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Cartas- Saturday

Jaina had had a pretty good time at the carnival, and then getting word about a certain lawbreaker that home that she'd been tracking for a month had put her in a good mood. She beat down the urge to call out of work and go back to her room to prep for her trip home next week now, but she was good and came in.

She'd just occasionally head to the lounge to make calls, though. She was still a workaholic, not having a constant job hadn't done much to change her habits.

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Comfort was not a priority for Chuck but he was glad that Castiel seemed to like it. "Have you tried talking to any girls so far?"

Edited 2010-01-31 05:31 (UTC)

"I spoke with the bar tender. She seemed to be having fun."

"Oh, Jaina. Yeah, she's a lot of fun," Chuck said. "And a pretty good kisser."

"You and she have . . . dated, then?"

That was the term he was looking for, right?'

"No. No, no, no. I've never dated anyone," Chuck said. "It was some weird Fandom thing. The island made us think we were involved in some dramatic love affair. It only lasted a weekend."

"How strange. The island does seem to enjoy such weekends."

"It does," Chuck agreed. "It's a shame considering I tend to die more than I get laid during those weekends."

"You . . . get laid . . . rather frequently without the island's help," Castiel pointed out.

"This is true," he said. "Still, getting laid is infinitely more fun than dying and I wouldn't complain if the island helped me out with that instead of killing me."

"Yes, I can see where that would be true. Why do you suppose the island decides to kill you instead?"

"Karma?"

Castiel nodded, acknowledging the possibility. "It's perhaps a good thing that you're working on that karma, now."

"Guess so," Chuck said. There was also the possibility that the island just hated him, but Chuck didn't really want to dwell on that. "So, in addition to the new clothes, how else do you plan to take my advice?"

"I ordered whiskey. And I'm trying to remember to smile."

"That's a good start," Chuck said, sounding a little proud about that. "The smiling thing, I mean. It doesn't really matter what you drink so long as it's not fruity with an umbrella in it."

"Why would you put an umbrella in a drink?"

"I have no idea," he said. "People do it all the time for decoration. Tiny umbrellas, not full size ones."

"I would assume so. Full sized ones would not fit."

"Just making sure," Chuck said. "You do have the habit of taking things too literally sometimes."

"So I've been told, yes. I assert that it is not my fault that you humans have such a metaphorical language."

"I know that," Chuck said. He reached over the bar to grab the nearest thing he could drink and ended up with a bottle of whiskey. "Which is why I try to explain things for you when I remember I'm being metaphorical."

"I greatly appreciate the effort. Most people simply stare at me in confusion."

"Well we wouldn't have gotten anywhere in our relationship if I stared in confusion every time you said something I didn't understand," Chuck said before taking a swig out of the whiskey bottle. "It would have definitely gotten boring after a while."