On a conceptual level, Adagio can understand why Starbucks does the promotions it does. Their meatless sandwiches aren't selling enough to justify continuing to produce them? Make every Monday two dollars off for them, advertise it as supporting people eating less meat. People need an excuse to come in and buy a ten-dollar drink of blood-sugar spiking 'coffee' during the holidays? Offer them a chintzy free plastic cup if they buy the newest mass-advertised, overly-holiday-themed brand of unhealthy life decisions. It's just that she can also understand on a conceptual level why it irritates her so.

Behind the counter she stands, a pair of goofy foam reindeer horns over her hat, absolutely -simmering- with unvoiced rage at the sheer indignity of it all-- Forced to swallow her pride, lest she find herself without a job and swiftly in need of a new one. Even with that considered, there's a constant back and forth in her head on if it'd be worth it-- If she could find some job behind a grocery store's counter fast enough to justify telling her store manager just where she can stuff her holiday cheer.

A peppermint white chocolate mocha for her. A caramel brulee latte for him. A six-shot straight espresso for herself on her break so that she can at least pretend to have the energy to continue this god-awful shift, and a thoroughly forced smile when she sees Miss Rich come in for her six-shot caramel frappe, take a sip, and insist that she can only taste five shots. All the pain of an average day, mixed with the added humiliation of being dressed like Rudolph throughout-- What's not to love?

Part of her wonders if this is, perhaps, some sort of hell that she's found herself in. A Sisyphean task meant to punish her for daring to force others to serve her in life after she died of the trauma of losing her voice at the battle of the bands. A bigger part of her wonders just when the rush is going to end so she can finally get back to stalking Sonata's new boyfriend to see if he's a creep or not.

...It's a good hour and a half later that the last of the people who came in finally, -finally- walk out the door. The (stallion? mare? Too androgynous, can't tell, don't care.) behind the espresso bar all-but collapses, leaning against the counter and placing their head in their hands for a moment. After another, and a furtive glance down the aisle to make sure their shift lead's still in the back playing Peggle instead of actually helping, they squat down and pull out their phone-- Eager to take advantage of the lull in activity in order to get in some much-needed social media.

Technically, Adagio's supposed to scold them and inform them that phones aren't allowed to be out while you're on shift except for a few quick seconds to check the time. In practice, Adagio could not give a single, solitary fuck what the corporate rulebook says, and in fact joins them in their flagrant violation of it-- Retrieving her own phone, and quickly tapping in her password...

...Only to almost drop it in shock as the door's bell rings. She quickly fumbles to recover it, shoving it back into her pocket and offering a trademark Starbucks Gun-To-The-Back-Of-My-Head grin. "Hello, welcome to Starbucks, how can I--"

A pause. Her eyes register what she's seeing. Child, purple hair, orange skin. Second child, pink and purple hair, white skin. Third child, red hair, yellow skin.

"--help you?" she finishes, lamely, glancing to the side and quickly raising her hand to cover her face. Hopefully they don't recognize her-- It -has- been a minute since then, and quite frankly they finished so far from the finals she'd be surprised if they saw her more than twice before the main event.

"Hi! We'd like 'ta place an order," the red-haired child whose name she is certain involves the word Apple and yet has no other thoughts in her head about starts, her voice a cutesy little drawl. "I'll have a tall mocha cookie crumble," the orange-skinned one continues, eyes wide as she speeds up to the counter...

"...That's great," Adagio responds, "but I'm just here to give you your drinks. If you wanna order them, the register's right over there."

"Oh," the three say in unison. They spend a moment, exchanging awkward glances... And then they quickly sidestep down the aisle, to find themselves at the register (and, as Adagio is very thankful for, out of her hair.) Sure, she could listen to what they ordered and do her best to try and figure out what terrible stereotype of a customer they'd be when they grew up... But quite frankly, that's more emotional energy than she's willing to commit to anyone who so much as -watched- that mess of a show. So, instead, her time is whiled away scrolling through social media and idly judging the single person who seems to be willing to put up with her taco-loving-stereotyped partner-in-crime. (Admittedly, it's a stereotype well earned, but she has -more to her than a love for Mexican food, damnit,- even if Adagio's almost always the first to tease her for it.)

She on a subconscious level recognizes the three of them wander back to the handoff counter and begin chatting, but on a very conscious level she makes it a point to completely and utterly ignore them. No glances their way. No acknowledgment of their existence. Nothing that might indicate she's ever seen them before or ever wants to see them again.

"...Sure am glad they trust us again," the one with the orange skin and purple hair murmurs.
"Yeah. Been a little while. I mean, sure, what we did to Sunset was rotten, but they could've--"

Adagio's hands slap the counter, making the mugs that hold the sugars and stirring sticks rattle from the sudden force of the slam. Her eyes focus -immediately- onto them. Their discussion, suddenly speared through by the sound of the woman's outburst, is interrupted, and the three turn to stare at the suddenly much more active Siren-in-disguise.

"...Oh! Sorry. Catching a fly. Can't have it floating around the store, y'know?" She excuses, shaking her hand as if to flick it clean. "But I couldn't help but overhear that it seems you three got into some sort of trouble. Now, forgive me if I'm prying too far, but it's gonna be a little bit until your drinks are ready anyways," she thinks. At least one of them ordered a frappucino, so it's not like it's gonna be -quick-. "So I figured I might as well offer some advice. Y'know, from someone who's been in their fair share of drama themselves."

...The trio exchange glances, between each other-- The orange-skinned one seems most reticent, from what Adagio can see... But eventually, the pink-and-purple haired one steps forward.

"Yeah... Yeah. I suppose it wouldn't hurt. We did tell everyone we did it anyways, so what's one more?" She starts.

"I dunno," the orange one interjects, only to be shushed by the red-haired one, who steps forward alongside her friend.

"...Alright, if 'yer askin'. Applebloom, by the way. This here's Sweetie Belle," she gestures towards the one who spoke first, "and that back there's Scootaloo." If Adagio is celebrating her successful guess on Applebloom's name involving the word Apple, she doesn't show it. Instead, she simply puts a little bit more effort into her smile as she leans forward... And speaks, her voice so forcefully twisted to sound as supportive as possible, eyes lidded.

"...turned their backs on 'er, left her all alone without even tryin'a think of anyone else who might'a..."

"...So that's when we decided to come out about it. We told everyone it was us who set the entire thing up-- Just used some'a the old dirt that she had on the folks around and made it look like she was up to her old tricks. Y'know, manipulatin' and lyin' and blackmail." She finishes, eyes downcast. Scootaloo rubs her shoulder, nervously-- Sweetie Belle seems to be more interested in her phone than in matching eyes with Adagio...

...Which she is completely fine with. The last thing she wants them to see is the spiteful little grin on her face-- So carefully hidden behind her hands, raised as if to express shock at their deeds. Oh, how her eyes are atwinkle with sadistic enjoyment of their story-- At hearing how quickly the little 'friendship' Sunset formed to see her and her band broken turned against her at the slightest provocation. Oh, it takes all she has not to break out into a vicious, villainous giggle at the mental image of her nemesis left in despair at her friends' abandonment...

...But she does have something else to direct that energy at. She clears her throat, straightens her back... And puts on her best big-sister glare as she crosses her arms and stares down at them.

"...Wow. An entire organized smear campaign by just you three? All to target one girl? She must have -really- gotten on your bad side. Now, obviously, you've learned not to do that again," 'that', in this case, being 'turn themselves in before the damage is fully done,' "and I most certainly wasn't there to watch," as fun as it would've been... "but even so, I'm surprised. You three are such nice girls, after all. What got into you?"

"...Jealousy, I guess," Applebloom says. "We just... Saw her bein' happy with our friends, an' we felt left out, so we decided 'ta break it all down."

...That much makes the Siren's smirk fade, just a tad. Not because she's any less enthusiastic about the topic of 'Sunset Shimmer suffering for what she did', of course, but simply because in an odd way, she can understand that-- Feeling left out, forgotten about.

It's how she feels. Like she got beaten and tossed on the wayside, an afterthought to the story of Sunset Shimmer's heroism. The mere idea of it is enough to make her want to grind her teeth.

"...Well, jealousy can make people do really silly things. If you do feel bad for it, then I guess that means you learned your lesson." Platitudes, mostly-- She can't exactly be seen encouraging children to keep cyberbullying -behind the counter-, and quite frankly now that she's heard their story she's rapidly losing interest in their continued presence.

...A nudge from the back catches Adagio by surprise. Behind her, the bar partner stands, holding three drinks-- After a moment's pause, the siren takes them, quickly sorting them out in front of the three. Two tall double-chocolate-chip mocha frappucinos (apparently the person on register decided to talk the kids out of having coffee in their milkshakes-- good call,) and one venti strawberry creme frappe. After a moment, her fingers dance to the straw container... And to each, she bestows one, a final flourish to finish off their artery-clogging beverages.

"Enjoy. Thank you for choosing Starbucks, and I'll be seeing you soon, I hope." That's a lie. She hopes the exact opposite.

"You will!" They answer, truthfully and in harmony as they claim their prizes-- The chocolates for Applebloom and Scootaloo, and the strawberry creme for Sweetie Belle. As quickly as they entered, they speed out the door-- Offering little more than a wave in parting, towards them, before the glass door clatters shut behind them. Adagio lets out a sigh of relief at their departure-- Her hands already back to her phone as she returns to enjoying the free time having no customers grants her. A thumb scrolls back to her latest search, and once more, she digs into just who's trying to woo Sonata. Now, who is this 'Bulk Biceps', exactly...

...The three of them huddle together, Sweetie Belle's phone the center of their attention. Eyes glance between each other, an unanswered question dancing from each gaze to the next. Were they sure? Was it true? Was it -her-? After a moment, they look down, taking in the unassuming figure of the barista they had just spoken about their misadventures in blackmail to... And then, with a simple swipe up, they send.

>[IMG_0289.PNG]
>{hi, got the drink!! also took a picture of the girl like you asked!}

{Nothing terrible, I assure you, Sweetie Belle. Thank you for going to the effort.}<
{I'm simply going to need to discuss this between our friends.}<
{If she's working there, I doubt she's causing any trouble...}<
{...But, well, leaving the business with those three unfinished always left Sunset with a sour taste.}<

{If that strawberry creme gets to me and isn't half empty, yes, we are. Your last chore is done.}<

{...Your last chore -in repayment for Anon-a-Miss,- anyways.}<

The Siren

by BizzBBuzz

II - Tall Triple Mocha