June 2025 Realmgard Short Scenes: Day 3
Whining & Dining.
For context, today's scene follows the Middlesbrooke crop of characters — Lucia, Apolline, Petra, Roland, Alda, and Celeste — and is more or less a sequel to this scene I wrote several of these Daily Short Scenes exercises ago, where a mean waiter started making fun of Lucia for her dining choices.
Also, keep in mind that Lucia is part-lynx.
As Lucia, Apolline, Petra, Roland, Alda, and Celeste take their seats, the restaurant’s waiter approaches.
“Greetings,” he says, looking down a thoroughly upturned nose. “I have the pleasure of being your server tonight.”
His tone, however, indicates that he sees it as anybody but a pleasure.
“Oh,” the waiter says, turning his nose up even more even his gaze falls on Lucia. “The dormice conoisseur.”
“You,” Lucia hisses back at the waiter.
Lucia still doesn’t understand why the waiter got so weird about her ordering the stuffed dormice last time. She’s a cat!
And if it’s such a big deal, why was it even on the menu in the first place!
“Perhaps the young lady would consider a staff recommendation?” the waiter offers.
“Don’t you dare,” Lucia says.
“We have a delightful foie gras on the menu, prepared by a master chef recruited straight from the Gallicantien royal court,” the waiter begins, ignoring Lucia’s protests.
“What’s foie gras?” Roland asks.
Alda leans over and whispers into her brother’s ear.
Roland gasps. “Lucia!”
Lucia throws her arms up indignantly “I didn’t even do anything!”
“Or,” the waiter continues, “perhaps the young lady would be interested in the buntings, one of our most specialised and exquisite dishes.”
“Do I want to know?” Lucia asks.
“Far be it from me to assume the young lady’s innermost thoughts,” the waiter says.
“But you’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you?”
“Far be it from me not to seize my opportunity to be a source on consternation to the young lady,” the waiter says.
He clears his throat.
“Now, we first acquire the buntings in question via our industrious team of orphans,” he explains. “It has to be the orphans, you see. They’re the only ones small enough to fit into the nooks and crannies the buntings nest in. And, of course, any orphan who fails to meet their daily quota of buntings is shipped right off to the mines.”
“That’s horrible!” Lucia exclaims.
“Ah, I see I’ve piqued the young lady’s interest with my woeful tale of human tragedy,” the waiter notes.
“That is not what’s happening at all!”
“Next, the buntings are seasoned with a secret recipe of herbs and spices dating back to the Imperial kitchens of Theobald himself and are then doused in wine, marinated in cognac, and simmered in sherry. And then, once the buntings are presented to the diner, it’s customary to swallow them whole using a solid gold spoon. It’s all terribly decadent and needlessly ostentatious, but as the end result is a repast of a small, cute animal, I have no doubt that the young lady will find it quite appealing.”
Lucia glowers up at him. “Look, if you think you’re getting a tip after all this—“
“And, of course,” the waiter continues, “a complimentary towel…”
“What are you doing?” Lucia shrieks as the waiter drapes the towel over her head.
“…so that the young lady may enjoy her meal while concealing her shame from the gods.”
“I’ll just have a salad,” Lucia mutters from under the towel.
“Wonderful,” the waiter says. “I do believe the carrot was diced in front of his wife and children.”
Meal so decadent you need to drape a towel over your head to hide from God? Totally a real thing, by the way.
And I actually toned down some of the specific details…
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