Flour. Sugar. Baking powder, salt, coffee beans, and eggs. There were a little less than fifty things she needed to source industrial quantities of.
Back in the old days, Susannah would trade favors at local markets and viciously hunt down her prey, plucking the ingridients from its back. (Horticulture was not for the faint of heart.) Now, there were things called markets. Unfortunately, it seemed the old days and the new city were not as far apart as she thought.
Her walk to visit Frolly was uneventful. The coarkboard in the waystation was eventful. Grandly so. Apparently, there was some sort of mass closing out sale for a furniture store, and everyone was getting in on it, hauling new furniture, old furniture that was now being replaced, and medium lengths of time furniture around everywhich way.
Susannah dug through the flyers, past all the furniture adverts.
Lost dog, lost kid, mayor’s election, lost gerbil written and hand drawn in neon crayon, stolen shoes, apartments for rent, a circus was in town two months ago, mayor accused of tyranny, lost cat, lose weight fast with these three potions, fresh meat that gives ‘the taste you were looking for’...
Hm. Time for another conversation then. Oh the horror.
Frolly was sitting at their desk, staring out into the world looking vaguely melancholy.
“Hello Frolly. Do you know where I could find companies that ship food. For making things. To serve people, as a restaurant, not for oneself.”
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They slowly blinked, reached a hand to the left, and pulled three flyers out of nowhere. Literally.
“Thank you,” Susannah said as she took them. She glanced over them. One advertised a collection of different foodstuffs from several different farms being brought together in one order, that had to be picked up each week. Pass. Delivery or bust. The next was for a company that supplied industrial amounts of animal feed. Pass. The last was not a piece of paper but thick, glossy plastic. It had a bright purple background, and a fedora on the front of it. All of the font was bright yellow, and in cursive. Topsawyer’s FUDS; dimensional food deliveries! Place an order, it’s collected right off the farm and sent to YOU!
That sounded too good to be true. Susannah decided to hand the other two flyers back and bank on it working out, because of course it would work.
She stared at the fedora on the flyer. It was a very nice fedora.
She flipped the flyer over. The back was also purple, and the rest of it looked remarkably like a postcard. The only instruction was: Write the order and date needed, we’ll know where to charge.
She impolitelty pulled a pen off Frolly’s desk and scribbled down what she needed. The ink faded away. The flyer briefly glowed red pulsed in her hand, hotly, like she was holding a beating heart that wasn’t wet.
Susannah wandered out of the waystation, feeling very accomplished with herself. She had found a way to get food to make better food for her café. Now all she needed to do was get a safety inspection, prove that her operating prior to getting one was somehow legal, and she would be safely in bussiness!