fandomtownies | Luke's, Wednesday

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Luke's, Wednesday

So this weekend had been . . . interesting. 'Wes' had apparently had much more of a taste for heavy greasy foods than Eliot did -- mostly because Wes didn't remember what eating too much of that stuff tended to do to Eliot's digestive system.

The kitchen staff was much too amused by Wes's less than haute tastes to let it go, though. Hence the specials already on the menu when Eliot came in:

Today's Specials
Triple bacon cheddar burger with fried egg and onion ring topping
Extra-chili cheese fries with sour cream

"Y'all have no idea how lucky you are that I don't kill people anymore," Eliot noted, tossing a piece of chalk from hand to hand before lobbing it to the busboy and ordering him to fix it.

AND A SALAD DAMMIT

Luke's was open.

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"You know there's plenty of things I can do that are just short of killing people, right?"

"That burger sounds dope," Beau said, barreling in and flinging herself into a sprawl in one of the booths. "I'll take one of those."

Yes, and hello to you too, Beauregard.

Eliot snorted faintly. He was glad those weren't his arteries. "Alright. Anything to drink with that?"

Eh, Beau was barely out of her teens yet and still irritatingly convinced of her own immortality. Who needed to worry about things like that?

"Do you have, like, beer here?" she asked, idly spinning a salt shaker around on the table. "If not, eh, just a root beer or something, I guess. Whatever."

"We got beer," Eliot said. "Got a couple varieties of ales and lagers, and even some . . . more experimental stuff. My partners and I used to run a brew pub on the mainland."

He was in a weird enough mod thanks to his staff to maybe even let her try the Thief Juice.

"Fuck yeah, the weirder the better." Beau smacked her hand down on the table loudly, making the salt shaker jump. "You used to be in the business, huh? 's cool."

Thief Juice it was. Invented by a man who thought orange soda was the height of beverage quality. It was ~~a mouth crime~~ an experience.

"I handled the menu end of things," Eliot said. "Came up with a hell of a chili. You a brewer?"

Beau snorted a laugh. "Nah. I'm kind of like . . . business-adjacent, I guess? Sort of. My parents ran a winery, made me handle the books and deal with the customers and shit. Not the same thing, I know, just seemed kind of funny."

This was a girl who thought looking for thr most ridiculous mead available at a festival was an awesome idea. She might actually like the --

"Wow. Okay. That's, uh. That's something, man."

But hey, it was an experience!

"Yeeeep," Eliot said. "Like I said, we used to run a brewpub."

Sorry, Hardison, your beer was awful.

"Did a stint at a winery, once. Picking grapes." And preventing a murder. Cons were fun. "What brought you to the island?"

"Not your true calling, huh?" Beau, apparently not one to waste booze even if it was awful, chugged down about half of her beer before she had to stop, so she was still grimacing when she shrugged.

"I mean ... fuck if I know, man, I just appeared here one day. I wasn't trying to get here or anything, didn't even know what this place was, and then next thing I knew I was there one second and the next? Surprise."

"Not so much, no," Eliot said with a wry smile. He poured a glass of water and set it down for her. You know, in case she wanted something to wash that taste away.

"Yeah, the island has a tendency to just . . . grab people. I ain't even got that excuse. My partners and I moved to Baltimore -- that's the city across the causeway -- and I figured this place looked nicer to live than a big city."

"I mean --" Beau glanced outside at the tiny street and the buildings across it and shrugged. "I'm kind of more of a big city girl myself, but they don't really do well with the whole 'hi, I'm not even from this world and I don't know how cars work' vibe over there. It's fine, at least this place is my kind of fuckin weird. The people are okay, I guess. Could be a lot worse.-

She did take advantage of the water -- but only after she, like a stubborn dumbass, chugged down the rest of the, uh, beer.

Eliot had to appreciate that determination. Even if it was rather a dumbass move in his opinion.

"Could definitely be worse," Eliot agreed. "I ain't complainin'. I'd never've met my daughter if it weren't for this place."

He probably would have figured out that Hardison and Parker wanted him back. Eventually.

It was absolutely a dumbass move. Even Beau would admit to that if called on it.

"Yeah?" she said, her expression neutral, though probably not neutral enough to keep an astute observer from guessing she had familial hangups. "That's nice, I guess. I'm not in any rush to get home, you know?"

Eliot noticed. He'd worn that particular not-neutral-enough expression a time or two himself. He wasn't about to press, though.

"Fair enough," he said. "You involved up at the school?"

She could be an older student or a younger teacher, as far as he could tell. He didn't want to assume anything.

"Haha, yeah right." Beau snorted. "Nah, I just work at the gym. Occasionally go and bug people who do teach, though. That's like as much as I get involved with academic shit."

My office book club is so much more carefully structured than my personal book club. For instance, while both frequently start with introductions, my personal book club doesn't sound nearly as much like we're in a support group.

Also, the personal one doesn't end with everyone shaking fists and chanting "BOOK CLUB BOOK CLUB BOOK CLUB". . . .

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Luke's, Wednesday

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OOC