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Chez Phantom
🌱 ☕ 🌱
One of these days, Etho was really going to have to ask Bdubs how he kept managing to drag him into situations like these.
“How do you keep dragging me into situations like these?” It’s blisteringly loud out here in the middle of the café. Sure, he didn’t roll up to the phantom sanctuary expecting it to be quiet at this time of night or anything, but maybe the rehabilitation team could’ve put up some warning signs? Etho prods his fork into a slice of vanilla cake. He has enough restraint not to make a show of covering his ears, but he’s definitely squeezing his thigh in some attempt to hold back imaginary claws. And it’s leaving marks.
“This is nice,” Bdubs says, all encouraging. He raises his voice over the squawks and screeches about an arm’s length away, violent beaks separated from his skin by nothing more than wire fencing and empty air. For 20 minutes now, or maybe 30, Etho’s kept himself entertained by plotting how fast he can leap the table and smack down any phantom that tears free and goes for him. “Y’know, we should go out like this more often. Support local arts and theater!”
Etho’s eyes twitch away from Bdubs to the phantoms behind him (banging their wings against the fence barrier) and snaps them to Bdubs just as fast. “Are zoos ‘the arts?’”
“I think they do a show… Like, they have a guy stand down at the bottom of the amphitheater while phantoms fly down to eat out of his hand. Is that still a thing? We saw it once when we were kids, right?”
Etho winces at the old aches of a far-younger body in a faraway time. “Sounds about right. I’ll be honest… I’m not sure I have the stamina for staying up late. If I pass out, you’re carrying me home.”
Bdubs laughs against the lip of his hot chocolate mug. “I will. And I’ll get your keys copied while you sleep.”
“Oh noooo…”
“Yes. And maybe I’ll check up on you time to time; make sure you shleep right.” Bdubs grasps his mug in both hands, arching his brows at Etho over the top. A fake candle flickers on the table between them, casting a moonlight glow against the water pitcher. A scraggly pink flower hangs over the side of a vase, which is so stupid-looking, Etho snorts behind his mask. Maybe this place really does need more funding. Note to self: return with cash by the bundle or not at all. He’ll leave a nice tip. He’s good for it. Bdubs not so much, but Etho doesn’t mind picking up the slack. Any time he can slip out on the town with Bdubs is worth a run for his money. Or running away from where he left his money, fleeing some vex or ravager that broke loose from the hillside castle and chased him to the city streets.
“I think the phantoms can clock neither of us’s slept well this week.” Most of the cake’s gone. It was fine… A little dry, though, and heavy on the frosting like some sort of cover-up. When it was handed to him, it was shaped like a moon, though, and honestly the decorator nailed it. Etho lets his hand drop to his knee, threatening to stand. “All right- I think I’m gonna call it here.”
Bdubs snaps upright like a spring. “No, no-”
“We can’t stake this place out all night, ‘dubs. That Impulse guy might not even be working today.”
“Which would prove my point! He drank 11 coffees in one sitting, Etho. Maybe he’s dead! Maybe we’re the last two people who ever saw him alive!”
“Who’s dead?” calls a chipper voice from somewhere near the mezzanine. Etho flinches, though that’s nothing in the face of Bdubs’ yelp. A spatter of hot chocolate hits his wrist, and from Bdubs’ muttering, he spilled a little on his clothes, too. And that’s one of his nicer shirts. I gave him that one.
“I give him three days,” Bdubs stage-whispers to Etho, who blinks up at Impulse with all the masked expression of someone who hasn’t pulled the mask off in a solid 15 years. Impulse is tall. Isn’t coffee supposed to stunt your growth? Not this guy. Not by a long shot. Etho cocks an arm on the back of his chair just to grab some excuse to lean back and drink him all in. Back at the coffee shop, Impulse wasn’t in his sanctuary uniform: just a simple black tee with a yellow ‘i’ on it (with a snowflake in place of the dot) and cargo shorts.
Now? You could throw him in a zoo and he’d probably fit right in. With the zookeepers, to clarify. He’s wearing tan, which brings up thoughts of snickerdoodles under the dim lights. Scrubs? What’s the difference between scrubs and a zookeeper’s outfit? Front pockets? Maybe he carries snacks. “Hey-o,” Etho greets. “Big fan of your late-night hours; that’s for sure. I might stop by more often. I’ve got a project I need to make some headway on. The ambiance is great.”
“The phantoms are crazy active,” Bdubs agrees, still frantically wiping up hot chocolate spills. Etho pushes the napkin dispenser a little closer with two fingertips. Impulse, however, sighs just looking at him.
“Well, let’s see. You work at a coffee shop. They hate caffeine. So, not off to a great start.”
It’s kinda funny, seeing Impulse in his actual work stuff while they’re in his space instead of the other way around. “Can they smell that on us?” Etho asks, glancing at the wobbly wire fence. He hopes he’s imagining the wobbly part, anyway. “Dude… I had high hopes for eating here on the regular! What is this world coming to?”
“We’ll find a place much better than this,” Bdubs assures him, layering on that haughty tone he only brings out around guys like Joel (and Impulse, apparently) before grabbing yet another napkin. To Impulse, “You drink coffee all the time! How come they don’t bite you?”
I can see a bite just lookin’ at him, Etho thinks, eyeing a patch of skin near the guy’s short sleeve. Impulse? He laughs.
“I’m a lab tech. Drugs help. Hey, do you two wanna come down for the show? We’re just about to start.”
“Hmph,” says Bdubs, jumping to his feet. He slashes his hands down his pants, striking away any hot chocolate droplets once and for all. “Yeah, I guess we could squeeze that in. Etho and I, we haven’t seen this place since we were kids. You guys build new exhibits lately?”
“It’s really cool to see this place expand,” Etho puts in as he gets up too. Hanging around Bdubs, you pick up his speech quirks fast. But he does come off harsh sometimes if you don’t know he’s just pushing at ya to show his love.
“Hmm…” Impulse mulls over that as they head towards the mezzanine as a trio, leaving screechy phantoms in the wall exhibit behind them. “Well, there’s this really cool water feature now: a pond set-up with waterfalls. And a pyramid.”
“Can’t wait,” Etho says, and tails him with a smile tucked behind his mask. Bdubs, trailing behind, scrutinizes Impulse with all the mistrust of a guy who’s not convinced he isn’t following a caffeinated zombie to certain doom.
“I like the lobby remodel,” he pipes up then. And, speed-walking past Etho, he falls into step with Impulse. “Pretty ambitious redesign! Two staircases now? It’s way more ‘open floor.’ Is it fun to work here?”
“It’s been great,” Impulse assures him, and when they finally make it to the phantom show… Etho can’t help but notice Impulse take a sip of coffee from an offered cup, while Bdubs doesn’t say a word. Disgusted recoiling? Ha. Not technically a word.