Honey and Glass

~12~

Bobby set a plate down in front of me and another in front of Chim. I looked down at my breakfast and grinned. Bobby has to be the best cook I know, don't let Athena hear me say that, she might kill me. I grabbed my fork and started eating. Chimney took a sip of his coffee before putting his cup down. 

"You ever feel like you missed your calling, Cap?" Chim asked referring to his cooking skills. 

"What are you thinking? Michelin-rated restaurant or short order cook?" Bobby based as Hen walked around the island counter stopping next to him. 

"I was thinking TV chef. I mean, what you do, it's like a performing art," Chimney said as I continued to eat.

"Mm-hmm, and much like watching cooking on TV, we never get to taste anything. Usually, by the time it hits the table, the bell goes off," Hen said waiting to fill her plate. 

"I swear if you just jinxed us," I said before sipping my coffee. 

"Don't say the "J" word!" Chim snapped setting his plate down.

"Isn't that just for the "Q" word?" I asked sitting down next to him. 

"Only the firefighting gods know for sure." 

"All right speed round. If you weren't doing this what would you be doing?" Bobby asked and Chim answered without hesitation.

"Fighter pilot. Top gun. Call sign: shotgun." Hen and I couldn't help but laugh.

"What about you, Hen?" Bobby asked as Hen walked around the table with a plate. 

"Editor cartoonist, The New Yorker." I exchanged a look with Bobby and Chim. She draws. Who knew. "I have a lot to say." 

"You draw?" Bobby asked practically reading my mind. 

"No, it's a dream. It's not supposed to be attainable. Topgun? You can barely drive, you rebar head," Hen retorted.

"Hey!" Chim defended. "Okay, what about you Bia?"

"Maybe a writer. I got really into writing in high school. I actually have a few completed novels I never got around to publishing. I bet I could find some in my old Google account" I said as Chim exchanged a look with Hen.

"So, you're saying if you publish it we can split it five ways," Chim suggested. I looked at him and then counted everyone off on my fingers. 

"There's six of us." 

"Buck doesn't need any." 

"What about me?" Buck asked making his way over to us. 

"Nothing," Chim said dismissively and I stifled back a laugh at his luck. "All right, Buckaroo. If you were not a member of the LAFD, what would you be doing?"

"Uh, I don't know. I'm not getting fired, am I?" Buck asked hesitantly.

"That's inevitable," Chim muttered.

"Maybe a surfer," I suggested picturing Buck on a surfboard. "Nope. Too much like a Ken doll."

"He'd be a golden retriever," Hen corrected.

"No, a bartender, no, no a bouncer at a bar," Chim put in. Hen shook her head.

"No, a bouncer at a strip club." The two high-fived and Buck sat down glumly at the end of the counter away from the rest of us.

"What's going on with you kid?" Bobby asked taking in Buck's slumped shoulders and tired expression.

"Just traffic sucks in this town unless you're driving ten tons of engine with sirens," Buck complained.