[Dietrich Burke] *Bacchus’s Bistro was in the middle of a block in the heart of Lakeview surrounded by artist stores, and other little shops, and boutiques designed to appeal to the rich tastes of “buying authentic.”
Bac’s was a pretty nice place however, run by a few more bohemian new age types, but they did have good Jamaican coffee, and some very tasty deserts, especially the marble, and coffee cakes. Plus their cold sandwiches weren’t half bad.
Sitting outside on the sidewalk at a table by himself is a young man, in his early twenties with fair skin, angular features, a body of lean, corded muscle with slightly broad shoulders, and piercing gray eyes.
He had a buzzcut black hair, and wore a nice short sleeve collared polo shit, navy blue, with tan cargo short, and white and blue Nike sneakers. He had a pair of Oakley sunglasses resting in the front of his shirt, and looked at his blackberry for moment scrolling with his thumb.
A few other patrons kept nervously glancing his way, but he didn’t pay them any mind. He set his phone down, and picked up the cup of black coffee in front of him taking a sip. He set it back down, and rubbed a hand over his head, then closing his eyes and rubbing them. He looked like a man that had a few things on his mind.*
[Henry Allard] Okay, so maybe stopping off at the old house in Lakeview on their way home wasn’t such a hot idea after all.
The guys are still there, still gloriously enjoying their Sunday through Thursday workweek, still hyperactively enthralled whenever Henry stops by with Tristan. Not so much when Henry stops by by himself, but if he has Tristan in tow then suddenly the tequila is broken out and Henry either has to relinquish the keys or they have to take the damn Metro home because one or both of them is unable to drive.
Henry is deliriously unable to drive right now, and as a result he is relying somewhat strongly on Tristan to guide him in the right direction. So far as Tristan or anyone else can tell he hasn’t hit the point of blacked out assholery that typifies too much libations, but he’s staggering a little and giggling more than a little. Like when he almost runs into the door of the bistro they spy walking down the main drag in Lakeview.
Gay Pride is coming up next week, and all of the businesses and homes in the area are flying rainbow flags. This particularly bistro is no exception: the Bohemians running the place are apparently friendly to the cause, if they aren’t gay themselves, and Henry was glancing up at it when he nearly took a header through the glass door on the way in.
“Why did you let Richard give me that shot?” Henry wants to know, his voice relatively quiet for someone so inebriated, as they walk into the establishment. As if he’s only had one.
[Intuition+Perception: Why the fuck not. -1 (drunk!).]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Henry Allard] [Okay that was supposed to be diff 10 *LMAO* Guess who’s putting rum in her Pepsi?]
[Henry Allard] [Oh and also I forgot to adjust his dice pool.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 6, 10 (Failure at target 10)
[Henry Allard] [Oh. And I mixed up my character sheets. I fucking give up.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 7, 7, 8, 8 (Failure at target 10)
[Tristan Stern] Truth be told? Tristan LOVES hanging out with the guys. The relationships and friendships that have developed since Henry and Tristan finally moved out on their own are some that Tris is very grateful to have. They helped Henry keep him upright through the death of Mama Grace and the resulting depression, they always are welcoming, they love his food, they are always grateful when he feeds and cares for them – and Henry.
And yeah- there’s SO MUCH TEQUILA.
What’s not to love?!
So he’s laughing now, at least a LITTLE less drunk than Henry, so that he can manage to keep them going in a straight (hahahahahahaa) line toward the Metro and oh! FOOD! Henry asks the question, and Tristan starts laughing – not a little giggle, not a snort of disbelief, but full on laughter that causes his curls to bounce and his eyes to crinkle up and the smile – oh that smile. Is there any wonder he’s a favorite just about everywhere he goes? He’s just so. damn. pretty.
“….which ONE?” He manages to get out somewhere in that laughter, as they almost get hit in the ass by that same door, and he searches for a table where they can sit and friendly Bohemians will Feed Them Well.
[Dietrich Burke] *Dietrich looks up at the two drunks that have stumbled their way almost, literally, into the bistro. At least they didn’t fall down on their ass. Dietirch for the most part just looks at them for a moment, his face flat, stoic, eyes sizing them up. He looks over meeting the eyes of someone who had stopped to stare at him, but now looks away quickly.
He picks up his coffee again and takes a sip.*
[Henry Allard] The smell of tequila isn’t overwhelmingly strong on this one, but underneath it anyone in the room who happens to have a set of working olfactory glands can pluck out breeding coming from one of the two tall men who are currently entering the bistro. It’s decorated with the middle-class yet open-minded in mind, and nobody pays too much attention to them as they make their way inside.
They’re trying to be quiet, you see, and at least one of them isn’t trying to draw attention to himself, but Tristan is a very attractive man and the guy who is all but using him for balance is just… well, they can’t be together. Nobody who looks like Tristan ever goes for somebody who looks like Henry, and Henry’s changed clothes since this afternoon when a waitress gave him his phone number while he was wearing his shitty running shoes and his shitty Wranglers and his fading AIDS run t-shirt. Henry looks about as straight as an arrow until he grabs onto Tristan’s upper arm. Or, rather, curls his grip around it.
Nobody in here gives a damn, and for once he doesn’t appear to either.
No one in here draws his attention the way that he is likely to, and he keeps his voice low as they stand in line behind a woman in a power suit holding a briefcase.
“I have a confession to make,” he says, then covers his mouth as he laughs at whatever thought just passed through his head. When the laughter dies off, he spits out, “I’m starting to think that I can’t go out in public without running into family any more. It’s… it’s getting kind of ridiculous. Like, if some guy…”
He catches himself, then clears his throat and says.
“If one of my cousins just popped up next to me and said ‘Heya Hank how’s it goin’?’ I really don’t think I’d be terribly surprised.”
Considering how apathetic and almost lifeless Henry has been the last week or so that probably isn’t an exaggeration.
[Tristan Stern] See, that’s the thing – Tristan things Henry is every bit as good looking as he is himself. That’s what love does to you, ya know? And anyone who thinks they’re not together only has to watch him for 30 seconds to see that he’s totally devoted to the man currently using him for balance.
No one inside cares, and neither does Henry, and Tris, for his part, adores the extra moments of attention and freedom that they’re taking advantage of while in public. It’s fun, and freeing and well, there’s no Decker closeby to beat their ass in – for now.
Henry has a confession to make, and when it comes, Tristan starts laughing too, his hand wrapping around Henry’s on his arm, fingers lacing together there on his bicep, his fingers warm against Henry’s perpetually chilled fingers. “I… would not be surprised either. They do see to pop up from the woodwork in droves. Like..” pause, then that unrepentant grin that feels so at home across his lips “roaches. Maybe we should pick up some raid!”
Perfect idea. Right?
[Dietrich Burke] *Dietrich doesn’t really care about the two men playing lovie-lovie in public. It’s the 21st century, whatever. Not his thing, but hey fuck it.
What is his thing is the woman in the power suit with the briefcase in front of them. With her hair pulled back nicely done up in that corporate bun, still looking feminine but confident, and cool. Hell if he’s lucky maybe she’s got enough mental toughness not to stammer and back away slowly when he says “Hey” to her.
So he gets up, and comes over to her smiling a bit, full of confidence and slightly cocky. I mean you have to be to walk up to a total stranger and say.* “Hello. My name is Dietrich. I couldn’t help but notice you when I was sitting over there. I’d like to pay for your coffee if you don’t mind.” *He pulls out a ten and hands it to the cashier.* “You’re under no obligation to continue this conversation, but if you’d like to I’ll be sitting right out there.” *He points to his table outside, and then takes his change to head back outside. If she comes, awesome, if not eh it happens.*
[Henry Allard] [WP: Don’t Laugh, White Boy. +1 diff (drunk!).]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 5 (Botch x 5 at target 7)
[Henry Allard] “Yeah except for I don’t think pyrethroids work on mammals,” Henry says. The man has an absolutely atrocious Chicagoan accent, the sort of accent a person acquires at birth or after relocating at a young age, and that is most likely the one factor that determines whether Henry is just average or whether he is actually cute to the general population. So long as he isn’t talking he’s easy on the eyes. As soon as the ears are involved it’s all over.
It’s the power executive’s turn at the cash register, and Henry takes a breath to shore up and keep himself from acting like a buffoon in front of the young pierced-lipped woman at the station. Which would have been all well and good except for the cocky, confident bastard from across the dining room meanders over to talk to the 30-something vice president or whoever she is. She has the stones to deal with mortal men, but this is not a mortal man in front of her, and although Henry cannot see her face he can see her tense up, and that’s the clue he missed earlier.
He doesn’t look like a thug, but damn if mortals don’t react to danger the way that normal people ought to. Not the way Henry reacts to danger, which is apparently to stand there like a goddamn log, or start laughing.
He laughs hard enough that he isn’t watching where he’s going when he cracks the bone that had been broken a year and a half ago on the counter right on the fissure that will never heal properly due to his age and his smoking and his blood pressure; it sends sharp, white-hot pain up through his ulnar nerve and up into his skull and rather than shouting he lets go of Tristan’s arm to clap at his forearm with his off right hand and hisses as if he’s stuck his hand on a hot stove instead of just jarred his arm.
He can’t see, the pain is so bad, but he’s not saying anything. He just drops his head and tries not to throw up.
The power executive is just staring after the man outside, clearly wondering if she ought to follow or not. There must be intrigue in danger.
[Tristan Stern] His reaction, his first reaction, is the same as his husbands – yes, husband. They have the matching bands and piece of paper from New Jersey to say so – he starts laughing. The laughter explodes, as the executive is hit on, has her coffee paid for, and is invited outside ‘under no obligation to continue the conversation’ and Tristan? His eyes crinkle at the corners, his lips part, his laughter is full throated and delighted. “Oh god – does that ever actually WORK for anyo…”
and Henry lets go of his arm, and is clutching at his old injury, and trying not to throw up. Instantly distracted from which script the soap opera will now take (girl meets boy, or girl walks away) by Henry’s plight, as he warps an arm around Henry to help keep him upright.
“You ok?”
[Dietrich Burke] *If Dietrich appears to be upset he doesn’t show it. He sits down and takes a sip of his coffee, and isn’t nervous, or embarrassed just waiting to see which way this is all gonna play out.
The woman for her part is surprised, a little taken a back by the intensity of the man who just approached her and the fact that he actually did it. She looks over at Henry as he laughs and then howls in pain, then watching Tristan step over to. Her eyes focus back on Dietrich* ((Roll Coming, Opening Line Seducation, more to follow))
[Henry Allard] [There’s no howling!]
[Dietrich Burke] ((Seduction Opening Line: Cha + Sub vs Wits (3) + 3 + 1 diff))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Dietrich Burke] ((my bad no howling, trying to puke pain.))
[Dietrich Burke] ((trying NOT to puke, sorry))
[Henry Allard] This is very well karmic retribution for getting drunk enough to lose the ability to discern when it is appropriate to burst into laughter at another person’s expense. At this point in time he can’t even remember what he was laughing at, as if everything in his history has been obliterated by the electric hurt in his arm, and for several seconds all he can do is stand there breathing in and out slow and deep to keep from vomiting.
“I’m alright,” he says, his voice heavy with nausea, his upper body thin under Tristan’s arm. Swallowing the risen gorge in his throat, Henry forces himself to stand up to his full 6’4″ and wipes pained moisture out of his eyes as the power executive steps aside to await her coffee. He gives a shaky laugh, then says again, “I’m alright. Kind of drunk though. I should go apologize to that guy.”
[Tristan Stern] He keeps his arm wrapped around Henry, concern writ across his gaze. Nothing will steal a drunk faster than the adrenilin of watching someone you love in sudden pain – he’s still riding that high. He watches Henry a few more moments to be sure that he’s alright, then rolls his eyes, looking at the guy outside, the executive still waiting for her coffee.
“Nah. Ya do that shit in public, you deserve to have your game laughed at. I mean, if it works, women around here are far more desperate than I figured.” He says it in a volume pitched perfectly to be too loud of a whisper – the woman hears him. And he just shoots her an unrepentant grin as he catches her eye.
[Dietrich Burke] *She picks up her coffee, and she smiles at Tristan in that nice sort of “kiss my ass bitch” public relations politican smile.
Sometimes confidence and half assed lines really do work if you can pull them off. The woman walks outside, and her own confidence picks up as she makes her way to Dietrich’s table. She leans over bending down just enough to say something low in his ear. Dietrich tilts his head, and whatever she’s saying it gets a smile from him.
She reaches in the pocket of her suit coat, produces a business card and places it on the table in front of him. She reaches down, and pats his chest. And then straightens up and walks off. Dietrich smiles, a little cocky shit eating grin like he know that was going to happen all along, and simply pockets the business card, not even turning around to watch her walk away.*
[Henry Allard] At this point he isn’t even paying attention to the man outside or the power executive who’s taking her coffee and her business elsewhere. He’s trying to stand up straight under the strain of remembrance of what his life was like with a wired-together compound fracture over a year ago; the pain isn’t readily fading like it used to. It’s lingering, but when Henry palpates the bone with his fingertips to make sure he didn’t snap the bone again it just comes up bruised.
Henry smiles wanly at his husband’s put-down, shaking his head as if to wordlessly discourage him from taking it any further. The pain has sobered him up some, the adrenaline flushing his system of alcohol, and when they step up to the counter he orders a large mocha with the hopes that the milk will settle his stomach and a slice of coffee cake to go with it. The lip ringed girl seems to be somewhat sympathetic to the man, asking him if he’s alright when they get up there and “Oh, no”ing when he says he’s fine, he just had a bad fracture a while ago, and Henry pays for whatever Tristan orders.
Stepping off to the side he brushes at his eyes again, glancing out the window at the guy who’d managed to coerce the power executive’s card out of her, and holds his arm up to his diaphragm the way he used to when it was in a cast. It still hurts.
“Remember the time Richard karate chopped my cast?” Henry slurs, as if recalling something more painful than this is going to make it go away faster.
[Tristan Stern] He simply doubles Henry’s order, more concerned with his husband than the lady outside or the man who scored a business card – hell, he used to collect numbers by the dozens a day with nothing but a violin and an open case. Money too. But that was then, and this? this is now…
And now, he’s watching Henry in hopes that he really is ok, and that the pain will fade. When the question comes, he chuckles and nods. “that was quite a fuckin’ night, wasn’t it?”
[Dietrich Burke] *Dietrich picks up the cup and finishes off the rest of his coffee. He sets down the porcelain cup leaving it on the table for the staff to pick up. He stands up, pushes in his chair, and then sets off away from the bistro down the block heading in the direction of his car.*
[Dietrich Burke] ((Thanks for the scene guys. :) ))
[Henry Allard] “I didn’t think I was ever going to stop throwing up,” Henry confesses, a dry laugh riding along as he quietly watches the barista grab two slabs of coffee cake and deposit them on plates.
He sniffs to clear the pain-induced moisture out of his sinuses, and gives the barista a smile when she slides the plates and forks to them. Right now he is so goddamn pale that Tristan and just about everybody else in there can see the faint outline of blue blood vessels under his skin, can see just how bad the light purple bruises under his eyes are. That just about sapped everything he has in him, and he is trying very hard not to lean against his husband as they wait for their drinks.
“Sorry, that just… really hurt.”
At least he’s felt something lately.
[Tristan Stern] He chuckles softly, as he nods. “I remember. God I felt so BAD… and wanted to kill Richard. I swear, sometimes that man just doesn’t think.” It’s said with fondness though, as he reaches up to brush Henry’s hair out of his eyes. He knows he’s trying not to lean, and Tristan would let him lean anyway, any time. They’ve always been strong when the other needs it – heaven help them should there be a time they’re both needing strength and neither has the reserves to share.
But that’s not here, not now. Despite being tipsy, there’s plenty of strength in those dark eyes, plenty of love and mirth too. “Why are you apologizing? Jesus Henry, it really is ok to admit you hurt once in a while.” He chuckles, despite the truth behind his words, and he pulls his husband close and presses a kiss up under his jaw. Brief PDA, but there’s a wealth of love behind it.
“Now sit down before you fall down. I’ll follow with our drinks.”
[Henry Allard] [Pause!]