Dem Bones


abby_icon.gif zachery_icon.gif


Astrid Ross

Scene Title Dem Bones
Synopsis The Morgue personnel party train starts, and ends, at Old Lucy's.
Date February 2, 2009

Old Lucy's

Old Lucy's has a vibrant and lively feel to it, from the dark wooden floors to the shady crimson walls lit up by neon lights and many times, the flashing of cameras from the oft-crowded floor. The mirror behind the bar reflects prices of various drinks, bottles lined up, as well as the entire saloon as seen from the bartenders; bolted-down stools line the other side, and there are loose tables and chairs placed all around, though many times they find themselves pushed back for more space within the center of the saloon. A few speakers are placed at strategic places and around a raised stage to the far corner from the bar. Above the counter, an obviously well-used bar is hung; it is this that the girls working will use should there be dancing, which is one reason many patrons choose to come aside from the drinks. Across the bar and near the back, there is a door that leads to the owner's office and just inside a stairwell that leads a apartment on the floor above the bar.

Curfews make for busy hours that normally, are not that busy. Have to get that after work drink in early before your forced to go home and play nice with your family care of the government. Or alternativly, end up cooped up in the bar until the curfew is off for the night. So 4 pm, the music is unbearably loud, there's still seats at the bar open, and "The Nun" is at work with a couple others. Cause home and work are the same right now. We love rock and roll is finishing up and the other two bartenders ending their dance on the counter and getting down, music lowering to a non eardrum busting level. Abigails just been shaking her head and serving the drinks with that empty smile she's had on the last few days, the end of the bar closest the door.

If there's one thing Astrid Ross is good at, it's shoving one cranky Dr. Miller out of his element and out of the company of dead bodies. She can be really, incredibly obnoxiously persuasive. And annoying. And persistent. And pokey. Any combination of which, whatever it takes to get Zach out of the morgue.

"Oh jeez. Why does your jacket smell like formaldehyde anyway?" a beat, "…you…don't bring it back into the freezer, do you? Don't they teach you that in Dead Body Dealing 101? Leave your personal shit in the locker areas or everything you own gets pickled." She's got her hands dug deep in the pockets of her own vintage-like jacket, blonde hair pulled back from the sides of her face. Old Lucy's is nearly passed right by, but it sounds rowdy. And crazy. "Oooh. Choo choo. First stop on the party train." And then her hand grips tightly around his and she /yanks him in front of her. Then a set of hands press against his back as she shoves him through the door and towards the bar. If he looks back, she just smiles sweetly.

"My jacket?" Zachery frowns, for a moment not-so-inconspicuously leaning his head sideways to sniff himself. Not that it's any use - hanging around that stuff for so long, he wouldn't recognize it if there was a swimming pool of it balancing on his shoulder. "Well. Sometimes I rush. And all my belongings fit neatly next to the cadaver keep anyway" He stops, then, put off by the loud music nearby and peering in its direction with a idle fixing of his glasses on his nose. He doesn't even see the hand grabbing coming, and even less so the pushing. "YeeeeROSS." A mix of anger and (mostly) panic spreads across his face as he involuntarily staggers into the club. "Whatwhywhere" Ghgh. Everyone inside gets an anxious and strangely apologetic look over.

Abigail looks up from the lager she's pouring to spot a man forcibly shoved through the door. For one brief moment she worries that it might be the looting robbing pillagin people even though this guy doesn't seem like the sort to do that. But it's a woman behind him and faux cheerily, the blonde with the southern accent behind the bar calls out. "Welcome to Old Lucy's Don't forget the curfew, don't want to see you get caught. Take a seat, anywhere or at the bar" then back to pouring, pushing the glass over in exchange for money.

"Go, go go. The lady said sit." That's Ross being the stern momma. Except she's far more like the crazy aunt. If Zach seems disinclined to sit, she'll shove him around again and push him down onto the stool.

To Abby, she smiles sweetly and folds her hands on the bar. "Oh, we're government employees, so they let us run around after dark." She then leans in across the bar to Abby and stage-whispers while indicating Zach, "He's a doctor." Wink.

"Hm. Let's see." She makes funny sounds as she squints at the menu. "Leeeet's have a pair of slippery nipples to start, and then let's get a pitcher of whatever you've got that's an ale." There's no consultation with Zach. Maybe all the booze is for her. Ha ha.

That would be a-okay with Zach. 'Slippery nipples' does not sound like something he wants to… verb. Any kind of verb. The doctor ends up being shoved, and reluctantly stays put. There's a briefly glance at the door and an even briefer contemplation of whether Ross would go after him in some weird lioness reflex if he tried to make a run for it, before his attention settles back on Abby. "Ah— hello." He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, slight grin the epitome of awkward. "I-i don't usually go to these kinds of places." Just thought that was, you know, worth mentioning.

Slippery ni… right. Ross is treated to a raise of brows then wider equally as empty smile. "It's okay. Think Coyote Ugly, and thats what this place is like. I won't judge. I just work here" Abigail turns, grabbing shotglasses after consulting a binder of drink recipes. A slippery Nipple is not something she's made yet. Shot glasses, bailey's butterscoth rum, can't be that hard. "Ahh, your Homeland security get out of roadblocks card. Nice. My Name is Abigail, or the Nun, take your pick. I'll be serving you this afternoon and all your alcohol needs. Two slippery…. you know whats" She can't bring herself to say the word. The little gold cross at her neck twinkles in the lights above the bar. "And a pitcher of something, i'll play eenie meenie miney mo and pick you something"

Ross would tackle him. Like a linebacker. And Zach wouldn't like being on this bar's floor. Especially since she'd probably make him lick it before she'd let him up. Shameless, utterly shameless. Like a twelve year old bratty sister. He gets a sweet, sweet smile that is somehow anything but.

"Abigail. I'm Astrid, he's Zach. But he calls me Ross, and you can too if you want. So what, do chicks dance around on the bar in here? Isn't that against health regulations? I mean…this floor doesn't look all that clean. Do you have special bar dancing shoes?" What's funny? She sounds totally dead serious. And honestly curious. "You should have like, an opposite night once a week where dudes dance on the bar." For some reason, she nudges Zach with her elbow when she says this.

If anything, Zachery can at least be slightly relieved that Abby feels out of place too. Nevertheless, he fails to make eye contact and his next words are really nothing more than a mumble of an overly practiced phrase. "Nice to meet you, Abigail."

At the nudge, he cringes. And pulls away a little, on the edxge of his seat now. This coroner don't dance. Nor… does he care to see other men dance. EITHER WAY it's making him want to be out of here more.

Abigails sympathy flag is raised high at Zachary's state of being. Like, high. Mount Everest high. "It's okay Zachary, I won't make you dance up there. Even I don't dance up there. Drink your slippery… blankety blank, and wash it down with some beer. I promise it'll get better" She glances to Ross then, holding up her rag and a spray bottle. 'Vinegar and water. I think I'm obsessively clean with my end of the bar, The women dance, when the song hits really loud" She gestures to the bar above the bar, perfect grabbing height and the vertical ones installed at two places. "If it is against regulations, no ones complained or even a health inspector" Little wonder why.

Abby turns, blonde hair swinging over shoulder as she shows her cowboys boots. "Not me, the others wear heels all night. beats me how they don't need to have them chopped off at some point" That would be Abby, giving them a touch now and then to soothe sore muscles. "lets see, what else didn't I answer… No, I haven't seen an all guys night, but… we do on occasion auction off kisses from the bartenders to supplement tips. Sorta a spontaneous thing. how you doing over there Zachery, she always perky like this?"

"What!" says Ross, perfectly innocently at the deathlook from Zach. "Oh come on. The girlydance bar is for you, boss. Would you prefer we went to Hush, down the street?" The gay bar. "Cause we can, you know. I'm not gonna judge. The drag shows are a hoot. Have you ever been?" This to Abby. "The Diana Ross is something else. But the best, the best is the uh…oh, the Celine. He has the big nose and everything. Cheers." She lifts up her slippery nipple in a salute to Zach. But she won't drink until he's got the shot up to his mouth too. "Drink your medicine."

Zachery's attention easily shifts from one aah-what-is-that to another, even if his paranoia is completely uncalled for. He takes a deep breath and finally manages to focus on Abby again, and quietly nods his head. "I. Yes. Regrettably much of the time." He says nothing all the time Ross is on about the gay bar, though he sinks back in his seat slightly and gives a small shudder at the though. Not a fan, obviously.

His shot is stared at in a doubtful kind of way, before he decides this trip out could do with its edge being taken off, and he gives a short whine. Fine. Before it's up and down his throat, though, he glances askew and mutters, "Ross. You are going to be scrubbing the tables for a month."

"Can't say that i've ever been there. Working here presses my personal limits. It's pretty tame to other places and it's all good natured. I'll keep an eye out when I drive by though, for Celine. I'll send her your regards. Hows it taste?" This is directed to Zachery as she moves off to grab that ubiquitous plastic pitcher and start to fill it with some Samuel Adams since it seems a popular drink. Tip the pitcher just so, not too much head on it. It's brought over to the two, neatly placed between them. Two fresh glasses as well, spent shooters cleared away to the land of dirty glasses. Ross seems to be in charge of dispensing the ale. The healer though, dips down to rummage around before a small bowl is produced for Zachery, and two packaged of individual portion pretzels produced and opened, poured into the bowl for him. "For being what I surmise, is a good sport"

"He'd rather I be Wednesday Adams and putter around like a big depressed blob. Like him." Ross rolls her eyes and thumbs towards Zach. Then she flattens her palm against the bar witha smack. "Oh, so that's the thanks I get for forcing you out of your hidey hole? Sheesh." She fills each of their pint glasses full to the top. "He's not being a good sport. You know he works sometimes twelve hour days? He never socializes, never dates. It's a shame. And it makes him even grumpier than he needs to be. And that makes me grumpy and miserable. So this is self preservation in action."

"I've dated!" Zachery snatches up a pretzel, and waves it halfheartedly in his colleague's direction. Omnom, pretzels. Mine. "You know. A few years back. You remember? That… one with the… face and the…" He trails off, failing to remember the details. Okay, so maybe it's been more than a few years. "I just enjoy what I do! I'm sure you feel the same way," He turns to Abby now, head tilting slightly, "you know, despite its pros and cons?"

"He's being a good sport. he's sitting down and drinking isn't he? I'm sure he's giving it his one hundred and ten percent" Such faith in humanity. The pair in front of her, even with their strange dichotomy are bringing about a real smile in the blonde. "There's no ass grabbing, the tips are considerably better than waitressing, for the same hours. I got an understanding boss when I drag my ass in after.. " she's about to say healing but doesn't. "And see, he's dated. So, he's one up on me. What kind of doctor are you both?" She's making small talk, looking back and forth between the two while still filling other orders.

"Her name was Sharleen and it was one date. Cause you didn't call her back." Ross' brows go up as she gives Zach a thoroughly unimpressed look. "Whelp. Little girls' room. Right back." On her way by, she nudges Zach quite firmly. It's the signal for, 'don't tell her you play with dead bodies.' It's such a subtle signal that it might leave a bruise.

Ross is gone awhile. After a few minutes, one of the other bartenders brings Abby a folded napkin. Inside it is forty bucks in cash - twenty for the tab and a tip and the other twenty…well. The napkin explains in sprawled, loopy handwriting:

Don't let him leave until
he drinks the whole pitcher.
If you do that, I owe you.

- R

"Haaeeaow." Unsubtle nudge is unsubtle. Zachery frowns at Ross for as long as she's in sight, then clears his throat again and turns back to Abby, dragging the drink he was poured a little closer. Oh no, tossed into the deep. Eye contact is still sparse. "Uh. Ah— it's. Forensic pathology. I… figure out how people die, and then that in turn helps figure out whether they were killed. All that fun stuff. I-it's quite interesting, really."

To abigail, actually, that is interesting. She's not a death groupie, it's just the nature of her gift. "So you work in the coroners office?" Ross did say they were government. "She get you good?" A gesture to his side. "I can see what she means about getting you out, but then, probablya good chunk of people depend on you to get the answers they don't otherwise get"

Zachery sips absently at his pint, looking vaguely surprised Abby's still in his line of sight at this point. The lack of social skills and job combined is usually enough to put people off pretty fast. The first question is nodded at, second decidedly ignored. "W-well, ah, we do have a whole team," Not to mention that he usually figures out what's going on with the corpses a tad faster than his fellow colleagues, "but… admittedly, I do spend a lot of my time there doing what I do best. But I eat healthy. Fairly sure I sleep enough." That makes it all okay. Of course.

Abigail ducks her head, look Zachery over and nods. "No dark circles under your eyes, you get enough. I don't meet many people in your line of work. Not necessarily a ba…d thing" She reaches for the napkin note that's carried to her, reading it to herself silently before smiling. "Zachery, you have been summarily deposited in my lap it seems" The pitcher is pushed over a little towards him. "I'm under orders to make you drink that all before I let you go from the bar. I think, the only solace I can offer you, is that A, You won't have to pay for the tab and B, I can make sure you don't have a hangover too badly when your all done. You have.. a very interesting co-worker"

Zachery quietens, shoulders dropping when Abigail explains about he napkin. Then he looks around for a moment as though he's still likely to catch Ross before she's out - to no avail. "But—" He takes another deep breath, straightens himself, and offers Abby another nervous grin, as though pretending he is perfectly okay with it, but knowing he's completely failing at said pretending. "Yes." He then answers through gritted teeth. "Interesting is one way to describe it." At least he appears determined to stay here a while, lifting his glass to down a good portion of his drink. He'll probably need it if he wants to get out of panic-mode and away from impending sarcastic-jerk mode.

"I'd drink with you, but i'm not old enough. So I can match you red bull for glass?" It's an offer so he doesn't have to drink alone. "She do this often? Take you out then dump you? If so.." It's a shake of her head that's meant to be amusing. "Don't worry, I don't bite, and I won't make you drink the whole thing, I'm not mean. But if you stick around a half hour, Brenda and one of the others will likely get up and do a dance, and I'll fix you up before you leave and even write you a note to give to her that totally lies and said that you drank the whole thing" She even drags out a couple cans of red bull to prove her sincerity and not so much laden with pity or sympathy. She has a few of those friends too.

Zachery shoots Abby a glance. 'Fix you up'? That… somehow…doesn't sit well with him. But she shakes his head and blames it on confusion. Or slang. He's out of the loop. "Don't do me any favors, really. Well— maybe the note." This last bit is added quietly. His grin finally grows at least the slight bit genuine. "I… I'll probably be out before the, ah, dancing, anyway. I'd just look out of place. Or, uh. Moreso."

Wrong word. She can tell, from the look. "Not fix you up in the.. drug way, more like fix you up in the whole… oh look, got rid of a potential hangover, heal the bruise she probably left you. I'll still give you the note though. And yeah, probably as out of place as I did the first time I came in to work. Normally, this time of the day isn't this bad, but with the curfew" Abby see saws her head back and forth before offering her hand. "Abigail, registered evolved healer. I say a little prayer and poof, everything goes away. Don't worry, I'm just offering to shake your hand right now"

Zachery lowers himself uncomfortably over his drink as he listens, seeming suddenly awfully small for someone of regular height. "Oh. Oh. Evolved! Right." It's almost like she's telling him she was responsible for genocide, though he tries to get the painfully obvious look of discomfort straight off of his face, leaning in to shake her hand. "That, ah—… makes sense now. That must come in handy."

Though it's definitely not fear or anger that's irking him about this new revelation, it's hard to tell what IS. Though it does have him promptly downing the rest of his drink.

It's a firm shake of her hand, no wimpy grip here, but the good buzz she was starting to get, that's falling and fast. More because of his reaction. So when she lets go, pulls her hand back, it's a moment of confusion. Leave him be? Stick around? Ask him if he's okay. 'It does, come in handy" Grabbing a rag so as to keep her hands busy now. Awwwkward. "Shall I uh… get you that note now?" Giving him an out. Revulsion? no, he shook her hand. Idly she wonders if he maybe is one of the people that doesn't quite like evolved individuals.

Momentarily, Zachery appears lost in thought, staring down at a now empty glass. It's only a few seconds after Abby's asked him a question that he realizes she's waiting for an answer. "S-sorry, what? Oh, uh. I. Suppose, yes. Thank you." The option for an out, though, isn't taken just yet. If only because, hey, another kind of buzz. He reaches to pour himself some more booze. Can't let Ross' money go to waste, after all! "… D'you mind if I ask you something?"

"Long as it's not my shoe size" Abby off the cuff answers, a littel zing and humor tacked onto the end, Habit. There's a notepad brought out from a back pocket and Abigail starts to scribble. Blonde hair over shoulder, drawl present as ever in her voice.

"See, I don't—" Zachery starts, narrowing his eyes slightly. "I can't really… begin to understand what it's like to be… you know." Evolved? Well, yes he can, but that's not what he wants her to think. Registered may be what he's actually trying to say. "But with your ability, why don't you… work at a hospital, or something more… productive?" The notepad, meanwhile, is peered at curiously.

"Your not the first to ask" There's a ripping sound as the piece of lined paper is pulled from it's moorings and passed over to him. get out of jail free, kitchen pass, hallway pass, whatever you want to call it. "I'm trying to figure out how to explain it" The red bull tab is popped, liquid poured into a cup. "I'm about to go to school to be a paramedic. I was homeschooled, and only have my GED. And I wasn't always registered. Sorta made to do it, or else" She leave the or else up to his imagination. "I don't have the money, is the big issue, or the time. I run around healing people in shelters or who call me and need it. You can't really go to medical school and drag your butt in and tell your professor you didn't do your homework cause you were healing a broken leg or a stab wound. I mean.. As it is, I have a very understanding boss who keeps me supplied with red bull and gives me a few hours off if I come in, to go sleep on her couch upstairs"

Zachery simply listens for a bit, sliding the piece of paper into a pocket without even looking at it. "Right." He lets out a chuckle - courtesy of the drink, likely. "Medschool. Not knowing where your life is going yet. I remember that." He pauses, "Well. I'd tell you to keep living selfishly as long as you can, but you're not exactly doing that either."

"Never have. Really. Wrong, now and then, I do. But usually small things. Like grabbing the last cookie on the plate" She offers a small smile back. "I'm not smart enough Zachery, for medical school. You don't get in with a GED. You don't get in on the basis alone of being able to… regrow limbs or repair a faulty heart, or touch away a burn. There's still skill involved, and if I only used what god gave me, then, I'd be a very tired doctor at the end of the day and… I don't like taking coin in exchange for the use of my gift. It's going to be hard enough to mentally justify being a paramedic and using it to help stabilize a person" She's thought this over half a million times. "Did you enjoy medical school? What made you choose your field?"

Heh. Well, that's another area where Abigail and Zachery completely differ. He would gladly accept money for what he can do. If it weren't for the problems that he suspects would come from being such an open target.

"The human body." He answers immediately, and honestly. "What we, as organisms, do without even realizing it. The brain, and heart and… rights and wrongs of it all." He gestures vaguely, but leaves his lack of proper explaining to be blamed on outside sources. "Plus, seems t'run in the family. 'Cept for my stupid brother, that is. He still flips burgers."

"Someone has to flip burgers Zachery. Or else, no one would get to eat them. Two months ago I was just a waitress serving coffee, now, i'm a bartender serving alcohol she's not old enough to even drink" The corner of Abigail's mouth turns up in a partial smile. "So he's the exception to your family?" She nods. "Same as someone has to poke a dead body and open them up to see how they died or else how are we supposed to know if theres someone out there responsible for a reprehensible thing? Or are left without nobody finding out who they are, and can't be buried by thier loved ones" Not that knows precisely what it is that he does.

Zachery smirks, and shrugs a shoulder. "Yeah, but what I'm doing is a bit more useful than serving people their food— no offense. I mean, he's thirty-three for God's sake. We went through the exact same childhood and—" He stops, takes his glasses off for a moment to rub at his eyes, then put a hand on the edge of the bar to push himself off his seat. "I'm ranting and starting to slur. I should probably be off while I can still appear vaguely sober getting home. Badge isn't much use if you're piss drunk."

"Your venting. Not ranting. Will you give me your hand? Free of charge" there's a wink tossed in. "Get out of hangover free card, to go with your get out of upset co-worker card. Promise, it won't hurt. Quite the opposite. Consider it my good deed for the day

"This registration thing is very, very odd." Zachery mumbles with a wry grin, as he gets up and quints over to Abby for a few seconds. "… Very odd indeed. Alright." No harm in trying, right? Especially not here in public. He hesitantly offers a hand, but decidedly not his right. Not the one with the thin, barely visible scar running horizontally over his palm. Wouldn't want to risk accidentally losing that reminder.

"I don't like it but… Some day it will change" Her hand closes on his, her right hand, with it's own visible scar. Her lips move as she inaubidbly murmurs. her ability flares to life though moments in and she works to soothe out the effects of the alcohol that's already swimming through his body but not in the blood. Burn it off, the effects of inebriation. "You won't be good to drive, but it'll help. I'd still suggest two advils and a glass of water before bed. Warmth, pleasent tingle.

Zachery blinks, watching Abby with visible intrigue. As the effect sets in his eyes wander, and he frowns. Weird. Hard to accept for someone so stuck in his own ways. Stuck on the fact that 'showing off' your ability like this is wrong.

When all is over and done with, he takes a step back and clears his throat once more. "Right. Well. Huh. I-I'd better be off, then. Thank you." He almost sounds doubtful about the last two words.

Except that to the outside world, to anyone not touching, it's nothing, just a hand shake that's perhaps a little long and conversation. She pulls her hand back with a smile. "Your welcome zachery. Your welcome back, don't let me scare you away. I enjoyed the conversation. Maybe you could help me with my anatomy classes' Ohhh, crap, she winces as the words leave her mouth. 'not, you know, in that way, I meant like actual, you know, anatomy lessons. with a book and… you know, i'm going to totally shut up now and go back to slinging booze. Sorry. Hope your night turns out good"

It may be what traces of alcohol's still left in his system, or something else, but Zachery doesn't seem any more awkward than his current default. If anything, he just looks amused. "I think I'm a bit too old to be giving you those anatomy lessons, anyway. But, uh. Who knows, maybe if Ross drags me here again, I'll teach you how the hip bone's connected to the knee bone." He doesn't sing it, but it's close enough.

Zachery's joke does much to relieve her awkwardness at her inadvertant innuendo. The smile comes out full force as she clears off where he was seated. "I'd like that. Though, you know, with less drunken singing. Go, there should be taxi's out there. Oh!" SHe scribbles down on the pad of paper again and holds it out to him. "My number. In case, you know" A wriggle of her fingers.

The note is somewhat reluctantly accepted. Reluctant because it might seem to others that, accepting her number, he is willing to give her those anatomy lessons. Which… only leaves him worrying and wanting to get out of there more. "Yes. Right. Thank you." His grin awkward once more, he finally turns and leaves.

February 2nd: Testing The Waters
February 2nd: 80 Proof
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