A Piece of Cake [poppu]

Wei nodded enthusiastically to the thought of sending pictures and gifts back home. He could take a bunch of pictures of the campus, a picture of him and Hari, and if he could get the guy to not make an obscene hand gesture he could even throw in a picture of Sid!

Not that he could ever imagine Sid not making an obscene gesture when it came to a picture... maybe if he got a shot of him while he was candid? Yeah, maybe that'd work. It was a shame he didn't know anyone else who was Chinese. He knew that that would be their first question when his mom wrote back.

First he would need to save up for a camera. Not a disposable one--he planned to take a lot of pictures--but a nice one. Maybe he should consider getting a job too.

"I feel a lot better!" He said, bouncing carefully around Hari as he moved to the oven, opening it to put in the bread he'd designated for other people. He wanted to make something for Hari... but what could he...

His mom had a killer dumpling recipe. He would ask her about it and see if he could give it to him and he could make it for Hari. He'd be a much better cook with Chinese instructions and measurements in a metric he could understand.

"Where do you work?" He asked, curling his tail around one of his legs. "Are they hiring? Could I work there too?"

High standards? Wei wondered what that could mean in terms of working at a cafe. Did that mean that they only hired elite waiters? Or would they only hire posh stuffy people? Well, if that was the case, Wei had faith in his ability to be stuffy and posh. In the Chinese way anyway, he wasn't totally sure if being posh and stuffy on the island had the same constituents.

"Oh, yeah, I can do that!" He said. "I can carry five plates at a time. Two on each arm and one with my tail." He didn't really believe in his abilities to answer questions the customers might have, but smiling a lot and making people feel nice were things he tried to do all the time anyway so it's not like they would be particularly challenging things for him to do.

Hopefully he would get a shift with a more senior waiter who could help him with the questions part.

"What kinds of questions do they ask you? Like... what's in stuff and what tastes good?"

Wei could practically feel his brain spinning at all the questions Hari was telling him people would ask him. How could he possibly know if something was gluten free or not? What did that even mean? And why would you ask someone to take something out of the recipe? If it was like banana bread, wouldn't the new bread that you want take almost an hour to bake again? Were people really willing to wait an hour for some slightly altered banana bread? That just seemed silly to him.

But he nodded enthusiastically at Hari's offer to help him practice his waiting skills. He'd never actually waited before.

Clearing his throat and putting on his best 'professional waiter who definitely totally knows what he's doing' posture, he smiled at him. "Okay! What do I do first?"

He watched closely as Hari sat down near the counter. Okay, he guessed they would be starting their role playing. Wei took a deep breath and walked up to Hari, giving a nice easy smile.

"Okay, uh, hello sir," He said, doing his best to suppress his accent for the purposes of their pretend. He never really had too much of a problem being understood by other people at school, but couldn't hurt to enunciate. At least, that's what his mom said. Thinking on his feet, he tried to remember what waiters in China asked customers.

Not that they had a lot of disposable income to go to restaurants a lot, but still. "Is there anything you need help with, or are you ready to order?"

Would Hari pose any questions to him in their make-believe, he wondered? Part of Wei hoped not, but part of him relished in the idea of having to think up an answer on the fly.

'Don't try so hard to hide his accent'? Wasn't part of being a good waiter being able to be clearly understood. And he was supposed to give Hari a menu? Did they even have menus? Thinking about it, he'd never gone to a place that had actual physical menus separately from the list of available items written in chalk on the board or just laying in wait on the table in front of him. Was that how cafes worked?

The appeal was lost on him.

He had to resist the urge to grasp at the air in front of him, almost as if he'd find invisible menus there in front of him. But he took a deep breath, relaxed his voice and listened to customer Hari as he said what he wanted.

Wait! Didn't waiters usually have little pad thingies?

He gripped at the air and pretended that he was writing down Hari's order--well he was cheating a little he actually was writing, transcribing it to one of his spirit friends--but it was okay Hari didn't need to know that.

Okay, so a small mocha latte and a dessert? What kind of desserts did he recommend? What kind of desserts did they even have? See, this was the danger with using a menu and not just putting your dishes on a board or something. This island had very weird ideas about the proper way to run a restaurant. Or a cafe. Or whatever.

"I recommend the banana bread," he said, not even trying to be original. "It holds together well, and has a very smooth taste. The apple pie is tasty too."