Post by ATLANTA MAE TISZA on Nov 11, 2012 21:37:55 GMT -5
It seemed, all those years of being forced to help their mother in the kitchen had failed to have much effect on Atlanta. She could cook anything they ever ate at home easy, but since starting her new life, she didn't want to remember home-- with the exception of Thanksgiving. And cooking reminded her of being at home, which was usually a bummer, and cooking had usually been because her father didn't want to let her into any conversations. Cooking had been a punishment, and despite herself, she had learned. But people always seemed to think she was a bad cook, and maybe she was.
In any case, she made but few meals that didn't feel like chain gang duty, and they got old quickly. As such, she was taking April out to lunch at the diner. It was a simple place, with good food. A waitress had sat them in a booth by a window that overlooked the park and she propped open her menu, debating what to eat. Atlanta had been blessed with a remarkable metabolism, and fabulous weight distribution. Fat always seemed to go to the right places. She figured it might be a quirk of her powers, sex appeal being foundational to it after all. So she could really eat anything.
"The fries here are awesome," She told April, running a finger down the list of specialty burgers. Maybe she would go for a salad though, honestly, there were too many options.
