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Surprisingly, it wasn’t unusual for the sinners to ask to eat out. While the Mephistopheles kitchen was regularly and decently stocked in accordance with a shopping list that could only be classified as the world’s most successful fourteen-person team effort, the title of ‘world’s most successful thirteen-person team effort’ still went to persuading Vergilius to let them eat something they didn’t have to cook. (To be fair, this effort was only ever successful when Charon would be among the group asking, but success meant success, even if it wasn’t any of the sinners that tipped the scales towards a ‘yes’ vote.)
When the Limbus Company Bus Team did manage to go out to eat it was always fifty-fifty whether Dante would go with them. If the bus could park close to a restaurant, they’d get dragged to sit and watch whoever’s turn it was to take them to ‘explore the local environment’ eat. Otherwise they’d stay with Mephistopheles as Vergilius didn’t like to let Charon too far out of his sight (or let her be supervised by just the sinners for too long). As they couldn’t exactly eat (or communicate to any staff member why they couldn’t eat) Dante usually preferred to stay with the bus. Furthermore, deciding who to go dine with was an even bigger pain. Their unpleasant experiences watching the sinners eat ranged from watching Faust, of all people, slurp the filling out of a sausage skin at seven in the morning to spending an unreasonable time in line waiting for a, frankly, inedible-looking themed curry with Don Quixote.
Now that they looked back on it, almost none of their experiences eating out with the sinners were pleasant, if it wasn’t the food of the consumption method, it was the restaurant. They’d been threatened, scoffed at for not ordering and (though they couldn’t be sure, since they didn’t speak the language of the staff at that particular café) almost bought and sold for parts.
This single restaurant trip made everything worth it, though.
<Hey Faust, what is this?> They said, holding up a small plastic bag they pulled from a small wooden box that was set on the table, along with Faust’s pasta dish.
“That’s cheese.” Faust replied, without looking up from her food. “It’s typical for these types of restaurants to provide some for patrons to add to their food.”
There was a moment’s pause as Faust chewed.
<Hey Faust,> Dante piped up again. <is it typical for cheese like this to be . . . branded?>
“If you mean the Nest logo, yes. It’s typical for gastronomic products from some regions to have a seal of authenticity, indicating their origin. It’s a sign of quality.” Faust explained nonchalantly.
Another pause, filled with Faust’s chewing.
<No, I mean . . .> Dante tries for a third time. <Do these cheese companies tend to . . . promote anyone?>
This seems to get Faust’s attention, as she looks up at Dante and, by extend, the plastic packet they were inspecting.
It’s a simple, white packet, small enough to fit in the palm of a hand, with a seal of authenticity in one of the bottom corners and a red stripe with text showing its provenance and type running across it and at the top – Ah, there it was, Faust finally noticed what it was, that Dante was talking about. Because at the top of the packet there was a pictogram depicting an all-too-familiar face, with an equally familiar name and title under it.
Dante stared at her expectantly for a beat, and then, at the same time –
<So is this->
“Ah, so that’s what it-“
A second pause, before Dante motions their hand for her to go ahead.
“Some Nests are very passionate about their cultures. They’re proud of their technology, their food and their fixers. This patriotic culture can result in the intertwining of these local accomplishments.” Faust begins to explain. “One example of this, you’re holding in your hand right now.”
<Can you elaborate?> They ask.
“This particular type of authentic cheese is known for, among other things, making brand deals with various fixers.”
Dante stares at her. She stares back, already preparing herself for another question, when Dante lets out a noise she had never heard before. It only occurs to her after a second, that the shrill mix of grinding gears and train whistle is them laughing. They are, in fact, laughing so hard they’re leaning forward, clutching their stomach.
“Dante, please. Fixers having brand deals is really not that uncommon. Besides, having spent this much time around Don Quixote, I would have assumed you’d be more acquainted with the topic of fixer memorabilia by now.” - She tries, futilely, to calm them down, because people are starting to stare. Probably assuming they’re malfunctioning. Or about to blow up. Or both. Der Gesellschaft is, no doubt, also getting second hand embarrassment for this. At last this blunder wasn’t her fault. And for this to happen just as the WARP train fiasco was starting to blow over.
Dante, thankfully, starts to calm down before a member of staff asks them to leave, though by that time Faust is already a shade of red comparable to the details on the cheese packet.
As she’s about to reprimand them for bothering the whole restaurant, they reach over to the box of cheese packets and empty it into one of their coat pockets.
“What are you doing? Manager, put those back.” She whisper-yells at them.
<No, I think Don Quixote might really appreciate these.> They say, like it’s the most logical thing in the world. <And doesn’t she like to have three of everything for her collections> And extras can’t hurt. Besides, don’t you need cheese for the kitchen anyways?>
“Do you have no self-preservation instinct? You know you can’t heal yourself, right?”
<Yeah, Vergilius is scary, but he doesn’t have to find out.>
“Except he can read you like an open book. He’ll know.”
<It’s fine. I think I’ve learned how to pull off a poker face from Rodion by now.>
Faust, against her better judgement, just sights and lets it go. She finishes her pasta to the tune of Dante’s mechanical giggles, pays and they head back to the bus.
Thankfully, they are not the first ones back. She’s glad there are witnesses, because as soon as they step foot on the bus-
“Dante, what’s in your pocket?” Vergilius greets them.
<It’s -ah, nothing.> Dante stutters, even while knowing he can’t understand them.
“Dante says it’s nothing.” Faust translates. She contemplates stepping out of the bus and under a passing car. Half to not have to have this conversation, half to punish Dante.
“Is it nothing?” Vergilius asks again, this time directing the question at her.
“It’s cheese.” Faust reveals, to a disappointed <Hey!>, from Dante. “Dante thought it would be a good idea to take packets of hard cheese from the restaurant we ate at.” She prays that he doesn’t pry further.
He looks her up and down, then does the same to Dante. Then turns around, seemingly satisfied with the answer. They both sigh a sigh of relief and head to their seats.
“Faust advises you to never try that again.” She tells them in a hushed, angry tone.
<Maybe you’re right . . . but it did all work out in the end.>
“Maybe for now, but Faust is washing her hands of this. Whatever you or Don Quixote do from now on is on you two and only you two.”