* tracking: babelnose
- shreddingteeth started following you
What good luck! Another new customer. Maybe business at the restaurant wouldn’t be so bad after all. With gleeful greed, she looked forward to climbing out of the red of debt and into the beautiful black of profit. Before her brown eyes could even catch a steady glimpse of the unusual-looking man before her, a chipper welcome was playing through her lips like a birdsong. “Welcome, welcome, aru! Please find yourself a table. Today’s special is Shark Fin Soup~! Guaranteed the best you’ve ever had!”
* table for too many! [ new followers ]
espada-sadico, photonrevolution, kingpanther, savageaddiction
hostilestray, oholyvirgin, aforgotten-king, kyokugen-kid
roleplayemporium, fulltimeheroine, bakemonohime, wrathsflames
Newcomers. Just in the nick of time.
Maybe it was the location. Maybe it was the prices. Maybe it was the severe shortage of employees. Maybe it was the piping hot knuckle sandwich she’d served to a guy lighting a cigarette in the non-smoking section. Or maybe it was just Jam’s usual poor luck. But whatever it was, all the high-kicking chef knew was that her restaurant was, again, as usual, on the decline. Income was becoming sadly disproportionate to expenditure (people just didn’t appreciate the value of top-notch cooking!), and history was repeating. The threat of landing “in the red” loomed ever closer — a terrible shame, since really, red was one of her favorite colors. Just not when it was associated with bills.
But now, she had her chance. Putting on her most cheerful smile, perched on one foot, she leaned out the door of the restaurant, waving her welcome. “Come in, come in! Don’t be shy! Why settle for smelling when can have a taste?” If the scent of warm food didn’t entice them, she thought, then her warm smile would. With a little grin, she wagged a finger. “My cooking’s the best there is. Passing it up would be missing the opportunity of a lifetime.”
"Come see for yourself ~ !"
I hope you don't mind me drawing you...a lot. Lots of pretty dresses are involved. Nothing but the best!
“Make sure to get my good side! — Not that I have a bad one. Eye-candy’s as respectable a dish as any.”
“But if I catch you trying to sneak a peak up my skirt, I’ll feed you my fist!”
* REVAMPING AND REVIVING.
Hello followers! As you can see, this Jam blog is getting a facelift and being revitalized. It will now be an independent blog, so I hope those of you who are affiliated with strict masterlists have either unfollowed me already or are doing so now. I’ll likely be doing a purge of most of my followed-blogs, since many of them appear to be inactive or otherwise affiliated. It’s time to start from scratch!
Otherwise, stay tuned! Thanks everyone, and see you soon. :)
»» By Bean 8808
Mr. Cross and Mr. Sol — I owe you responses.
… Tomorrow sound cool? Cool. ;;
o1. ♥ have i got a deal for you! ( open )
In all honesty, the extent of his offer only consisted of helping her down. But alas, he couldn’t blame her for misinterpreting him, and taking back his words would be a deed too rude for him to carry through. “I guess it can’t be helped.” With a resigned sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling the strands into an orderly chaos. Might as well, he thought, in hopes that this would somehow lighten up his now increasingly lacklustre lifestyle.
“Renegade smoker?” A grin, both charming and entertained, spread his lips at her comment, an eyebrow cocking automatically to the title she’d given him. “The name’s Tyki Mikk, but if it’s ‘renegade smoker’ that you prefer, then by all means, boss.” His tone was saccharine, and only as teasing as the gentle smile that followed.
“Let me help you with that,” he offered, his gaze thoroughly examining the woman before him when she started retracting the ladder. “On second thought…” His head angled a fraction, lips tugging into an appreciative smirk as he watched her from behind. Mother Nature had been kind to this one. A strong woman, he saw, with a lithe frame but a firm body, nonetheless; slender and curved, well proportioned and generously pleasing to the eye. Her neck was slim, a column of soft skin that lead inevitably to inviting and tempting sights; the robust swell of breasts tucked into a neat waist, flaring into a teasing curl of hips.
He gulped, swallowing temptation.
He cleared his throat, and started again. “So, I’m not much of a cook, unfortunately,” he smiled in sincerest apology, “but I suppose I could offer a hand with labour.” With subtle ease, Tyki shrugged his shoulders from his jacket, trimly folding it across the length of his forearm. He approached her, and in a moment of steeled rebellion, placed a hand gently on the small of her back; then, smile in place, he leaned forward, lips dangerously close to hers as he took the ladder from her petite hands. “Or perhaps, I could be a part of your waiting staff?”
Button nose in the air, Jam hefted the ladder onto her shoulder. Businesslike as an industrious little worker ant lifting an object twice its size, she readied her curt response. “Hah! Call yourself whatever you want, but a name doesn’t change what you are—” but at the velvety purr of the word boss, Jam found her sincere chiding go weak kneed. Her knees pressed instinctively closer, to nestle skin to skin, and her free hand crooked daintily at the wrist, waving as breezily as a lace doily, while the other arm, in a somewhat less feminine position, curled halfway about the ladder. “Aw, what’s that ‘boss’ business? Tsk, you. It’s Jam. Kuradoberi Jam.—” Dang. He was good. Dangerous-good. Affable and suave and fit to set any heart a twitter — oh, she had to hire him. Realizing her lapse, her lips formed a silent ‘o’, and she targeted him with a pointed finger. “Oooh, I see your game! Well, you just don’t get ahead of yourself, mister; I haven’t hired you yet. Yeesh, a suspicious guy like you… What, do you expect to just waltz in off the street? This is a very respectable restaurant, you know. I have high standards!” She clicked her tongue and, resting free hand on her hip, gave a dismissive toss of her head. Turning, she paused. One almond eye went crescent shaped in a teasing wink, the tip of the tongue emerging playfully. Tete-a-tete.
Then, with a sharp sniff, she picked up the act again, turning sharply from him. “I bet you think you’re so smooth— heek!”
His hand touched down, light as a bird’s wing, and Jam gave a little hiccup and bunny hop of surprise, landing ankles together, momentarily wide-eyed. Barely noticing the weight of the ladder being lifted, she felt her eyelids lowering as if weighted, lips so tangibly close to his. And then, the most delicious, most tantalizing words he could possibly have heard.
“Or perhaps, I could be a part of your waiting staff?”
"R…really?" Her expression was, momentarily, completely unguarded. Doe-eyed, she gazed yieldingly into the stranger’s hawk eyes. Was she dreaming this? Hallucinating? Normally, it was she who had to recruit — or attempt to — any attractive men she came across. After all, looks drew a crowd. A team of good looking waiters could be as essential to the nightly head-count as the food itself. And he was a magnificent animal — maitre d material, without a doubt. But he didn’t need to know that for now. Nor that the light behind her eyes was only half because he was so enchanting, and half the nefarious glimmer of projected income. A small, impish grin, and her eyes flicked up to his.
Jeez. He really was cute, though. Laying a slim finger to her lips, she cocked her head. “You ought to be careful, you know…? A less patient lady will give you a taste of bitter medicine for that.” But despite the words, her arms snaked happily about one of his, giddy. Nothing like a tall, dark, handsome stranger to put a girl in a tizzy. “Come on, come on, I’ll show you where to put that~” she cooed, guiding him around back of the restaurant, and pointing to a small, open shed. “Just there is fine.” Reluctantly releasing him, she unlocked the back entrance, chattering on as she bumped the door open with her rump, to remain facing him. “So, Mister Mikk? If you’re interested, we should talk, you know? Hours, pay, prior experience? — oh, but that’s not so important. I’m sure you’ll be a natural.” Her mind was a whir already. The scars were a bit strange, but they could be covered, she thought, or if not, his eyes drew the gaze more readily than the scarring. “I hope I didn’t hit you too hard. Does it hurt? There’s plenty of ice.”
o1. ♥ have i got a deal for you! ( open )
Never fully reading a sign to its fullest , the ginger quirked a brow to the ‘large’ sign from the distance. ‘HALF OFF ENTIRE MENU! ALL THIS WEEK! ’ it said ( ignoring the minor detail of drinks not being included ) a it gave him a smile mused smile of basically free food and alcoholic beverages. Who knew his luck would run interesting from walking around this dump ( his views of this whole place ) — and who knew the offer featured a free show ??
” That’s how you get business’ ”
Cross casually looked up to get the wonderful view of her panties , cigarette lit and hanging from the corner of his lips. Much more mature then a petty teen , Cross had more class when getting a peek at something ’ delicious ‘, so he kept a straight face when he lingered his stare just a bit longer.
Being a wonderful gentleman he looked the other direction and tapped the ashes from his cigarette. ” If’ I help whats in it for me ? As much as it pains me to see a poor women in distress’ , its tough times here. ” The cigarette was back between his lips as he inhaled and exhaled successfully without removing the cancer stick from his lips.
Preoccupied with testing the fastening in one corner, leaning forward to test its security, Jam was, fortunately enough, distracted just long enough to look down at the precise moment Cross looked aside, thus sparing herself the high blood pressure rage and him the physical pain that would have accompanied the realization that he was ogling her from below. Climbing down towards the bottom rung, and swinging a leg like a pendulum, she hopped off the ladder and to the ground, where she landed with an automatic smile, dusting off her hands. “Interested in a good meal?” She chirped, touching the tips of her finger’s together. “I’m the best chef around; you won’t be disappointed!— eh?” A short pause, staring at him, caught somewhat off guard.
"You… you mean, you’re interested in taking a job?" He didn’t look the type. With his long crimson hair and a strange sort of half-mask, he looked more like Count Dracula than proper restaurant crew. Her lips quirked in irritation, cocking a hip to rest her hand on. What a brusque way to ask for a job. "Hmm…" After a moment of scrutiny, leaning in to eye the other’s face, she leaned back, and knitted her brows in a look of kittenish vulnerability. "You mean, you wouldn’t do it just to help a girl like me out…?"
A sigh. Then, as quick as the feminine distress had overtaken her, it was replaced by a brisk, examining frown. Folding her arms, she marched in a brisk, full circle around him. He wasn’t bad looking. A little eccentric looking, and middle aged? But not too bad. “Well I’d pay you, of course. But hold on, hold on — It’s not as easy as just walking off the street! This is a respectable restaurant! You think I’ll just hire anyone who happens to come by?” Well, it depended, really. Coming to face him again, she folded her arms, cocking her head. “Can you cook?”
o1. ♥ have i got a deal for you! ( open )
A groan, both disgruntled and disorientated, stirred the idle air as Tyki Mikk finally picked himself off the ground (who knew how long he’d been out for?). “Oi, lady.” he called, patting away the dust from his once-refined attire. “You sure know how to pack a punch, don’t ya?” His lips curled into a disdainful smirk. He tilted his neck from side to side, popping a loose joint back into place. Women these days; they were truly starting to scare him. Road didn’t count—she was hardly considered a woman—but everyone else were strutting about with proud independence fashioned on their sleeves (and on their fists). And it felt as though it was only yesterday when they all fluttered to his side, wrapping delicate limbs around his with that demure giggle of theirs, so coy and so sugary sweet.
Ah, those were the days. A longing sigh fell from parted lips.
In one swift motion, he turned gracefully on his heel; slicked his hair back. “I’ve no problem with playful slaps but,” a soft smile entertained his features, “that was hardly a slap and it wasn’t at all playful.” He frowned, lips pressing into something of a pout. “Though, a woman without fight does tend to become quite a burden…” he mused, one hand clutching onto the leg of the ladder. Then he looked up.
“Ooh.” What a sight. His cheeks burned a soft pink—even he couldn’t help but blush. “How immodest,” he let out a playful whistle, then glanced away (for it was only polite to do so), chuckling behind his fingers. Though admittedly, he’d enjoyed the view regardless. The Noah’s gaze drifted back and forth, from the ground, to the girl (mind you, her panties hinted at her womanhood); to the sign then back to the ground. Finally, he cleared his throat; offered a hand towards her and smiled, charming and, not in the least insidious.
“Do you need some help, miss?”
As Jam leaned forward to straighten the edges of the sign, something stirred groggily on the ground beneath her. A brief blink downwards reminded her: the smoking man, whom she had catapulted out the door like a sack of bricks a little while earlier with hardly a second’s warning — which, she supposed, was better than hurling him through the window, but still wasn’t particularly good for business. Prone bodies had a tendency to repel customers. She had been planning on hoisting him up over her shoulder and relocating him around back with the ladder, though she had to admit, the idea of propping him at one of the window-booths had also crossed her mind. Prone bodies might have been repellants, but handsome men ‘dozing’ in the window might not be a bad lure, and if he’d suffered a small concussion or something of the sort, maybe she could even convince him that nothing had happened. Feeling a pang of guilt, she quietly made up her mind to treat him to a free desert next time — if there was ever a next time. It wasn’t anything personal, of course, but the bills and the taxes and the expenses and the calls — it just took the glow of one stray cigarette to send her jettisoning across the restaurant as though mounted on wires. Poor guy. She hadn’t meant to hit him that hard.
Nonetheless, he had lit up in the non-smoking section, she reminded herself. So for now, it was the nose-up treatment for him. “I can’t help that service packs a punch around here,” Jam retorted, slightly impetuous in tone. “You should have told me you were going to smoke!”
"Aiyah… do you even know how many restaurant fires I’ve had?" A brief flounder, as though trying to grab the words out of the air before he could hear them, "I mean! Not this restaurant, but— well it was never my fault, but—” Lips puckered in a pout, she gave a brief sigh and planted a hand on her hip. “The point is, if there’s going to be live flame outside the kitchen itself, I at least want it contained in one area!” A self-righteous nod, and she began to descend, folding long sleeves over her arms to keep them from tangling in the rungs. No sooner had she done so than did the playful whistle catch her ear.
Her initial response was sort of coyly flattered, the hint of a pleased little grin nipping at the corner of her lips. She was, more or less, used to things like that — just casual little compliments. She was, after all, possessed of certain perky little assets, which, Jam would quietly admit to herself, she took a sort of secret, vain pride in. However, as she parted her lips to click her tongue chidingly, she caught glimpse of where, exactly, he was staring — and that was right up her skirt. A brief moment of incredulity. “Wha— y— JUST WHERE ARE YOU LOOKING!? HUWAAAA—” she wound up, arm making an arcing sweep, fingers poised with the apparent intent of pecking out his eyes (praying mantis style; always effective). But before she could deliver the ending ‘CHAAWW' of her exclamation, or land her strikes, she was stopped by a very debonaire smile.
It was sort of a shame, really. Had the man lasted about five minutes longer before she’d thrown him out, she probably would have been hand feeding him. Cute guys tended to get special treatment in Jam’s establishments. And he really was cute. Her raised hand landed in his with a pat. “Help?”
A near 180. Reciprocating his smile with one of her own, she gave a little bob of the head and stepped down to the ground with the poise of woman who had no intention of bringing all the wrath of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon on him over a simple whistle. “Liiike… that kind of help?” She inclined her head towards the ‘help wanted’ sign, smiling cheerfully. “A-ahaha! Ohh, what a nice guy. Let me straighten your…” Amidst a few appeasing laughs, she reached forward to brush off the front of his jacket, then froze abruptly. “—ah!” A short pause. She raised a slender finger sharply. “Wait a second. I’m still mad at you.” Turning on her heel, she went about beginning to collapse the ladder, pausing once to look over her shoulder and whisper, as though branding him with the most ominous of titles, “You renegade smoker.”
♥ have i got a deal for you! ( non-zod )
What kind of cheap skate pays half the rate promised for a bounty because of the state the criminal came back in? Sure, he was missing a hand, but he pulled a weapon on Sol! It wasn’t liked he killed the damned guy. His client had tried to stiff him, that’s the way he saw it. Sol, being the negotiator he was (“negotiations” mean “roughing the other up” in Sol speak), talked the guy back to his original, promised rate. A bit of a hassle, but things worked out pretty well, and all arguing and hunting that other jerk down had worked up quite the appetite.
And wouldn’t you know it? A sign in the distance that read “HALF OFF ENTIRE MENU! ALL THIS WEEK!” and then some fine print he couldn’t make out, but half off sounded wonderful at the moment. That place though, and that girl out front, she certainly did look familiar. Forgetful, as usual, ey Sol? With Fuuenken slung over his shoulder he approached with the intent of dropping a good amount of cash on dinner, and while he hoped the food was of quality, the Immoral Flame was so hungry he could probably stand to eat Leopaldon’s entire Gear. If prepared correctly of course.
Closing on the restaurant, Sol finally took notice that the girl was someone he had fought with before, but her name had completely eluded him. Not surprising. He was awful with names. In fact, it was astounding Sol even recognized her, but that outfit was hard to forget on a girl like that. Whether or not she had noticed, Sol had come to stand about fifteen or so feet from the entrance of the restaurant, watching her finish up whatever she had been doing out there, but more of silently critiquing her work.
“The Bronze Lotus..” he mumbled quietly before clearing his throat. “You’re that girl.. what was your name? The one that yells a lot when she fights, right?” A hand was raised with the index finger extended, pointing toward the young girl. The description was a bit crude but, honestly, it was all he could think of at the moment besides the rumbling of his stomach.
'The Bronze Lotus…' a gruff voice from below. Jam perked instantly, head whipping around with a closed-eyed grin, immediately on her best behavior. Possible customer? Give them the winning, pearly white gleam. Service with a smile. “Yesss,” she chimed in cheerfully, ready to sell for all she was worth, even giving her skirt a little flounce as she quickly dismounted the ladder. “Newly reopened and ready for— wha—!? Y-you!” Her chipper, kiss-the-chef’s face was quickly replaced by an unprepared gawk, then, after a split second of floundering, an automatic fighting stance — albeit somewhat off-balance, thanks to being caught off guard — knee raised, ankle cocked, hands at the ready. There were two things that came to mind instantly about the man before her: one, that he was a very tough opponent; two, that things tended to catch fire when he got serious. And seeing as how she’d already had one restaurant burn to ashes (come to think of it, she vaguely recalled accusing and attacking him at the time… without evidence, but the past was the past, right?), her knee jerk response was not necessarily the most poised. Even good looking men weren’t worth a burning restaurant. She had to draw the line somewhere.
Then again, there was the possibility that he just wanted a meal. His body language certainly didn’t seem overtly threatening, after all, and his mannerism, though rough, wasn’t necessarily provoking. Still poised on one foot, Jam eyed him somewhat impetuously, “— Huh!? You don’t even remember my name?” A proud swell of the chest, thumb jabbing towards herself. “Kuradoberi Jam, the best chef this side of the equator — don’t forget it! And it’s not just yelling, you know.” A small quirk of the lips, upwards into a cocky little grin. “It really helps pump you up! You should try it sometime.” Then, putting up both hands, she added quickly, “Not now, not now! I’m in the middle of a promotion. Fighting’s bad for business!” And she really didn’t have the leisure to be causing more problems for the restaurant. A sigh, leg finally dropping back down. “Aiyah…” Was it too much to ask for a normal customer? Still, if he was in need of a meal, a customer was a customer. In fact, even if he wasn’t looking for a meal, maybe it was best to try and lure him in. She needed the funds enough, after all. Regardless of possible fire damage. Or the fact that he was one of several familiar faces that generally signified trouble on the horizon. All in a day’s work.
"Ah, so…" Think fast, she told herself. It was a bit of an awkward start, sure, but it wasn’t unsalvageable. She tried out a somewhat sheepish smile, then perked up to her usual effervescence. Wagging a finger, she leaned towards him. "You know, I can spot an empty stomach from a mile away~ And my skills as a chef are as top notch as my skills as a martial artist! You’ve come at a good time, hm?" She nodded to the newly hung sign.