Grace never went to the Taco Bell in Rice Bluff. At least not anymore. The same shitty fast food place could be so much nicer a mere twenty minutes away, where wealthier people would get upset if they had to repeatedly go to the counter to ask for their food.
Craving cheap bullshit burritos, Grace had slithered over to Starling Hills on the way back from an odd cleaning job she'd taken. Ordering a modest combo meal, she waited at a booth, watching as the weather got uglier outside. Couldn't do drive through without a car, and while she'd intended to take this shit home when she first arrived, she had little desire to watch her bag soak through in the rain. Got it for-here, decided she could load up on Baja Blast in a water cup.
When her order came up, it was clear something was wrong immediately. One: it was a to-go order. This wasn't a problem. But it was three very large to-go bags, and she'd ordered three items.
But who was Grace to reject a blessing? She said not a word (save for "thanks!") as she grappled the three bags in her fists, then casually walked around to a series of booths that would be out of sight of the front counter. And fuck, it was like a family's worth of food. Two families, maybe? Combo boxes, stray tacos, nacho fries, all sorts of specialty items hidden in mystery, promising paper.
Definitely couldn't eat it all. She could fit some of it in her backpack, for sure, but carrying the rest through the rain would be a joke. Deciding she, too, would be a generous god today, Grace waited for the appropriate person to come through the rain and door. Not some old white guy, but. Cute little pixie chick?
"Psssst," Grace greeted, poking her head around the little divider that hid her row of booths from the counter. "Pssssssst."
Subtle.