Marion Danielle Arnaud

As soon as he heard her voice, he knew he was good. Marion always had a way of talking to authority, of getting them to leave anyone alone as soon as she flashed her Serious Eyes at them. He turned to her, knowing he was probably in more trouble than he would’ve been with the police officer. “I was going to work but…I wanted to stop by here to like…relive my childhood memories.” He looked down at his shirt and sighed. “I have to return this at the end of the month or I won’t be able to afford my rent.”

The more Drew talked, the closer her eyebrows came together. She knew them to be responsible and smart, but every now and then, anybody did some mildly dumb things. She couldn’t really blame them. Marion shook her head, her eyes stuck on the stain on the shirt. As someone who cooked, she had some secrets to remove stains of all kind, but she wasn’t sure if they would take back the shirt in the store, specially with it being that kind of brand. “I’ll help you figure it out, alright?” She responded with a little bit of a smile, finally looking up at Drew again. “Do you have a spare shirt to go to work with? I live not so far away from here, and something tells me you wouldn’t mind using something of mine.”

“Well, I know a guy who’s back on the market,” he shrugged teasingly. “He’s probably about 40 years older than you, but if you stick it out long enough, he’ll probably just kick the bucket and you can take the whole lot…” 

“As tempting as it may sound, I don’t think I could touch a seventy year old man, not even with a ten feet pole, and I’d rather have some active sexual life in a marriage, so... thanks a lot. I’ll just find a man in an app or something.”

Her face got that look. AJ was never sure whether that deep, pensive expression meant she was traveling down the rabbit hole of her thoughts, or if that was her demeanor. It was likely both. He tried not to acknowledge it, and typically didn’t unless something was obviously eating her. They were alike in that way, both private beings who didn’t like having their brains dissected. In AJ’s case, at least not by anyone but his shrink.

She pulled herself together all the same, and AJ let a laugh leave his lips despite the indignant expression that crossed his face. “Marion, I am an upstanding citizen. Never even drank a weed in my whole life.” He smiled at her knowingly. Then rolled his eyes. “Oh, well, as long as I’m cute shit.”

He had to admire the way she worked. There was a gentle grace about her. For whatever reason, it was most apparent when she was decorating pastries. “I know. And you know I know. I’ve never been a good sleeper. I’m either up half the night or I wake up a gajillion times before the sun comes up. I guess I’m just… Overthinking some stuff.” He didn’t know why he bothered being vague. Marion always had a way of probing his brain for more information. It at least bought him a few minutes to mull it over. 

An upstanding citizen... Marion rolled her eyes. She had been AJ’s age once, and although she had never been quite the life of the party, university in New York meant there were very little things she had actually never done. She wasn’t judging him- she would never, but she worried about him more often than not, as if AJ was a part of her family somehow. And maybe that was just a result of growing up without a family, but in her eyes, AJ deserved to be taken care of just as much as anyone else. 

Marion went back to work on the cupcakes, finding it relaxing, a job she didn’t really have to think much about as she listened to AJ. It was clear her attention was on him, but the fact that her eyes weren’t there, seemed to her like it could mean way less pressure. “Okay, and what are you overthinking about?” She asked, moving a little closer after she put the cupcake down. “Come on, I cannot have you baking and overthinking here– Don’t want you to get hurt in the kitchen, love. Then what would I do?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t like festivals. It was just the ones he had been to in the past were raucous and full of underage teens who had one to many wine coolers and were pretending to act sober. He walked over to the lake and found a bench to sit on. He watched the world go by and smiled at someone who he recognised. “ Hey, how’s things?  I didn’t know you were going to be here.” He said moving along in case they wanted to sit down. 

With the festival moving to Haverford, it made it hard to avoid going when she could literally hear the people going towards the lake every morning when she woke up. The locals in Westbrook weren’t as lucky anymore, so her bakery had a slower rhythm, which meant she had a little bit of free time to roam around the lake. It was a nice day out anyway. Not too hot, but still sunny enough to sit by the water and get some sun she hadn’t gotten in months after working indoors so much. She really wasn’t expecting anyone to talk to her. Everyone seemed to come along with someone, so she was genuinely surprised when a friendly voice seemed to recognize her as she passed by, looking for a place to sit. “I honestly didn’t know I would be here either, but you know what? Today is get out of your comfort zone day, according to some poetic bullshit I read on Facebook this morning, so here I am.”

“Hm,” Andre mulled over the list of entrees on the menu. He hadn’t been thinking to order a burger before Marion mentioned it, but the idea was growing on him more by the second. “That sounds good actually.” He tried to eat lean as much as possible, but he cheated where he could sometimes. He nodded and slid his menu to the edge of the table when he was done with it. The curtness of Marion’s responses weren’t at all lost on him. But he wasn’t offended. On the contrary, he smiled. “Is this the strangest situation you’ve experienced? Or is my presence just extremely offensive? Just curious.. because if looks could kill, I’d be on my 3rd life by now.” @thisismarion​

Marion kept her menu up on her face, not for her not to look but to not have him looking, though she could tell it wasn’t working too much. She was sure of what she wanted– she had been since she had walked into the restaurant, but still pretended to read the whole thing out of what she thought would be decency or niceness. When Andre stopped talking to himself and actually was speaking to her, she put it down, sliding it next to his. She sighed, defeated. “Honey, if looks could kill, I’d be the new Ted Bundy or some shit,” she said, her mother’s southern accent pouring out of her mouth like it did whenever she lost her patience or was too tired to care. Which one was the case this time around? She didn’t even knew herself. “Not offensive. I’ve lived in New York– takes a lot more to offend me. It’s just... weird, honestly. And rather creepy, but if that’s your style, then... who am I to change it, right?”

“I think that’s awesome, though. That food changed your life so much. It’s hard to see it like that.” He wasn’t sure what his passion was exactly. But sleeping did have a nice tone to it. “Oh I - I couldn’t ask you to - I mean I’m sure you’re an amazing cook. I know you are. But I’m not - just don’t worry about me.”

“Yep,” she sighed. “Changed my mom’s, mine, and who knows what would happen next,” she finished her exhale, her shoulder dropping slightly now that the whole tension of what had just happened with the burglar had passed. Not like it was gone, but she wasn’t too concerned about it anymore. “Hey– it’s alright, kiddo,” she said, lifting her hands. “I was jus’ offerin. Take it or leave it.”

The shout caught Rhys off-guard, but he found himself following the sound of the voice all the same. It had to be a good thing, another person who might actually be able to help him find his way out again… or maybe not. At her words he had to laugh, though, shaking his head. “I’m not actually sure about anything right now,” he answered. “Least of all this place. I’m sure someone said it was meant to be fun and now I’m not so sure.”

At this point, Marion wasn’t sure if drinking before walking into the mirror maze had been much of a good idea. It was supposed to make her feel more at ease with herself, relieve the tension she usually carried on her shoulders, but the more she looked around, the dizzier she got. “I don’t see the fun in these places, but hey... we could always be stuck in the thing out there– you know, the really tall one that puts you upside down? Now that would be my worst nightmare,” she scoffed, her hands on her hips. “Should we keep going then? Maybe two brains will be better than one.”

“Right - Yeah. I guess that makes sense.” Just thinking about all the food piled up made Jesse’s stomach churn. He wouldn’t even know how approach it all. “Well, I’m sure at this point I cook more for my dogs than I do myself. So I can’t say I relate.”

“Hey. It’s what I like to do, you know? It’s what my mamma did when she was stressed out, what I did with my husband sometimes... It’s all I know, my passion. You can do whatever makes you passionate. If it’s sleeping, then by all means, sleep it off. And if you ever need someone to cook for you, well, you know well which door to knock.”

“By all means,” Noah responded with a small laugh. He certainly didn’t scare easy, even if he was apprehensive about the entire social scene. He was comfortable enough with Marion though, enough so that he could have a decent conversation without rambling or making himself look completely ridiculous. He listened as she explained how she got here, waiting until she finished before he spoke. “Traveled quite a bit after I left school. I wanted to stay in New York, but I couldn’t really handle the city life, so I saw a postcard for this place. It’s pretty much history from there.” It wasn’t the most glamorous story, but however he’d ended up here he was grateful for it. It was certainly a change of pace from the city, in the best possible way. “Do you have a lot of family here?”

“I’ve tried the city life more than a couple times in my life, and trust me, I understand. One hundred percent,” Marion pointed out, bringing her cup to her lips for a small sip. She was used to eating and drinking hot things, since more than often, she would steal something straight out from the oven. “It’s funny how it can be so different being so close to the city, but it happens,” she shrugged, bringing her cup down. At his question, Marion shook her head. These were usual questions for most, but in Marion’s context, it brought out personal details. "No, I do not.” She licked her lips. “It was just me and my mama coming up here. There wasn’t much family down in New Orleans either and we weren’t that close anyway, so we just started a life up here,” she concluded with a small smile. “Where’s home for you? Like... where were you born and all that?”

“She probably is,” he nodded, noticing the woman’s sour mood, but not willing to let it affect his own. This case had taken months of litigation, and quite frankly, Callum was glad to be rid of him. That is, until the idiot decided to take on his next golddigger wife... “And on the yacht she won in the settlement, no less..” 

“What? There was a yacht?” Marion scoffed, though this time her amusement was honest. It had been an evening of drinks, her mood was as unpredictable as a state lottery. “If I’d known I could get a yacht out of a divorce, I would’ve looked for a better first husband then.”

“Well, now I understand.” Andre replied with a genial smile on his lips. It didn’t matter to him if they went for wine or bourbon; he certainly wasn’t planning on having more than one drink anyhow. Marion, however, could do as she pleased on his dime. “Red?” he inquired, turning the menu over to the drinks section. “What are you thinking for an entree? I suppose that could be the deciding factor.” 

“Well,” she said, holding her breath as she scanned the menu one more time, trying to find a different option but once her mind was set on something, it was real hard for her to change it. Stubborn at heart. “All I wanted was a burger to begin with, so I guess we’ll make it fancy with some wine?” Marion scoffed. Even for someone who enjoyed food, and nothing more than a good glass of wine, it seemed that for the day, she just wasn’t in the mood. What this guy had done simply didn’t make any sense, and if this was his way of flirting or try to make an advance on her or anyone, then he needed to find someone more desperate. He had chosen the wrong person for it.

As they were walking through the festival grounds, a child running away from their parents ran into them, getting ketchup from their hot dog on to the front of their shirt. Frantically looking up and around, they found a security guard with a mega phone. They grabbed it from him, stood on a bench, and shouted, “Attention Lanford! Does anybody have a Tide-To-Go stick! This is an emergency. I repeat, Does anybody have a Tide-To-Go stick!” They were pulled down right after their announcement and scolded for stealing, and using, the megaphone for something that wasn’t a real emergency. “But this is an emergency!” They exclaimed, “This shirt is Gucci!” 

“Hey!” Marion yelled from a few feet away, having seen the whole thing and also the consequences coming. The security guard immediately turned to look at her, her tone having been that menacing after all. “Let that boy go. I’ll take it,” she said as she kept on walking forward. Without a single word, the security guard let Drew free and walked away, megaphone in hand as if he was a baby whose rattle had been taken. Marion frowned at the picture and let out a scoff. “What the hell were you thinking?” She asked. “Bringing a Gucci to a fair? Is that even a real Gucci?”

The ends of his lips quirked up, hearing the nickname she used for him many times. It sent a rush of warmth through his chest, making him feel at home in the little bakery as he often did with Mari by his side. “Kay,” he sighed, figuring there wasn’t much else he could do than accept his failure. And eat it. “I’m not gonna deny cake in any form. He grabbed his half of the reject cupcake, taking a small but messy bite and wiping frosting off of his upper lip. “Ugh, they’re the worst. But if you need help, don’t hesitate to ask for it. You’re always bitin’ off more than you can chew.” He set down the cupcake. Then he pursed his lips and stared at her. “Is that your nice way of saying I look like shit all the time?” he joked, sucking a glob of frosting off of his thumb. “I just didn’t… sleep last night. I’m fine! Don’t start lecturing me about overworking or weird European sleep studies or something. I’m good.”

“Thanks, I’ll make a list and see how I can split everything,” said Marion with a little smile. Baking, keeping herself busy was all she could do to avoid thinking too much about anything. If she wasn’t thinking about her mother, she was thinking about her failed restaurant in Manhattan, or worse, the end of her marriage and how she was not even a little close to be over that whole situation. She had grown used to it, and the people who had met her in the past few years would probably not notice much of a difference, but she knew the success of her well-put-together image relayed on having things to do all the time. 

“What? No– I mean, you’re stoned like half of the time anyway, so there’s always that look on your face, but it’s like... cute shit, you know?” She teased. “European sleep studies my ass. All I know is how shit it feels when I don’t sleep my eight hours, so I can only speak from experience.” Marion grabbed a blank cupcake and slowly started to decorate it without putting much thought into it, second nature for her. “I’m just sayin’, if there’s anything stealing your sleep, I’m here if you wanna talk about it. I’m a good listener, you know?”

Rhys wouldn’t have been doing this if he hadn’t been drinking, that much was pretty obvious. Two pints of cider and he found himself dragged into the mirror maze as he passed by. It had all happened so quickly he hadn’t even had a chance to see who was responsible. But he was in there now and the lights were low, which meant he was walking into walls more easily than he was finding he way around. As he turned a corner, almost walking into someone, a laugh escaped him and he shook his head. “I think it’s this way…” he commented, pointing to the left. “Please tell me you’re as lost in here as I am.”

"This isn’t funny anymore, guys!” She yelled, looking around for her friends who had disappeared around ten minutes ago somewhere in the maze, and were probably out of there by now. She could only hope they would wait for her outside as she at least tried to find an exit sign so she could get out before she got too dizzy. Marion turned around a corner, hands out before she could bump into another mirror, but instead found herself bumping into an actual person who seemed just as lost as she was. “Holy fuck!” She exclaimed, jumping back and hitting another mirror behind her. “Sorry. I didn’t see or hear... Can you tell?” She let out a chuckle. “Are you sure is there? I’m kinda losing my patience here.”

He huffed the moment she told him to calm down. The logical part of him knew that, of course, he wasn’t going to get fired for something so trivial. But there was also a short and dwindling list of things he was good at, and he was running out of things to pride himself on. Setting the tube of frosting down on the table, he tilted his head and pursed his lips.

“Maybe we could just make the top match the blue and keep the rest white?” He tilted his head the other way, sighing. “Or I could try to turn it into a kinda marble swirly pattern thing, but I’m gonna be honest with you, Mari, I don’t know if I have the energy for that.” His shoulders slumped a little, but he decided not to dwell on it. He had plenty else to dwell on. “You close that deal? You were out there for a while.”

Marion switched the angle of her head to match AJ’s, her arms still folded tightly against her chest. Honestly, the last thing she worried about was the look of a cupcake– either of them could eat it and it wouldn’t hurt the business much, but she still appreciated that AJ wanted to do things right. She let out a little laugh, unfolding her arms to place an hand in his arm, giving it a light squeeze. “Then don’t do it, you silly,” she shook her head and gently pushed him away from the counter. “We can just... I don’t know, eat it,” Marion shrugged, picking the cupcake from the counter and cutting it in half with her hands, taking her part and offering him the other. With a deep sigh, she rolled her eyes waiting to swallow the bite she had in her mouth. “I did. It was one of those people who want to be in control of every little detail– I got one full page of requests. It’s okay, don’t worry. I’ll kill it myself,” Marion smiled. “You alright? You look tired. More than usual.”

Callum raised his glass in a makeshift toast, celebrating his most recent victory in court. “Another sadsack, son of a bitch saved from the shackles of matrimony…. The lord’s work has been done today,” he announced in a sarcastically grandiose tone.

The judging stare of Marion didn’t go unnoticed, and further than that, with a few drinks on her already, her mouth had a very thin filter she couldn’t keep together. “I hope the wife is celebrating with ten times more drinks, a fuck ton of money and a stripper.”