fandomtownies | Luke's, Friday

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priestly

Luke's, Friday

Luke's had totally been open all day. ~~Shut up.~~ Priestly was even here the whole time, ready to man the stove if inspiration struck to try out some new dish.

He hadn't actually gotten around to, say, writing up specials or anything, though. He was going to, really he was, but see, he kept getting distracted. Which was what was happening now, over there at the front counter, where he was sort of half-sprawled with his chin on his arm, his free hand holding open the book he had propped against a napkin holder.

"Anarchist Cookbook?" the Dishwasher guessed.

"Eat, Pray, Love," the Cook proposed.

Priestly lifted his head just long enough to flick them off, eyes never leaving the pages.

If a customer or, you know, an actual friend came in, he'd be all set to actually sit up and pay attention, don't worry.

[late, lazy post = no OCD. Have at ye.]

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Dinah came in, happy to be wearing normal clothes, shorts and a top and sandals, and to finally be able to relax.

"Hey, dude. What are we making?"

Priestly looked up with a grin. He pulled out a napkin to use as a bookmark and set his book aside. "Hey! You're back from the homefront! Or . . . something!" He tilted his head and looked around the diner. "And, uh. I dunno. Cookie's got something going, probably."

"I would kill for a bacon burger," Dinah admitted, going over for a hug. "And something sugary. There are in no way enough sweet things in Glacia when you're doing a road trip with a couple hundred to a thousand people." She stopped, then then squeezed him harder. "Or hugs. Just hugs are good. I'm just gonna hang onto you a while. No big thing."

Priestly huffed a soft laugh. "Yeah, hugs are good." He hugged back, matching her squeeze for squeeze (hey, there'd been a touch of weight training in his new exercise routine, who knew?). He pulled back to give her a quick once over. "What, I don't get to see you in all your queenly regalia?"

Dinah allowed it, just glad to see him, but yeah, noting that that hug was a little stronger than before. Hmm. "Not until I have to put it back on when I leave, nope. It's chillier in Glacia, even in the summer. I'm here to enjoy the heat and the lack of tension. And the company of people not telling me what to do." He'd probably note some dark circles under her eyes. Sleep had been hit-or-miss this week.

"So I shouldn't try to make you eat a salad instead of a burger, then," Priestly joked. "Good to know."

"I would actually-- really like a salad instead of fries, too," Dinah said guiltily, looking amused. "But I swear, I get why everyone's so jumpy and bossy, but it's making me nuts..." Erm. Um. Yeah. Maybe she should've sent Priestly an e-mail about the attack? Hmmmmmmm.

Or maybe a phone call, saying "so I'm fine but", yeah. "I'm pretty sure war isn't designed to make people sane."

That would work! When she was worlds away!

"Well. No." Dinah bit her lip, then said, "And, uh. There was an attack. A few days ago." More than that, Glacia time, but details, and not the point. "Soooo people are kind of-- paranoid."

She'd gone to war. Priestly knew, intellectually, that things like this would be coming.

Didn't make it any nicer to hear.

"What?! Are you okay?" She'd tell him if she wasn't okay, right? "Is everyone else okay? What happened?!"

"I'm okay, and Momoko was okay, and Karla and Raven and everyone else weren't anywhere near it," Dinah said, trying to sound ultra-reliable and responsible. "And, um. We got jumped, when we were on a hunting party with four other people." She swallowed hard. "An ambush. Two of our guys didn't make it back."

Edited 2013-06-15 02:15 (UTC)

Priestly pulled her back into a hug and just held on, at that. Mostly because if he tried to say something, it would probably involve yelling, and that would just make them both feel bad.

Dinah hung onto that hug hard. She'd already cried at the funeral, but somehow, some things just weren't real until she'd told Priestly about them.

"I'm okay. Just scratches." Details would probably freak them both out. "The guys who jumped us-- well. They didn't make it. No choice."

Her voice maybe sounded a little choked there.

Priestly rubbed a hand up and down her back. "You? Or . . . ?"

Not that it would make much of a difference, but -- well, it WOULD make a difference if she was the one who did it. To her, if nothing else.

"One of them. Mostly an accident." She sighed raggedly into his shoulder. "Momoko hit another one. Tried to save him, but... and our buddy Bob took down the last one when he tried to go after Alba." She whispered, "I swear, if I could've figured out how to save him, or if he'd just given up faster, he wouldn't have died. It was just stupid."

Well yeah. It was war, after all.

He probably shouldn't say that out loud.

He pressed his lips against the side of her head and kept rubbing her back. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks." It helped, being hugged by Priestly, with no one to tell her she was scheduled to be somewhere, doing something. It helped a lot. She wrapped her arms around him. "Have you put on muscle, or am I hallucinating?"

"Between trying to make sure I won't die on your surprise running days or whatever the hell Dean talks me into, I damn well better have."

GRAVE DIGGING WAS HARD WORK, OKAY?

She'd still be processing Glacia stuff... probably all summer. But first steps: taken.

Another squeeze, and a laugh. "I like it. Even tighter hugs." She tilted her head to get a better look at his face. "So you were gonna tell me about that, and who was it you guys dug up, and what was with Dean leaving you somewhere O-M-G?"

She'd probably be processing it a lot longer than that, really.

"So it turns out one way to get rid of ghosts is to dig their remains and burn them. Which is pretty much exactly as gross as it sounds." Priestly shook his head. "And he didn't actually ditch me. He went to buy bandaids. I got a little, uh. Scratched up."

My Tiny Equine bandaids, even. Priestly wore them with pride.

"Eeeew. Was it like a zombie movie? Or a mummy movie? Waaait a minute, you got banged up?"

Scratched up, Dinah. Keep up. She growled. "There are gonna be words if you guys get hurt doing this stuff..."

Hey, congrats, Dean. You're a friend now too.

"Especially you."

"Uh huh. I'm helping a professional get rid of some creepy crawlies that like to nom on people." That wasn't the ghost's MO at all. "You're fighting a war. Guess who gets way more 'If you get hurt I'm going to be pissed' points, here?"

Dinah ducked her head with a wince. "Okaaay, point. Fair point... Although, just remember, Momoko has my back, and she's indestructible." That had to help, right?

"So how'd you get scratched? Did it throw you into something, or what?" Now she was trying to figure out ghost-tactics. "...our lives are weird."

"Nah, it just, you know, scratched me."

Or tried to put its hand through his chest. Potato, potato.

Dinah gave him a weirded-out look. "They have fingernails?... hmmkay. So you guys got plans to do another one of these?"

"I dunno, maybe. The gravedigging wasn't much fun, but you should have seen the look on Dean's face when he realized I was tweeting the whole thing."

Priestly liked having guy friends. Even ones who had older, way grouchier alternate world versions of his face.

"Was that even safe?" Dinah demanded, laughing and thwapping him at the same time. "I mean, I'm guessing it was during the grave-digging-- and hey, how did you guys not get caught, don't those places have watchmen?"

"Proooobably not," Priestly admitted. "At least I didn't tweet and drive?"

Yeah, 'cause Dean would have let Priestly drive at all.

"Priestly!" Argh, boys. "You so better be more careful next time. Well, you learn from mistakes, so I know you will, but still... Hey, do you think, if I'm home one of the times you guys are doing this, that I could go along? Just to see?" Or help! She was okay with that!

"You'd have to ask Dean. Or possibly Sam, but he was all scowly faced on Twitter about me going, so I don't know how into the idea he'd be."

"Oh, I can talk Sam around. He's my sorta-ex-husband, after all."

Yeah, right. Sam's Concerned Face was being aimed at you from New York City, Dinah.

"Anywho. We'll see how that goes... we're coming up on the end of the politics stuff. Karla almost has all the votes she needs. Then the hard part begins, so. No idea when the next time I get a break will be after this." Woe.

"Hey, I helped him dye his hair once. That's a sacred bond." Doofus. "Wait, you mean the hard part hasn't happened yet?"

"You helped dye my hair once too!" Super-doofus. "Ummm.." How to explain? "Uh. Okay, so, an election pretty soon, right? Which we are counting on Karla winning. So she can say, 'yay, get the hell out of my country, bad incompetent jerkfaces'. Except, uh. We kind of think they won't go quietly."

...that was a yes, in case all the bibbling disguised it at all.

"See, this is why I'm an anarchist," said the worst anarchist ever, barring perhaps Britta Perry. "None of that messy politics screwing everything up."

"Oh, man I wanted you there a couple times this month. Well, more than a couple, but there were times when I was all 'why do I have to be so proper and if Priestly were here he would so tell you off about your stupid hierarchies.'" Dinah made a face. "But I gotta admit, these guys need some kind of organization to get rid of the tyranny that's sneaked in the back door."

"Ah, but see, that tyranny might not be there if there's no walls to put back doors into." Priestly nodded sagely. "Which isn't the most helpful thing now, since it is there, and all, and hey, I'm all for squashing tyrants. But still. Government." Priestly made a face.

"...I think I followed that. Sorta." Dinah grinned and spontaneously hugged him again. "When this is all set and safe, I'm dragging you there to debate Julian. He could use the eye-opener." Her stomach growled. "...after a salad and a burger and anything else we can make."

"I dunno, do you think he'd manage as many indignant prince faces as Arthur used to?"

"Even more! You ignorant peasant," Dinah added in Arthur-voice. "It will be epic. They'll write odes and bar songs to this debate."

"I've always wanted my own ode."

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Luke's, Friday

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