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- THEREFORE I AM - Act one, chapter one: Oh captain.
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Arryn couldn't say her first week at Scoops Ahoy had been entirely successful.
Her first customer had ordered the most foul combination of ice cream she'd heard of and failed to suppress her look of disgust quick enough. She'd ended up losing out on tips and lost a 'loyal customer.'
The second day, as she was carrying a crate of stock to the back room, Steve Harrington decided it would be a brilliant idea to mop the floor at the exact same time. Needless to say, they had to put in a second order.
The shop was always either too cold or too hot, customers complained about nothing and Arryn was made to endure Steve's ceaseless flirting with every girl that entered the parlour.
It was exhausting. Arryn found it all the more harder to remain positive on the mornings she made the journey to Starcourt, harder to keep the bright attitude she had first walked in with. Dramatic as it were, Arryn could confidently say she despised her job.
Robin, she finds, is the only saving grace. She mostly keeps to herself on the rare occasions she isn't bullying Steve, and lets Arryn have free run of the break room when the parlour is exceptionally quiet. Its almost as though she knows when Arryn is either on the verge of a break down or about to stab Steve with the sharp end of the ice cream scooper.
She's grateful that at least Robin isn't as intense as she happened to be in her interview.
"Hey, 'Ryn could you check the storage room for more Pineapple Twist?"
Though, she could do without the nickname. Apparently Arryn took too long to say and before she could make her own comment about the fact there were the same amount of syllables in each of their names, 'Ryn was adopted.
It got worse when even Steve began to use it.
Arryn removes her headphones slowly, tilting her head back to meet Robin's eyes. Her head sticks out from between the sliding doors, waiting for the girl's response. If it weren't for the tiny gap, giving way to the rest of the shop, Arryn would have assumed she had rid herself of her body and become just a floating head.
Arryn nods and pushes herself to her feet. Her back aches in protest, as though it prefers to be bent at a ninety degree angle, hunched over a metal table. She places her walkman carefully on the surface, letting the song play rather than stopping to pause it.
