At Our Own Convenience

“Hey... HEY!”, the voice yelled, startling the young man. A woman, shorter than him but equally older, had her arms crossed with a displeased, disapproving frown and glares like daggers. Fievel, who was absentmindedly checking the grocery aisles and its shelves, removed his earphones, letting them hanging on his red apron – the store’s trademark. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“There’s a customer at the aisle 4! What are you waiting for? How many times have I told you to stop listening to music while at work?”, the woman hissed carefully to not let anyone hear. Fievel, on return, had nothing to say. He knew he was in the wrong here, yet it was a habit he couldn’t simply ignore. Music soothes the soul and lets you fly high when you can’t take your feet off the ground. Besides, he could never say a bad word about his boss. “Just go there, alright? If it were Macaulay instead of me, you’d be fired by now!”, she ranted before departing to another aisle, leaving Fievel to cope with the task.

It didn’t take long for him to find out said customer. A man, a very well-dressed, classy-looking man. Not someone he’d find in the Backlight skimming through a store, but definitely someone he’d stay staring, his sleepy, almond eyes focusing on the sight. Intrigued, even. The man didn’t look exactly like he needed some help as his boss indicated, yet it was Fievel’s job to offer and provide assistance regardless, leaving to the customer the decision whether said assistance was needed or unnecessary.  “…excuse me?”, he approached, fixing the name tag on his apron’s handle just in case.

Fievel approached the fellow, glancing through the packs of instant noodles as if checking correctly the flavor and brand. His memory for this kind of thing wasn’t the best, but being interested in instant noodles himself (out of pure laziness to actually cook something for himself plus the presence of a doting mother who often busies herself with the task of cooking for the family), he was well aware of the sales discount. Buying two for the price of one grants you one whole day of meal, lunch and dinner secured. “Yes, that’s correct. The sale discount is two packs for the price of one. Do you need help with something else, mister? If that’s all, we can proceed to the cashier, please”, he glanced back to Gabe. He was… good-looking, yes, but even more at a close distance. The charming, intellectual type. Not exactly Fievel’s type, albeit he didn’t go around to know which type is his favorite one. Besides, he wasn’t blind and the perfectly functional pair of blue eyes wasn’t mere decoration. Are there such people in Endymion, he wondered?

“Oh?”, Fievel woke up from his dreamy thoughts of infatuation, looking rather and positively surprised. Of course he’s well aware his entire family catches some eyes due to the general complexion. However, being noticed by the foreign origins of his name is something else. Not many people know what “yiddish” means, after all. “Oh, right. Yes, prior to my father’s marriage, his family was entirely jewish so he named me after to honor his grandfather. We’re… not from around here”, Fievel said, abashed. A compliment that didn't sit well. After all, could he even be called “brilliant” in something nowadays?

He figured his heritage would call attention eventually. Just... not so soon. It didn’t really make him uncomfortable (if anything, just as uncomfortable as every other approach he had in life for reasons other than his ballet proficiency) per se, it’s just talking about himself was not his cup of tea. “Well… In Switzerland things are under control, just like Endymion. My parents decided to move here because conditions are similar to home, the weather is too”, Fievel nodded with a shy smile. It was understandable why people would move, giving how prosperous the city is known for. In that respect, they weren’t much different from other immigrants, save for possibly being wealthier than the majority. “I’m sorry if my accent comes off as too thick. I’ve been living in here for a while but I suppose it’s hard to get rid of your roots…”

Probing his mind? Charming accent? Now, Fievel knew for sure this fellow didn’t mean any harm or second meaning in his speech. Chances are Gabriel was just being his usual self, and his usual self was… charming just like that. However, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. And not just slightly embarrassed, but really awkward to the point his body would denounce it by the faint yet visible tone of reddening tinting his cheeks. “I… appreciate it. Thank you very much”, he smiled bashfully, not the kind of broad smile naturally, but instead a withdrawn way of showing his appreciation. It felt welcome albeit a bit off considering his disability, but of course Gabriel wouldn’t know that, he wasn’t at fault here. “So… have fun in Switzerland when you have the time. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the mountainous environment. I recommend you searching for the swiss chocolate, it holds a justified reputation”.

Fievel could only stare, visibly confused. As in, part of him was confused about the man’s proposal, and it indeed sounded childish. On the other hand, Fievel was charmed. And realizing he was infatuated with such straightforward proposal embarrassed him. It wasn’t anything big, naturally, someone with a more outgoing personality would hardly pay it any mid, yet to Fievel it felt like he was being hit on – and by a very enchanting man with clear distinct manners!

“Oh? Uh… I… No, I haven’t been to Vista Square as of lately, no”, he replied, mildly insecure, albeit he tried to convey his words as gentle as he could, including wearing the characteristic coy smile. His face was naturally getting hotter now, much to his chagrin – you can always count on your body to betray your mind at the worst moments, for sure. “Hm, mister, I appreciate the invitation, I’m, uh, flattered by your interest, but… I don’t think it’s correct of me to accept date proposals from customers, the managers hardly would allow it… And we just… met?”

So… it wasn’t a date? Or was it a date after all? Fievel was speechless and even more embarrassed than before, now feeling genuinely and ultimately stupid for assuming this man would be non-straight and have any degree of interest in him. Not that his self-esteem was bordering on low levels, it’s nothing like that – he just couldn’t handle straightforward compliments and approaches well. At least, the man’s politeness was enough to soothe part of Fievel’s uneasiness (even if he technically didn’t need a hospitable guide, been living in Endymion for a while by now). Yet, he didn’t have it in him to object. Gabe knew how to be charming, but he also knew how to be equally persuasive in his persistence. It wasn’t in his core to say “no”, specially after plausible arguments for accepting the date proposal – yes, Fievel chose to still believe it was going to be a date. They even had the date, time and place set!

“I suppose you have a point…?”, he smiled bashfully before following Gabriel to the counter. They could convince themselves it was all a coincidence and this thought, such an easy solution, fueled his confidence enough to establish at least some sort of verbal bond to the guy if it’s indeed going to be a date. “I’m sorry to ask but… what’s your name again? I… I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced…”

At the occasion, the same woman who scolded Fievel moments after to ensure he’d provide proper attendance to Gabriel would be found at the cashier, welcoming him with a friendly smile before finalizing the purchase. Meanwhile, Fievel would busy himself with assisting the man with the task of wrapping the things – even though he did nothing, as Gabriel had most of the work already done, leaving him staring quietly waiting for further orders.

The silent glares exchanged between him and his displeased coworker were interrupted when the man finally revealed himself, with a fancy flick of wrist and a self-introductory card, even! Definitely something worth of a movie star and, after reading his name on the card, Fievel had the impression he had just met one indeed. “Gabriel Gatsby”. Pompous, to say the least. So… he was an employee at this Lucky Clover Casino? Or was he the owner of said casino? More doubts than answers, and before he could ask for explanations, the man exited the store.

“The pleasure is… mine…”, Fievel muttered, following the silhouette of Gabriel with his blue, dreamy eyes until he disappeared out of sight down the road. Was it unusual to Fievel to encounter some inconvenient customers and be hit on eventually? No. Yet, it was the first time he actually felt compelled to accept.