[ it's almost becoming—charming, Caleb thinks as he watches her test out the bed, how she keeps mimicking him. How she's so curious about the most ordinary things. Other mermaids can't be like her, can they? That is, assuming there are others. If she was the only one of her kind, that'd go a long way toward explaining how unprepared she seems for her "journey."
He's about to ask when she—no, her stomach—makes a noise. The universal sign of hunger. And then his own rumbles as if in response. Caleb gives a short laugh and shakes his head. ]
Reckon it's hungry work gettin' used to a whole new world. [ for both of them—but her especially, tossed around by that storm after swimming for who knows how many hours. He takes out his phone—the battered casing and cracked screen fitting in perfectly with his scarred hands—and unlocks it with a long, quickly entered string of numbers. ] All right, let's see what this town's got to offer.
[ yet when he pulls up Google, he pauses. What do mermaids eat anyways? Fish? That's not an option this late at night. Maybe if they were in a bigger town, but this one isn't much more than a dot on the map. The kind of place that goes dark as soon as the sun sets, no chain restaurants or supermarkets still spilling light out onto the deserted streets. There's just the one mom-and-pop grocery store/pharmacy he got the first-aid supplies from, and—
Caleb stands and walks to the desk. After a minute's rummaging, he turns away, empty-handed, and goes back to the bed. He finds what he's looking for in the nightstand beside it: an ad for the pizzeria ( PizzaWhat! ) he remembers passing this afternoon on his way here, tucked underneath the obligatory Bible. Still open for another 30 minutes, assuming the hours listed are current. He could drive over there himself, but leaving Zarina alone isn't something he wants to do now that she's awake and wondering.
He lays the ad down near her for her to look over while he dials the pizzeria's number. A weary voice answers, and he gives his order quickly. There's a pause before it's read back to him. So that's a small with olives and double anchovies, and three bottled waters, but... you want the anchovies separate? ]
Yeah. [ Sir, I don't think I'm allowed to do that. ] You're tellin' me you ain't the only person still workin' there this close to closin'? [ Um, no—I-I mean, yes, I am, but— ] Then you can. Just bring over the tin, and I'll pay the same as if you opened it and laid 'em all neatly out for me. Hell, I'll even tip you extra. [ That's—I appreciate it, sir, but even if I'm the only one here, there's still rules I have to follow. ] Look—I ain't goin' to call back tomorrow and complain about you to your manager, lad. A—friend's visitin', and she's a little particular about how she likes her pizza. You'd be doin' me a favor.
[ another pause. Okay, the voice says, resigned. It'll be ready in 15 minutes. Can I get your address?
Caleb gives the address of the motel with his room number, then hangs up and slips the phone back in his pocket. ]
It'll be here soon. [ he glances at her. ] Ever had human food before?
no subject
He's about to ask when she—no, her stomach—makes a noise. The universal sign of hunger. And then his own rumbles as if in response. Caleb gives a short laugh and shakes his head. ]
Reckon it's hungry work gettin' used to a whole new world. [ for both of them—but her especially, tossed around by that storm after swimming for who knows how many hours. He takes out his phone—the battered casing and cracked screen fitting in perfectly with his scarred hands—and unlocks it with a long, quickly entered string of numbers. ] All right, let's see what this town's got to offer.
[ yet when he pulls up Google, he pauses. What do mermaids eat anyways? Fish? That's not an option this late at night. Maybe if they were in a bigger town, but this one isn't much more than a dot on the map. The kind of place that goes dark as soon as the sun sets, no chain restaurants or supermarkets still spilling light out onto the deserted streets. There's just the one mom-and-pop grocery store/pharmacy he got the first-aid supplies from, and—
Caleb stands and walks to the desk. After a minute's rummaging, he turns away, empty-handed, and goes back to the bed. He finds what he's looking for in the nightstand beside it: an ad for the pizzeria ( PizzaWhat! ) he remembers passing this afternoon on his way here, tucked underneath the obligatory Bible. Still open for another 30 minutes, assuming the hours listed are current. He could drive over there himself, but leaving Zarina alone isn't something he wants to do now that she's awake and wondering.
He lays the ad down near her for her to look over while he dials the pizzeria's number. A weary voice answers, and he gives his order quickly. There's a pause before it's read back to him. So that's a small with olives and double anchovies, and three bottled waters, but... you want the anchovies separate? ]
Yeah. [ Sir, I don't think I'm allowed to do that. ] You're tellin' me you ain't the only person still workin' there this close to closin'? [ Um, no—I-I mean, yes, I am, but— ] Then you can. Just bring over the tin, and I'll pay the same as if you opened it and laid 'em all neatly out for me. Hell, I'll even tip you extra. [ That's—I appreciate it, sir, but even if I'm the only one here, there's still rules I have to follow. ] Look—I ain't goin' to call back tomorrow and complain about you to your manager, lad. A—friend's visitin', and she's a little particular about how she likes her pizza. You'd be doin' me a favor.
[ another pause. Okay, the voice says, resigned. It'll be ready in 15 minutes. Can I get your address?
Caleb gives the address of the motel with his room number, then hangs up and slips the phone back in his pocket. ]
It'll be here soon. [ he glances at her. ] Ever had human food before?