"We Have The Best Intentions, Don't We?" She Agreed With A Giggle. "Keep Things Exciting." She Wasn't

"They are," Leyla assured, "I've sampled them all myself before putting them on the menu, so you can't go wrong." She was leaving nothing to chance, putting her whole being into making this concept work. There were a couple of bars in the area, so she had competition but no one was doing exactly what she was doing. They might have non-alcoholic options, though. That's why she had to work extra hard to make her place stand out as something special. "Great choice!" She replied, beaming, "I leave that menu then." As she began to make the drink herself, she decided she should probably strike up a conversation like any other bartender would do. What would Sam Malone do? "So what do you do?"

"They all sound kinda good," Che said, eyeing up the menu. He'd often spend time like this at bars with alcoholic beverages, but it was early and it was a work night and he was trying not to be the worst. "Go with the strawberry basil one, then." He smiled over at Leyla. "And then maybe something more smoothie-like afterwards for my second drink."

She knew he never meant to, and that just made it worse. He loved love, which had once been something she herself had loved about him. When you were his moment, it was the most intoxicating thing in the world because you were everything. But that's the thing about moments, there's always another right after it. They're fleeting. She'd never been more loved than that time Vitus had loved her, but she had also never had the kind of pain the end brought. She had tried to hurt him back, make him feel what she was feeling, but by the look on his face, he was still the same. It hadn't deterred him from doing it again and again, still chasing love like another high. In actuality, that's all it was by Leyla's estimation.

"Don't." She replied, a mix of malice and flicker of that old brokenness, "you don't get to talk about what I deserve." Because no matter how much she had wanted him to know that she made it, she didn't want to need anything from him. Not now. Everyone in town saw the end result, the polished version she spent decades perfecting. He knew, though, knew what she didn't want anyone to know: it had been a messy, twisted journey, and there had almost been no Leyla Tehrani left to open Mawk Tales at all.

They were both really fucked up, back then and probably still now. She still said mean things like she knew how to hurt him, as if his life had been happy and hers alone had not, but they both knew that wasn't true. He'd had plenty ripped away from him in the blink of an eye. It just still didn't give him the right to be reckless with others. His silence said he knew that.

"I know I am," she replied, once again wishing he wasn't being kind about it. "Then what would it have taken? I spent so much time playing it all back in my head, and--I know I wasn't perfect. I was a lot of work, but I loved you as best I knew how--I couldn't love myself, but you--you were easy to love. If love is really some beautiful and powerful thing, why wasn't that enough to stop you? Did you just want more?" For all the therapy she'd received, this is the one wound she wouldn't let anyone in to see, so it was the one that could re-open so easily. She wanted to pull him close and drown him in the nearby ocean all at the same time, with the same fire. He didn't have any right to ask, and after what he'd done, part of her still wanted the same punishment for him: to never know the answer to those questions. "--Eating? Yes," she relented, "okay might be a totally different question altogether. It doesn't go away, but I've been seeing Dr. Lane at the community center. Keeps me on top of things. But what's still broken in me, Vitus, you cannot fix." She took a breath, lip wobbling in a way that made her curse herself. He could still get right through, and it just made her want to push harder to close right back up. No one was allowed this close, not anymore. He looked better, still sad behind the eyes, but physically, he seemed okay. She wasn't ready to ask yet about him. "I know I said I wanted you to always be miserable, but it doesn't actually make me feel better to see you like this. Love's not real, stop chasing it."

Another agonized wince, as Leyla sliced deeper. But she said it without anger this time. Just laid the truth at his feet, left it there for him to take back, because it wasn't hers anymore and never would be again. And she was right; he'd done his damage. He'd done it over and over, winding lovers and friends around his hands and then spinning them loose repeatedly. Never with the intent to harm, but what difference did it make when harm was all he seemed to be capable of sometimes? Too choked to answer her question directly, Vitus let the remorse in his expression be his response.

And as she spoke of her business, the quaint atmosphere she'd cultivated for herself, Vitus's empathy leaked into his eyes. He tried to rein it in without much success. "That's fantastic, Leyla. Nobody deserves it more than you," he said, and he meant it. Because he remembered how hard she worked for it. How her constant battle for control had left her bone-brittle and frail, on the brink of fracture between his arms.

He did know what it was like, to go to bed happy and have his life turned upside down in the matter of a single day. He'd fallen asleep that fateful November in 2005 as a son, a love-drunk kid, a boyfriend. By the end of the next night, he'd been reduced to a barren street corner and a duffle bag that smelled like a home he no longer had. But he'd never told her that. Vitus had told her about his parents and his homelessness, of course; hers had been the arms he'd retreated to when he finally got that phone call from his mother, saying she wanted to reconnect. But Leyla had only poked around the edges of his wounds, never seen what they looked like when they were bloody and raw. He almost never shared his hurt with anyone back then. And he wouldn't share it with her now. Couldn't, not when he'd already forced her to hold far too much of it when he abruptly exited her life.

"I know. And you're right to. Hate me, I mean." It stung to admit that, especially as he continued picking through the rubble of their short-lived time together. "But it wasn't... Leyla," he sighed, as if exhaling her name could help alleviate some of the weight that had settled over his torso, threatening to cave his ribs in. "It wasn't because you weren't enough. It was never that. It was about me. It's always me." She hadn't believed him back then, and he had no idea if she would believe him now. The animal caged in his chest howled, screamed, wailed for something just out of reach. Vitus wanted to let it out, wanted to show it to her. As it was, he just sighed again and raked his hands through his hair. The ocean breeze almost swallowed his voice as he added, "I know I don't have any right to ask, but are you okay? I mean, have you been... how are you doing, these days?"

"It is! Once I'm done, I'm happy to let you borrow it if you would like," she offered, "even if you don't own your own business, I think any woman can benefit from some of the lessons." Anything female empowerment should be shared in Leyla's opinion. "Aren't those quite spicy or is the show overselling? I would think that's very exciting," she quipped.

"Oh, that sounds interesting," she commented. She loved anything about empowerment and that sort of thing, and loved how readily available. "That's very bold of you. I'm reading through the Bridgerton books, not very exciting at all, but I enjoy it for what it is."

"Thanks," Leyla murmured, so maybe she didn't give him enough credit on the customer service front. As soon as the question left her mouth, though, she was sure it was a stupid question. Maybe she was more talking herself into it. There was a time in her life when she could barely keep herself alive, so the idea of caring for a living animal all on her own was daunting. However, she supposed she wasn't alone. Like with Darrius's dogs, they all cared for them. "I imagine it's hard to be here every day and not at least take one home with you. What's your cat's name?"

Ever since Chandler's trip to Mock Tales, he noticed whenever the owner came into his cafe. This was only due to the fact he'd been watching her to make sure she didn't realize he was drinking at a sober bar, but she didn't need to know that detail. Honestly, he couldn't remember her name but he did remember her drink order and before she even approached him, he was already working the espresso machine. He nodded to her in greeting, but didn't say anything until she ordered. "I'm on it." He confirmed, then turned his attention more to her when she said she had a stupid question. There's no such thing as a stupid question was the customer service response, but he was too busy wondering just how idiotic her question would be. Pretty dumb, he decided. They did have the name of the shelter shown in a few places around the cafe, but when it came to someone being interested in adopting one of these kittens he wasn't going to be mean and possibly discourage them. "Yeah, all of them. We work with a local shelter to find homes for them. I adopted my cat from here, actually."

Leyla knew there had been a concert about a month ago, but she hadn't gone. The idea of really being part of the town, opening herself up to people again, it sort of scared her. It was much easier to do it all in the context of work. Still, she had seen the posters and thought she remembered seeing his face in one somewhere. "Do you mind if we talk a little business then?" She asked, "because I want to put on some events in the bar, and I thought live music would be a great option. I know you're more of a...louder band, but do you ever perform any acoustic sets?"

"Thanks!" he offered up a warm smile as she began working on his drinks. At the question of being in a band, he confirmed with a nod. He wasn't entirely sure which band she was referring to, but he could probably safely assume she wasn't a devoted fan of any sort and just had heard around town. "I am, yeah."

"I've heard that about pregnancy," Leyla said, "but I can't say I blame you on the French Toast. I don't have the biggest sweet tooth, but I will cave for some of that, especially with a raspberry compote on top."

It was important to her that everyone have a place where they can feel safe. Though it seemed like the small town provided a lot of that already, she still wanted to be adding to that, not taking away. "Exactly, depending on what I'm looking for in a day, and I'm always trying to create new flavors and ideas. After seeing how much the town loves a bonfire, I'm hoping to create something that tastes like s'more."

"I don't know if it's really weird, but my sweet tooth has gotten much worse since," Alice giggled. "So I always want something like ice cream at random hours of the day. I don't know how much of that would be considered to be normal," she grinned. "Well, last week I really wanted some French Toast after dinner..."

Alice smiled. She knew that different people had different reasons for not drinking, and she could respect that. And when she was younger, she could have used that thinking as well. If there were more places like Mawk Tales, she'd probably still have had a lot of fun. She nodded, listening to Leyla list off her different favorite drinks. "Understandable. I get that completely. So you'd say that you'd probably have a different favorite everyday? Nothing wrong with some variety!"

I don't think I'm meant for this world It wants me straight, but I huddle up and curl But I don't want to give up the fight It's black or white, it's wrong or right, and I am just a girl

Is it too late? For me? How will I be remembered when I leave?

Leyla knew it. Though not the world's best judge of character, she was pretty confident in her guess this time. "I thought of making a Pumpkin Spice mocktail, but I worried I'd be too cliche, so I settled for Autumn Spice and Pumpkin Pie as separate beings. Maybe I should reconsider?" She smiled brightly at the woman's selections, "no drink minimums here. The only cutoff is closing time, and even then, I'm flexible." As she started on her drink, she asked, "did you enjoy Creek Fest? I've never seen people so invested in town activities like they are here. I mean, New York events were busy, of course, but it's just a different energy if that makes sense."

Grinning widely at Leyla's assessment, Nari nodded her head eagerly. "I am a girl who loves a seasonal specialty. Which is me admitting to be one of those pumpkin spice latte people," first day that Cobblestone broke out the fall menu, Nari was in line. And if Maw Tales was going to have a good drink to make her think of falling leaves and jack-o-lanterns, golden sunsets and brisk walks in the morning, then she was going to tae it. "How about…" she licked her lips thoughtfully. "Let's go with the Autumn Spice first, and then I'll try the Pumpkin Pie Martini mocktail next? No rule that says I can't have the best of both worlds, right?"

See, solved your problem. Kevin with the chili, Bob Vance, Vance Refrigeration, Identity Theft!Jim, the possibilities are pretty endless. Oh, that's a tough one...Dwight, probably, or Stanley. Who's yours? You just get a bunch of friends to do it with you, all as various characters, and you'll win all the costume contests as a group. I mean, you could, but I think that's cannibalism, so your costume might have to be classified as horror.

I do love the Office. That’s always been one of my biggest comfort shows to watch when I need a fast pick-me-up. Who’s your favorite character in the show? I can’t be the only one going as someone from the Office, though. I’d be out of place. Ooh, that is quite the idea. Not sure how I’d dress like a strawberry banana smoothie. Can I be a banana drinking a strawberry/banana smoothie?