10. Favorite line/lines of dialogue:
Dialogue is probably one of my weakest skills as a writer. I think my over-concern with the sounds of the language often times leads to a contrived result. People just don’t talk that way (and I’m not at all suggesting that they should).
But, believe it or not, the dialogue in “Cover” is probably my favorite. The exchanges between Rachel and Santana in that story are a joy to write, and they come as close to the banter I have with my real life best friend (which I’ve shared on my blog from time to time). The primary difference, of course, is that there’s a healthy dose of sexual tension in the Pezberry dialogue that I added primarily for my own entertainment because, in my headcanon, Santana’s sort of always had the hots for Rachel, and once Rachel finds out about it, she never lets it go.
Anyway, the following is one of my favorites from that story:
“Whatever,” Santana said again, picking her menu back up. After minute or two, she groaned, “Ugh. Why do you keep dragging me to this place when you know there’s nothing here I like?”
Rachel opened her mouth to respond, but just then, a slender, blonde waitress emerged from the kitchen. Rachel’s eyes glazed over, and she subconsciously licked her lips. She watched hungrily as the blonde gracefully balanced a variety of plates in her arms before delicately gliding through the diner, stopping at various tables along the way to deliver them. Noticing the sudden change in Rachel’s expression, Santana gave a knowing look before glancing over her shoulder to confirm the entrance of the blonde.
“That’s right,” she said, nodding. “Something here you like.” Rachel’s eyes remained fixated on the blonde, so Santana decided to catch Rachel’s attention by sliding her foot up the length of Rachel’s calf under the table.
Rachel snapped out of her thoughts, jerking her leg away from Santana and gasping, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“Nice try,” Santana responded smugly. “You’ve been undressing that waitress with your eyes once a week for the better part of a year.”
“Twice a week,” Rachel admitted before she could stop herself.
Santana couldn’t help but laugh at the confession. “Why don’t you just talk to her? You know…ask her out?”
“I cannot and will not ‘just talk to her,’ Santana,” Rachel replied sternly.
“Why the hell not?”
“I can’t,” Rachel reiterated weakly. “Look at her. She’s a goddess, and I’m just…” she trailed off, throwing her hands up in exasperation.
“Get real. She’s a second-rate waitress in a third-rate diner, Berry. That’s all. Now listen, I’ve got to hit the ladies’, but when she comes over here to take our order, you’re going to talk to her, or we’re never coming back here again, got it?” Santana said, getting up from her side of the booth and walking away before Rachel could argue. (x)
