Bean Scene Cafe
Bean Scene is a small coffee shop and cafe that caters primarily to a younger crowd. The cafe has always been at least a year late in joining any given fad, and in the past it's been done in western-style, set up as a beatnik hangout, a go-go disco, a fern bar, and once even attempted to cash in on breakdancing. A plaque has recently been placed above the door, and says, "No fad is dead until it appears to Bean Scene".
Case in point, the cafe has a grungy feel to it.A grey brick facade has been placed over the walls, the flooring looking more like a worn down metal grid, complete with old sewer grates every few feet. Tables and chairs set about the cafe are quite casual in appearance, made of metal meant to look rusty and splattered with multi-colored paints. Metal street signs hang from the wall amid images of garage bands. Behind the counter is a black chalkboard displaying the available items and costs.
It's an easy Saturday afternoon, early enough that there's still an entire evening of free day to enjoy, without the exhaustion of the end of the week, or the gloom and doom of the week to come. And late enough that errands have likely been taken care of and there's nothing much left to do but enjoy. The Bean is in its middling time, neither too busy, nor too late. And Mignonette has settled into a small table by the window, taking advantage of the sunlight streaming in, to illuminate the paperwork she's working on, and also to give her something to do, namely people watch, whenever she looks up from her work. There's a glass of water on the table, but nothing else.
—-
From the outside, it may be possible for Mignonette to spy the figure of one Dr. David Trudeau. He's obviously no longer dressed for work, which means that he's had the opportunity to get home and change out of work clothes, and into something a little more comfortable. He's got his briefcase in hand, though.. or, on closer inspection, it might be discerned as a laptop carrying case.
He doesn't appear to notice anyone looking out of the windows of the 'Bean, and so enters the shop unawares. His footsteps take him to the short line at the counter, where he's waited on reasonably quickly and effeciently. A coffee, a toasted egg-salad sandwich with bacon, and he's got everything that he could want.
Well, all except a table.
—-
The walk along the sidewalk doesn't catch her attention, no, and so the doctor is able to make his entry undiscovered. And Mignonette continues working, a hand moving out of instinct to the glass of water, and a sip and…ice. And a slice of lemon hitting her mouth at full strength. Not what she was expecting, but it seems time, and the level of her glass has gotten away from her. Eyes up, and she starts to her feet, and only once she's finally looking towards the counter and the small area where condiments, as well as free water is in the offering, does she notice the epidemiologist. The tale is left behind, as she heads for a refill, waiting until she's close enough to greet him politely, "Bonjour, Docteur Trudeau."
—-
He's got his tuna and coffee set in a tray in one hand, his laptop case in the other, and as he turns around, finally catches the now somewhat familiar form of Miss Mignonette Savoy. "Ah.. b'jour, Mad'm'selle Savoy." David's smile is genuinely warm, and he waves the fact his hands are a little full, or..
"Ca va? Tous va bien, j'espere?" «How are you? All goes well, I hope?»
He catches the fact she's got a glass of water, and brows rise in askance as his gaze shifts to look over the layout of the tables. "You're here?" Of course she's here, and he makes the attempt to finish, ".. I mean, here-here.. out, here." She certainly couldn't be working, right?
—-
"Please, don't let me interrupt you." She indicates the tray, brushing off the need to offer a more formal greeting, "I'm well, thank you, enjoying a lazy Saturday. You look as if you're just getting started." A beat, as she looks at his tray, "And you're reminding me that I never ordered lunch." Mignonette does finish the final step or two it takes to get that refill, though she moves to as to keep the doctor in her line of sight, answering the last only once she's gotten what she came for, as that just makes things easier, really, "Oh, yes, I'm over by the window, that table there with the stack of manila folders. You're welcome to join me if you like."
—-
The worst thing about hands full is that when glasses begin their downward slide, it gets difficult to push them back up. David nods and ducks his head, bringing up the hand in which he has the laptop and pushes on his glasses with his wrist. Not perfect by any means, but it does work. "No interruption. In face, I should be apologizing. It looks like you did bring a little extra?"
At the offer for him to join her, however, it's difficult for the doctor to say 'no'. He bobs his head ever so slightly and makes his apologies, "If I'm not bothering you? I brought my laptop for some work." He smiles tightly, though amusement does echo in bright blue eyes, "Syllabus. Don't need an internet connection."
—-
There's definately amusement, at the rather awkward glass-wrangling, but Mignonette only smiles, the laughter only in the look in her eyes, anything else being rather impolite, with someone she's only known for such a short while, "I couldn't decide on what exactly I wanted to work on, so I brought everything. Veuillez me joindre. «Please join me.» You wouldn't be interrupting. Let me grab something from the counter, quickly, and then I'll come and meet you?" She does, wait, until she's sure he's alright with the offer, before she'll go to place her own order at the front. "And perhaps give you that help you said you might have wanted before?"
—-
"Ah.. oui.." David's smile remains, "Je voudrais." «Ah yes.. I would like that.»
Making his way towards the table, he slides his laptop in the booth seat first before he settles his tray with sandwich and coffee, and finally himself. The coffee is removed from the tray and a quick, tentative sip is taken before he begins to remove his laptop. It's quickly set up and turned on as he waits for Mignonette's return.
—-
It doesn't take long, for Mignonette to place her order, a BLT, extra mayo, extra bacon, a glass of tea, unsweet, with a splash of cane syrup and lemon, and a red velvet cupcake. She waits, off to the side, as the order's prepped and once she has the tray, she sets the water on it as well and starts back over. There's no small amount of curiosity, as she watches the doctor set his things up. It's honestly, not that she doesn't -like- computers, being as proficient with them as any young professional would be, she simply, well, prefers the comfort of paper. But, at last, she's returning to the table, sliding her tray and then herself, onto her side of the booth. "Is this normal for you? Saturday afternoons at the Bean?"
—-
The laptop is booted up, and the entry screen is passed. David brings up the word processor, and immediately, his hand goes to the cup of coffee. "Hmm?" He looks up and over at the reapproaching young woman, his brows raising in askace before, "Ah.. yes, actually. After I found the place. I actually have a few places that I can go. Better than staying in and staring at the four walls. Here, I can stare at over-decorated walls and listen in on conversations that have absolutely nothing to do with anything."
Nodding at the papers spread out all over the table, he gets the followup question, "Etes-vous always ici, doing your work?" «Are you always here?»
—-
"I come sometimes. More often now. I used to like to spend my Sundays in the park just by my house, but I've been trying to…find different places to go lately. But there's a very nice botanical gardens there, and it's not a bad place to work, as long as you go when they're not running the sprinklers." Mignonette settles the paperwork back into place, taking a sip of tea, before she reopens the file she was working on, "I think I can definitely sympathize with not wanting to see the same four walls around you when you're not forced to be in the office, though. Have you been yet? Up to White Rock Lake?" A beat. "Are we having one of those conversation that has absolutely nothing to do with anything?"
—-
"Botanical gardens?" David's brows raise in curiosity. He really hasn't seen much of the city at all since arriving, and it's kind of nice to hear from someone as to the potential spots to hit rather than relying on a book. A smile slowly moves across his face again and he continues, "When do they turn the sprinklers on?"
Taking a sip of his coffee and placing it back down closer to his 'work area', he takes the opportunity to pull up a document he's been working on, the text filling half of the screen. Now, his attention has to move back and forth even as his fingers begin typing words, phrases, sentences and finally paragraphs. He seems to be able to attend to both his conversation and what lies before him on screen, but he does miss a couple of 'introductory' words from his companion, though it's easily filled in. "I haven't been much of anywhere yet." His fingers pause even as his gaze is lifted from the screen, eyes focusing on the slightly more distant than the screen, "White Rock Lake?" Nope. He hasn't yet been there.
A laugh exits the man as he reaches out for his cup once again, and the smile that remains lights his entire face, "I think it is, Miss Savoy. Kind of oddly refreshing?"
—-
For a moment, Mignonette's voice turns to laughter, soft and light, "Usually when I'm just about to finish working on a big case. No, honestly, usually in the mornings, before the sun gets too hot, and then in the afternoons, once the heat of the day has burned off. But they have these misting things which are…well, refreshing when you catch them at the right moment. And a menace when you don't."
The woman, for her part, doesn't seem to mind the multitasking, it's no different than what she does herself, though rather than start in on her paperwork, she reels in half of her sandwich, flicking off the crumblies from the toast, before she takes a bite. Somehow managing to make eating and talking seem to be the most natural thing to do, polite in that sort of dainty women at tea sort of way, "It's really quite beautiful. There's boating and the gardens, there's places to picnic and a few running trails. They even have one of those machines there that pull you along so you can pretend that you're waterskiing." A tip of her head, as he acknowledges the lightness of the conversation, "Yes, it actually really is."
—-
"Sounds like a nice place to visit. May have to swing by there later." David actually sounds as if he may take a look at it, though he may simply just be a good actor. "I like a good park. It doesn't have to have much; just.. a park." Something to remind him of the island.
A swallow is taken from his coffee, and placing it out of harm's reach, brings his focus back to the work in front of him. Without lifting his eyes from the glowing display, David asks, "You don't waterski, do you?" Blue eyes rise from over the top of the laptop, looking right at her across the table. "You don't look the type. Boating," the word is drawn slowly from him, "I could see. Running, maybe. Picnic, definitely."
—-
"Well, it's definitely worth the time, if you're ever up that way." Mignonette takes a few bites of the sandwich, before she sets it aside, tea, and then to her paperwork, working her way neatly through the pages, making notes in the margins as needed, "Well, you're in luck, there are a number of them in the city. Even the fairgrounds has a little bit there, in and among the museums and attractions." She's looking down, focusing on her work, with only occasional looks up to keep the flow of the conversation, but she catches the comment, "Oh no, I'd never be that brave. I boat and swim. Running." There's a moment, a flicker of something, before it passes, "Martial arts with my cousin. You should see us, Thursday nights at Fitness World. It's the Cajun UFC." A grin, at the last, "Picnics definitely. You have not eaten until you've had my fried chicken."
—-
"Ah.. you didn't give me 'swimming' as an option. All the others, I got right." There's amusement in his tones. "Martial arts, though," here, David shakes his head, "I wouldn't think… unless you do it for exercise instead of Pilates?" Oh yes, there's a 'type', and rightly or wrongly, he can see her fitting in. High powered women with the personality to match working.. driven to push themselves, but more than happy to rein back and settle in for the softer side, too. He sees it all the time at work with the CDC at his Grade level. Doctors, mathematicians, scientists, researchers…
Fried chicken garners his attention, but he ducks his head and his gaze back down to what he's doing in front of him, "Oh? I take it you don't do 'take out' for picnics?"
—-
"How much fun would it be if I gave you all of the options? You're a researcher, aren't you? It's all about figuring things out, yes?" A spot of laughter, but soft, kept more in the throat, "No, for self-defense. When I was in school at Columbia, it wasn't exactly the safest, despite what they like you to think. I heard about a class they were giving at a local martial arts center on Krav Maga, you know, the Israeli style? And I thought I would see what it was about. I ended up going every week. I haven't found a place to pick up again here, but Alex helps to keep me on my toes. And it's full contact, so we usually end up looking like a pair of Southern cats having a drunken brawl. Without the alcohol, of course." The sound she makes, as you mention take out is OMG diva. "You insult me sir. Take-out…at a picnic, a woman of my talents? I will have you know…no. Everything homemade, from the chicken to the roumalade, to the fried green tomatoes, to the potato and cole slaw, everything. And if you're really nice, I -might- even throw in some waffles. But I prefer those fresh and warm." Mmmm, chicken and waffles. "You're not married, are you?" Take-out. Pshaw.
—-
David laughs softly, his head tilting sideways and then slightly forward, "Touche."
He listens to the story though his fingers don't really stop hitting the keyboard now that he's back to work on whatever it is he's got before him. "I'd have expected judo.. not full on contact."
It's not a topic, however, that holds him in place as much as the correction his receives regarding the picnic offerings. His fingers cease their stacatto notes and he looks up, his brows rising. He whistles softly in the middle of the list of the food; chicken.. roumalade? "Ah.." Brows furrow, "Roumalade.. ah!" For a moment, he'd forgotten what it was. "Fried green to—" He makes a face, "They can be fried?"
Shaking his head slowly, David chuckles softly in his response, "No, not married." In his defense, however, "And there's nothing wrong with take out. A couple of sandwiches, potato salad, pop.. it's fine."
—-
"What's the point of practicing self-defense, if there's nothing to practice against? If you should ever need to defend yourself, your attacker certainly is not going to hold back, because they don't really want to hurt you. We do have a rule though, never the face. Everything else we can cover up, but nobody wants to meet with their lawyer, if they look like they've just gone three rounds with someone." A light lift of her shoulders, before she retrieves her sandwich, again flicking off the crumbs, "They can most certainly be fried, and they're fabulous. Don't tell me you've never had them? That would be a sin, an absolute sin. I suppose you've never had chicken and waffles either?" A wave of a hand in his direction, "It's fine for -you-. I would have my southern living card taken away from me if I said the same. Although…" She indicates the tuna and bacon sandwich, "I do give you points towards creativity for that."
—-
David smirks, "Unless you're defending someone for assault. Then you've got," he shifts his tones so it sounds like he's quoting, "'street cred'." But, he's pretty sure that from everything he's seen of her so far, she's business, contracts; all white collar.
Food, however, always draws him back. It holds his attention to the point where he saves his document and lowers the top of the laptop so he can get a little more of an unobstructed view of his lunch companion. He ducks his head, brows rising again. "You really do.. fry them." He's not entirely certain how to take that. "Chicken.. and waffles. Sure. You're not talking together, right? As in.. chicken on a waffle?" He whistles softly again, his head shaking slowly, "It never ceases to amaze me. Pretty much same language. Same continent. Completely different palate." David pauses, then, "Green tomatoes."
He laughs after when Migs points at his sandwich that he hasn't yet touched. He will, certainly, and now that he's not paying more attention to the computer than to anything else, he tugs the plate closer. "It's good. Not too crispy, and so the tuna doesn't really need anything else." He pokes the two halves apart and offers one of them in gesture, following it up with, "Try it?" A questioning, teasing smile lights upon his face, "Or would your card be revoked?"
—-
"Well, I imagine most of my defense clients would see it as street cred, they might even be more willing to open up to me, but I think the judge and the jury wouldn't. They want to see someone who's all business. Cases are often won, not by evidence and testimony, but by how well you can play to the people who have the power to convict. I imagine it's much the same way people tend to trust a doctor more if he's wearing a lab coat, I think? No one wants to see a doctor walking into their room in a pair of jeans and a wifebeater." She can't help but laugh, as poor David gets his first, it seems, exposure to southern cuisine, even if it's only verbally, "You fry them, after you dip them in cornmeal and wash. It's honestly quite good. They're wonderful on eggs benedict." The laughter increases, at the continued amazement, "Chicken, well, usually next to a waffle. My poor man, you really have been deprived. It will have to be remedied." She doesn't look at all put out by the offer. In fact, she looks curious. And yes, she accepts, "No revocation, but only if you'll have half of mine. Extra bacon…" That's an enticement, you see. She even points to the cupcake, red velvet, "I suppose you've never had -that- either?"
—-
"Wifebeater.. ho-kay.." It's not that David doesn't understand the reference, it's just.. not his particular vocabulary. "Uh.. well, it could be made to work depending upon the circumstances… as in," His voice trails as he considers an example, and in finding one, he continues, "Doctor's day off. Called in for an emergency. Now it's established that regardless of what the physician was doing on his day off.. mowing the lawn, whathaveyou, he rushed in in order to take care of a patient. Once, the patient and family can forgive. Now, if it's a regular thing on rounds?" He shakes his head. "Nope. Not buying it."
Food.
Blue eyes set behind wire frames flicker over to the sandwich that is only partially nibbled, and he nods his comprehension. "Ah.. not chicken on the waffle. I can understand that. Maybe a little honey with it?" Sweet fried chicken, right?
The exchange of halves is begun with his pulling the tuna salad with bacon off the plate and plopping it onto her sandwich plate. Taking hold of the BLT, he shifts it closer to him, though he doesn't put it down. "I've had cupcakes before." Narrowing his eyes, his brows raise, "Unless there's something about it that you're not telling me…"
—-
"Okay, so you come in from mowing the lawn, you're covered in grass and everything else, you get into the hospital, but more likely than not, you're still going to grab a coat on your way to the patient room? It's an easy way of identifying yourself to the patient and the family, is it not? A way of saying, 'I'm the doctor, not the groundskeeper'?" She moves easily enough to pick up the half she's sharing now, but doesn't take a bite right away, continuing on with the explanation, "A little sweet, depending on who's making it. It really started as a sort of in between thing. You get to a restaurant late, too late for just dinner, to early for just breakfast, so you get a little bit of both. Think of it as…a midnight brunch food." As for the cupcake, all the good doctor gets is a smile, "there might be, but you'll need to finish lunch first, before you find out."
—-
David concedes the point with a nod, "Okay. I'll give you that." He'd grab his white coat with his stethoscope in the pocket and his identifications up on the left breast of his coat. "I would at least grab my white coat and put it on. Though, no one has ever mistaken me for a grounds-keeper before." Granted, he's never shown up for work in a t-shirt and jeans either.
The explanation of chicken and waffles makes David laugh out loud. "Getting a case of the nibbles at 2 am, eh? Now that's what I would really call 'good planning' on the part of a menu." He grins, "See, now we'd just have something called 'poutine'. It's perfect when you have no idea what it is you really want." For him, it's the 'ultimate' in comfort food. "But I would dare say no one has ever heard of it here."
Now, the cupcake is given another considering look before he takes on the BLT. A bite is taken, and it's chewed and swallowed reasonably quickly as a hand comes up to wipe the perceived mayo and crumbs along the side of his mouth. "Okay.. and you'll fill me in on why they're .. noteworthy."
—-
"And this, is why you do not want to go up against me in court, Dr. Trudeau." But that's lightly said. There's no 'fight' to be won, no side to be victorious, but a girl can certainly tease. "Perhaps they would if you grew your hair out a bit. Looked a little more scruffy." Innocence, in her eyes, before she bites into the half sandwich she's tasting. And she does take her time, putting on a very good impersonation of what a fine wine connoisseur might look like, if what they were eating were tuna and bacon. "Yes, yes, goes down quite easy on the palate. I find it to be…acceptable." A wink, before she retrieves the thread of the conversation, "2am is the -best- time to experiment with food." A look of mock horror at the mention of his comfort food however. "The fries, with the gravy and cheese curd? Saints alive, and you think fried tomatoes are frightening?" As for the cupcake well…"Oh, you'll find out. Oh yes, you will." And with that, it's on to the main course, dessert to be fittingly taken in at the end of the meal. Some surprises are worth waiting for.
