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 Posted: Thu Oct 20, 2011 4:17 pm
The rap on the door was firm, but playful, a familiar beat to the older woman used to receiving packages from one delivery girl in particular. Said girl held a large box under one arm, propped against her hip, as she waited for the front door to open.
Kess Reever didn't have 'favorites,' per say, but the Glaipon residence was a preferred stop of hers. They both cut hair [although Marie did it for a living], and, well...
The moment the door opened, the lanky blonde took a deep breath, a grin flashed onto her freckled face. "Smells good, Miss Marie!"
The great food didn't hurt.
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Posted: Mon Oct 24, 2011 12:09 pm
When Marie first met Kess, Marie had been cooking, as was often the case. She was pleased to find that Kess was not only friendly, but willing - happy even - to indulge Marie's desire to feed her. A discussion and plate of jambalaya later, Marie had decided that she had a new friend. Since then, Marie usually "just so happened" to be cooking whenever she thought Kess might show up.
" Ya' got good timing, I just finished fixin' some shrimp étouffée! Come on in, come in git ya' some."
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Posted: Sat Nov 05, 2011 1:21 pm
"Yes," It was a low, guttural sort of sound, accompanied by a fist pump. She was sure that Marie must track her packages, and arrange for the food to be done when Kess would show up, but hey, it wasn't as if she minded.
Of course, she had no idea what Marie had cooked, and well, she rarely cared. Even if it looked funny, it always tasted good, and the blonde was quick to shovel it into her wide mouth.
The box, which held beauty supplies, was placed on the counter, and Kess wandered to the kitchen sink with some familiarity, scrubbing her hand while she looked over the freshly prepared food.
"Y'really should open up a place, Marie."
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Posted: Thu Nov 10, 2011 12:30 pm
Marie was, for the most part, pretty bad with technology, but she had figured out how to track her packages. It had been necessary back in New Orleans, especially after Hurricane Katrina.
" Open a restaurant? Nuh-uh, not me." Marie flapped a hand as if to wave away the idea. " Runnin' a business like dat makes ya' worry, and worryin' ain't good for da soul. Nope, I'm happy like dis."
Plates were retreived from cabinets, eating utensils appeared, and fresh homemade lemonade was poured, all in what seemed like a seamless whirl of movement from Marie.
" So what you been up to lately? Anythin' exciting?"
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