A Buck Short And A Harsh Slap


abby_icon.gif buck_icon.gif deckard_icon.gif leonard_icon.gif

Scene Title A Buck Short And A Harsh Slap
Synopsis Buck's introduced to Deckard when Deckard shows up to inform Abby that he's heading out possibly for a bit. leo returns with ice cream and it jsut slightly goes downhill from there.
Date July 16, 2009

Village Renaissance Building - Abby & Leonard's Apartment

Leo's stepped out to grab something last minute for Abby because she has a hankering for ice cream. Buck is back, and in the apartment with her, TV on to some action movie that has the blonde cringing now and then from the language and the explosions. Black cat parked in her lap. The offer for Buck to stay till he can find a place to live and therefore save what little money he does have for rent as opposed to paying for expensive hotel rooms- still stands. Not like Abby doesn't have an apartment down the street she can't stay in. Scarlett - the cat - has had enough of Abby and meanders off to Buck in search of attention.

Buck sounds like he's hedging toward trying to stay the night tonight. He is watching the action movie with enthusiasm, although he keeps quiet about it. His boots are standing near the door. When the cat comes over, he lowers his hand so the animal can get an idea of his smell.

The knock that sounds outside of Abigail's apartment is familar: sharp and succinct, three raps and a rustle of old leather while Deckard frowns sideways at the frame. It's well past dinner time and a coarse sniff at his own shoulder is enough to suggest he's worried about his own smoke and whiskey stink, even if he can't actually…detect it. At this point.


Abigail looks at the door then to Buck. Scarlett is satisfied at the scent of the former military man and two seconds later, she's up and parked on his lap. "Listen, that's a friend. He can get pretty.. in your face. Just, fair warning huh" As she peels herself from the recliner. Brand spanking new recliner that she treated herself to. Gotta tell the shrink she did something for herself. Across the floor to the door a peek through the peephole and yup. Yup. Scruffy illegal grandpa. The locks are undone and the door opened to let him in. "Hey Mike"

Buck pets the cat, head first and then a stroke down her back followed by scratches behind the ears. He nods calmly to Abby and then looks over his shoulder toward the door, a hand lifted as a kind of greeting.

Mike? Deckard's brows sink into a baffled knit once his eyes have had a chance to pass quick over Abby at the open door. They're slower to pry their way around her onto Buck and his lifted hand — unblinking and unfriendly ahead of a sliding jut at his scruffy jaw. "Hey," managed at a mutter on too long of a delay, he shifts his weight uncomfortably out in the hall and looks back to Abby, tall and wiry and probably not 100% sober. "Bad time?"

Buck doesn't seem to mind the delay in Deckard's response, but when he asks if it's a bad time, Buck's ready to make that change. "Aw, hey, I c'n take a walk around the block if y'all need to talk about somethin' I don't need t' be here for," he offers. He does take a glance back at the screen, though, because he's really into that movie.

"Just waiting for Leo to bring home Ice cream. Mike, this is Buck Buck, this is Mike. Buck apparently was one of the guys out in the desert with Leo when he was in the military. He's uhh, he's gonna stick around a bit. I'll probably be above the bar for a few nights" She gives a smile to Buck, a placating one, that it's not a big deal before looking back to Flint. "It's okay, I can step in the hall or we can go into another room. You're comfortable." She looks at flint. "Buck's looking for a job, he's thinking about joining the force. Hunting terrorists""

There's another uncomfortable pause from Deckard's little square of door space, then: "…Seriously?" Hard to tell if he's referring to the accent or the terrorist hating or — the apartment staying. Whatever the case, he looks to be entirely earnest in his inquiry, brows canted up to make his long face even longer when he looks blandly between them. Then he chuckles. Low and rough and unpleasant, with a hint of a cough to round it off. "It's not important. I might be going out've town. Where the fuck did she find you?"

The first is for Abby. The last, evidently for Buck.

Buck smiles back at Abby, then looks down at the cat. It's true, he /is/ comfortable. He turns again to look at Deckard. "See, she didn't find me," he explains. "Came home with Leonard, who I ran onto on the street, an' Abby here was real nice and made me dinner and told me I could stick around a little bit, so I stopped by tonight." He doesn't seem the least bit offended by Deckard's question or tone. In fact, he wears a friendly smile.

"Yeah, leo found him" But going out of town. "When you heading out?" Concern suddenly on the blonde's face. "And language"

Whatever it was that inspired Deckard's chuckle multiplies into something that looks a whole lot like black amusement at Abby's expense when Buck's kind enough to offer a more in depth explanation. It sits oddly on the tired lines worn in around grizzled bristle and cold eyes — twists subtly at the corner of is mouth. But he doesn't say a word. That's the important thing. Just forces a, 'Great!' sliver of a smile that has no hope of passing for sincere into the apartment proper and rocks some of his weight back onto his boot heels. "Pleasure to meet you, Buck. And this weekend."

Buck doesn't really seem to register the smile's insincerity. Or if he does, he doesn't care. He just turns back to watch his movie and scratch the friendly cat's ears, looking perfectly content for the moment.

"I'm gonna go to the bar, Leo should be back soon, i'll fetch the ice cream after Buck. Make yourself at home will you? IF Scarlett becomes too much, just put her down on the floor. Mike, walk with me? It's after dark" Not that she hasn't walked after dark before down to the bar but still. Into a pair of flats her feet go, leather jacket grabbed and keys too from the stand and key rack just in case she needs them. "You be okay here by yourself Buck?"

"What, you don't want me to make nice with the new housemate?" There's nothing so substantial as a slur to blur Deckard's words together, but there is a certain slackness to the fuzzy lines around his mouth when he braces a shoulder against the door frame and starts to lean his way on in. "He's interested in terrorism, I'm interested in terrorism…"

"Sure thing," Buck returns with a little wave. He smiles at Deckard. "Heck, we can shoot the breeze another time," he says, carefully watching his language. "Can't have her walking alone. Nice meeting you!"

Abigail is by the front door, grabbing her keys, jacket, Deckard leaning in eager it seems. Buck comfortable on the couch where Leo left him and Abby when he ran off to the corner store to fulfill a certain blondes hankering. "Maybe another day Mike. When there's not whiskey on your breath" There's a look to him and then the hall, somewhat pleading. Don't make a scene.

"Jeeez ….Louise," Leo says lamely, as he comes down the hall. "It's like there's no blessed Chunky Monkey in this entire freaking city." Leonard living with Abby is an adventure in self-censorship, really. He's got a little rustly plastic bag with some frozen pints in it, at least. Deckard is eyed askance, but he doesn't comment. Man, Abby, you gotta have better taste.

It's probably not the pleading look so much as the pass of Abby out into the hall that drags Deckard away from the door after her — a half-assed salute tipped off his greying temple in vague farewell for Buck and Leonardo both. "I think there's at least one Chunky Monkey already in there," drifts back in through the door. Whatever the hell that means.

Buck is continuing to watch his movie, although his eyelids are lowering steadily since the cat climbed into his lap. He looks like he's headed toward a solid doze any minute.

Ice cream. She won't have to miss out after all and before Leo can go into the apartment, the door is closed, snoozy buck cut off from the actual terrorists and his two accomplices. 'What in the blessed holy lords name do you think you were pulling in there Flint!" It's hissed out, not yelled and buck would have to be ear to door and through it to hear. The bag of ice cream is dipped into, searching for the strawberry.

Strawberry for real. And not just a third in a pint of Neapolitan, oh no, the real deal. A pint of Chunky Monkey, a pint of Baileys. Leo loves it, and despite his tendency to wolf down high-fat dairy, he never does gain weight. He just looks from one of the other, with an expression of canine disingenuous.

"Just — making conversation." About as unruffled by the ice cream as he is by the hissing, Deckard tucks his hands down into his jacket pockets and watches the bag rustle without tremendous interest. "He seems friendly. Happy." A deep breath that lifts into a half-hearted shrug is permission for them to come up with their own synonyms as they will.

Abigail sighs, holding up her strawberry ice cream to Deckard. "You came up to tell me you might be going out for the weekend" He never tells her this. "Afraid i'll get shot by a pimp again and come looking for you?"

Now Deckard is treated to Leo's puppyish scrutiny, and he looks a mute question at Abby. What is this guy to you? Oh. "'So, uh, you're the healer now?" he asks, very softly.

"No." No, he did not come up to tell her he might be going out of town for the weekend. Or no, he isn't afraid she's going to get shot by another pimp. Slow to elaborate, Deckard works his jaw and pushes out a slow, sifting sigh first, frigid eyes sketching lazily over Leonardo and his bag of ice creams as if trying to place where he's seen him before. "I came up to tell you I might be leaving this weekend and it may be a while before I come back. So." So…! His teeth click once behind his jaw; one brow leans like it's going to tip it's way back up again. "Yep."

Abby glances between the two men, one, then the other. "It's Al. It's okay. He won't come running and dragging you off to go fix people. Al, Flints gonna walk me to the bar, I think Buck was falling asleep in there, give him my bed, or yours and you can take mine. I have some clothes at the bar. I think I might get a few hours work in maybe. see how things are. You need anything, just call okay?"

Leonard winces a little, not pleased to be outed. But he concedes it with as gracious a nod as he can. "I'll put him in yours, if that's okay," he mutters.

Deckard, in turn, doesn't look to be overly thrilled at the prospect of having another male lifeline lopped off so that he has to be alone with Abigail. He doesn't argue this time though, something like apology or — something — hazy in his eyes before he becomes interested in the way the wall meets the ceiling.

"Or not" Abby can take a hint. She's been taking a few hints of late. "Leave a message when your back in town" The defunct healer offers. The ice cream still in her hand, she looks at Leo. She knew what the wince was too. "I'm gonna scooter over to victors, maybe spend the night then. I'll have my cell with me, but his numbers in the phone inside under Childs" and with that, she's gonna spare Deckard her company as she starts to head off to the stairwell instead of the elevator.

"Did I, uh, come back at an awkward time?" There's a whole subtext there that Leo clearly missed, and realizes it. He looks back to the door. "You want me to go with you?"

Blue eyes fall from the join of ceiling and wall to wall and floor until Abby's well on her way down the hall and it's safe to glance after her. Deckard then looks back to Leo more hangdog than he was a second or two ago, but hard to tell all the same. Everything's shades of grey with him lately. "Who's Victor?"

"No. You just came at a time when someone thing be gentle is a euphemism for no fucking way" Abby throws over her shoulder. "If you want Leo, sure. Victors over in Brooklyn" Who's victor. "Victors the guy who's .. no." Abby turns around, but stays anchored in place. "Victor is the guy I've been trying to date for the last few weeks. Victor's a really nice guy who accepts that I'm not ready to go steady because I think there might be a slight chance with you. Despite everyone telling me that your too old and too scruffy and a host of everything else. I kiss him and your there. He's a nice guy, he's a good guy, he's .. everything your not and I'm leading him on because I was holding out for something from you, but each time I try, you turn away. and each time you try, it's the wrong time, or you take what I say and make it something else."

Abigail glowers at Flint in the hallway. "Leave me a message when you come back. I'm trying to find Tyler Case for you. Keep your cellphone near. I'll be waiting downstairs Leo, unless there's something else?"

Oh, wow. Uh. Leo is simply standing there, po' faced. "No," he says, finally. "Let's go." I can pretend I didn't hear any of that.

There's a bristly scuff scuff scuff while Deckard keeps facing Leo and scratches at his jaw, eyes dropped down and aside again rather than face his fellow man while he gets spanked across the length of an entire hallway. Scuff. His nose wrinkles, his jaw hollows. He doesn't say anything helpful or look at anyone or do…anything really.

"lets go" when there's no word from deckard. It's sure to be a fun moment for Cat when she gets around to snooping through security footage. Abby's palm strikes the bar across the stairwell door to depress it, push it open and hold it for Leo to join her. Ice cream likely to be dropped off at the bar, or spoons grabbed at the bar. "Take care, be safe"

Indeed. Leo just falls into step, Abby's patient orc guardian. No opinions, but a hell of a lot of curiosity. That's what's haunting the otherwise chaste dreams of Abby's maiden couch? For serious.

Middle finger hooked into his ear once he's run out of idle itch in his stubble growth, Deckard lingers awkwardly for longer than he should — maybe to make sure that they're really and truly gone before he heads off down the hallway in the opposite direction. The security cameras aren't spared a second thought, oddly enough. Harder to pick them out when you can't see the wires in the walls.



That and a guy named Victor with Super Speed. Take from that what you will.

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