed into his pack (the hostel wanted more money to put him up for the night, what was up with that?) before concluding that he really was going to have to call home and ask his mom to wire him some more money.

"We're sorry," said the mechanical woman's voice on the other end of the line. "The number you've reached is not in service."

Priestly checked his phone. It was the right number. He hadn't gone over his minutes, and he had service here in Manila. He'd even gotten the country codes right. He tried another number.

( 'Beach City Grill, subs by the inch.' )

[ooc: establishing, phase two in Ten Inch Hero land is a go. And I'm evil.]

So. Spending Sunday as a girl had been pretty easy -- Jen was scheduled at the grill, but Priestly wasn't. He'd managed to slip out without Jen noticing his temporary new bits and had a grand old time playing tourist in his own hometown. But then he was still a girl when Monday came. And that was . . . a little bit more difficult.

For one, he had to call out from his pastry class. And attempt to do a growly boy-voice on the phone with his professor. He was pretty sure he hadn't fooled anyone and would get harassed for being hung over and making his roommate call him out or something, but it was deal-able. And then he was scheduled for the evening shift at the Grill. It wasn't like he could fake a growly boy-voice at Trucker.

Thank god the man had shown up for graduation.

( Okay, so this got a little long )

[ooc: Oh, come on, this was totally the perfect time to play canon catch-up. Open for phone calls and such.]