Indira's mouth watered as she studied the menu in front of her. So many interesting-looking flavours... Ice cream was a great way to celebrate things, and boy did she have something to celebrate!

Indira held herself back from doing a victory boogie in the middle of the queue. She'd been hired at the School for Gifted Youngsters! Her work visa application was wending its way through the bureaucracy, but her father and the School both had contacts in Immigration and they were quietly fast-tracking it. She still didn't feel quite comfortable staying long-term in the U.S., but at least now she'd be in the company of others like- ...others who'd be at risk.

She'd finished moving into a room in the Mansion just a few days before - the hotel had been truly awesome, and she was still deeply touched that her parents had been willing to pay for her vacation, but she didn't feel right continuing to rack up their bills when she could get free room and board (!) with her job.

Today had been Indira's first full day. A ten-year-old Mexican boy had come in and cheerfully enlisted her help on a book report. His mood seemed indefatigable, despite his shaky English and the tendency for his hair to start smouldering when he concentrated too deeply on his work.

Indira had this problem... she couldn't stop smiling.

Someone behind her cleared their throat and she realised it was her turn at the counter.

"Uh, hi, could I get a... a banana split with a scoop of the almond cookie and... Ooh, I'll go out on a limb and try a scoop of the pandan? I don't know what that is, but it sounds good."

The employee at the till assured Indira she'd enjoy the ice cream as he rang the bill through. Indira grabbed her delicious-looking two-scoop banana split and made her way to a table. It was really busy today; she snagged the last free table. She hoped no one skeezy tried to sit with her.

'Damnit, a queue. A hot day like this, all I want is some ice cream. Whats taking so long?' Domingo had just burst through the door of the quaint little Chinatown Ice Cream Factory, after he'd been in the vicinity looking for a comic book store, he thought he'd stop by and try some of their famous chocolate chip variety. He tried to hide his impatience, an older lady of about 70-odd was in front of him in the queue and he didn't want to look like a spolit kid who couldn't get his own way.

Getting served at the moment, and choosing what seemed to be random varieties mixed together, was an average-height young woman of Asian descent. She seemed to be as excited as Domingo had been about the prospect of ice cream, and the eighteen year old Spaniard stared longingly and green with envy as she paid and strolled over to the last available table in the place, licking her ice cream with a broad smile like the cat who got the (ice) cream.

Eventually, the old lady in front was getting served. Well, not served entirely. More like asking what each and every flavour tasted like. With each description, she'd groan as it didn't suit her obvious unsatisfiable desires.

"What does the peaches and cream flavour taste like, honey?" she asked the girl behind the counter, who looked slightly confused by the question. "Its one of the best flavours, you should definitely get that flavour," Domingo interjected. His complete and utter impatience had been overwhelming, it felt like all the ice cream in the shop would melt before he'd get to buy some!

"And you recommend that one, do you dear?" the woman turned and asked Domingo. "Well actually, if you really want my opinion, I was in here the other day and I had the rum raisin. All I can say is wow." His eyes widened as he spoke, as if he was really trying to make the woman's mind up for her.

"Oooh," the lady replied. "Well, I s'pose I should go for that one, I do like raisins." She was handed the tropically flavoured ice cream, paid the girl, and turned to walk out of the shop, licking the newly purchased cone of pleasure. As she passed Domingo, she whispered in his ear. "You were right, young man, this is lovely! I'll be asking for your recommendations again, if I see you in here! Bye for now, dear." Domingo smiled and waved at the little old lady, as "NEXT!" was shouted out to him. Finally, he could buy his own ice cream. And try to find somewhere to sit and actually enjoy eating it...

Maya loved ice cream, hated queues, and didn't have money.

A sudden scream shattered the cheerful atmosphere of the cozy Ice Cream Factory. As far as screams go, it was more 'there is a spider under my shirt' than 'someone stabbed me', but it was blood curling. It came from the ladies' room. Mere seconds later the door swung open as a middle-aged woman stormed out, throwing her not-so-skinny self into her husband's arms. She was whimpering hysterically something about her reflection in the mirror talking back to her.
("I... she... I... she said... oh my god... she said 'yes, you do look fat'...")
Naturally, everyone in the shop turned to watch the scene. The poor woman broke down and her husband escorted her outside; clearly she had some kind of mental problem. People shook their heads and watched her with pity. When your reflection talks to you, that's the beginning of the end.
The girl at the counter turned to see if they needed assistance. This way, unfortunately for her, she could not see the hand that emerged from the carefully polished surface of the counter, grabbed the almost-ready order of ice-cream that was just set down in front of the young Hispanic guy, and unceremoniously pulled it down into the... well, nowhere, really.

It might or might not have been noticed by someone. Maya really didn't care. The good thing about the human mind is it usually does the cover-up for itself, looking for the most possible explanation for something its senses just experienced and could not explain. 'Optical illusion' is a very popular one.

A minute or so later, when the woman was finally outside, and the guests of the parlor started to settle back down, a teenage girl slipped out of the men's room, weaving her way among the crowd. She had a dark green backpack flung on one shoulder, a green baseball cap pulled down to cover her mischievously twinkling eyes... and the above mentioned bowl of ice cream in her hands. Glancing around, she plopped down onto the nearest empty chair, next to the pretty Indian lady with the banana split that would make a top model cry.

"Hiya. Hope ya don't mind." she grinned at her, taking a spoonful of the ice-cream, and glancing towards the counter curiously. Time to watch the show.

Juka loved ice cream. Not only was it cold and delicious but it was colourful and he did so wish that his bubbles could be half as colourful as the many flavours of ice cream. So really, not only was it everything that a tasty treat should be, and Juka thought he knew a little something about what tasty treats should be, but it was plainly also something to be admired. And so he decided that he simply must have some.

When Juka got to the magnificant place of ice cream selling, however, he was dismayed to find that there was a line up to get the delicous treat. He was Juka Miami and Juka Miami did not have to stand in lines. So, instead of moving to the back of the line as any good boy or girl should, he gathered his many skirts to him, put on his beast teasing seductive smile and went right to the front.

He smiled at the woman in the front, the indecisive one who, it seemed, had finally decided. Which was unfortunate really, that the man behind her had been so helpful, but all was not lost as she had not yet walked away from the line up. And, the little dumpy woman, not nearly up to Juka's normally lofty standards, would certinly faint with pleasure at the mere hint that, just perhaps, she could be with the nearly godlike Juka.

"Hello my shining beauty," he said sensually, slipping gracefully beside her. He went to put his arm around her but stopped, just shy of touching her. And he saw by her expression that his words had done just as he knew they would. "My beauty, you wouldn't mind getting me the blue flavoured cone would you?" A pretty bat of his long lashes and a winning smile and she was his. She melted to his whim, agreeing to buy him the cone as if in a daze.

Success, he thought with glee. He gave an apolotetic smile to the man behind him with the blue eyes and dark hair. And very nice blue eyes they were too, he decided. Perhaps he might even be worthy of his attentions. He batted his lashes at the man and licked his cone, taking care to make it as provotive a lick as possible. Then he winked.

Juka would have made his move right then and there, after all what manner of person could possibly resist his charms, man or woman, but was momentarily distracted by the scream and the crazy lady. He turned his head to watch what was going on.

(OOC: I think I worked out the sequence of events right... Just tell me if I'm wrong, or if I've overstepped my bounds in making assumptions about actions, and I'll happily edit ^_^ )

Indira may or may not have accidentally let slip a bit of a moan as she took the first bite of her banana split. She'd deny it if asked, at any rate. But oh, man, this had been a great idea.

She managed to make her eyes focus again and started people-watching. It was really bustling in here; it seemed the place was popular with more than just the reviewers. An older woman dithered at the counter, trying to decide which of the sometimes-exotic flavours she should order. The young man behind her seemed to be fidgeting with impatience. Finally, he spoke up and offered some recommendations. Indira was pleased in an obscure way that he was polite about it; too many people these days would have been a good deal ruder, despite the woman's age.

A swirl of bright colours at the door caught Indira's attention, and she turned to look. A pretty young Japanese woman, elaborately coiffed and wearing layers of elegant fabric, had just entered the store. She looked around, then swept to the front of the line and bent to talk to the older woman as the helpful man was about to take her place at the counter.

Indira realised two things at that point. First, the Japanese woman was actually a Japanese man. She supposed she ought to have realised it before, but so many Japanese youths tried hard to look androgynous; this one was just better at it. Second, she could forgive him his faults on the strength of his voice alone. He wasn't her type at all, but she could always close her eyes and imagine an appearance to match those sex-on-two-legs murmurs.

The servers seemed to be thinking similar things, as they quite happily served him a cone with blue ice cream instead of insisting he wait in line. The helpful young man looked like he was about to blow a gasket, though, and the flirty smile and provocative tongue-on-cone action from the Japanese man didn't seem to help much.

The long-suffering young man finally placed his order and was just waiting for his bowl to be served when shrieks broke out frome the ladies' room. Startled, Indira snapped her gaze towards the woman who ran out of the washroom gibbering about how her reflection had spoken to her - and not just spoken, but called her fat! She was slowly escorted outside by a man who seemed to be her husband. Indira looked after her with sympathy. She hoped the woman got the rest she seemed to need.

Indira was lost in thought, watching the woman leave, so she was startled when someone walked up to her table. A teenager in a green ball cap slung her backpack down and plopped down in one of the other chairs. "Hiya. Hope ya don't mind," the girl grinned as she took a bite of ice cream.

"Oh! Oh, not at all. I can't really complain about sharing my table with a few people I don't know, can I? It's not fair for me to take up a whole table by myself." Indira took another bite of her split and savoured it. "I guess I can see why it's so busy, with ice cream this good."

The time it took for the bowl of ice cream to finally be in Domingo's grasps seemed like everlasting purgatory. First there was the sweet, old indecisive lady, frustratingly taking forever to choose which flavour to have. And then, a flamboyant and truly unique individual of uncertain gender confidently came from the back of the queue, slipped past him, and stood close to the old lady. He was definitely a man, a Japanese man in fact, and Domingo watched in increasing frustration as this prototype of modern fashion looked at the lady and stood close to her, speaking directly into her ear. Domingo's face was one of complete disbelief at the sheer cheek of him!

The man, now happy that he had accomplished his goal of becoming the world record holder in the field of queue jumping, stood back with his captured prey, peering up at Domingo. The tall Spaniard felt slightly uncomfortable as the Japanese guy, who's age Domingo couldn't be certain of due to the anti-camouflage the man was sporting, began to lick his ice cream in a rather suggestive manner. His orange, spiked hair made him appear taller than Domingo, and their eyes met for a second, until Domingo looked away and back towards the young girl serving at the counter, so he could to finally place his order.

"I'll have some chocolate chip, please. In a bowl. Plenty of it, too." The girl went about making up his order, and Domingo breathed a sigh of relief that his anguish over a bowl of ice cream was finally over. But it wasn't.

The loud voices behind caught the attention of the serving girl, and she looked straight past Domingo at the scene panning out towards the door. Domingo allowed his head to drop. He didn't believe he would ever get any ice cream, in fact he was too busy thinking he might as well give up on his ice cream dream right there and then, maybe go get a burger instead, that he didn't even bother turning to watch the goings on behind him. He just stood there, arms crossed behind his back, head down, patiently waiting until the girl decided to carry on placing the cool, creamy goodness into the bowl. Placing his money down on the counter, he finally reached out, took the bowl, and turned around to find there was hardly a seat to spare. He scanned the room and noticed the Indian lady sitting at the table closest to him, now joined by a young girl with a cap on smiling as she ate her own ice cream.

Domingo decided he couldn't wait any longer and simply stood and took a huge mouthful of his purchase and savoured its sweet, chocolate flavour. A smile finally came over his face, and the trouble he'd gone through to get his lips on some ice cream was forgotten.

>>"I guess I can see why it's so busy, with ice cream this good."

Maya grinned at the Indian lady. "Amen." she licked the spoon clean before taking another bite "This stuff is awesome."
Even better when you don't have to pay for it.
Looking towards the counter, she watched the events unfold.
There was no show.

Maya was silently hoping there would be one; watching people get confused over her tiny tricks was the most fun she could imagine for a nice day like this. Unfortunately, everyone seemed to be too absorbed in watching whatever happened to the fat lady to notice the miraculous disappearance of one bowl of ice cream. Maya wrinkled her nose.
"Looks like I overdid it..." she murmured to herself.
Ther was nothing left to do now but settle for the next best thing: watching people in general.
The Japanese... person caught her attention at once (and she was not alone with it). She blinked, then blinked again, trying hard to decide on a category she could place that specimen in. The spoon hung from her mouth and she tilted her head curiously. Then she poked the nice Indian lady with her elbow.
"Whoa, look at that. Is it Halloween already?..."
The comment might have been louder than she planned, but whatever.
Judging from the voice, she concluded the person must have been a guy, however weird that was. She grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. She never understood people like him. If there was someone in this parlor who knew about swapping genders, it was her. And she was good at it too. Freaky good. And didn't need skirts and make-up to do it.
To make things more entertaining, the manga queen seemed to be hitting on the Hispanic guy. Maya chuckled at the confused face he made. He had piercing blue eyes; either some lucky genes, or some neat contact lenses. She could see what the weirdo saw in them. Too bad they belonged to a guy.
"Looks like they have a nice collection of weird people here too." she smirked, meaning the crazy fat lady, the ice-eye guy, the manga character... and herself, all in one sentence (the Indian lady seemed pretty normal so far).
The place was fun, after all.

Juka began eating his icecream most contentdly when yet another problem came to his awareness. The problem was that there simply were not very many seats available and the wonderful place of icreamy goodness. Well, certainly for anyone else that would be a problem but for Juka, of course, it was far less of an issue. He was, after all, Juka Miami and that meant that, naturally, he was fabulous and amazing and certainly no one would mind if he decided to sit at their table? Less than mind, they should be grateful that he would grace thier presence with his loviliness. Clearly.

After looking around critically for a few moments, in order to ascertain for certain which table would be most worthy of his presence, hs shrugged his shoulders gracefully and followed the target of his earlier admiration towards the table currently seating the indian girl. With a wink at the man, he turned and smiled dazzlingly at her. "My darling," he said in his regular dramatic fashion, "I presume you wouldn't mind if I grace your loviliness with my presence?" At her word, he prepared to seat himself.

As Juka stood in anticipation of her permission, inevitable though it must, be, he couldn't help but hear the comment about halloween and he turned his beatiful gaze upon another woman, just as lovely as the last. "And is there anything wrong with dressing dressing with a style all my own, sweetness?" He curtsied in her direction, skirts billowing elegently around him. He extended a hand in her direction for shaking, appreciating the fact that she was the only one to say what was on her mind and comment about his eccentric appearance. "My name is Juka Miami and you would be, beautiful flower?"