Chapter 7: Piece of Peace

Day nine of the Coup D'é-Tea

It was after noon by the time Cora's bus arrived at the mall, but she still had plenty of time before her shift started, and she took her time meandering across the parking lot. There was no point in wasting her energy when she wasn't on the clock, and her efforts would definitely be worthless if she was hit by a car before she even donned her apron and flat cap.

That is, until she saw the unmistakable gait of Farron amidst the swarm of shoppers on the pavement surrounding the mall. Her steps were confident and her posture imposing, despite her small stature, as she weaved her way through the inattentive clusters of customers and bulky baby strollers that blocked her path.

She had changed up her outfit slightly—her dark gray crop top was looser than the black shirts she normally wore, and her black skinny jeans were definitely tighter than her typical baggy blue ones. The former also proved where Farron's above average core strength came from, and Cora quickly raised her gaze to see Farron returning her stare as she raked a hand through her short black hair. At least, that's where Cora guessed Farron was looking. It was hard to tell with Farron's tinted, gold-rimmed aviators.

Her guess was quickly confirmed when Farron paused, glanced at the mall door, then turned back to Cora with a smirk.

Cora only waited a second to nod in acceptance before taking off in a sprint, not bothering to see if Farron was running as well. In a controlled race, Cora knew she would easily lose to Farron's athleticism and endurance. But there, with other shoppers in Farron's way and those clunky leather boots weighing down her feet, Cora had a bit of an advantage.

She only slowed slightly when she reached the road, verifying a car or the human-sized Angie the Orange wasn't about to roll by and take her out, before continuing her dash for the doors. Just when she was seconds away from victory, her hopes were crushed by the sight of Farron in her peripheral vision, midriff and all.

Farron had already slowed and was walking calmly through the mall's sliding doors while Cora was still running to catch up. When Cora finally made it inside, breathless, Farron and her smirk were waiting for her.

"Guess you're not as fast as you thought, coffee cake. Maybe your salad sandwich needed more of a kick."

As much as Cora wanted to retort right away, she couldn't, not when she was already struggling to hide her gasps for air.

"It was delicious, actually," she eventually managed to say. "How were your plain slices of cheese and scooping peanut butter straight from the jar?"

"Oh, they were an absolute hit. You should try it sometime."

Cora could only huff in response, too tired to come up with a real comeback, before heading towards the food court first, ignoring Farron's chuckles.

***

The war against the orange was going terribly. While the crowded food court provided Cool Beans with a constant supply of customers, it meant nothing if there was a bottleneck at the registers.

More than once, Cora tried to swap out with Kevin in between his stammered orders. Sure, it wouldn't be the one-on-one blend-off against Farron that she preferred, but a team win would've been almost as satisfying—almost. And Kevin was actually quick with the drink-making. It was the talking to people part that he struggled with.

But every time, Darlene would cut Cora off before they could make the switch, preferring to use the training technique Cora had the misfortune of experiencing eight years prior: hover over Kevin with her cold glare and disgruntled sighs. Apparently, Darlene was hoping he could learn through trial by fire—that, or get fired.

It was only a matter of time before Darlene forced Cora to take her lunch break, but at the sight of the still-packed food court, Cora itched to get back to work. Besides, with the masses of people, it wasn't like she had anywhere to sit down to eat. Even when a table opened up, Cora continued to wait. It would be a bad look if she took away a seat from a paying customer, so she decided to only go to it if no one claimed it in a few minutes, or if another table opened up.

Her eyes continued to scan the food court, but she froze at the sight of someone else searching for a seat just like she was. Cora had forgotten her last exception to taking an open table: if Farron was going to get there first. And when Farron met Cora's gaze with narrowed eyes, Cora knew she couldn't lose another race that day.

Cora only needed a second to see the cup of instant noodles in Farron's hand before she dashed towards the open seat, vaguely aware of Farron doing the same. But if their race earlier in the day hadn't been enough proof of Cora's sluggishness, the lunchtime results solidified it, and Farron easily reached the table when Cora was still over three yards away.

"What's the matter, coffee cake?" Farron asked as she settled into her seat, then drummed the fingers of one hand against the lid of her lunch. She rested her chin on her other hand, and the dragon flying around her toned bicep seemed to laugh at Cora's loss. "Need me to grab you a shopping cart to make this a fair race?"

While Cora didn't have a retort, she refused to back down so easily. So, before she could second guess herself, she put her lunch on the table and plopped herself down on the opposite chair.

As Cora scooted her seat in, the metal scraping against the vinyl, she kept her focus on Farron's wide eyes and slightly parted lips. The more Cora thought about what she just did, the more she regretted it, and the warmer her cheeks grew. But she refused to stand down. In fact, it would be more embarrassing if she backtracked, so Cora resigned herself to another painful lunch.

"What's the matter, assistant manager?" Cora asked. "Don't like to share?"

Farron stared at Cora for a moment longer before smirking once more. "Of course not. What's that you got there? Your salad sandwich?"

"Yes," Cora snapped. What was she supposed to say, the truth? That it was a sandwich made with squashed bread, generic mayo, discounted greens, and freezer-burned cold cuts?

Farron's brows furrowed, and her smirk slipped away. "Oh. Uh...cool."

With that, the conversation died with Cora's composure. While the clamor of the crowd continued, there was nothing but silence in the few feet between Cora and Farron—tense, agonizing silence. All Cora could think about were their inappropriate antics from their lunch over a week ago, and since then, Cora had refused to look in Farron's direction whenever their breaks coincided. And yet, just seconds ago, she had willingly sat across from Farron.

Did the food court feel warmer than usual, or was that just her?

As much as Cora wanted to hunch over her lunch for some semblance of privacy, she couldn't. That would be cowardly, and Cora couldn't afford to show such weakness. No, she had to act completely unbothered by the situation, especially since she was the one who forcefully joined Farron. She had to look Farron in the eye as she ripped off bites of her salad sandwich. Maybe she would even chew with her mouth open to emphasize how little she cared.

In reality, the most Cora could manage was making eye contact with the dragon on Farron's arm. Pale pink lotus blossoms surrounded the mythical creature, the color faint against Farron's tanned skin. The design reminded Cora of the decor from her old house, specifically on the oversized porcelain vases and gaudy plates that no one could actually use.

Just then, Farron moved her arm as she took another bite of her noodles, and the shadows on the dragon seemed to shift under the bright fluorescent lights. Cora narrowed her eyes. She couldn't tell if the woman was intentionally flexing her muscles or if her arms had always looked like that. She chanced a glance at Farron's face to verify...only to witness the woman wipe a drop of broth off her bottom lip with her thumb, her attention deep in her cup of sodium-filled ramen.

With that, Cora surrendered to her cowardly instincts, hunching over her lunch with her gaze traveling no further than the center of the table. She tried her best to act natural, but it was like she had suddenly forgotten how to act like a socially acceptable human in public. Even eating seemed like a foreign concept, and Cora was so distracted that she wasn't sure if her sandwich was really that bad or if she just couldn't taste it because her mind ceased all basic functions.

"It's not just salad," Farron suddenly said.

Cora was so bewildered that she forgot her embarrassment, and her gaze immediately met Farron's. "Huh?"

Farron pointed at Cora. "Your sandwich. There's more than just green stuff."

"Oh. Yeah."

It took Cora a few seconds to realize she was studying her sandwich as if she hadn't made it herself that morning. Not only that, but she had completely shut down Farron's attempt to make their meal a little less painful.

"It's just...some stuff I had in the freezer," Cora continued, gesturing with her sandwich for emphasis. "I had to wait for it to thaw, though. Because...freezer. It was still icy. But not now, though. That would be weird. Like...crunchy. Which I guess isn't unheard of for sandwiches, but..." She was on a freeway of rambling, and she needed an exit, fast. "So...noodles."

Farron's pause was so prominent that Cora couldn't even bring herself to look at the woman. "What?"

Cora continued to stare at her sandwich as if it would give her guidance on how to escape the situation she put herself in. It didn't.

But why should she need help from her pathetic lunch? Was she going to look inside and read the mayonnaise smudges like the leaves in a teacup? It hadn't worked the last time she tried, and that was with the name-brand stuff. No, if she was truly going after a promotion, if she actually deserved to be a leader, she couldn't look elsewhere for direction—she needed to be giving it. She needed to show how qualified she truly was.

First off, she needed to show her integrity.

"Sorry," Cora blurted out, the word only getting partially caught in her throat. "About...about the bread thing."

She meant it. Competing over their work had been one thing—food was another. One battle showed off their skill, while the other was about their survival. Cora would've been fine with just mayo, greens, and cold cuts, but for all she knew, Farron had needed that bread for one reason or another, and who was Cora to judge?

During her ruminations, Farron chuckled. "It's okay, you deserved it. You're the rightful breadwinner."

For a moment, Cora felt a strange sense of accomplishment at Farron's words, and she hid her smile behind her sandwich. Then, she registered exactly what Farron said. Cora thought only she called the victor that, and only in her head. She hadn't referred to herself with that corny title out loud...had she?

When her gaze snapped up, she saw Farron smiling—not smirking—at her.

"What?" Farron shrugged with her tattooed side, and the dragon shifted in the light. "It's a catchy name."

Cora couldn't help but laugh. "That's what I was calling it too. It's fitting. It shows I have the skills necessary to literally bring home the bread."

Farron scoffed, but there wasn't much heat behind it. "What skills? The ability to push a shopping cart?"

Cora frowned. "Hey, I've won all of the close-offs too."

Before she could be embarrassed by the name she mentally gave their challenge, or to explain what she meant by it, Farron grinned.

"I'll give you that. But I still easily won all the blend-offs. Although..." She paused to look Cora up and down. "I have to admit, you were hitting those blenders pretty hard. I could hear the smacking from across the food court. You were just going and going and—"

"Okay, assistant manager," Cora said, but she couldn't hold back her own grin. "Keep it PG. There are families here."

"Now you're worried about being kid-friendly? You and your spoon didn't seem too concerned last week."

With that, Cora's smile vanished, and her face grew warm. "Don't speak of that ever again."

Farron laughed. "If you say so, coffee cake. Just eat your sandwich already. It's practically falling apart before my eyes."

Cora scoffed, but she still raised her sandwich for another bite, mainly to hide the pink that probably covered her cheeks. "At least it has more green than your noodles."

"That's what you think. I'll have you know that I'm an expert at elevating ramen. Who knows?" Farron winked. "Maybe if you're lucky enough, I'll cook for you one day."

If Cora wasn't blushing before, she was with those words, and she wished her sandwich was bigger to cover more of her face. "Whatever."

As Farron let out another lighthearted laugh, Cora did her best to maintain her grumpy persona, but she couldn't help the slight grin that crept up the edges of her lips. Maybe her lunch break wouldn't be as painful as she thought.