Post by Finnick on Jun 26, 2016 20:24:57 GMT
(July 2nd, open to all again! Here's the Amy Ruth's menu :3
amyruths.com/dine-in/)
Harlem was fantastic, Finnick didn't care what anybody said. The male flicked his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and placed them on his face. The reflective lenses showed off the street. The stores, the food, the barber shops. He loved every stinking corner. The former fennec placed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Saturday and he was off. For the morning at least. He stuck a toothpick between his teeth and stomped on the pavement, moving towards the nearest restaurant. He loved this place.
Amy Ruth's, it read in big letters.
He smiled, pushing through the doors. He waved. "Ey, Jamie." The heavyset middle aged woman in front of the counter smiled.
"Finnick! What's goin' on?"
"Nuthin' baby," he purred, "You look a bit crowded today..."
"We are sugar, sorry," the girl said plainly, "We got that long table upstairs though?" Finnick groaned and closed his glasses. Sitting there would mean he had to sit with other people. He snorted.
"Fine," he growled, "Too hungry t'wait. Can you at least bring me up a glass'a sweet tea?" The girl nodded and Finnick climbed the stairs. In minutes he had his sweet tea. He was perusing the menu when he caught someone looking at him. "The Rev. Al Sharpton's good. I'm hopin' that's why you're lookin' at me because if it ain't you best start lookin' towards the wall."
amyruths.com/dine-in/)
Harlem was fantastic, Finnick didn't care what anybody said. The male flicked his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and placed them on his face. The reflective lenses showed off the street. The stores, the food, the barber shops. He loved every stinking corner. The former fennec placed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Saturday and he was off. For the morning at least. He stuck a toothpick between his teeth and stomped on the pavement, moving towards the nearest restaurant. He loved this place.
Amy Ruth's, it read in big letters.
He smiled, pushing through the doors. He waved. "Ey, Jamie." The heavyset middle aged woman in front of the counter smiled.
"Finnick! What's goin' on?"
"Nuthin' baby," he purred, "You look a bit crowded today..."
"We are sugar, sorry," the girl said plainly, "We got that long table upstairs though?" Finnick groaned and closed his glasses. Sitting there would mean he had to sit with other people. He snorted.
"Fine," he growled, "Too hungry t'wait. Can you at least bring me up a glass'a sweet tea?" The girl nodded and Finnick climbed the stairs. In minutes he had his sweet tea. He was perusing the menu when he caught someone looking at him. "The Rev. Al Sharpton's good. I'm hopin' that's why you're lookin' at me because if it ain't you best start lookin' towards the wall."
