"Makes sense." Ellis nodded. "Before we get into all that, however, we need to get through all the paperwork. Have you ever been enrolled in a therapeutic relationship before?"
Elias noticed the lack of a chair for him and decided the only rational option was to flop onto Oliver's lap.
Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Hey. I'm gonna need my personal space if I'm going to enjoy my pasta to its fullest." He shoved Elias onto Sadie's lap. "Sad Shad, you can take him."
Sadie frowned and tried to shove him into the floor. "Or we could just get him a chair."
"Sadie you are weaker than a twig, did you expect that to work?" Elias chuckled then stood up and pulled a chair to the table.
"Boo, that's a boring description!" Maho said.
Elias glared at Maho, watching as Sadie got up and did the whip and nae nae went to the restroom.
Oliver flagged down the waiter. "Hello! I'd like the seafood alfredo, please." The waiter nodded.
"I'll take the same." Maho added.
Oliver gasped. "Yes. Join the alfredo side. Perhaps your taste in food is redeemable."
"Hey! You're the one who went for a basic cheese taco. Don't talk to me about my taste in food being trash."
"I never mentioned trash. That's all you. I personally would say recycling."
The waiter looked at Oliver and, once again, held back a snicker. Then he turned to Elias. "And you, sir?"
"The caesar salad please." The waiter nodded and walked off.
"Recycling? Then what will we call your taste in food?" Maho jabbed back.
"How about stellar?"
She scoffed. "Puh-lease. You wish."
"Hey, it's the truth." Oliver started using the menus as oversized playing cards and stacking them like a house of cards.
Elias quietly sipped his water as he watched the two bicker.
"Truth??? That's like saying the moon is a mile away."
"Oh, you're saying it's not?" Oliver carefully placed the four menus in two triangles. "Depends on your definition of mile honestly."
"5280 feet."
"Your feet? Whose feet?"
"The standard feet, 12 inches. Or if you want to get smaller 30.48 centimeters."
"Ah, but what is an inch? Or a centimeter?" Oliver looked around for something to put on top of the two triangles and eventually stole a menu from a neighboring table.
"An inch would be about half of your thumb."
"Tada!" Oliver displayed is menu house proudly, absolutely not listening to Maho anymore. It came crashing down thanks to Maho, who flicked it at a weak point.
"How-- how could you!" Oliver stared at Maho with a mock-appalled expression. "The absolute betrayal! My poor masterpiece!"
She just smirked smugly. "Can't call that a masterpiece when the real one is the pasta."
Oliver looked like he was about to argue, but then he sat back in is seat and nodded thoughtfully. "True."
Elias continued to sip his water, staring at Oliver and Maho.
"Heyyy, we agree on something for once." She said.
"When it comes to pasta, I can agree." Oliver smirked.
"You can agree on anything that comes to pasta?" She raised an eyebrow.
Oliver narrowed is eyes at Maho. "'Anything' is a dangerous word."
Sadie returned from the bathroom and glanced around the table, expression somewhere between amusement and judgment. "Have y'all ordered yet?"
Oliver nodded. "I ended up ordering the seafood alfredo pasta."
"So did I."
"Thank you for specifying you ordered pasta at Olive Garden, I wouldn't have ever guessed that."
"No problem." Oliver grinned.
Sadie cracked a smirk and glanced around the restaurant, then sat back down.
"Well, it doesn't seem THAT obvious. I mean, Olive Garden." Maho smirked in a very sarcastic way.
"True, I didn't order olives."
The waiter swung by again.
"Hey!" Sadie looked at the waiter and smiled a little, getting his attention. "Could I get the chicken alfredo with chicken gnocchi soup for the app?"
The waiter nodded and noted the order down. "Your food will be right out." He walked away.
"Thank you!" Sadie waited until he was out of earshot, then looked back at Oliver. "Wait, did you say olives?"
"I said I didn't order olives. Apparently, despite being an olive garden, they don't sell plain olives here." Oliver laughed.
"You didn't order a garden either."
"I feel like this sense of humor is why you get nicknamed," Sadie said, deadpanning as she looked at Oliver. Maho laughed, nodding in agreement.
Oliver protested, "What sense of humor, Shady Sadie? Sarcastic Sadie? Sadiecastic?"
"Fair point. It's generous to call that humor." But she finally cracked a smirk at the nicknames he was throwing at her.
Oliver appeared mock-wounded for a moment, but then his expression grew serious. "So. Sadie of the revolutionaries. I bring another person as tribute. What information do you offer in response?"
Sadie sobered as well, glancing over at Maho for a moment thoughtfully. "Well..." She glanced back at Oliver. "Dang, what a transition."
Oliver laughed. "Sorry about that whiplash."
"You don't say?" Maho crossed her arms. "I thought we'd continue to roast you." Oliver raised his eyebrows at her.
Sadie laughed. "I like her!" She looked at Maho. "I like you. Like the way you think. Shall we?" She gestured towards Oliver like she was inviting her to take the next roast.
"We shall continue to roast the guy who got a basic cheese taco." She grinned.
"Embarrassing," Sadie interjected.
"You're really bringing that up again. Really." Oliver flopped back against the seat. "Okay, Miss Burgers Can't Be Pizzas."
"It is embarrassing. In any taco joint it's a giveaway to the owner that you lack taste in their food."
Oliver held up a menu as if it were a shield against the roasts. A rather ineffective one, apparently. "Let's get back to pasta and revolutions, shall we?"
Sadie thought for a moment, then glanced over at Maho. "Well... how about we start by you telling us a bit about yourself? What makes you interested in revolution-ing?"
Maho sort of just, stared at her for a second. A flash of suspicion in her eye. "How about you tell me a little bit about your revolutionary group?"
"Mm." Sadie assessed her for a moment.
"Well, basically-" Elias felt Sadie smack and cover his mouth with her hand.
Narrator: at this point herbie vanished and the rest of the crew switched POVs
"The foundation has to be one of mutual respect," Sadie finished Elias's sentence. "And trust. So I propose we start by finding some common ground."
Okay. She could do mutual respect, and common ground. If they expected her to trust them immediately, they must be insane.
"Roasting me, apparently," Oliver said.
"Roasting Ollie. Finding him new nicknames." Maho listed.
Oliver rolled is eyes dramatically.
"Ow Garden," Sadie offered. Oliver sputtered.
"Good one." She smiled. "Olloie?"
"Great," Oliver muttered. "Yeah, just keep adding random letters to my name."
"I don't think that counts as randomized letters," Sadie pointed out. "If it's limited to vowels that indicates a strong bias."
"Nope!" Maho smiled, but returned to looking serious.
"All E!" Elias quipped, chewing on some ice.
Oliver smacked the menu against is own forehead. Maho snickered.
"But really. I can do the mutual respect part. Trust is a bit harder."
"I mean... that's actually good," Sadie conceded. "We need to be... discerning in who we trust." She gave Elias the side-eye, then looked back at Maho. "We are... interested in social justice, I suppose is the most succinct explanation. Righting age old wrongs that led to where we are today."
"You should see my whiteboard!" Elias added, clearly proud of it.
"Right, the famous whiteboard with plans," Oliver said.
"Uh-huh. A whiteboard." How encouraging. She turned her head to look back at Sadie. "So, would you say that you find fault in the city?"
"I... find fault in preferential treatment of people based on their resources or lack thereof."
Maho just nodded.
"Where would you put yourself in a political spectrum?" Sadie asked. "Hidebound on this side, Iconoclasts this end." She gestured, then held her hands out apart from one another as if she was making a spectrum on the table.
Maho thought about it. She wasn't much of one to actively participate. "I'd say somewhere in the middle."
Sadie narrowed her eyes slightly, regarding Maho with a bit more suspicion. "So a Guarded?"
Maho shrugged. "Is 'spectator' an option?"
"I mean, it's an option... just doesn't seem like one that would lend itself towards someone joining a revolution. Which brings us back to why you're interested in our work?"
"...I suppose Ollie has told you that I found his number without him giving it to me?"
Sadie considered the question for a moment. "... I know why we'd be interested in you, but that's not the same as why you're interested in us."
"Let's say I like truth."
"Then that'd be some common ground," Sadie said coolly. "Do you like stirring the pot, as it were? Making powerful people uncomfortable by bringing their dirty laundry to the light?"
Maho gave her a mischivous smirk. Now they were getting somewhere. "You could say that."
Sadie smirked back. "Even more common ground. Look at that."
"I told you that part would be easy."
The waiter came back with the food and both of the guys immediately got lost in their pasta. Oliver had a look of extreme delight on his face as he dug into his alfredo pasta.
Sadie picked up her fork and started absently twirling some fetticune around it. "Indeed. But an import start all the same. You know common ground isn't all that common among... certain people."
"Mhm." Maho stabbed a shrimp with her fork and ate it.
"What role would you envision for yourself?" Sadie asked, eating some pasta.
"Well, I've told you I work as a Shadow. Do you know what we do?"
Sadie nodded. "Blackmail, essentially."
"No, not really." She shook her head. "What we do, is we sift through information. Yes, I mean scrolling through social media and what not."
"And then using that as blackmail," Sadie added. "Don't get me wrong, I love backmail. It's a useful skill. Especially for revolutionaries."
"Well, we find information that might be about other governments or countries, such as if they're trying new technology and someone manages to get a picture of it."
"Ever consider looking for information on a government closer to home?"
"You could say that." She ate another shrimp.
"Fascinating stuff, if you know where to look," Sadie said.
"Yes, quite."
"And you know where to look?" Sadie gave a bit more pointed of a look.
Maho looked her right in the eyes. "You could say that. You're on the right track."
"So, like... okay, word association time. h4x--?"
"0r."
"V3r?" Sadie rapid fired.
"1ty." Maho answered just as quick.
"fyshi?"
"Sounds fishy." She smirked. "33k."
Sadie nodded, satisfied. "They are pretty phish-y. Chaos goblin. But does good work."
Maho raised an eyebrow. "Would you say you know them personally?"
Sadie shrugged. "I don't know that I'd go that far, but I feel like I'm pretty well-versed in the usernames of those in the community who do good work. If you've got a handle I've probably seen it, though I can't say with certainty I've narrowed down which one is yours... why? Is it you?"
She laughed. "Nope. But you could say I am known."
"And yet unknown. And I admire that."
Maho nodded. "So can you piece it together or do I need to be blunt?"
"I'm good at solving puzzles," Sadie said calmly. "But I also appreciate directness. Ball's in your court really on whether you'd like to leave me to my own conclusions or if you'd like to have a say in forming my opinion."
She shrugged. "Depends on what your conclusions are currently."
"Oh, I'm a fair ways away from a conclusion. We're barely past the introduction."
"Alright. Do you have a list of people you want to recruit?"
"Yes."
"Who's on it?"
Sadie considered her for a long moment. "The list is proprietary information. If you're asking if you're on it, yes, yes you are. Both of you." She glanced over at Oliver, who was still thoroughly absorbed in his bowl of pasta. He glanced up briefly and gave a double thumbs-up, then pointed at the pasta and mouthed, "Amazing."
Maho nodded at him in agreement before focusing back on Sadie. "Okay, not going down the entire list, but would we be getting the chance to work with Soundblast at some point, assuming you can recruit him? Or perhaps, fyshi33k and the others you quizzed me on?"
"Hopefully," Sadie said with a nod. "I respect the work of all the people I listed, and Soundblast, among others. We're casting the net somewhat ambitiously and seeing who bites."
"Can I point something out?"
"Go for it."
"Okay- two things actually. First is I can't tell if the pasta is on Ollie's face or if his face is on the pasta."
"O th pusta," came the muffled reply. Oliver slurped up a few last strands of pasta, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Delicious." He grinned.
"Second, I think I might be on your list twice."
"Oh yeah?" Sadie looked at her coolly. "Care to drop a name and I'll confirm or deny?"
"Soundblast." Maho replied casually like one says when they're envisioned as a guy, looking right back at her.
Sadie grinned, then quickly sobered, then hesitated like she wasn't sure the correct response for this interaction.
Oliver's eyebrows shot up, and then he nodded as if it made sense. "Figures. I know how much you can talk."
"I had it narrowed down to that or Mystic," Sadie said with a nod. "But it helps to have the confirmation. Big fan of your work, by the way."
"Thanks. And Ollie, you love to talk much more than I do." Alright, that went much better than expected. Very relieving.
"Debatable." Oliver grinned. "I'm practically silent when given a bowl of good pasta."
"Or plain tacos," Sadie added.
"That too."
Oliver groaned. "Hey. I'm the one paying, so you all better be nice." He waved the waiter down and asked for the check.
"That's fair. The gift card isn't gonna go far. Thank you for your wealth, Owie."
Maho howled with laughter.
Oliver glared at Sadie, though a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "You want to pay for your own pasta, Sadiestic? You too, Mahohoho."
"No Santa, we'll be good," Sadie said. Maho just smirked. Like the look of we-can-continue-after-he's-paid.
Oliver glanced at both of them suspiciously. Soon enough, the waiter came back and Oliver used the gift card as well as his own credit card to cover the meal. He glanced at the price briefly, then shrugged as if it was hardly anything.
"Worth it for the 'fredo?" Sadie asked with a little smirk.
"Oh, you don't even have to ask," Oliver replied. "I will become a regular here. Whenever you want to find me, look for the nearest Olive Garden."
"Oliver Garden: Fantastic 'Fredos."
"I-" Oliver shook his head. "That's not even that bad."
"Oliver Garden has got to be his alter ego."
"Perhaps I should consider acquiring the Olive Garden franchise and renaming it to Oliver Garden..."
"No, you've got a revolution to focus on." Sadie stood up, pushing away from the table. "But I do thank you for the meal. It was tasty." She inclined her head to him.
Oliver stood up as well and bowed. "Thank Elias and his gift card too."
"I'm surprised that actually had money on it, not gonna lie."
"Seems like each of us is full of surprises." Oliver laughed.
"And pasta."
"Indeed."
Sadie glanced down at her phone. "Oh sh--... I gotta go." She looked at Maho. "Think it over. If you wanna join us, I trust you'll be able to figure out how to get in contact." She glanced at Oliver. "And I'll see you around." She grabbed Elias's shoulder. "And I'll see you out. C'mon."
Maho nodded, "Of course. I can now say it has indeed been a pleasure to meet you." She smiled.
Sadie grinned. "You as well!" She offered a bow, then swept out of the restaurant, dragging Elias behind her.
Oliver waved bye dramatically, then turned to Maho. "I never leave before the last person leaves. So you're leaving first."
"So you're going to be a gentleman and hold open the door, yes?" She smirked.
Oliver swept an elaborate bow. "As you wish, Lady Maho." He strolled over to the door and pulled it open. "You may proceed, oh most daring of debaters."
"Why thank you." She smiled sweetly and walked out.
Oliver held the door for another family that was leaving, then followed them outside. Maho had waited for him. It would indeed have been rude to leave without saying goodbye.
"Still here?" Oliver smirked. "Waiting for the gentleman to escort you to your carriage?"
"No, I walked. It is a shame I don't have one. Especially if it were to be made from a pumpkin."
"Verily, 'tis a great shame. No fairy godmother, I presume?"
"No, unfortunately."
"What a tragedy." Oliver leaned against the wall. "My chauffeur is on his way, so I might as well wait with you poor fairy-godmother-less person."
"What do you mean wait with me? I'm waiting with you. I walked, remember?" She put her hands on her hips.
"Ah, quite right. What a gentlelady. My utmost thanks for your graciousness." A humorous light danced in Oliver's eyes.
She smiled. "Just never order a basic cheese taco again. Oh, and burgers are not pizzas."
"Whew. That first one has been drilled into my head, oh, about a hundred times already, so I think I'm good on that. The second one is absolutely untrue."
"The second one is absolutely true. You added two unnecessary letters."
Oliver laughed. "I never add unnecessary letters. Anyways, I'm leaving and walking home if we continue this debate."
"Well, if you're walking home, let me use your chauffeur? He is already on his way."
Oliver gasped. "I would never think of subjecting poor Felix to a ride home with you."
"Oh please, I wouldn't be that rude. I haven't seen him eat a basic taco yet."
"I can already imagine it. First, you'd call his mustache a dead fish, and then you'd make fun of his gloves, and then you'd make fun of me even though I'd be walking home. I'd sense it, you know."
"Well, I've never met him, so how am I suppose to know if his mustache looks like a dead fish, or whatever is wrong with his gloves? Besides, it's rude to insult the person who's giving you a ride home."
"Glad you're aware of that and that your incessant need to insult people has limits."
"Of course it does. You think I'm going to insult you using your long dead great grandmother?"
Oliver was mock-offended. "What did you just say about my long dead great grandmother? How could you!"
Maho put on an innocent expression. "Don't forget about your very much long dead great great grandfather."
"Ohhhh it's personal now. I'll have you know my very much long dead great great grandfather was able to juggle five bowling pins at once. You hear me? Five. Possibly up to seven."
"Impressive, for back then."
"What are you implying? Are standards higher nowadays? Didn't realize standards for being impressive were subject to inflation too."
"No, it's still impressive now, but I think it's a bit more impressive, as skills such as that have been subjected to deflation."
"Words words words." Oliver narrowed his eyes at Maho. "Not like I see you juggling eight bowling pins."
"Well, I have a better use of my time, that does not involve juggling eight bowling pins."
"Annnnd now you've insulted my very much long dead great great grandfather once again. You're truly on a roll."
"Well, I do my best to insult any friends I have."
"So you admit we're friends?"
"I don't know. We've had tacos at midnight, and a meeting with a crazy revolutionary group that I don't quite completely know what to think about them."
"Mm yeah, that checks out. All I know is that both you and Sadie roast me as if I were a duck, so seems like you'd fit right in." Oliver stared into the night sky. There weren't many stars visible, probably because of light pollution. "I'm not entirely certain what to think either, but... well, sometimes change is a good thing."
"I don't know." She was quiet for a few seconds, also looking up to the night sky. "I've worked mostly alone. It will be a good sized change, and whether it's good or bad, I have yet to find out."
"Well, if you're in, I guess we'll find out together."
She looked at him, studying him. "I suppose we will. Just don't expect to be able to use someone else as a meat shield against my insults. And don't think you can get away with having no taste in food. Well, except in pasta. I can trust that you're an expert there."
Oliver looked like he was about to protest, until Maho mentioned pasta. Then he nodded in agreement. "I am indeed a pasta expert. Someday, I shall introduce you to the wonders of all the different varieties of alfredo pasta." He grinned at Maho.
"You better, and your research must be flawless." She grinned back.
"Of course. I'll carefully document every possible noodle, sauce, and topping combination."
"Good. I have yet to make a full, expert chef out of you. One that does not daydreams of burgers being pizzas."
"I thought imagination was a key ingredient of being a chef." A limousine pulled into the parking lot, its headlights sweeping across the two briefly.
"You're ride, I assume?" Maho said, squinting against the headlights.
"How'd you know?" Oliver waved at the driver. Felix nodded.
"It's a limousine. And you're right. His mustache does look like a dead fish."
"Tsk tsk. You've managed to insult two of my family members and my chauffeur, all in less than thirty minutes."
"Wait til I get to the rest of them." She smirked. "Get in and go home. I want to go home too."
Oliver gave an exaggerated salute. "Yes, ma'am. See you next time I crave midnight tacos." He strolled towards the limo, turning around one last time to give a cheery wave.
She waved back with a smile. Once he was in the limo, she started walking home. She had decisions to make.
I am the Timekeeper, Quote Hunter, and Grave Visitor
"Don't tell me the sky's the limit when there are footprints on the moon." — Paul Brandt
Oliver Wndermere Collabed with @JazzElectrobass any missing 'i's are due to Jazz
About a week after the Olive Garden meetup, Oliver felt a craving for mdnight tacos once more. Naturally, he sent a text to his official mdnght-tacos partner, the one and only Maho.
hey there, MahoTaco. can you guess what i'm thnking? He checked the clock. 11:35 pm. Plenty of time for her to respond. Or so he thought. He got no response after 15 minutes.
Maho. Mahooooooooooooo Oliver leaned back in his swivel chair. His roommate was currently traveling, so it was just him in the apartment. Still no response for 5 minutes. He tapped his fingers on the desk impatiently. He pressed the button to call.
"Yes?"
"Why didn't you respond to my texts? You're obviously still awake. I know you can't see me, but I'm pouting right now."
"What are you waiting for? You've got one minute to get here." He could hear her evil mischief tone of her voice.
Oliver was silent for a moment. Then he made an unholy screechng sound that he hoped caused Maho's ears a decent amount of pain and hung up, pulling on his jacket at the same time. No way she'd been quietly waiting at the taco place until one minute to midnight, just to pull this on him.
He called Felix, his chauffeur, as he flew out the door. Trusty Felix was outside in a matter of seconds (Oliver sometimes suspected he had the ability to teleport), and Oliver launched himself into the car.
A frenzied one minute and twenty seconds later, Oliver was entering the taco stand, just at midnight. He leaned over with his hands on his knees, huffing. Once he caught his breath, he looked up, directly at Maho, and glared with the fury of an envronmentalist seeing a perfectly good tray of tacos in the trash. "Why."
"My phone died." She replied nonchalantly, as if saying how well her day went.
"But you just called me."
"No, you called me."
"But you picked up."
"You had good timing with your calling." She replied.
"You..." Oliver paused, searching for a good insult. "You are such a basic taco for that."
"You're overcooked pasta." She shrugged and held up her phone, which was connected to a portable charger. The screen read 2%.
He gasped dramatically. "You wound me. And ohhh my. You also wound your phone. Clearly, you're not supposed to let it die completely. I'm tempted to hold a funeral for your poor, mistreated phone."
"As long as you pay for everything and I'm invited, go ahead. But if you must know, I was busy with, things today."
Oliver was about to make a retort, but then he stopped and leaned forward a little. "What kind of things?"
She maintained a look of nonchalance, but her eyes said watch your words and volume. "My side job."
Oliver nodded. "I see. What about the job I referred you to? Any thoughts on that?"
"I did a little research. You know, got to make sure I'm going to like doing my job."
"Understandable. And?"
"It's interesting."
Hm. A noncommittal, safe answer. Perhaps it'd be better to change the topic for now. "Also understandable," Oliver said, stepping towards the counter. "Shall we order tacos?"
"Already ordered." She smirked.
"Oh, excellent!"
"Yes, quite."
Soon enough, the tacos were ready. Oliver grinned and spun over towards the counter to pick them up. Then he paused. "Hey, Maho. You sure these are ours?" He looked up at the menu, then back down at the tacos. They were numbers eleven and nine.
"Yeah. I thought to change it up a little. I hate getting burnt out on good food."
"Can't relate. I could have alfredo pasta every day and still not get sick of it. But, well, when it comes to tacos, I must trust the ultmate taco gourmet, eh?" Oliver grinned as he spun the tray onto their table. It slid to a stop at the center, and Oliver took a seat, immensely satisfied. Maho looked impressed and also sat.
"So. Which one do I try first?"
"Pick your victim."
"Victim. Wow. Didn't know eating tacos was a crime." Regardless, Oliver picked up a number nine taco. It was warm and perfectly crispy and filled with barbacoa, avocado, beans, onions, and some parsley. He took a bit and practically melted. The savoriness of the meat and beans blended with the creamy freshness of the avocado and the crunch of the onion. The parsley added an extra kick to the taco, and the tortilla shell brought it all together in a little parcel of delciousness. "So good," he mumbled.
"I know how to choose, yeah?" She replied, eating the same one. There was still one of that kind left, since one plate came with three of them.
Oliver nodded, scarfed down the rest of his taco, then reached for a number eleven taco. This one had carnitas with a little char, tomato, and again parsley, avocado, and onion. The tomato made this taco even fresher than the other one, and the carnitas had a slightly smoky flavor. Oliver ate this one even faster than the number nine taco, if that was even possible.
"Alright, choose your last victim."
There was one of each kind of taco left. Oliver squinted at them, deep in thought. "Okay. On the one hand, the number nine taco is more balanced in terms of flavor, but the number eleven is more interesting, with a greater variety of notes of flavor... But what do I want the aftertaste to be? This is a vital choice. I must choose the right one for maximum satisfaction." He tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"Hurry up before you're in my rearview mirror."
Oliver rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Number eleven." He picked up his last taco and tried to slow down, savoring each bite. All too soon, it was gone. He sighed contentedly. Maho was still eating the number nine.
"That was delicious. And this is an understatement," Oliver said. "I can die happy now."
Maho laughed. "You'd actually die with your last meal as a taco?"
Oliver considered it for a moment. "Nah, alfredo pasta is still my favorite. But tacos are a close second."
"Glad you think that after our 4th meeting."
"Oh, you're keeping count?"
"Yes. Do you not make it past counting one?"
"Well, you see, counting is hard. I'm more of a words guy myself."
"I can count in 5 different languages." She shrugged.
"Okay, showoff. I can speak in four different languages. Fluent in three, learning a fourth."
"I excell in 2, pretty good with the other 3."
"Yeah? How do you say tacos in those languages?" She said all of them as "taco", but one of them wasn't quite a language. More like, gibberish.
Oliver narrowed his eyes at Maho. "So, what do you call that last 'language'?"
"It's called gibberish."
"Oh, so gibberish counts? I'm fluent in five, then. The other two are bsing while sounding confident in court and using sophisticated vocabulary to perplex opponents." Oliver crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow.
"Of course it counts." She mimicked him.
"Por supuesto que sÃ." Then Oliver took a breath and spoke rapidly. "I was flummoxed by fractious Franny's decision to abrogate analgesics for the moribund victims of the recent conflagration. Of course, to display histrionics was discretionary, but I did so anyways, implicating a friend in my drama to make the effect cumulative. I think a misanthrope would have a prosaic appellation, perhaps one related to autonomy and the rejection of anthropocentrism. I think they wouldn't think much of the prominence of watching the coagulation of tea to prognosticate future malevolent events, not even if those events were related to jurisprudence."
She replied in an Asian language. He was studying Korean, so he knew it wasn't that, but he wasn't sure what it was. Oliver held up his phone. "Say that again so Google Translate can get it?"
"Google translate won't be able to do anything. Cantonese is only a spoken language."
Oliver sat back. "Alright then. Can Maho Translate do something for the poor souls who don't understand Cantonese?"
"Nope!"
"Ouch. That's so cold that I just got frostbite." Oliver tsked in disappointment.
"You poor young man." She tsked.
Oliver tsked more intensely. Then he was once again reminded of the secondary reason he'd texted Maho (the first, obviously, was because he was craving midnight tacos). "Anyways, this poor young man is ready to hear your thoughts on that job offer, if you're ready to share them."
"How about we leave and continue our conversation while walking?" She stood up, not waiting for a response.
Oliver nodded and followed her out the door. The stars shone dimly above the lamps in the parking lot. She continued to walk along the sidewalk for a good minute. Oliver was tempted to fill the silence, but he glanced over at Maho's expression and decided against it. Probably best to wait until she said whatever was on her mind.
"It would be an interesting experience."
"Indeed." Oliver strolled along the sidewalk, his head tipped backwards to observe the stars. "Uncertainty and new movements do tend to spice up your life."
"I've always worked alone on something like this. It's nice to have access to more data, and to share thoughts. There's also a higher chance that sensitive information can leak."
"Yes, weighing pros and cons is a good idea. I've never been alone for more than the time it takes me to sleep, so I can't comment on that part. But I agree, we should probably be more careful about security." Oliver pulled down his beanie and stuffed his hands into his pockets. The night air was getting a little chilly.
"I don't know how many people are in this group. The more people there are the weaker the security. It especially counts when it comes to the kind of people, and who's choosing."
He nodded slowly. "It seems to be a small group for now, which means we could be the ones doing that choosing. Of course, I'm sure you could figure out who the other potental recruits are right now with your skills."
"I already did some digging on those two."
"Oh yeah? Spill the tea."
"Well, one was disowned at a young age and dances and the other is a computer programmer. Sad Shad is most likely a hacker, it would make sense. Did anything seem off when you first met them? Like they did research on you?"
"Yeah, I actually noticed them since Elias was staring at me. I know I'm a very cool person and all, but it wasn't just my natural scintillating self that caught their attention, apparently-- they mentioned something about me being the one."
She hummed, the gears in her brain obviously moving. "Yeah, so it makes sense."
"Sad Shad the shady hacker and Elias the dancer? Almost a rhyme." Oliver smiled. "As for anything else seeming off, well, you've seen the chaos we cause. Depends on your definition of 'off', I suppose. And don't say 'not on.'"
"At least she seems to know not to get a basic cheese taco."
Oliver scoffed. "Wow. So you're saying I'm off?"
"Well that wasn't the point I was focusing on."
Oliver bit back a smile. "Fair enough. Care to elucidate which point you were focusing on?" A few cars drove past on the nearby road, their lights streaking across his vision.
"I'm saying that I'd consider it to be endlessly amusing to have someone else with me to ruthlessly tease you."
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, clearly the most important point to consider when joining a revolution: whether the other members will join you in teasing your silly-but-one-hundred-and-ten-percent-fabulous friend."
"Yes I do consider it to be important. If I'm going to work with someone I want to be able to get along with them. Not somewhat get along, I mean get along."
"Fair enough. And would you say you get along with me, Elegant Elias, and Sad Shad?"
"Well Elegant Elias didn't talk much, and if he's leader we're screwed. Sad Shad's decent, and admittedly we do have a good amount in common. As for you, I don't know." She squinted.
Oliver scoffed incredulously. "Why, I'm positively offended! We've had tacos together not one, but two times! You must have a good judge of my charismatic character by now. Midnight tacos are, like, a shortcut to bonding."
"Alright! If I have to, I'd say you're a pretty interesting but good friend. If I have to." She smirked.
"Oh my god, an actual compliment from Maho? Never thought I'd see the day." Oliver whooped. "I'd say the same for you, by the way. And you have impeccable taste in tacos. Unlike a certain someone, I'm not stingy with compliments."
"Hey, I don't just dole out meaningless compliments."
"They're not meaningless. You do apparently dole out meaningless insults, though."
"Please." She snorted. "Nothing I do is meaningless."
"Okay, Meaningful Maho." Oliver lapsed into silence for a few seconds, then spoke up again, in a more thoughtful tone this time. "I think I'll give them a chance. They're entertaining, and I am curious about Elias's fabled whiteboard. Plus, if this thing flops, I can bribe my way out of the aftermath."
"Well then, Over-exaggerated Oliver, you better get me out of it too to the best of your ability."
Oliver raised his eyebrows. "Really. Over-exaggerated. I'll have you know I use the perfect amount of exaggeration to spice up stories."
"Would you rather me call you Oafish?"
"You know, these insults aren't doing anything to raise the chances of me bailing you out."
"Well you'll be dealing with them until we part."
"Ugh. Fine." He rolled his eyes. She just smiled. Oliver continued, "Speaking of parting, it's currently one am and this opposite-of-oaf has classes today."
"Alright Exaggerated Ollie. I have training today too so, getting home would be a good idea."
"See ya, Missing-Marbles Maho!" Oliver sent a quick text to Felix.
"After while, Oblivious and Oddball Ollie."
"Farewell, Moldy Margarine Maho." Felix pulled up quietly, and Oliver ducked into the car.
"Until we meet again, Rotting Orange Ollie." She saluted.
Oliver mouthed, "I can't hear you" and waved cheerily at Maho, who walked off into the night. He grinned as Felix drove off.
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