Give Me a Sword and a Thousand Words: [Battle] Queen Queso - "Wrong Formula"

Mid-afternoon. Between the lunch and dinner rush, the flow of customers naturally petered out. It was in this lull of activity that the employees of Firefry’s found another activity to pass the time.

Sigrid tore a page out of her checkbook and uncapped her pen. She beckoned to Paiko. “Come on over here, hon, don’t be scared. I’m going to show you how to read the tickets. Is that okay?”

Literacy. Skills that Telerand promised to teach him one day.

Well, Telerand wasn’t here right now, and he’d insisted that Paiko would learn to write only from him. So reading should be fine.

The drakon hesitantly climbed up the counter to get on level with Sigrid and whatever she was writing. She had drawn ten different symbols on the back of the paper. “These are. . . not words?”

“That’s right! These are numbers– they’re much less complicated than words. Twenty-something letters versus ten simple digits? We’re starting off easy, sugar.”

“Oh. Good. Thank you, Miss Sigrid.” Paiko leaned in, giving her his full attention.

The centaur pointed to the first symbol, a simple oval. “This is zero.” She moved on to the next one, a vertical line. “This is one. And this is two.”

And so on. Paiko knew numbers already, and he could do math. But now knowing what they looked like; it was like putting names to people he’d only known the faces of. He watched with rapt interest, trying to commit each digit to memory.

“This last one is nine. And we’re all done! Faster than Inti fries the fries.” Sigrid held out the paper for Paiko to take. “Would you like me to go over them again, hon?”

Paiko shook his head. “I think I got it. Thank you.” He paused, then squinted at the symbols. “Where’s ten?”

The question seemed to catch Sigrid off guard for a brief instant. Then she smiled. “If you put the one and the zero next to each other, that’s ten. Two-digit numbers are a different ballgame. For the tickets, you only need to call out the numbers one by one, alright?”

Paiko took the slip of paper. If he just used this as a reference, things would go pretty smoothly. After all, the digits were in order. 

“Yes ma’am!” He could do this. Wouldn’t Telerand be so proud that he could read numbers now?

–

Not quite dinner-time yet, but those afternoon-snackers and early-dinnerers were already beginning to trickle in. 

The strategy was set. Sigrid would handle the cash register and the drinks. Inti was in charge of slicing and frying and fileting and, well, whatever else he could multitask doing. And Paiko would be in the field, running orders and clearing messes.

Plus an update to his job description: occasionally calling out order numbers when Sigrid or Inti were busy in the kitchen. Like right about now.

The centaur set down two glasses on the counter. “Paiko, sugar, here’s two drinks ready - how about putting your newfound knowledge to the test?”

A flutter of nervousness tickles Paiko’s stomach. Now that he had to apply this new knowledge. . . what if he messed up? Would he fail? Was this a real test? Could he be kicked out for doing it wrong?

Sigrid somehow noticed how worked-up the drakon was getting, and she patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. “Chin up, hon, don’t get your tinsel in a tangle! Here, I even wrote the numbers on the tags so you don’t have to memorize them.”

Paiko swallowed, then managed a smile. “Thank you, Sigrid. This drakon will master the drinks. Do not worry about me.”

“That’s the spirit, darling!” The sound of the door chimes whisked Sigrid’s attention to the new customers. “Hello, and welcome to Firefry’s! What can I get y’all?”

With Sigrid’s focus now on the newcomers, Paiko climbed up his stepstool to reach the drinks on the counter. Their number tags right where they were supposed to–

“Whoops, watch out!” A cloud of pepper showered down onto Paiko’s head. The drakon’s nose twitched, and he inhaled once, twice, before letting out a high-speed sneeze.

“Bless you! And my bad, I spilled the shaker over your head. Sorry Paiko! Here, I’ll just–” Inti’s strong hands came down on Paiko’s head and briskly dusted the pepper away. “There we go, back to being unseasoned! With pepper. I mean, you’re new here too, but don’t think I’m calling you a wet-faced rookie!”

Paiko giggled. “I know, all good intentions.” Suddenly he gasped. “The number tags, where did they go? Oh–” He spotted them on the floor, where they had fallen after he’d sneezed them off the counter.

Which one did they go with? I think I remember a bit…

One zero three seven. That one seemed like it matched with the left drink. And the other one was… one zero seven three. Wait, maybe that one was the left drink. Why were these numbers so similar?

Paiko inspected the drinks. Were they the same? They were both pink. Why were they both pink? How confusing could these back-to-back orders get?

Can’t keep stalling… Sigrid looks busy. Ahh just pick one and go with it. Maybe they’re the same drinks. Hopefully they’re the same drinks.

He placed the tags back in front of the drinks, then called out, “U-uh, order one-zero-three-seven! And… also, um, one-zero-seven-three!”

Then before the two customers came to pick up their orders, Paiko scrambled to the staff room, rummaging frantically through his things before finding his belt with the gilded yellow cloth. He crumpled the fabric in his hands and took deep breaths to calm his racing heart and mind.

That was so nerve-wracking. Numbers were so nerve-wracking. Shouting numbers was so nerve-wracking.

Exposure therapy. Something Oromykah had mentioned last time. Maybe if he kept doing this, he'd get used to it, and wouldn't be in danger of triggering his Panic Beast Mode. And it wasn't like this situation was life or death; perfect low-stakes practice. 

Okay, back to work, Paiko. He smoothed down his ears, heading back out to the dining area. 

He swept through the tables almost automatically, picking up bits of food, empty glasses, half-empty packets of ketchup, trying not to think about the digit disaster. Until Sigrid needed him to call orders again, he could probably bide his time sorting condiments again, or maybe attempt to fix that lemonade spout at the drinks machine–

“Excuse me?”

The voice jolted Paiko out of his thoughts, and he barely could keep himself from jumping five feet into the air. Hoping he didn’t look absolutely startled, he poked his head above the counter. “Y-yes?”

The customer had a mask that covered his entire face, vaguely reminding Paiko of the klyptai. He’d never met any klyptai that looked like this guy, though. Plenty of people wore masks, it was probably a coincidence. He shook his head and tried to focus on the words.

“I ordered a strawberry milkshake. I think this is a lemonade.” The customer shook the pink drink in his hand. Then he stared at the drakon for an awkward moment, expression totally unreadable.

Oh, shards. So the orders did get mixed up. “S-sorry- I, um, I’ll ask Sigrid to make a new one… o-on the house.”

“I’m more concerned about that guy.” The masked customer pointed behind him. 

Somewhere on the other side of the room, Paiko heard a commotion. Two customers there, who he somewhat recognized… that pilot shark dude and his strange looking friend with the big nose.

“This isn’t strawberry lemonade!” Big-Nose sputtered, wiping his face with his sleeve.

“Looks pink to me. What, is it raspberry instead?” Pilot-Shark picked up the drink and gave it a taste. “Oh, it’s creamy.”

Big-Nose moaned and slumped in his chair. “Nooo… my lactose intolerance… haven’t I suffered enough already? Do these places want to wreak havoc on my digestive system?”

Pilot-Shark patted his friend consolingly, but he was laughing as he recounted, “Okay, the cheese order and this one were wrong orders. But you did eat that tub of ice cream voluntarily by yourself, so that was your own fault, Stinky.”

“This cheese catastrophe is going to destroy me before it does Castimeria… ohhh–” The poor man laid his head on the table and looked miserable.

Paiko cringed. It seemed his mix-up had worse consequences than he thought. “S-sir, I will get you a glass of water. And a new lemonade. Very sorry about the mistake, it is my first time… sorry…”

He looked for the masked customer to apologize again and offer a fresh milkshake, but the mysterious person was gone. 

“... he didn’t even want a refund?”

 

1442 words

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And that's the (very) overdue Part Two of this multicast! Thank you to CrazyShir0 (Sigrid), SchwarzerAlptraum (Kai, a.k.a. Pilot-Shark), and UnlikelyValentine (Dee, a.k.a. Big-Nose) for your characters! ^v^