Stepping into Berry's was like stepping into an old family home.
Nostalgia seemed to hang from the walls and blanketed the floor, every step bringing forth a wave of forgotten memories. Warm memories, funny memories, sad ones, even. Despite never having been here, I felt at peace here. As if at one point I had truly lived here.
The decorations remained the same as it had in the comic--not a smidge off from its portrayal. The dusty chalkboard menu still hung on a loose, rusty chain just above the counter. The text was still a bold scribble atop a cloud of faint, smudged chalk. The prices remained the same, a simple price of $5 or $6, depending on what you got; no loose change to be exchanged. York preferred it that way, after all. Made taking orders easier, apparently. Just below the chalkboard menu was a long wooden counter and just behind said counter was a set of matching bookshelves that contained simple ceramic plates and glass cups. Between such a set was a half swinging door that blocked the path to the kitchen.
Comfortable cushioned chairs were properly set throughout the restaurant with booths lined up in front of the windows. Atop their matching tables were a set of wrapped utensils and beautiful paper charger plates with a comforting floral design.
Tastefully adorning the walls were scenic landscape paintings and little souvenirs that a few regulars gifted to York. One of them was a shoe horn--from an old farmer named Roger that liked to order a meaty omelet with extra hash browns. Another souvenir was a little red triangular flag with the text: Borne High School Football Team stitched across its surface. It was gifted to York when the team's coach, Ashley, stopped by to celebrate after a successful Football contest. She usually stopped by to order a set of Berry's blueberry pancakes with an accompanying cup of yogurt, but at that point in time she had celebrated with a set of chocolate pancakes. Miniature pins of varying design were stuck into the wall just below the flag. A smiley face pin, a cartoon fox pin, a panda pin, and a teddy bear pin. These were gifted by a mother-daughter duo as a sign of appreciation for York's general generosity.
Lastly, there was a simple letter written in perfect cursive with a red lip stick stain on the bottom right hand corner. It was from an unknown admirer. At least, that's what York liked to claim. In actuality...
It was from Fervor's mother...
In a far distant past York had met Ryley Phillips and captured her attention. It wasn't from anything special. She just liked the way he conducted his speech, the way he carried himself. The little stupid jokes he cracked with friends and the little way in which he tapped his lips with a pen when writing something down.
Their love wasn't meant to be, however. Despite her eventual confession, York wasn't interested and kindly rejected her.
Why did he hang it up on the wall? It's simple, really. Despite the degenerate undertones, he actually just appreciated her courage. He admired the conviction it took to write such a letter. Not only that, but to then boldly leave a kiss print and hand it to the person of interest in person...
He aspired to be like her one day.
The day never really came, though...
Snapping me out of my recollection and nostalgia, Claude loudly called out, cupping his hands around his mouth. "York!"
Quietly, a pair of steady footsteps tapped across the tiles of the kitchen in response.
"Claude, it's been a while." York popped out from the kitchen, wiping his hands upon the neat apron tied around his waist.
A small smile spread across his handsome face at the sight of Claude. His warm hazel eyes crinkled at the corners.
"Hey," Claude gently replied, "how's business been?"
York shrugged. "Can't complain. Business ebbs and flows; but I attribute that more to people staying in bed." He glanced down at me, nodding his head. "Mornin'."
I couldn't help the stupid grin that plastered itself onto my face. "Hi! Morning!"
York raised an eyebrow, bemused. "Chipper lad, aren't ya?"
I grinned stupidly in response. I don't know why, but just seeing York was enough to make me happy.
He turned his gaze to Claude. "One of yours?"
Claude glanced down at me. "I hope not."
I shot a fake glare in Claude's direction. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
"Exactly what I mean." Claude refused to elaborate.
York chuckled at us. "Looks like he will be."
Claude furrowed his brows. "Look, just call Audrey here so he can get marked."
"Already did." York took out a pad of paper and a pen from the pocket of his apron. "Want anything while you wait?"
I stared expectantly at Claude.
"Yeah," he grumbled, "I promised the little gremlin over here that'd I'd get him something."
I giggled happily.
For a split second, I couldn't help but wonder what the hell was wrong with me. Even I was starting to get confused as to why I was so happy.
"Before you order, though, where would you be sitting today?" York clicked his pen.
Claude looked at me and I took that as my cue. I dashed to the corner booth by the window--where Chrysalis and Fervor usually sat.
I made myself comfortable and proudly looked back at Claude. He slowly made his way over, almost as if he were unsure about something. York joined us shortly thereafter.
"Get me a plate of hash browns and a fruit cup." Claude began. York dutifully wrote it down on his little note pad. They both then turned their gaze towards me.
"Uhh..." I gazed at the hanging menu above the counter, unsure what to get.
"Do we have a budget?" I asked, stalling for time.
"No." Claude promptly responded.
"You know what a budget is?" York wondered aloud.
I coughed. "Yeah..." I glanced at Claude, trying to gauge his reaction. "Could I get the Double Chocolate Pancakes?"
"Why are you asking?" Claude leaned back in his seat. "You heard him."
York silently wrote it down.
"And some bacon?"
Claude remained silent, but he didn't object.
"What if I want a lot of bacon?"
"Then you want a lot of bacon." Claude replied.
"Duly noted." York nodded his head. "He must be your favorite, Claude."
"What gave you that idea?" He snapped.
York knowingly smiled. "Would that complete your order?"
"Yes, thank you." I replied. Claude remained silent. It was obvious that he didn't appreciate York's non-reply.
York turned to leave, but before he could go, Claude spoke up. "Wait." He then stared me down, cheek lazily cupped in his hand. "You're forgetting something."
"I am?" I blinked in surprise.
What did I forget?
"Get him a side salad." Claude sighed.
York chuckled. "Of course." York left towards the kitchen.
"You're eating the salad first, by the way."
"Okay..."
That was it? The salad? I guess that was oddly considerate of him...
As I was pondering to myself, a woman's voice greeted us. "Hey Claude, finally brought the kid, huh? What happened to Tori?"
"One of his Polish twins got hurt." Claude promptly replied.
Arriving from the kitchen was a beautiful woman with auburn hair and piercing blue eyes. She wore a fashionable cold-shoulder top and a pair of dark jeans, which gave off a kinda cool vibe. She carried a toolkit in her left hand as she walked towards us.
"Tori? Who's that?" I asked, pretending not to know.
It was kinda interesting, this little easter egg that was never revealed in the comic.
So, the original Transport was supposed to be Tori, Valdus, and Bronius... I mean, I guess it makes sense from a practical standpoint...
"None of your business." Claude replied.
She plopped her toolkit upon our table and dragged over a seat from a nearby table, joining us. Snapping it open, she studied me. "It would've been better if he had done it, disguise-wise, but you're doing a pretty good job keeping him calm yourself."
"Of course I am. I always do."
"No... not exactly..." She objected. "Before, they were more of a subdued-by-threat kinda calm." She looked me up and down with her eyes. "This kid likes you. Am I right?"
I nodded my head. "He's been good to me so far."
Claude slightly raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Seriously?"
I looked at him curiously. I then paused, realizing something. I fucked up.
I was supposed to be acting like a normal kid. No doubt a normal child would be terrified in this situation. Even defensive against their captor. But here I was, bonding with Claude and acting all giddy in his presence.
I chewed my bottom lip. I couldn't help it. At the end of the day, no matter what I did, I always seemed to link it back to the comic in some way. As a reader of the comic, I kinda liked Claude as a character. He challenged Fervor in ways no one had done before, inadvertently also challenging the reader and how they viewed the comic.
Not only that, but there was one moment in my life that I looked to Claude for guidance. It wasn't for something pretty. Sometimes I look back at that memory sorrowfully, but it was a necessary evil. I think it was the first time in my life that I actually stood up for myself...
Something he said in response to Fervor resonated with me. It helped me gather the courage needed to do what I ended up doing. Because of that, Claude held a special place in my heart...
In a twisted sort of way, I owed a debt to Claude. He made my life a little more tolerable just by being his crappy, villain self...
"Told ya." Audrey smirked. She reached her hand out towards me. "Give me your wrist. You've always wanted a tattoo, right?"