"Boss With A Painful Tendency To Micromanage And Not Leave Work Back At The Booth Where It Belongs,"

"Caught him myself, but cameras aren't a bad idea," Leyla joked. Her qualifications for what a snacker was was admittedly rather low, since she had never been much of one. "Ah, you're a smart man, sounds like you've had some experience hiding some tasty things," she replied with a small laugh. It did sound nice, like this whole week was turning out to be. It was strange how comforting the small town had become, how well it seemed to suit her. If she'd grown up in a place like this, she had to wonder what else could have been different. "I'll have to do that then," she wittled down her thoughts to one non-committal phrase. Her smile brightened as he mentioned his dog. "Oh, are those people annoying? I've always dreamed of being one. What's your dog's name? I've sort of adopted my roommate's dogs for the moment, he's just not fully aware of it yet. But if one of us moves out, I might need a lawyer." She was joking...mostly. Nodding as he mentioned his girlfriend's children, she asked, "how many does she have?"

Josh found himself laughing as she outed one of her roommates as a snacker. "Do you set up cameras to catch them rooting through the fridge, or are they more obvious about the things that they're sneaking out of cupboards or cabinets?" Josh liked to snack, maybe not so much to a level where someone would label him as a snacker… but he liked to have a good treat here and there, enjoy something tasty. "Just find a box of some food that you know no one else in the house likes, and tuck it into that in the fridge. No one will touch it," surefire way to turn them away from a food was to disguise it as a food they didn't like, after all. "I think so," he nodded his head eagerly, "the wagon ride out there alone is nice, get to see some pretty sights, and then the actual pumpkin patch is really well done, too. If you don't get there during Creek Fest, I recommend coming out after," gathering up all of the pumpkins she might need in time for Halloween. Smiling, he shook his head, reaching for the next drink sample and downing it, "I don't. I'm one of those annoying, 'my dog is my child,' types. My girlfriend has children, though."

Flights were always one of her favorite options, especially at new places. It gave a good sampling for customers to come back and order more of the ones they liked the best. "I'll get that going," Leyla stated, giving a few moments of thought to what to include. When she started to shake one up, she asked, "you're in a band, right?"

At the suggestion of the flight, Alec paused for a moment. "Let's do that then. You can pick the other two, just no smoothies," her shook his head at the last part. Nothing better than recommendations straight from the owner, right?

Leyla only thought she was going to leave her employees in charge of the booth for a little while to take a quick break, but here she was still on the phone as she browsed through various pumpkins to maybe add something with a design to the booth. As she hung up, her phone was knocked from her hand. "That's what I get for not putting work away," she joked, waving her hand to assure him he didn't need to apologize as she bent down to pick her phone up. "I've lived in New York, I've been whacked with stranger things." Well, maybe not, but still... "And maybe I walked into your pumpkin."

Who: Vince & open!! @merrock

What: Creek Fest

Capping at 6 (0/6)

Vince was walking through the lines of pumpkins. Every year they seemed to just be getting bigger and bigger, strange as that was. He picked up a rather large one and held the thing in his arms, and before realizing there was someone next to him, he turned his body. "Oh my god, I'm sorry!" he gasped. "I can't believe I just whacked you with a pumpkin!"

"Yeah, there's usually some good in every experience," Leyla regurgitated some therapist's advice, though she was still working on that as a consistent mindset. "I met some really great people while I was there," she admitted. Nodding, she said, "if I spend too much time with my parents, I do." She was actually enjoying having this conversation with someone who also had the experience of not being born in America. It was so different sometimes. "Do you ever miss it?" Then again, with the business he owned, he could probably go home whenever he wanted. A quick and easy jump on a plane. Smiling, she agreed, "go us. Does it ever start feeling real? Or do you still sometimes wake up thinking 'there's no way this business is mine'?"

"Then that's all that matters, is that you found something enjoyable out of the whole experience," he knew not to push past that, understanding that family could be a tricky subject, especially when discussing with a stranger at a beach party. But discovering more about where you came from and your history was never a bad thing, either, that was for sure. "Do you ever find yourself thinking in one language over another?" he aksed curiously. "It took me a long time to realize I had started thinking in English, since I grew up speaking Italian and then Spanish," and then moved to the States and everything changed. "It's beautiful," he smied, a wistful expression. Rafael got to visit 'home' every now and then, but it was still a dream when the opportunity arose and he loved every moment of it. "I have," he nodded thoughtfully. "And now you have, too. Go us, right?"

Though Leyla did not have much of a sweet tooth, she was in the area to find the cat cafe and thought she might go for a small cup of something. Perking up as she heard the woman next to her murmur something about a bad day and cookie dough, Leyla offered her a supportive smile and a shrug to her question. "Will you judge me if I say vanilla?" She asked, knowing most people did have a true favorite ice cream. Cookie dough in ice cream, though, did sound like the makings of a sugar high for days, but she didn't tell the disappointed woman that. "I don't eat a lot of sweets. All of these flavors are actually making my head spin a little."

who: kennedy & open [ 2 / 5 ]

where: the creamery

Kennedy had a particularly stressful day, running around town doing errands for an upcoming wedding. She knew what she was getting herself into when taking the job, but she still found herself a bit overwhelmed from time to time. So she decided to treat herself to some ice cream, knowing she had a bit of a sweet tooth and deciding to indulge in it as some type of reward after the hectic day. Glancing at the flavors, she noticed they were out of her favorite flavor. "This day just keeps getting worse," she mumbled to herself and glanced over at the person also waiting in line. "What's your favorite flavor? They're out of cookie dough which should be constituted as a crime." she was joking of course. "But if you say mint chocolate chip, I will be judging you."

Leyla knew she wasn't the only one who ever had bad life circumstances or a far from dream relationship with parents or family, so it was sort of an innate learning one had to do: find the good. It just wasn't always so innate. "Exactly, like riding a bike, I guess," she mused. As she suspected, he could go when he wanted. "Do you think you'd ever go back and live there or are you here to stay?" It was a question she asked herself a lot, especially with the idea of being known in such a small town. It made her want to run. "That's the dream, though, to have something that large that you can call your own. I used to watch Shark Tank all the time when I was younger, just wishing I could be in one of those seats someday."

Rafael's smile was lopsided, but sincere. He knew what she was talking about; if you could take one good thing out of a bad situation, it hadn't been for nothing. And sometimes even those bad situations had their reasoning for happening, whether or not you realized it at the time. But that was neither here nor there, and his thoughts shifted seamlessly to the idea of languages, nodding his head, "I can understand that, sort of all comes back to you." Listening to his mother talk to herself in Italian, or his father speaking Spanish on the phone, sometimes shifted things in his brain, as well. "Sometimes," he nodded. "But I'm lucky enough that I can take the trip when I like to, and there is the beach here, even if it's not quite the same," he grinned, at that thought. Different worlds, really. "By now, I'm used to it. But about the time that I got into real estate and realized that I had really, actually created something quite… large, it absolutely felt surreal."

See, solved your problem. Kevin with the chili, Bob Vance, Vance Refrigeration, Identity Theft!Jim, the possibilities are pretty endless. Oh, that's a tough one...Dwight, probably, or Stanley. Who's yours? You just get a bunch of friends to do it with you, all as various characters, and you'll win all the costume contests as a group. I mean, you could, but I think that's cannibalism, so your costume might have to be classified as horror.

I do love the Office. That’s always been one of my biggest comfort shows to watch when I need a fast pick-me-up. Who’s your favorite character in the show? I can’t be the only one going as someone from the Office, though. I’d be out of place. Ooh, that is quite the idea. Not sure how I’d dress like a strawberry banana smoothie. Can I be a banana drinking a strawberry/banana smoothie? 

"You're welcome," she replied with a warm smile, enjoying the glimpses she got into the joy of others. "Do you have any weird cravings? Things you're sending your boyfriend out for at all hours?"

"Exactly," she said as Alice understood the concept perfectly. "No one has to explain why they do or don't want, they can just enjoy the experience." Then she laughed and added, "and no fake IDs needed." How many kids would benefit from not dipping their toes into vices well before they should? She wasn't under the delusion it would stop that completely, but maybe it would help. "My favorite depends on my mood, the strawberry basil went I'm looking for refreshing, the lavender lemonade when it's been a long day, the Galaxy when I'm feeling fun...it's sort of like picking a favorite child. Can't seem to do it."

“You’re so sweet, thank you!” Alice gushed. She was blushing a bit. “I feel pretty good, actually. I’m happy that things have gone smoothly, and aside from the swollen ankles and being hungry all the time, I really am happy!”

She nodded. “You’re welcome, and I’m always happy to help!” Alice said with a smile. “It’s a nice concept,” she said, and sipped her drink as she listened to Leyla. “That’s a good way of thinking,” she told her. “And people choose to drink or not to drink for different reasons. So it opens up opportunities for more people to have that kind of experience. “Or if someone is under 21, and they want to have a fancy night out, right? Give them fun atmosphere and some good mocktails and they’ll feel right at home,” she hummed. She knew when she was younger she could use a place like this instead of trying to sneak into bars with her friends. Some nights they didn’t even drink, they just wanted to have fun. “Do you have a favorite item on the menu or is that a secret?” She grinned.

"Quality control," she quipped back. This was the sort of thing she had wanted in the bar, a place could relax and be themselves. A place for good conversation and memories. "Oh, what sort of things do you write?"

"Well, part of the fun of running a business is getting to sample the goods, right?" Che teased, good naturedly. He appreciated the ambiance of the bar that Leyla had set up and could see himself doing work there now and then. "I work for a bank, but I'm also a writer. I'm trying to get more into doing the writing thing as an actual way to make money and such."

She knew he never meant to, and that just made it worse. He loved love, which had once been something she herself had loved about him. When you were his moment, it was the most intoxicating thing in the world because you were everything. But that's the thing about moments, there's always another right after it. They're fleeting. She'd never been more loved than that time Vitus had loved her, but she had also never had the kind of pain the end brought. She had tried to hurt him back, make him feel what she was feeling, but by the look on his face, he was still the same. It hadn't deterred him from doing it again and again, still chasing love like another high. In actuality, that's all it was by Leyla's estimation.

"Don't." She replied, a mix of malice and flicker of that old brokenness, "you don't get to talk about what I deserve." Because no matter how much she had wanted him to know that she made it, she didn't want to need anything from him. Not now. Everyone in town saw the end result, the polished version she spent decades perfecting. He knew, though, knew what she didn't want anyone to know: it had been a messy, twisted journey, and there had almost been no Leyla Tehrani left to open Mawk Tales at all.

They were both really fucked up, back then and probably still now. She still said mean things like she knew how to hurt him, as if his life had been happy and hers alone had not, but they both knew that wasn't true. He'd had plenty ripped away from him in the blink of an eye. It just still didn't give him the right to be reckless with others. His silence said he knew that.

"I know I am," she replied, once again wishing he wasn't being kind about it. "Then what would it have taken? I spent so much time playing it all back in my head, and--I know I wasn't perfect. I was a lot of work, but I loved you as best I knew how--I couldn't love myself, but you--you were easy to love. If love is really some beautiful and powerful thing, why wasn't that enough to stop you? Did you just want more?" For all the therapy she'd received, this is the one wound she wouldn't let anyone in to see, so it was the one that could re-open so easily. She wanted to pull him close and drown him in the nearby ocean all at the same time, with the same fire. He didn't have any right to ask, and after what he'd done, part of her still wanted the same punishment for him: to never know the answer to those questions. "--Eating? Yes," she relented, "okay might be a totally different question altogether. It doesn't go away, but I've been seeing Dr. Lane at the community center. Keeps me on top of things. But what's still broken in me, Vitus, you cannot fix." She took a breath, lip wobbling in a way that made her curse herself. He could still get right through, and it just made her want to push harder to close right back up. No one was allowed this close, not anymore. He looked better, still sad behind the eyes, but physically, he seemed okay. She wasn't ready to ask yet about him. "I know I said I wanted you to always be miserable, but it doesn't actually make me feel better to see you like this. Love's not real, stop chasing it."

Another agonized wince, as Leyla sliced deeper. But she said it without anger this time. Just laid the truth at his feet, left it there for him to take back, because it wasn't hers anymore and never would be again. And she was right; he'd done his damage. He'd done it over and over, winding lovers and friends around his hands and then spinning them loose repeatedly. Never with the intent to harm, but what difference did it make when harm was all he seemed to be capable of sometimes? Too choked to answer her question directly, Vitus let the remorse in his expression be his response.

And as she spoke of her business, the quaint atmosphere she'd cultivated for herself, Vitus's empathy leaked into his eyes. He tried to rein it in without much success. "That's fantastic, Leyla. Nobody deserves it more than you," he said, and he meant it. Because he remembered how hard she worked for it. How her constant battle for control had left her bone-brittle and frail, on the brink of fracture between his arms.

He did know what it was like, to go to bed happy and have his life turned upside down in the matter of a single day. He'd fallen asleep that fateful November in 2005 as a son, a love-drunk kid, a boyfriend. By the end of the next night, he'd been reduced to a barren street corner and a duffle bag that smelled like a home he no longer had. But he'd never told her that. Vitus had told her about his parents and his homelessness, of course; hers had been the arms he'd retreated to when he finally got that phone call from his mother, saying she wanted to reconnect. But Leyla had only poked around the edges of his wounds, never seen what they looked like when they were bloody and raw. He almost never shared his hurt with anyone back then. And he wouldn't share it with her now. Couldn't, not when he'd already forced her to hold far too much of it when he abruptly exited her life.

"I know. And you're right to. Hate me, I mean." It stung to admit that, especially as he continued picking through the rubble of their short-lived time together. "But it wasn't... Leyla," he sighed, as if exhaling her name could help alleviate some of the weight that had settled over his torso, threatening to cave his ribs in. "It wasn't because you weren't enough. It was never that. It was about me. It's always me." She hadn't believed him back then, and he had no idea if she would believe him now. The animal caged in his chest howled, screamed, wailed for something just out of reach. Vitus wanted to let it out, wanted to show it to her. As it was, he just sighed again and raked his hands through his hair. The ocean breeze almost swallowed his voice as he added, "I know I don't have any right to ask, but are you okay? I mean, have you been... how are you doing, these days?"