As a more than proud vegan, Dorothy seldom found herself indulging in the greasy slop served at Rosie’s diner. That was a controversial opinion to say the least, but with the eatery plagued with the smell of sizzling flesh, she thought it best to keep herself and Whiskers, far away from the Dingle staple. Today was special, though. It was the eleventh of August, Dottie’s biggest vegan milestone yet and the 5 year marker on her meatless and dairy-free journey. Four years prior and she would proudly stomp into Rosie’s, a determined platinum blonde blur as she politely demanded a strawberry milkshake with extra whipped cream to celebrate her year of restraint. That was before she became familiar with Clark, well, other than shooting eachother childish glares of distaste whenever Connor invited her over despite her lukewarm feelings for his best bud.
Now, Dorothy ducked through the diner, clumsily attempting to slide into a booth in the back unnoticed by Rosie’s most memorable employee.
“Jesus, Clark.” Dot nearly jumped out of her seat as her attention was startled away from the waitress who had been searching for Dottie, strawberry milkshake (with extra whipped cream) in hand. Her eyes locked on his briefly. “Yes, you’re a fabulous dancer. I can’t believe I hadn’t told you sooner!” The sentence coming out of the blonde sounded almost too genuine to be sarcastic, but the look of impatience she sported gave her away completely. “You should try some of those for UNDRGRND, you guys would be a shoe-in.”
in this regard, clark and dottie are polar opposites. clark’s entire diet consists of greasy slop; it’s genuinely a wonder it hasn’t caught up to him yet, really, as he practically lives on food that can be made in three steps or less (most favorably with the first and only step being: drive-thru). but really, this isn’t much of a shock, as clark and dottie are dissimilar in basically every way — it’s no wonder there’s a lingering sourness between them, even after so many years have passed.
“dang, dot, what’s up your ass?” clearly, she is not actually enthralled with his esteemed choreography, as he catches her eyes darting everywhere else but on him. “i straight up don’t think i’ve ever fuckin’ seen you in here before, dude. you hire someone to murk me, or somethin?”
and then the waitress — susan, who is probably clark’s least favorite coworker, because she always rats him out to rosie and never lets him steal french fries — finally finds dottie’s table, and gingerly places the towering glass of pink in front of her.
clark eyes this new development curiously, before wordlessly plopping down in the booth across from dottie. if her emotions are this heightened over a strawberry milkshake, it is his sacred duty to use the rest of his break to bother her while she drinks it.
