fandomtownies | The Devil's Nest, Saturday, April 20

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The Devil's Nest, Saturday, April 20

Bo had to set up the place by herself tonight. The only sign of Tiny was his abandoned cell-phone on the bar, holding down a note scribbled on a napkin in lipstick (she didn't want to know why he had lipstick and oh man, too late, she'd pictured it and brain!drag!Tiny didn't look anything like his sister at all) that just said DO NOT ANSWER IT. FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR SANITY, DO NOT ANSWER IT.

She didn't want to know why that either. (Except for a little, but no. Mostly no.)

Especially when she checked the phone and it showed 75 missed calls from Tino.

Riiiiing. Riiiiiiiiing.

For the sake of her sanity, Bo didn't answer it.

For the sake of Tiny's phone, Bo locked it in the walk-in freezer after the 112th missed call. She would've just turned it off, but she was kind of afraid she might accidentally hit Accept if she touched the screen.

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Where your bartender was pretending she couldn't hear the faint, icy ringing in the distance.

Kaidan had told Sam that the best way to get acclimatized to this new town would be to visit the bars, and Sam, who had spent time in bars all through university and rather liked them, had absolutely no problem with that. Especially when the bartender was this attractive. Hello, Bo.

"Hi, I'll have a... scotch and soda, please," she said, claiming a bar stool. "...Do you hear ringing?"

"No," Bo said, reading her lips. Which was her only excuse for waiting 0.0000069657 seconds to smile appreciatively at the newcomer because yes.

Then she took the balled-up napkin-bits out of her ears. "But for the sake of not accidentally serving you gremlin-spit when you don't want gremlin-spit, I guess it's worth giving up the beautiful silence."

Yeah, but she was trading the blissful silence for Sam's pretty accent, so...

"As appealing as that sounds, I'm far too sober to experiment with adventure drinks just yet," Sam said truthfully. She only missed maybe half a beat with that remark; she was finally learning to take the island's eccentricities in stride. Noting the makeshift earplugs, she inquired, "Has the... not-ringing been going on for a while, then?"

Edited 2013-04-21 02:22 (UTC)

"Since about five minutes before I decided smashing the bouncer's phone into little pieces with the cash register was probably a bad idea," Bo admitted. "Freezing it seems to have calmed it down a little, but I still know it's there." Hence the earplugs.

"What can I get you that's not gremlin spit, which is mostly Midori, gin, and vodka if you go with the non-literal version?"

"Scotch and soda?" Sam ventured. "Actually, let's make it just a scotch." Beat. "And I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear that that's the name of a cocktail."

So not everything was super weird. Good to know.

"And turning off the phone is a violation of his or her privacy...?" she wondered.

"His, and no, not since as far as I can tell he left it here and fled like a baby to get away from it." Unfair, Bo, unfair. Considering you resorted to locking it in a freezer.

Bo fetched up one of the better scotch bottles and poured one, sans soda.

"I'm just afraid if I touch it enough to shut it off," she added, trying to make up for the hypocrisy with honesty, "I might accidentally answer the thing that made a seven-foot-tall guy whose muscles have muscles flee like a baby to get away from it."

Edited 2013-04-21 03:06 (UTC)

"Fair enough," Sam decided. "Though I can't say that would have been my play, if I found something alarming on my omni-tool." No, because Sam had never been faced with Tino's monologues. "He couldn't have thrown it into the ocean or somewhere else it wouldn't potentially scar a colleague for life?"

She was thinking of Bo's well-being here! Because it was hard not to, considering... Bo.

"See, that's what I said!" Bo nodded. "Also what I plan on saying the next time I see him; I'd call, but..." She jerked her head toward the ringing freezer.

"I'm Bo, by the way. And you're new around here."

Aside from the hel-lo-would've-remembered-you factor, there was also the fact that she thought gremlin-spit was just a cocktail.

"The stink just doesn't wear off, does it?" Sam asked in pretend-resignation. She didn't really mind: it was hard to take issue with people being helpful. Especially cute people. She held out a hand to Bo. "Samantha Traynor. I've been here nearly two weeks now and I'm beginning to think I ought to get a medal."

"Two weeks?" Math was hard when you were also shaking a very nice hand, but Bo managed it somehow. "Oh, man. So you got here just in time for the biennial kidnapping and pie festival with no pie? I'm so sorry."

"And the visiting children," Sam supplied. "And apparently some sort of... hormone surplus, if the Monday bartender here is to be believed."

So, her life sucked, basically.

"Have you been here much longer?"

"About two years now?" Math. Hard. "Long enough that this was my second set of fake rugrats." Her experience with hormone surpluses predated Fandom by quite a while, but she was just gonna... not say that. "I'm still trying to decide which was more disturbing."

"What were the distinguishing characteristics?" Sam wanted to know. "I could help you decide. Objectively."

"Purple-jumpsuit-wearing porn-star superhero son versus daughter with a tail."

Somebody didn't know about the werewolf kid yet, for which somebody would be grateful if she knew she needed to be grateful about something, but then if she knew that, she wouldn't be grateful anymore.

"...Oh." Yeah, those were just so hard to decide between. "Well," said Sam, "If it were me, I'd have to say the porn star superhero would be rather more challenging to deal with. One... appendage, shall we say, seems less worrisome than an entire career. And fashion choices."

"It probably depends on the appendage, but you have a point." It was the father who was more disturbing in that particular case, but Bo wasn't about to go into that one. ~~DON'T YOU JUDGE HER.~~ "Did you end up with kids, or just have to put up with other people's?"

"None of my own," Sam replied. She was a little disappointed about that -- she quite liked kids -- but she would probably have been singing a different tune if she'd been stuck with the horror that was Derek Gardner. "Though I got a visit from a commanding officer and his daughter. She had... a bit of an odd fascination with my toothbrush."

That was because it was a very important toothbrush, Sam.

"...Does it do something special?"

This was Bo, She'd seen toothbrushes that did special things.

Probably not the kind of special things Sam's did.

"It uses mass effect fields to massage the gums and break up plaque?"

So no, not really.

Slow blink.

"Those words all made sense individually, but the only ones that went together were the teeth-related ones."

Sam smiled. "Hi, I'm Sam and I'm from the future," she quipped. "It's possible that toothbrushes are a bit more advanced in my time."

Edited 2013-04-22 21:18 (UTC)

"Hi, I'm Bo and I was here when Vikings stole the island and took us to the 9th century. Take a guess whether I'll ever complain about somebody with hyper-advanced standards for oral hygiene."

Where the DJ wasn't used to anyone asking him to turn the music up when he'd decided it was Manilow Night, but he wasn't about to complain.

Where hopefully for both Eric's and the DJ's sake, there was either no vampire, or a vampire with earplugs.

Where I totally stole Teacup's schtick.

ILU. <3

I do not however have the Method experience of having to sit through real auditions today so I offer you hugs and nonalcoholic chocolate mudslides.

Omg delicious. THANK YOU. *HUGS BACK. AND SLURPS.*

In return, I bequeath unto you... uh... this, which for the purposes of this story is gluten-free and healthy and all that jazz:

Also you get this icon, which is possibly worth more than the cake.

NOMNOMNOMNOMNOM.

The cake, I mean. Yes. The cake.

(I can eats the gluten. It's the sugar, sadly. Though I DECLARE THAT LITTLE IS WITHIN MY TOLERANCE LIMITS BECAUSE NOM.)

WELL, I DECLARED THAT IT IS HEALTHY. HEALTHY MEANS IT IS SUGAR-FREE. AND YET STILL DELICIOUS. SO GO NUTS.

...I've just decided that if I could choose my own superpower, it would definitely be the power to control desserts. I can't believe it took me this long to realize that.

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The Devil's Nest, Saturday, April 20

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The Dance Floor [4/20]

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