one fairy, one fish (Jonie)

[TANYA NIEBIESKI]

All her life, Tanya had dreamed of working at four-fifty an hour. When she was little, all she’d wanted was to be on her feet all day, carrying trays back and forth, back and forth from the kitchen to the tables to the booths to the counter to the customers. As a young girl, she’d think wistfully of all the fun waitresses must have had, all that talking with strangers they did and how exciting it had to be, to talk to so many people in one day, even if it was just about the same missing ingredient or the daily special. Never, not for one single day in the entirety of her existence had Tanya Niebineski ever dreamed of being anything but a waitress at a sushi bar in New York City, scraping by with under minimum wage pay under the pretense that “tips will make up for it, if you work hard enough.”

Now, Tanya may have been known for her hypersensitive (and occasionally inaccurate) bullshit detector, but she prided herself in knowing she hadn’t gotten this one wrong. Not even a little. Four-fifty was not worth reeking of fish for the next two showers after a ten hour shift, nor was it worth the spitting children or pissy adults that somehow managed to blame her, who clearly never went anywhere near the grill or the broiler or the sushi assembly line, for how their food was over, under, or lukewarmly cooked. Certainly, it wasn’t worth the sore feet (though occasionally she could persuade Jonie to remedy those) or the knots in her back or the grouchy mood it so faithfully managed to put her in. Honestly, just about the only thing that was worth the four-fifty was Jonie, and God knew he was also worth a hell of a lot more than that.

She’d taken the damn job because of him. No way in hell would she ever let the kid (though they were both well past the age of eighteen, she firmly believed the title “kid” to fully apply to her best friend, if not them both) unsupervised near steak knives and cleaning supplies for extended periods of time. Though her best friend came with no warning label, Tanya had managed to make up her own mental one over the years and had stuck with its guidelines quite remarkably, all things considered.

Suffice to say she loved him. And quite honestly, he’d probably have been fired by now, if not for her. Or broke. Or both.

Thusfar today had passed four hours of Deepwater Hell, as she endearingly called her current place of employment, and thus is was time for a well-earned break. Thankful as ever to have worked here long enough to (nicely) boss around some of the younger employees, she hurriedly called for a vapid little blonde named Meghan to cover her table while she went out back, though chances were the customers wouldn’t need anything for at least another twenty minutes. Slightly sickening men of the clearly heterosexual sort, Tanya had flirted with them just long enough to seal a good tip before making a momentary break for it, knowing full well flat-chested, natural-haired little Meghan was nowhere near their type.

She found Jonie right where she thought she would—in the back, in the corner, dead to the world as he unloaded a fresh bin of dirty silverware. Poking him sharply between his shoulder blades, her voice carried the same playfully sarcastic, loving tone that was unique to when she spoke with him. “ Yo, Turdbutt,” she prodded again, using whatever moderately insulting nickname popped into her head first. Clearly she was tired, however, as there were no obscenities involved. “C’mon, it’s time for fresh alley air. Dishes’ll be here when you get back…”

With that she grinned, pushing past him and out the “Employees Only” exit into the slightly rank smell of the back of the restaurant, knowing he’d follow. Without waiting to be sure he had, Tanya produced both a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her pocket. It was more of a habit than an addiction—in fact, Tanya only ever managed to keep about two Camels on her person at a time, and never seemed at all peeved when she found she’d run out. She didn’t need cigarettes—she liked them, much like children like teddy bears to hold during long thunderstorms. Shaking out a little white-rolled paper, she lit the end after placing it in her mouth, leaning back against the Fishbowl’s hard brick wall as she took a drag, eyes closing a little before exhaling softly through her nose.


ooc: Yay fist Tanya post! Let me know if you want anything edited/changed/whatever.

[JONAH CETACEO]

Jonah would have been fired within the first twenty minutes had Tanya Niebieski not been so keen on saving his ass constantly. He knew it, she knew it, the manager knew it. In fact, Jonie's one saving grace might be how badly the manager wanted to take Tanya out on the town and-more directly- to his bedroom. Over Jonie's dead body. He had no claim to her, but she could do a hell of a lot better than a fish slinging weirdo. And Jonah Cetaceo had told him as much. Annnd that's probably why he was still just a lowly busboy.

It was a thankless job that involved a whole lot of mumbling how much he hated his life under his breath. Though, free sushi was a plus. It was one of the few things he was not allergic to, in fact. So he took a bite here and there, and put up with the painfully low amount he made and the clinging smell of fish. He sat behind the sink, scowling deeply at the mess of forks and spoons and knives. Jonah could see them through the wholes in the bubbles. They were sitting in the bottom, food debris clinging to them, some floating to the surface. Like a sunken ship, forgotten by time. Castaway by nature, which man cannot-

He felt the poke to his rib, and winced, saving an eye roll at the childish name she called him. Turdbutt? Really? Still, any lingering irritation was wiped away by the glorious sound of a break. Of course, there was no fresh air in New York City. The populace would probably panic if the thick layer of smog wasn't there to shield them from the sun. Speaking of smog, there went Tanya, lighting up a cigarette.

Now, Jonie generally had a live and let live personality when it came to what people put in his body. The track marks lazily covered with concealer on his arm were perfect proof of that. But he had a great distaste for anything that formed smoke. It bothered him, his severe asthma quivered in protest every time he was within a foot of it. With most people, he kept his distance, but he didn't need to have such manners with Tanya. With a quick hand, he put it out.

"Those things are gross, Tanya." He announced, leaning against the red brick. She could certainly tell him about all the gross stuff he does. Random sex with strangers on his up and up days, not showering for a week on his down ones. Today, luckily, was a flat day. "How you doin on tips today, Tits McGee?" He grinned, deciding to change the subject.

"Gonna buy me some drinks tonight?" He was a handsome boy with a handsome smile. Big white teeth, unruly brown hair tangled under his cap, broad shoulders, and a lean and tall frame. If he worked his big, muddy, brown eyes at Tanya enough, she was a puddle of blue haired butter to his hotness. "Only fair, with it bein ladies night. B'sides. Guys will be buyin you drinks all night, with that new colour on you. Looks nice." He would have made a good boyfriend, had his inclinations been so. He remembered things, was fairly honest. Sure, he had a few problems. Many... Many problems. It really wasn't fair that he flirted with her as he did, was attentive as he was, laid his head on her lap when he wanted to be close. But Tanya was cool... She knew what was what, and they just weren't what was what. End of story.

Outfit:: Outfit of a Jonie!

[TANYA NIEBIESKI]

Tanya knew she should be a bit more considerate. It was obvious enough why Jonie didn’t like her smoking, just as it was obvious enough why she didn’t like his drugs or his drinking or his skeevy stranger sex or his weeks without showering or most of anything he did, really, that didn’t involve just the two of them hanging out on their own, as friends, like they were supposed to. All that other stuff was gross. And unhealthy, and it would probably kill him one day.

Oh, hypocrisy. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t live for it on occasion.

Frowning only slightly as the cigarette was snatched from her, Tanya scrunched her face a little in Jonah’s direction, silently letting him know exactly how she felt about his taking of her toy. Had she been feeling exceptionally bitchy, or had she been exceedingly mad at him about something or another, no doubt she would have just flipped out another right there and lit it up again, just out of arm’s reach. But she wasn’t. So she didn’t. And besides, the asthma wasn’t something to play with. She was mean and snarky and pissy on occasion, but not cruel.

She laughed, the cigarette incident already so far behind her she’d forgotten about it. “Oh, shut up. They’re not that bad…” A small glance down at her own chest confirmed that they were, in fact, that bad, and she made a little noise somewhere between a squeak and a sigh as she pulled her shirt up to remedy the problem. There was a time when she would have blushed at a comment like that from Jonie. Now, as it was, she ignored them as passing side notes. They didn’t matter—not really, because he wasn’t interested—and anyway, there were a hell of a lot cleverer things to call someone than “Tits McGee.” She wasn’t interested in Jonah anymore. She wasn’t sixteen.

“No. Absolutely not,” she shook her head at him, voice firm despite the smile on her face. “I’m not cleaning up your puke twice in one month, and I’m definitely not spending my tip money to do it. You’ve got a job. You can buy your own damn drinks.” God knew she’d end up paying for his anyhow, but she could deal with that later, when it actually happened.

Feeling the tiniest bit like all the teenage girls she’d gone out of her way to avoid while actually in high school, Tanya rolled her eyes both at her best friend and the sudden, protesting flutter in her stomach. She twirled a lock of her new, vibrant blue hair between her fingers and lowered her gaze demurely before looking back up at him, fluttering her lashes with the sort of obnoxious fury that could only indicate she was apparently trying to seduce him as comically as possible.

“You really think so…?” there was a lightness to her voice, put there for the sake of the act in partnership with the slightly teasing way in which she nibbled the corner of her lip. And then, just like that, the act broke. She dropped the piece of hair she’d been twirling and stared flatly at him, shaking her head, though clearly amused with herself. “Nice try. I’ll take my free drinks, you’ll pay for yours. Kapeesh?”

[JONAH CETACEO]

In a lot of ways, Tanya was a lot like a parent. She'd make a good mom, shocking blue hair not withstanding. Tanya would come and clean his house, she'd nurse him til he was well so that he wouldn't die, she'd bring him food stuff. Again with the not dying thing. When things got weird- when he was depressed and lonely and needing to feel loved from SOMEONE (even someone with an inny and not an outy, if you catch the drift)- she'd never comment on it later. It was just accepted as a piece of Jonah. He was loved for what he was. Nothing more, nothing less. Certainly inabled, but breathing.

In a perfect world, Jonie would marry Tanya. Though, in that perfect world, they'd probably kill each other. That's exactly would happen in the real world, which was in no way perfect.

If only, if only, the woodpecker sighed.

"You don't know if I'd ralph or not. I mean, hell, I'm asking for a drink or two, not a keg or two. Trust the tolerance." He patted his gut, grinning lazily. It was true, his tolerance was something usually reserved for an Irish dock worker. Probably having something with his extremely unhealthy self medication of booze since the wee age of thirteen. No guarantees, but a strong probability. Anyway, he wasn't expecting her to give in on the drinks than she was expecting him to straighten out his bumpin meter. But banter was a crucial aspect of their relationship. Like some sort of socialized animal that just had to dick around with each other, see who's top boss for the next five minutes. Like... dolphins. Dolphins are dicks.

"You know what they say about stinginess, Tanie? A rich man who is stingy is the worst pauper. That'd be you." With a lazy yawn, he stretched out his arms. "So, if that's what you want to be, than don't get me a drink. What time do you get outta here anyway, I think my shift ends in... like, twenty." He was anxious to get out of here, anxious to go and play. If this was the ant and the grasshopper, he'd be the grasshopper. Except he'd be the grasshopper who has a Ma who will pay the difference in his rent if he plays a bit too much.

[TANYA NIEBIESKI]

In a lot of ways, Tanya led a pathetically routine lifestyle for someone with hair as eccentrically styled as her own. There as a lot of cleaning involved. A lot of cleaning. Mostly of Jonie. His apartment, his life (though those attempts usually didn’t end well) and luckily, thusfar, none of him personally. She loved her best friend dearly, but had really never seen the appeal in giving a loved one a sponge bath. She would, though, if he needed one. It was just the way things were.

“Oh, see, I trust your tolerance just fine,” she nodded, smiling slightly as he patted his stomach, though the truth of the matter was that she oftentimes wished he had none at all. Then again, maybe not. He’d probably have killed himself by now if it was even marginally lower. She pretty much lived to make sure that didn’t happen. “It’s my wallet I’m worried about. You give a mouse a cookie…” she trailed off with a shrug, well aware that she’d buy him a drink or two by the time the evening was up, and chances were a few more by the time morning had rolled around. She’d never been much good at standing up to him. Loved him too much, maybe. It hurt, sometimes.

She stared at him for a moment, dark eyebrows raising as she blinked, tone flat. “That’s profound, really. I’m…you wound me.”

For a brief moment, she watched him stretch. It was more habit than anything, she told herself, watching his every move without knowing it as only best friends could. Still…Jonie, for all his faults, was far more attractive now than he’d ever been at fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, or seventeen. Not that she liked him that way. She’d never. Not after everything that had happened and everything he was going through. The kissing that happened on occasion was…well, it was meaningless. She knew it. He…well, he knew it too. She wasn’t even his type—about as far from it as one could get, really. But he needed it sometimes, she supposed, when he was feeling particularly bad about life, and if she could help him feel a bit better about it, she would, never mind how awful it made her feel afterwards, when she went home thinking about it, his lips and his chest and the smell of his hair. She didn’t do that. It’d be completely pointless.

At the mention of shifts ending, Tanya shrugged. “Soon. I’m clocking out after Sideshow Bob—” she poked her thumb back over her shoulder so as it indicate the slightly scummy man she’d been expertly working for tips mere minutes before. One could only pray the reward would come soon. “Why?” she asked, casually curious, “You got somewhere special you wanna go?”