mogget_cat | OOM: Open-Mic 2

Yrael and Teja step through the door and out into a deserted alleyway in New Orleans. It's evening, here, around eight o'clock with the sun just having fully set. The people in the street before them haven't noticed them yet.

"All right... to find a clothing shop."

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He nods. "Exotic and enticing, also sensual. Brushing up against someone, one does not really expect to feel feathers."

"And one would assume they tickle?" Teja says, walking along.

"Yes, they do tickle."

"...which is especially annoying if one is trying to have his dessert."

Literal dessert, not figurative.

"Where do we go now?" Teja says.

Feathers and desserts - huh!

Songbirds are divinely yummy.

"Three blocks back this way, then a two to the left."

"When does the concert start?" Teja asks. He remembers it was still some time, when they arrived -- and they had not been here all that long!

"At ten-thirty," he replies. "So we have another hour and a half before we need to be there. The man there said the performers should be there half an hour before it starts."

There are lovely smells in the air. Hot coffee and cream, fresh baked bread and sugar.

"What is this smell?" Teja asks. "Do they sell tea and coffee, nearby?"

Yrael might as well be purring, from the look on his face. "That's Cafe du Monde. Best coffee and beignets on this side of the ocean."

He nods as the restaurant comes into view, brightly lit and still bustling in the evening hours.

"Beignets were not invented in my time," Teja says, "but if you say they are good, I will try them!"

"Oh, you must. They are divine," he says, heading towards the restaurant. They pass a saxophone player on the corner, wailing out jazz tunes of love and sorrow with an open case in front of him, where a few copper and silver-ish coins can be seen.

The restaurant's seating is all outdoors, technically, though covered with a sturdy roof. One goes to the window to order, but must hope to find a table amid all the hustle and bustle of other people, first.

Teja finds a table that is only half occupied, with two young women that are looking at a series of colourful pictures on a small silvery device, and giggling. He announces his intention of sharing their table, as one would in a tavern on the wayside, back in his world, and looks at Yrael -- to announce there is room for them there.

The young women look up, and giggle some more, while announcing that sure, they don't mind them sitting there at all.

Yrael sees his look and nods, heading to the window to make their order.

He returns shortly, greeting the young women with a smile and a nod.

"They say our order will be out shortly," he says as he sits.

"Good," Teja says. The women at their table giggle about something they seem to find outrageous, but Teja tries to ignore them.

"One just has to remember not to try and breathe while eating beignets," he says, grinning rather cryptically.

"I am a dead man," Teja says, "but still, it seems that I do need to breathe. Why should I not do it when eating those?"

"You'll see," he says, still grinning.

Soon enough, their order comes. Two cups of strong coffee with cream (there's a container of sugar on the table, in case one wants it), and a plate stacked with golden puffy pastries mounded with a fine powdered sugar, light enough that breathing near them induces a cloud of white dust.

"Why would one put loose flour..." Teja begins, picking up his.

Oh!

"'S not flour. It's sugar," Yrael chuckles at the resulting sugar cloud.

And its lovely dusting of the Goth's black hair and attire.

When he picks up his, he taps it against the plate to get most of the excess off.

"Oh!" Teja says, trying to dust the sugar off himself.

He looks much less black than usual at the moment.

The two girls at their table giggle hysterically.

Yrael bites into his beignet, making an 'mmmm' kind of purring sound.

Carefully and slowly, Teja eats his; and drinks his coffee.

It is actually very pleasant, for coffee.

It's a smooth coffee, robust but not too strong, and not weak at all.

There are two each, on the plate. They're good, but too much sweetness at once kind of ruins the experience, Yrael feels.

Teja eats his; it goes very well with the coffee.

It is not too much, just right -- but he still feels somewhat sticky from the cloud of powdered sugar.

And both of them are kind of... covered in powdered sugar. There is no neat way to eat them.

The girls at their table glance and giggle.

Yrael grins at Teja, moving to stand. "I'll take our plate and throw it away," he says, picking up the plate covered in excess powdered sugar.

As he does so, something tickles his nose, causing him to sneeze loudly. A huge cloud of sugar erupts into the air from the plate, coating the girls' blouses and hair in a generous dusting of white.