Falice

Pop's

After Veronica bought Pop's back from her father she guaranteed FP a job. It made Jughead happy that things were starting to turn around for them. They had a small dispute after his father starting drinking again but FP being back at work made him too busy to even think about picking up another bottle. Jughead liked that distraction for them, it was a win-win situation. It even further postponed the idea of moving to Toledo with his mother and sister. They seemed to settle back into their normal lives in Riverdale.

FP went around busing tables. He carried around a tray to stuff the dirty dishes in. He took the rag out of his back pocket and wiped the tables once they were empty. He was temporarily the busboy while a lounge-like room was in the making in the basement. The teenagers thought that a speakeasy would not attract a number of customers, both from the north and south, if they couldn't all attend legally. Therefore they decided to switch out alcohol for milkshakes and sodas, much like the main floor of the joint. FP happened to walk by Jughead's booth. The teenage boy had his eyes glued to the computer screen in front of him. "Whatcha writing?"

"An article for the Blue and Gold. Betty and I thought we would promote the soon to be lounge so we could get a flood of eager customers." Jughead continued to type as he explained. He took a sip of his drink. "Since you're here, how about a quote from the man who's going to help manage it?"

"Like what?" FP chuckled.

"I don't know. How about the integration of the north and south alike?"

"The integration was in my days. I'm just glad to see you kids keeping the peace. Life is much easier without a civil war at the train tracks." FP put the rag back in his pocket and took the tray with him towards the back. Betty walked in right as he passed by. "Hey Mr. Jones."

"Hi Betty."

"Is Jughead around? I'm supposed to meet him here?"

"Right over there," FP points to his left.

"Thanks," Betty went to go take a seat in the booth. She pecks a kiss on Jughead's cheek and takes a seat next to him.

A young man walked in with a hoodie covering his head. He was in his mid-twenties and looked frail. It was clear he sported curly hair when he pulled his hood off. He took a seat on a stool by the counter. His eyes drifted to the decor on the wall. He's never seen a diner so rich in color. He tapped on the surface of the table as he waited for assistance. He looked jittery to the chef in the kitchen. The customer looked vaguely familiar to him. He thought it was odd how much his facial structure reminded him of FP. "Hey FP, I think your offspring needs assistance," He joked.

FP finishes rinsing the plates in his hand and sets them on the rack to dry. He wipes his hands on a hand towel and pushes out the kitchen doors. He looked around for Jughead thinking that's who his coworker meant. He went over to his booth. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Jughead turned to look at him. "Why?"

"I was told you needed some assistance."

"No. Who said that?" Jughead looked at him just as confused. FP scratched the back of his neck. Why would the chef tell him his son needed him?

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," FP walked back to the back. He still needs to finish washing the used utensils and such. He noticed the curly haired customer at the counter. He walked up to him. "Welcome, have you been attended yet?"

"No"

"What can I getcha?"

"I'm new here. What would you recommend?"