(2018-03-26) Mastering Aggravation
Mastering Aggravation
Summary: Eddie stops by the Blue Moon to annoy Gwen.
Date: 2018-03-26
Related: None
Player Characters: Eddie, Gwen

----| Main Room - Blue Moon BBQ - Airport |

No dancefloor. No stage. No tourists. This dimly-lit bar and barbecue is brass and smoke the latter caused as much by the patrons as the kitchen.

The glory of this place goes to the long brass covered bartop, the amber lights that hang above it reflect against the gleaming surface. It runs the length of the northern wall with just enough room at either end to accommodate the EMPLOYEES ONLY doors that lead to the backroom and the kitchen. The floor was once beautifully varnished wood but has lost some if its shine to the gouges, scuff marks, and occasional unidentifiable stain.

Booths have been hitched against the southern wall at regular intervals. On the eastern hangs a dartboard, with an exclusively blues rock filled jukebox placed precariously close. A pair of well-worn pool tables take up the remainder of space left between the booths and bar.

The atmosphere is overwhelmingly earthy, blue-collar blues, and cramped.

Gwen is sitting at the bar at the moment. There's a small crowd tonight. A bit too early for most people to be out, this far out of the city. So Gwen is sitting at the bar, drinking something clear and bubbly, going over paperwork.

Eddie used to come here pretty regularly, back when things weren't so hectic and he had more money to spend on things like food and he didn't really know the owner. He hasn't done since everyone woke up, except on business that one time, but he's hit a lull in his investigations and he just made some scratch finding some old lady's cat. As for the last thing, well, he hasn't seen much of Gwen since she tried walking home from Forks, and as the technically senior Winter in town maybe he feels like he ought to check in on her. Anyway, the way things are going with Ida he could really use some straightforward abuse.

So here he is, right behind her, the sneaky little shit. He spends a little time reading over her shoulder before he announces his presence by reaching around her and setting a jar of honey on the bar next to her paperwork. He gets a lot from Bea, and it seems he's decided he can spare one. One of the small ones. "Gwen."

Gwen does not, immediately, jump or scream! She startles a little bit, but not enough to make a scene. Her tone is bland as she says, "I thought I smelt odeur de poubelle."

Eddie seems a little disappointed not to get a scream, but considering where he's at it's probably for the best. "You say the sweetest things," he says, placing a palm over his heart. He swoons against the bar and slides into a seat, not directly next to her, but one down. To make it harder to pinch him, maybe. He's mercifully quiet for a while, watching her work, but it doesn't last. "This place," he says, gesturing around the joint and looking around like he hasn't seen it before, "the cottage. You're awfully rustic minded, for somebody with so many gears in them."

Gwen shrugs her shoulders a little bit and she says, mildly, "Pop music gives me anxiety. Singer song writer indie bullshit makes me want to cry." One shoulder lifts and falls, as if that should explain why she's so … rustic? A glance is given to the bartop and she says, mildly, "And I like brass."

"I like brass, too, but you don't hear too much of it in country music," Eddie grins. He looks along the bar and finds the bartender, raising one hand and getting his fingers into snapping position. Then he remembers how well that went last time Gwen was around, some place that wasn't even hers, and he settles for waving them over. He orders a double of SoCo, cheap and sweet, and turns his attention back to the Manikin while he waits for it to show. "Anyway, what did you join us for, if you didn't want to cry?"

Gwen eyes Eddie with a gimlet stare when he starts to look like he's going to snap his fingers. Ready to cut him. Oh boy, does she look ready to Cut Him. A shake of her head is given and she says, "I thought winter was about /mastering/ your sorrow, not weeping inconsolably like a baby."

"Or letting it ride you like a horse all the way from Forks back to the airport," Eddie says, like an agreement. His drink shows up and he pays for it, giving a healthy tip since he's flush for once. Maybe literally healthy, considering who he's sitting with. "There's a lot of bawling sometimes, before folks figure that out. Good thing you're not one of those, I guess. Salt water rusts like the dickens."

Gwen eyes Eddie for several long moments and says, mildly, "I don't know what you're talking about, Eddie Brundle." A shake of her head is given and she takes a sip of her drink, ice cubs tinkling slightly. "Do you want food?"

Eddie drifts away from the moment, like somebody trying to remember something from a long time ago. It would have to be a long time ago, or else yesterday, for him to remember it. "It's tough to master anything," he finally says, paraphrasing, "if you don't look it in the eyes." Then he pulls another crooked grin, banishing the sort of solemn look that had come over him. "I learned that watching Cesar Millan. I always want food. Why, are you offering?"

Gwen rolls her eyes at Eddie and says, "I have nothing to look in the eyes. Other than being aggravated about Stone taking way, way too long to come back." She shakes her head, and then stands up. "If I give you /actual/ food will you appreciate it, or should I just give you the scrapes from the bussed tables?"

"Mastering aggravation is like catching fireflies," Eddie muses, plucking an imaginary light out of the air, "or going to the beach. Summertime activities." Her question actually seems to take some thought on his part, though he's probably just putting on a show. He sips his drink and looks up at the menu, then back over his shoulder at a table that hasn't been cleared, yet. He makes a face. "Might as well try the real thing. Those haven't had time to mature, yet. How's the pie?"

"The pie is always good." says Gwen, with a grunt. She moves around the bar, and behind into the back. She comes back out a few minutes later, dropping two plates onto the bartop. "But today you will have blackberry crumble." There is no crumble on the bartop yet. Instead there is what appears to be roasted potatoes, smelling full of herbs and butter. Several thin cuts of steak, and a bunch of sausage. And some asparagus wrapped in bacon. Both plates are identical, clearly one is for Gwen.

"You're the boss," Eddie says, watching her go into the back. He considers going through her paperwork while she's gone, but finally decides against it. Besides being bad manners (ha!), there's too many of her employees around, and he knows how detail-oriented Manikins can be. He'd hate to put them back in the wrong order. When the food comes out, he's clearly impressed, first by the actual spread, then more at the fact she apparently intends to eat all of that. "Is it just the leg that's hollow" he asks, looking her up and down, "or the whole apparatus?"

He certainly seems to appreciate real food, once he starts in on it. A little too much, probably. They used to take bets when he was a regular, how fast he could finish an order, and who could stand to watch him do it.

Gwen grunts at Eddie and says, "I'm doing a fast thing. I eat once a day." She comes back around and settles into her seat, picking up her fork and starting on the asparagus. A small frown is given and she asks of Eddie, "So… what's the news and scuttlebutt."

Eddie considers the question while he eats, and tries to come up with a joke about bugs and scuttling, but it never comes together. "I found Nora Everbright," he says, talking with his mouth full, of course, "full of mushrooms and down one hand. Plan to talk to her soon, but in the meantime I've been reading her diary." He swallows, then reaches into his coat and fumbles around for something, coming out with a crumpled sheet of printer paper. He slides it down the bar to Gwen, leaving greasy fingerprints on the page. He keeps talking while she reads, and eating too, unfortunately.

"And we met this awful lady. Winter, squid for hair, seems to find me nearly as distasteful as you do. You'd like her." He moves on to the potatoes, now that the meat's all gone, actually using a fork for those. "She seemed to remember things. Guess she missed out, getting bonked on the head with that coconut. I followed her around a while, kind of hoping I'd catch her talking to some birds or the KGB or something, but it was real boring. Seems to be who she seems to be. She wants to wear the thing," he gestures around his head, sort of crown-like, and waits for the Manikin to finish reading. "I'm thinking I might let her. Sorry."

Gwen takes the paper gingerly, eating an asparagus as she goes. A frown is given and she says, "Jeez." A shake of her head is given and she says, "No thanks! You can definitely keep that thing." A frown is given and she says, "Huh, I wonder if there are others who remember too?"

"I'm thinking of that, too," Eddie says, about keeping it. "It'd be a hell of a way to go." He looks down at his plate and makes a face, seeming to lose his appetite. Still, there's not much left, so he goes ahead and continues the grim task of picking through the remains. "We'll see. Bea made me promise to talk to her again. I don't guess 'Lillian Whitley' rings any bells?" He glances at Gwen, just to check, then shakes his head. "Didn't figure. If she really did draw the short straw, I guess I could stand living another couple of years. We'll see." He pushes his empty plate away, then pulls a blue cloth handkerchief out of his pocket to mop away some of the grease dripping off his face.

There's still some liquor in his glass, so he corrects that situation. "Audgrim and Penny said they met some preacher, one of their kind of people. He seemed to remember some things, they said. That makes two, and a pattern to go with them. I'd bet on two more, and maybe a third. Someone with purple eyes, I imagine."

Gwen gives a little shake of her head and says, "Mm. Haven't met anyone new, no. Or I suppose old." She finishes off her plate, and says, "I'll get the crumble, but then I have to finish my paperwork."

"I guess I've got work to do, myself," Eddie says, "so maybe I better get that in a doggy bag." He squeals his finger obnoxiously around the rim of his empty glass, just once, and climbs up off his seat. "I'll let you know if I find out anything else. In the meantime, give me a buzz if you wake up in the forest with a dead deer and need a ride home, or just if you need any help mastering your… aggravation." He grins again, wiping down his fingers with that handkerchief and shoving it back into his pocket. "I'm good practice."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License