Winter is perfect for ice cream (closed)

[Barbara Robinson]

'You ain't nothin' but a hound dog, cryin' all the time...'

The King of Rock and Roll's voice filled Shake as "Hound Dog" played on the jukebox sitting in the corner towards the front of the shop. Barbara was behind the counter, as she usually was, running a damp rag up and down the counter to the rhythm of the song. She often spent her downtime cleaning her shop, as she believed the polished fifties look of the mall-adjacent establishment was a large part of what attracted customers. As it was, the bright red stools lining the counter were virtually sparkling, having just been cleaned rather thoroughly, and the floor was just as pristine. The booths towards the back would be the next task.

Winter was slow at Shake, but this was to be expected: Barbara's joint was known primarily for its ice cream, which most people enjoyed only, or at least primarily, in the spring and summer months. That said, business had been somewhat better the past few months than she'd expected, and certainly better than in previous years, as autumn this year had been fairly warm and the winter milder than was usual for Vermont. It was also one of the only dining options at the mall that wasn't greasy fast food, and the mall was fairly busy this time of year with holiday shoppers. Now that school was out for the holidays, though, business had slowed down substantially for the next week or two - again, to be expected. She staid open throughout the year, though, since she didn't really have anything else to do. Her family lived just outside of Pilot Ridge, so holiday travel wasn't a factor for her.

Having finished cleaning the counter, Barbara tossed her rag under the counter, where she kept it so that it was always within reach. She sighed, looking around the empty store. It was only 1pm, so it wasn't terribly surprising that nobody was around, but she hoped it got a little busier soon so that she could make a little money before the end of the day.

[Joseph Ashley]

It was another one of those unfortunate days, those unfortunate days where he had to actually go down into town to pick up some essentials. Ammunition, since he couldn't stuff his own; beer and water (since people seem to die without it.) And as he took his old Jeep down the road, riding in painful accordance to the speed limit. He really couldn't do for another ticket, it was just such a massive waste of time dealing with those, and of course... with the pigs. 

But as he was heading down the road for that little grocery store, he passed a very appetizing option in the mall. Shake, Sprinkle, and Roll. Boy, he'd passed that place more than a few times, but there was always so many people in there, he didn't feel like dealing with them. Now, it looked more or less empty.
Traffic ahead of him had moved on seconds ago, and the vehicle behind him was now pounding the horn, telling him to make the turn or keep moving. Joseph honked right back and stuck a finger out the window before pulling the turn signal and riding right into that mall. 

Just as it had seemed, the place was empty. He pulled right into one of the parking lots in front of it, shut off his car and stuck the bar-lock in the wheel.

He was very much underdressed for this weather, not even wearing a jacket. Who knew? Maybe he'd have to grab some warm clothes too, he could be a consumer when he wanted to.

Into the store he walked, scratching his stomach as he observed his surroundings. Pretty clean, stylized half-decent, and the King was crooning on the radio. That made him smile. Finally, something half-decent playing in a public establishment. 

[Barbara Robinson]

Barbara looked up to see a somewhat intimidating figure walking into her shop, and she briefly wondered if she should have just closed early. But no, that wasn't fair. For all she knew, this was a perfectly normal person who just wanted to pay a visit to her establishment.

Or a creepy homeless man who was going to mug her. She'd have to play it by ear. Being a single woman running a business alone could make a person... a bit paranoid.

He certainly had an interesting look to him - that was for sure. Thick beard like a castaway, plain white tee shirt like a redneck, long hair like a hippie... not that Barbara was the pinnacle of fashion or vanity herself, but at least she put in a little effort. Suffice it to say this wasn't exactly the typical clientele in the fairly well-to-do Pilot Ridge, but she had always been an open-minded person. Still, he sort of had that old Western bandit-just-rode-into-town vibe to him, which she had to admit rather amused her. It was different from what she was used to, but that could be a good thing.

"Well hey there, stranger," she said, putting on a bit of a southwestern accent as though to play off her impression of this man has a bandit. She imagined herself as the inn keeper welcoming the weary traveler into town, be he friend or foe. "Haven't seen you in these here parts before." She gestured with one hand towards the empty stools at the counter, though the man was welcome to sit at a table or booth if he preferred. Most people who came by themselves sat at the bar, though, especially when the place was empty.

[Joseph Ashley]

He just shrugged and nodded, aware that she was probably on her guard. It didn't surprise him though, a lot of people were on their guard around him. He tried to remedy that with a polite smile, though it may have been hidden behind his beard, and he answered, "Not surprised none, I been here all my life, don' spend much of it in town if I can help myself."

As he spoke, he helped himself to one of those stools and sat, glancing at the tubs of flavors. This woman seemed tolerable, which was usually a priority feature when rarely he found himself talking to any other human being. He had some poor experiences in the past with his temper and short patience. To this day, he still remembered making that cashier cry. Oh, he remembered that one fondly.

"What do you got here, strawberry? Vanilla?" he squinted, eyeing a few thus unfamiliar flavors, "... Man, you guys got a whole lotta stuff."

[Barbara Robinson]

Barbara didn't ask, though she wondered why that might be. Wasn't town more interesting than, well... outside of town? She supposed there was one of every kind, though, so who was she to question his preferences? She'd found, after years of running her business, that the key to getting along with folks was to let them be and not to question them too much. People were, she'd found, set in their ways, as she was in hers, and it was unbecoming a member of the service industry to poke and pry.

She watched him as he glanced down through the glass into the various tubs of ice cream sitting inside the counter. She loved her counter; it was part bar, part display case, and she'd put a lot of effort into making it a comfortable place to sit while also providing customers and opportunity to see her wares. "Yup, and then some," she replied confidently but softly when he questioned the flavors. "All made right here... in town."

She was proud of her variety, including some flavors she'd 'created' herself and some that a friend or family member had suggested. Her personal favorite was a vanilla ice cream she softened to mix in m&m's; the colorful candy shells blended into the ice cream to make it look like tie-dye. She couldn't imagine this guy would go for it, but she thought it was just kitschy and colorful enough to go with the vibe of her establishment.

She turned away for just a moment to grab a clean glass of the back counter, filling it from a pitcher of water and setting it out in front of the man where he was sitting.