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Southern Hospitality


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The Southern Queen was somewhat ideally situated (near 76th & Wading), or so thought one Maybelle McQueen. Though technically in the North End of Downtown Freedom, it was just as close to Parkside and Lantern Hill. Meaning even people from the West End or Midtown came in sometimes. But, mostly it was the college crowd mixed with the odd person who actually lived in the North End. The people who ate there more than once swore by it. The food wasn’t of any particularly style. In fact, the menu itself was more of a list of suggestions than a hard list. The Head Chef was known to produce virtually any dish on request, provided the Queen (or the customer) had the ingredients on hand. That said, the menu itself was full of generic fare. The kind of thing you could find in almost any home kitchen in America. There wasn’t a drop of fussiness or fancification about it.

It was the dinner rush, but Maybelle was prepared. Honestly, the cooking was finished for everyone currently seated. So, she was doing her “pretend to be a waitress†thing. Most of her customers had no idea what the Head Chef looked like, or even what her name was. Not that either thing was a secret, but really, how many people going out to eat really care about that sort of thing? The Queen was the draw, not Maybelle herself, and she liked that just fine. She wandered around the dining room, quietly making sure everyone was currently satisfied with their meals. Like every night, there were some dissatisfied customers. Can’t please everyone, after all. But that was all right. Maybelle smiled and smoothed things over. The staff swooped in. The problem got solved. A normal, everyday night.

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"Now you remember how we act in a restaurant, right?" Stesha asked her companion soberly as they walked down 76th Street, all bundled up against the cold. "Inside voices and good table manners, and always say please and thank you." 

 

"I know, Mommy!" came Amaryllis' impatient voice, nearly lost under her layers of scarf and hood and hat. "I'm always good! And remember your promise? If I am good?" 

 

"Now what promise was that?" Stesha asked teasingly. 

 

"Ice cream!" Ammy crowed. 

 

"Ice cream?" Stesha repeated, pretending to be scandalized. "But it's so cold! Wouldn't you like a nice big cup of tomato soup instead?" 

 

"Nooooo, ice cream!" Ammy repeated, dancing from foot to foot as she walked. "I'm not even cold!" To prove it, she yanked off her hat and scarf, revealing her frizzy green curls. "Not cold!" Indeed, the little girl's cheeks weren't even pink from the wind. Stesha wondered if that was one more legacy from her void-traveling father. She wondered what would happen if and when Ammy learned to fly and manipulate gravity. Who would teach her?  She shook the questions off, pushing them to another day. The past months had been so hard, they were due a happy girls' night out on Earth Prime. 

 

"All right then, Miss Not-Cold, if you're very good," Stesha acquiesced as they walked into the restaurant. It smelled fantastic, enough to make her mouth start watering pretty much instantly. "Wow, this place is packed. Guess it must be as good as they say." 

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Maybelle had wandered close to the door itself, and when the two entered the Queen she gave a subtle wave off to the waitress at the front and addressed them herself. “Hello, and welcome to the Southern Queen! How many in your party?†For things like this Maybelle played up her Southern accent just a touch. She was dressed as she often was, in a long sleeve button down, vest, and blue jeans. The shirt was as blue as the jeans, but the vest was khaki. Her only visible jewelry was a silver ring on her right ring finger. “Tonight’s special is the beef stroganoff with potatoes and green beans mixed into it. Sounds busy, I know, but it works mighty well if I do say so myself.†She gestured the two forward. The waitress nearby looked slightly exasperated, but stayed where she was.

Edited by EternalPhoenix
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Stesha pulled her hat off and unwound her scarf, letting the daisies worked into her green braids subtly rearrange themselves into a less squashed configuration. "Just the two of us," she told Maybelle with a smile, "and a booster seat if you have one. And if the beef stroganoff is what I can smell right now, I think it's going to be hard to resist." She leaned down and took Ammy's coat off her, folding it over her arm with the rest of their winter wear. "I've been told the food here is fantastic and I shouldn't miss it, so here we are!" 

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“Sure thing. Clara, oblige the lady if you would?†The waitress nearby, obviously Clara, sighed and got moving. Maybelle led the way into the restaurant proper. She sniffed a bit at the air. “Oh, yeah. That’s part of it, but there’s a dozen things in that aroma. Like the ham and cheese soup, served in a fresh baked bread bowl. That’s a special order, by the way. Not on the regular menu. There’s a couple over yonder that has it every week. There’s also the sweet potato biscuits, the bacon mac and cheese, the Angus beef meatloaf. Oh, I could go on all night.†She found the two a seat. Unfortunately, it was the corner near the kitchen doors. “Sorry, looks like we’re pretty full up tonight. Wouldn’t worry though. Being near the kitchen means you get your food as soon as it’s done.†Clara arrived with a pair of menus (one adult, one kiddie) and a booster seat for the young one. “Great timing, Clara. She’s the one with the notepad. Tell her what you’d like tonight, and she’ll write it down. Then she’ll give it to me and I’ll whip it up special, just for you. And of course, as first time customers you need to be told. We here at the Southern Queen do take requests. If what you want isn’t on the menu, don’t be afraid to ask about it. Pardon me a minute, just gotta check on some stuff.†Maybelle stepped through the kitchen doors and immediately started firing off questions as Clara started to do the proper waitress thing.

Edited by EternalPhoenix
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Amaryllis scrambled into her chair while Stesha tucked away their winter things (and if they vanished under the table instead of just sitting in a pile, who would be the wiser?), then they both smiled at the waitress. Between the hat she'd been wearing and the warm humidity of the restaurant, Ammy's green curls were a disorderly cloud around her head, barely tamed by a rather unseasonable live-dandelion crown. "Was that the chef?" Stesha asked Clara, glancing over towards the kitchen door. "She seems really nice. Um, let's see, how about we  start off with a water for me, a milk for her, and can we get one of those ham and cheese soups in a bread bowl? That sounds amazing." 

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Clara took careful notes and informed that yes, that was the chef. The Head Chef, in fact, as they had a few back there. Then she stepped into the kitchen, got their drinks, and returned. With the Head Chef on her heels, carrying a plate with bread bowl full of soup on it. “Shush, Clara. It’s already made and still warm. So what if I said Matt could eat it? Customers come first.†She placed it on the table. “Here you are, still fresh.†She flashed a amiable smile. “The broth is a liquid form of swiss cheese. Suspended inside? Ham chunks, shredded lettuce, and sliced tomato. It’s like a sandwich, except it’s soup! Bon appétit. Let Clara know if you need anything else, okay?†Maybelle wandered back out into the dining room, stopping and talking with a few people here and there.

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"Thank you so much, it looks delicious. Though, ah, I didn't mean to deprive someone else of their dinner?" Since Maybelle had already left the table, there seemed to be nothing to be done except to eat the soup anyway. Which was just as well, since it smelled  fantastic. Stesha didn't technically need to eat food as long as the weather was sunny, but on a cold and dreary day, hot soup was the perfect appetizer. Amaryllis was fascinated by the bread bowl, ripping off little bits and dipping it in the cheesy soup, in between rattling off an ongoing monologue about all the things she and her friends did at the creche that day. Stesha didn't catch all of it, but she gathered that it was some game that involved both hiding and tagging, and possibly jumping off chairs as well.

 

By the time the soup was almost gone, Ammy was getting restless from sitting. Stesha began to amuse her by flicking seeds across the table and growing them into flowers before the little girl could slap her hands down on them. It wasn't something Stesha probably would've done in public a year ago, but she really had no secret identity to protect anymore. Nobody was going to miss that they were different, might as well have some fun with it, right? 

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As the soup’s remains were devoured, Maybelle came back out of the kitchen. Which would have been weird, except a glance down the wall would reveal a Employees Only door which waitstaff was currently cycling through. She was carrying a heaped plate of tonight’s special beef stroganoff, “Hope you don’t mind if I sit with you. This is usually my seat, but tonight’s busier than usual.†She glanced over the restaurant. “Man, this place is packed. I must be doing something right, huh?†She flashed a dazzling grin before plopping down with her plate. “What? Chef’s gotta eat, too. And I think there’s worse dinner companions than a member of the Freedom League.†A silvery fork appeared in her hand as if by magic. She used it to take a bite. She chewed, and swallowed. “Green hair’s a dead giveaway, but you know that by now. Oh, spoiler alert. The nightly specials are what I want for dinner.†Another flash of that smile as she tucked into her meal.

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"Oh good," Stesha chuckled, "because I ordered that too. Couldn't convince Miss Chicken Nuggets over there, but she'll probably eat some as well." Stesha seemed unbothered by the company, and Amaryllis regarded Maybelle with undisguised curiosity, quite ignoring the thin green vine curling around her own hands like some tame garter snake. She reached out a dainty finger to poke at Maybelle's fork, but was stopped by a cautionary noise from her mother. "Not polite," Stesha reminded her daughter indulgently. "If you're curious, you should ask." 

 

Amaryllis huffed, but pulled her hand away. "Do you have a magic fork?" 

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Maybelle blinked, briefly surprised. “You know, I don’t know if it’s magic or not. But it’s not a fork. It’s a ring with power to make things. Not real things, but…I’ll just show you.†A reasonably broad silvery duplicate of the little girl was suddenly sitting next to her. “See? It’d look more like you, but I’m a chef. Not an artist.†She took another bite, chewed, swallowed. Clara dropped off the entrees and left. “Chicken nuggets, eh? That’s real chicken breast, you know.†Maybelle eyed them. “Yep, I made these myself. Delicately breaded and spiced just right for the young palate. But the browning…yep, Chris cooked them. It’s not a bad thing, he’s almost up to my standards.†One more flash of that grin. “Almost.â€

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Amaryllis gave the statue a poke with her finger, then giggled. "Look Mommy, like Uncle Tarrant!" She'd have continued examining the statue and possibly attempted to climb it, but a significant look from Stesha had her subsiding back into her seat and picking up a chicken nugget. The vine she'd been playing with had retreated to her arm right now, coiling on her forearm like an elaborate bracelet. 

 

"That's impressive work," Stesha told Maybelle with a smile, "though I think you may be right about your cooking being better. I don't think we've met in uniform yet, have we?" She searched her mind, but couldn't recall anyone with powers quite like this that she'd seen recently while working. "I don't spend as much time in Freedom City as I used to." 

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Maybelle actually laughed at that. “Rest your mind, I can see the steam coming out of your ears. I don’t even have a uniform. Biggest names I’ve met are Fast Forward and Grimalkin, and it took that whole…invasion thing for that to happen. We looked after the psychics a bit.†The little girl statue disappeared. “Go by Queenie when I’m doing the hero stuff. Tradition and all that. That said, I’m Maybelle. Maybelle McQueen.†There was a momentary pause. “And no, my father’s not named Steve. He’s no relation at all.†She took another bite. Chewed. Swallowed. “Though…he might have been a distant cousin or something. I dunno.â€

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"It's nice to meet you," Stesha replied. "I'm Stesha... Madison," she added with just a slight stumble, "and this is Amaryllis. I know Grimalkin, and I've heard of Fast-Forward, though I haven't met him yet. I watch the show, though," she admitted with a little laugh. "The reenactment bits are really funny. You were around for the Incursion, then?" She shook her head a little. "That was scary stuff. I was up on the Lighthouse fighting the Communion boarding parties, not exactly my cup of tea. We were very lucky to come off so lightly from all that." 

 

Now that the statue was gone, Amaryllis was concentrating more on her food, shredding her chicken nugget into particulate matter and eating a fraction of a bite at a time with her fork. "I can fight monsters," she announced. "I fight them with plants." 

 

"Not yet," Stesha told her firmly, "but someday you will. What brought you to Freedom City?" she asked Maybelle. 

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Maybelle just looked at Stesha. “You’re sittin’ in it. Did culinary school in South Carolina. Born ‘n raised there, too. I’m a Charleston girl at heart. I was working there, even got the name of Queenie in the news a few times. I’d have stayed there, but I got a good offer from some classmates to head up the kitchen staff here.†She looked thoughtful. “I admit, the boss of the those things trying to get the psychics was tough. Don’t think I could’ve beat it by myself. She smiled again, her good natured personality shining through. “Would’ve died trying though. That’s what a hero does, right? Fights bad guys, saves people, and dies doing so if needed?†She laughed, and dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand. “But that’s much too morbid a subject for dinner, especially with a little one at the table.†She regarded Amaryllis. “Plants, huh? I’ll tell you what, you get your mama to call me and I’ll help you practice anytime.†She leaned forward conspiratorially. “If you’re gonna be a monster fighter you need all the training you can get, especially from a specialist like me.†She flashed the little girl a mischievous grin and leaned back in her seat. “Goes for you two, Miss Madison. If you or anyone you know needs a hand with the hero stuff, just give me a shout and I’ll be there as fast as I can. I do fly pretty fast, after all.â€

Edited by EternalPhoenix
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"I'll definitely do that," Stesha promised with a smile, "so long as you'll do the same. Nobody should have to die trying in Freedom City, there are enough heroes here that backup is never more than a phone call away. Being brave is necessary for hero work, but you don't have to face things alone."

 

She rummaged in her purse for a moment and pulled out a card, embossed with the seal of the Freedom League and reading Fleur de Joie. "My private number is on there, and the League number as well. Someone will always come if you need them. What's your best contact number?" She picked up her phone and began making a new entry, apparently quite ready to take Maybelle up on her offer. 

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Maybelle squirmed around and dug a battered business card out of a rear pocket. She put it on the table. “The number here. I haven’t carried a cell phone in ages, ever since I learned I could hear radio frequencies.†There was a momentary pause. “Because I can that, too. I’m not always listening, but you know how it is. Range isn’t much, though, unless I tap into a cell tower. That’s…I don’t even know how I do that.†She passed her now empty plate to the passing Clara. “Well, dying ain’t exactly Plan A, you know? I’m just…how do I put it? Ready, I guess? I don’t know. Not like I have a death wish or anything. And besides…†For the first time since Stesha met her, Maybelle was less than cheery. She looked vaguely sad, and she rubbed the empty place on her left ring finger where a ring would go. “I think everybody’s got that enemy or two they don’t want anyone else to have to deal with. I know I do.†She shook her head. “Never you mind about that. How about some dessert? Whatever you’d like, I’ve probably got it.â€

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"Ice cream!" Ammy chirped immediately, obviously ready to abandon her dinner at the prospect of something more appealing. 

 

"Dinner first," Stesha reminded her, handing her another chicken nugget. "And eat it nicely." Ammy pouted, but began eating her nugget without shredding it to bits this time. "I understand how you feel," she told Maybelle softly, "but often it's the enemies who hit us where we live that we need the most help with. You've got a real talent, we need to keep you around Freedom City for a long time." While they'd been talking, Stesha had eaten up a fair portion of her stroganoff, and now she chased a bit of sauce around her plate with her bread. "But yes, once we're done we'll have some ice cream, any pink flavor would be ideal." 

 

"I love pink," Ammy announced, then took another bite of her food. 

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“Amaryllis, sunshine…all the best monster fighters know that finishing dinner comes before dessert.†She grinned in mock-wicked fashion. “Especially the vegetables.†She looked back at Stesha. “It’s not that I wouldn’t appreciate the help, now. Heaven knows Multiplicity is a handful and a half.†There was something in her voice that put impervium to shame. She was just as polite and cheerful as before, but it was readily apparent she would brook no argument on this issue. “But I won’t let anyone get hurt because of me and my problems.â€

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Amaryllis sighed at the pronouncement, but picked up one of the broccoli florets on her plate and ate it in neat small bites. Stesha was just as glad her daughter hadn't shown any ability to disintegrate vegetation yet, it was hard enough getting her to eat her vegetables anyway. She took another bite of her noodles, savoring the buttery taste. "Multiplicity, is that the name of the villain?" she asked. "I don't think I've heard of them before. But with a name like that, sounds like it'd be only fair to bring a little backup to a fight. And some of us are extremely hard to hurt, so don't you worry about that." She smiled, only a tiny bit smug. "You're an adult and a hero, nobody's going to tell you how to fight your battles. But don't think you haven't got options." 

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Maybelle rubbed the back of her head. “Multiplicity? She’s just a thief with a gimmick. Granted, that gimmick is her being the most powerful duplicator I’ve ever heard of. Outfighting her isn’t an issue, it’s making sure you’ve got the real one.†She laughed. “Haven’t pulled it off yet. You think you can pick out the real one from a few dozen or hundred or thousand of her, you go right ahead and try. If she’s even there at all. Because I’ve had that problem too.“ She sighed, and the cheer dropped away again. “Naw, I was talking about…Auric. Only fought him the once, right after I got my powers. He nearly killed me.“ She pried herself out of her chair and stood up. She sighed. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer. I don’t know how strong you are, but I’m far from weak. It took everything I had and a little extra just to drive him away. I still don’t think I actually hurt him. And he will be back. He said so.†Anyone with eyes could see the prospect frightened her more than she’d ever say. “I’m a ring user, see?†She raised her right hand to display the plain silver ring. “All my powers come from this. And he wants it, despite being able to slap me around like a child without it.â€

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"I'm sure you're very strong," Stesha reassured her, "and getting more skilled with your powers all the time. I just want you to feel like you can call upon other heroes without feeling as though you're putting anyone into deadly danger. And even if it is dangerous, most of us are used to taking risks for the greater good." She smiled just a little. "Some of us are immortal, which helps quite a bit on the danger front. The thing about personal nemeses is that they're tailoring themselves to you, your strengths, your weaknesses, planning attacks that will be especially tough on you. Bringing a friend or two along to a fight, that can short out their entire plan. And they hate that." She chuckled. 

 

"Done!" Ammy caroled suddenly. She pointed to the empty place on her plate where chicken nuggets had once resided, and the few stray crumbs of broccoli still on the plate. "Ice cream time!" 

 

"I think you're right!" Stesha agreed. "It is time for ice cream!" 

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For a moment it looked as if Maybelle was going to object further, but then she shook her head and smiled. “Ice cream, huh? Pink?†She assumed a comically thoughtful expression. “Whatever can a master chef do to meet such a demanding order?†A silver lightbulb appeared over her head. “Oh, I know. Be riiight back.†She darted into the kitchen. There was a general commotion just audible from inside, and then she was back with two sundae glasses, both full of layers of pink ice cream alternating with pink cake and another pink substance. “Strawberry shortcake ice cream parfait. Made these this morning as an experiment. I mean, the chocolate ones were wonderful and the vanilla ones brought our resident patisserie to tears, so I figure these’ll be fine. We don’t make our own ice cream here, that’s from a specialty shop downtown, but the cake and the pudding I made from scratch.†She placed the two glasses on the table. “Still wish we had the room for the ice cream making machine. Serving something I didn’t make all by myself just doesn’t feel right.â€

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Amaryllis' blue eyes grew wide as saucers as she took in the large pink confection. "Ooooh," she cooed. "It's beautiful! It's so pink!" She dug her spoon in immediately, an expression of rapture on her little face. 

 

"Well, I know someone who isn't falling asleep at bedtime tonight," Stesha laughed. "It looks wonderful. What do you say, pumpkin?" 

 

"Thank you!" Ammy caroled, sounding very heartfelt about it in the half-second before she attacked her ice cream again. 

 

"Everything here is exceptional," Stesha complimented Maybelle. "I'm definitely going to recommend you to my friends. I don't suppose you do catering? I'm out of the florist business myself now, but I still have a lot of contacts in wedding planning." A brief, odd look crossed her face, but was gone in an instant. "If you're looking to expand that way, that is." 

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Maybelle nodded. “The Queen herself does cater, but I’m mostly directing traffic when that happens. Catering’s all about mass producing something a bunch of people won’t object to. Since we don’t have the steadiest of menus-since I change it up every month or so and I’ll make most anything on demand-it gets complicated in a hurry. That said, we do take reservations, even for the whole restaurant. There’s a whole time scale thing, but that can be hashed out with Chris. He’s our business manager, takes care of all of the money stuff.†She had noticed that brief look, but she was raised not to pry. “Now before you go, you have to tell me something about you. I went and told you half my life story. It’s only fair you give me something in return. You pick. Any story you want to tell.â€

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