Electric Fruitcake


elle3_icon.gif reuben_icon.gif

Scene Title Electric Fruitcake
Synopsis A DJ and an Electrokinetic meet in a bar…
Date October 25, 2010

Biddy Flannigan's Irish Pub

Ambient lighting blankets the establishment in a soft luminescence, glowing in tones of appealing orange from the front face of the bar and low hanging light fixtures overhead. Old style brick walls given the pub an appealing depth, reflecting the tone of lights in a more amber hue down upon the lengths of the polished, wooden floors. The bar counter of lacquered dark wood stretches along the northern wall, the forefront for shelves of numerous liquors and the substantially sized LCD televisions spaced liberally behind it. The screens flicker with the latest games and news as the labeled spirit bottles wink from lighted shelves with a beckon of their own. Barstools and high tables welcome tipsy patrons to their support, scattered with throughout the barroom with a few wedge into the darker, quieter, and more secretive recesses. Over the bar are a few banners of sports teams, most notably one of English football club Manchester United.

The thick wooden door to the west is fitted with a single neon sign sponsored by one of the brews on tap, glowing in the door's center window to shed its light onto the sidewalk outside and summoning in new customers when the bar is open for business.

"All ah'm askin' for is an autograph, bay-bee, tha's all," says the girl with a fake tan, a revealing dress, a Mississippi accent and a cleavage you could ski down. The man that she propositions is far more interested in what he's drinking than the girl with a fake Double-D rack.

"Ah love yer show, though, Rooster," she crooned, reaching up to brush her fingers through his hair. He reached up to block her hand and caught it, pushing the girl away. "No autographs. You want one, mail a request to the studio and we'll mail one to you."

"Yer just pissed off that you got a shitty radio show is all. Bob n' Tom are way better than you anyways."

"Or at least they were before they both died during nuclear fallout. They were visiting New York, remember?"

A roll of baby blues as she gave him the bird and started walking away. Shortly after that, a large and burly Good Ole Boy type sauntered up to him. "Hay, man. You can't sign an autograph for a purdy leetle girl?"

Reuben looked over at the man, squinting his eyes. "Why don't you sign it, Tons of Fun? Dumb twat probably won't figure it's not my signature."

The wheels were visibly turning in the thick Southerner's head. "Listen, shitbrain, I don't feel like getting locked up for breaking some faggot DJ's jaw."

"And I don't feel like getting a blow job right now, so why are you still here?" Reuben retorted.

Suddenly, things happened very quickly. The Southerner shoved Reuben out of his seat, sending him to the floor. The small radio personality scooted back, dodging stomps and kicks his way. The thick bastard was suddenly engulfed in a blur of black-shirted security personnel - the only two on duty. Reuben stood up slowly, getting to his feet and brushing his clothes off. "Officers," he slurred slightly, "arrest those men. All five of them."

It's a nice day today. Perfect jacket weather out. A great day to be out and about, doing things outdoors, in the nice evening weather. Some people, however, prefer to remain in the comfort and safety of the indoors, where jackets are not needed to maintain a comfortable body temperature. Elle Bishop is one of those people. She's also not quite looking like herself right now.

Since Julius worked his changing magic on her, she's looking decidedly different, with an angelic face framed by fiery red locks. She's certainly looking forward to when it wears off, and she'll be able to see the looks that her parents gave her, instead of these artificial features that the deranged sculptor gave her.

She's seated at a table, dressed in her best today. Clothes that she stole from her room mate, Lola, mostly. She wears a black sweater dress, complete with gray leggings, and some black and gray heels that she picked up to go with the outfit, and she's looking fairly nice. If she's going to be anonymous, then she might as well enjoy it a bit.

The commotion over at the DJ's table draws the redhead's attention, her brows raising as she surveys the interaction. She doesn't do much in the way of moving to protect the guy; those security fellows seem to have it covered, and the last thing she needs to do is display her ability in a public place, with an unregistered face. Reuben's dodging, however, does bring him close enough to her that conversation can be initiated.

And initiate, she does, after giving the man a quick glance-over, followed by an approving nod. "You okay there? That guy was a douche." Elle tilts her head toward Reuben, peering up at him with an almost appraising gaze. She knows who he is, of course, but why treat celebrities any different from normal people? Aside from the occasional admiring gaze, of course.

"That's okay. I'm pretty sure he'll feel right at home in the pokey," he said, helping himself to another chair. "It gets boring after awhile, signing autographs for hours on end just to be interrupted in your moment of peace by some half-retarded bimbo tourist," he says, helping himself to another drink from the one still-standing bottle.

He looked up at her crookedly. "Don't suppose you want one, do you?"

"An autograph? Not particularly. Why would I want to hassle you when you're trying to relax, for a signature?" Elle tilts her head toward Reuben, grinning faintly. "I would rather hold a meaningful conversation with you and help you to enjoy your down time. Conversations are far better than ink on a piece of paper." The redhead laughs faintly, gesturing to the other seat at her table as she sips at her beer.

"Join me if that interests you at all. If not, I'll let you go about your business as usual." A dazzling smile is cast toward the man.

"You sound like Ken Watanabe's character from The Last Samurai, you know that?" Reuben asked, quirking an eyebrow at the woman. "And what kind of meaningful conversation do you expect to have in an Irish pub after witnessing a bar fight between one man and four others? Taking bets on who got the most punches in before he finally stopped fighting?"

"So, what's your name and rank, soldier?" A crooked smirk.

This man stands at 5'9" and has a lean build. He has shaggy medium-length brown hair with whimsical blonde highlights which hangs down to the base of his neck. He has an angular face which is clean-shaven save for the Machiavellian mustache-and-goatee combo that he wears. His almond shaped eyes are deep brown, curved at the top and giving the impression that part of his face is always smiling. His lips are nothing of spectacular merit, though he doesn't have the mouth of a turtle, either. His teeth are mostly straight, though once he opens his mouth, one is made aware that he's never worn braces.

He has a lax, almost bored posture that goes well enough with his facial expression. He wears eyeglasses with thick black rims and lenses with a subtle tint, though the glasses do not appear to be prescription.

Elle laughs softly. "I've never seen that movie, but I'll take that as a compliment, because Ken Watanabe is a bad ass." She laughs softly, shaking her head. "I dunno what kind of meaningful conversation I could think up. I was just thinking of shooting the shit. Saying whatever comes to mind." She shrugs, then offers a hand up to the man, grinning.

"Madison Cole. I'm a person, who likes to sit in Irish pubs and watch people, and then strike up random conversation with celebrity DJs after they've narrowly avoiding a full-out bar room brawl." Elle grins to Reuben, offering up her false name. Never know who knows her father, these days.

"Wasn't Madison Cole a character in one of those old Shazam comics?" Reuben asks tiredly, taking a sip of his drink. "Well, you know me.. I'm Reuben. I'm a radio personality that amuses himself by talking to people on the air that really don't know what they called in for. You ever get that feeling that people never really know as much as they say they do? Like everyone's kinda-sorta bullshitting and don't realize it? Half of my job is pure bullshit. The other half is finding what flips a person's giggle-switch."

"I wouldn't know. It's the name my mom gave me." Elle lies easily, grinning. "Nice to meet you, Reuben. I know the feeling. I try not to be guilty of that vice, but then, I'm not too good at it, sometimes." She chuckles softly, sipping at her beer as she leans back in her seat. "Finding out what flips a person's giggle-switch? That's interesting. Wonder if that would work on me." She grins across the table to Reuben.

"Probably videos of kids falling down on skateboards," Reuben offers, semi-drunk. "The rattle of the wood. The soft smack of a kid's skull bouncing off of the black top like a fleshy basketball. The funny noises that are added in later for comedic effect when the video graces YouTube. Classic comedy."

"Or maybe you like to watch bad movies and make fun of them during? Maybe you like stand-up comedy. Maybe pushing your landlady down a flight of stairs and watching her tumble, limbs akimbo to the bottom where she comes to rest in a crumpled, whimpering heap. Maybe that makes you laugh, Madison?" He levels her with a glazed stare, embittered and inebriated.

Elle smirks, tilting her head to one side as she watches Reuben, lifting her drink and sipping on it. She seems to grin a bit more, in particular, at the last mention. "That last one was pretty disturbing, really." Perhaps she likes disturbing. "The skateboarder might make me cringe a bit too much. That crack is always painful to hear. I've hit my head before, that shit hurts." She chuckles softly.

"I actually like my landlady. She helps me do my taxes, I take out her garbage. She makes excellent Haitian cuisine," he said, adding "I slept with her daughter a couple of times, she's really cool" just before taking a sip of his drink. "I watch lots of movies and read a lot of books in varying degrees of silliness or horror. I'm more of a humanist, so I don't really think that the whole landlady-plus-stairs-equals-squeals thing was all that funny either. I just wanted to see if it'd scare you off. Kinda glad it didn't."

"Anyways, if it makes you feel better, I get people asking me if I hit my head a bunch of times, or whether or not I ate paint chips as a kid or lived under power lines, stuff like that. Anyways, enough about me, let's talk about you. What do you do for a living?"

"My landlord is pretty cool. Have a little crush on him, though I would never act on it. He's one of those heart breaker types, and I really don't care to worry about that." Elle chuckles softly, shrugging. "Let's see. I like shoes, a lot. I like to shop, though I haven't gotten much opportunity to do so these days. I can sing pretty well, if I may be so bold as to state as much."

She leans forward on the table, resting her chin in her palm. "For a living, I do whatever my boss tells me to do. Bring a message to somebody? Got it. Recruit interesting, useful people? Got it. Kill someone? Sometimes." She grins, as if she just cracked a joke. It's hard to tell if she's actually joking or not about that line.

"Yeah, I'm not pegging you for the hit man type. You don't look like Bret Hart to me," he says with a wry smirk. "Let's see… other than talk smack to strangers on the radio, my job is to satisfy the listeners of the 'boss' station with the 'boss' tunes that my 'boss' told me to play." He spreads his hands as if to say 'as simple as that.'

"A girl named Madison that is both a courier and an assassin. You're like the evil version of Peter Parker, sans spider powers."

"I like to shop, too, though not so much for shoes. More of an obscure movie soundtrack collector, myself."

'Madison' offers a grin, leaning back in her seat and watching the man. "Hey, you can never judge by appearances, these days. I could be some crazy powerful Evolved who could kill you just by touching you. I'm not, but you never know." She lies again, with thoughts of her former partner's eyes melting into her hair brought to mind. She'll save the openness for when she has her real face back. She likes this fellow, and now that he's got the attention of one Elle Bishop, he's not going to lose it unless in some extreme circumstance. Who knows?

"We should go shopping together some time. You can tell me how sexy my legs look in the shoes that I try on, and then I can help you find obscure movie soundtracks." She laughs softly, flashing a charming smile to Reuben.

"Kind offer, but I usually tend to shop Japanese and Mexican for these soundtracks. The original pressing of all five Orchestral Game Concerts out of Tokyo, Japan… bootlegs of the original studio recordings of the Ghostbusters 2 score by Randy Edelman purchased out of Tijuana… those are my kinds of good finds. In New York, you can find most things, save for okonomiyaki. You just can't find the things that I like to get. I like all manner of things that are hard to find… which is why I think I enjoy searching in such obscure places for such obscure things.

"Do you like things that are hard to find, Madison? Or do you like everything to be available and easy?"

"Mmm. I was in Chicago recently. Mitsuwa Marketplace, I think it's called, has a nice food court with some delicious okonomiyaki. I love Japanese food." 'Madison' grins widely. "That place is a goldmine. If you ever get the time, you should go there. It's a whole mall, with book stores, music stores, everything your heart desires."

Then, the redhead leans forward, grinning to Reuben. "I like both, but I must say that my preference lies in things that are difficult to find. Maybe it's the hunter in me, but half of the fun in life is working your ass off to find those valuable things." She chuckles softly.

Reuben nods, his attention caught. "I've been to Mitsuwa Marketplace. It's not bad. The massage houses there are pretty reasonable and they even have a very nice little Ultraman store there… but no okonomiyaki. Great sashimi, though. It wouldn't be more fresh unless the fish were still gasping for water. What about Osaka or Kobe? Ever been there before, Ms. Killer?"

He orders another round of drinks, this time ordering sake. "I'm fucking amazed that the bartender has Glen Fujiyama," he says, holding up a bottle of steaming rice wine. "Want some? I should probably see if they have Irish cigarettes, too, that sounds good enough at the moment."

Elle grins. "Never been to Japan that I can recall, no. I'd love to go one of these days, though I'm sure I would probably never come home if I went over there." She giggles, her eyes turning toward the bottle of sake. "Mmm, sake sounds delicious. I think I might join you, yes." She grins over the table at the man, brushing her hair away from her face.

She leans back in her seat again, lifting a leg up to her chest and resting her foot on her seat. "Okay. I've always wanted to do this with a person. Let's play the Q&A game. We take turn asking questions about each other, and we both answer each question. That way, you and I can learn about each other." She grins. "I'll start. What's the most embarrassing experience you've ever gone through?"

"Most embarrassing? That would have to mean embarrassing to me… well I don't find most things embarrassing Maybe one point in early puberty when I had to tell the teacher that I couldn't come to the board due to an erection I had in class, that might be embarrassing Or it could be the time that I got some very bad acid from a very bad Rastafarian and was videotaped having carnal relations with a bowl of lime Jello," he says, pausing for laughter.

"The whole 'It was hot and I was Hungry' excuse didn't really hold water for a long time, I don't think. So, what was the most embarrassing experience you've ever gone through?"

If Reuben likes to make people laugh, he's certainly doing a good job of it. Elle bursts into laughter as he pauses, leaning back and slapping at her knee. "Oh my! That's pretty embarrassing My embarrassing story pales in comparison to yours. First, there would have to be the time that a truth inducer somehow made me confess to my boss that I have a crush on him, something I really didn't want to tell him about. I still can't look my boss in the eye."

She grins, resting her chin on her knee as she peers up at Reuben with an innocent look, batting her eyelashes up at the man. "Your turn to come up with a question." She winks to him. "Any topic will do, innocent or naughty."

"Innocent is nice, but naughty is just so… naughty," he coos to her as he takes a belt of sake, sighing as his alcohol-pickled mind sifts slowly through topics. "Tell me about the time you lost your virginity. Unless it wasn't your choice to do so, that is."

"Because these are happy times, not times spent talking about drunken, awkward fumblings in the back of a boy's car or truck or whatever the hell kids at your school drove when you were young enough to know that the you-know what went in the you-know-where."

A grin forms on Elle's face, one finger raising to poke at her lower lip. This is fun, really, and while she's not entirely truthful while she's not looking like herself, she'll certainly enjoy giving the real answers one day when she's back to normal. "I didn't go to school, and I didn't ever have a high school boyfriend. I didn't actually start talking to other people until…god…after 2006."

She peers thoughtfully at Reuben. "Some high school kid had this huge crush on me, and I thought he was pretty good looking, so I had a little fun. I wish I could say it was magical. It wasn't, it was actually rather embarrassing. For him." She grins.

"Mine was in the back of my father's car. I was that drunken, fumbling, awkward, drooling high school boy that misinterpreted that first throaty gasp at penetration as a sign of joy or something otherwise positive. The sex lasted fourteen minutes and the consulting the crying girl afterward lasted twenty. Still, we dated for awhile and broke up when she decided she'd rather me a butter dumpster for the school quarterback and his three friends."

It was a lie, but it was better than the real story that he and a girl from the perfume counter at Macy's stole off one night to get drunk on SKYY Blue and have awkward, energetic sex in a bunker behind the 7th green. He was twenty one.

The little redhead slurps her beer, grinning across the table at the man. "Sounds…fun, I suppose. I never quite got into the whole crying after sex thing. It just spoils things." She grins, leaning across the table and watching the man thoughtfully. "While we're on the naughty topics, I may as well ask my own question. What's your secret fetish that you wouldn't want anyone to know about? What is said at this table, stays at this table."

Besides, Elle may enjoy it.

"Well, there's a reason that they're fetishes that I wouldn't want anyone to know about, Madison," Reuben says as he takes another belt of sake and pours himself another cup. If he thought about it, Reuben would realize that he honestly didn't have many genuine fetishes. Sure, he liked women with dark complexions and features as well. He also liked women with piercings, though not enough to serve as a firm conductive source. He liked women with thick, heavy(real) breasts. Silicon ones are just… it's like sinking your fingers into a balloon.

"Not a real fetish person myself. I'm more of a bland… sand on… toast type of guy."

A grin. Another lie.

A brow arches, and Elle smirks across the table. "Seriously? So you haven't done any experimenting, then?" She giggles softly. Then, she decides to tell her own lie, just in the hopes of messing with this fine radio personality. "Secretly, I like to be tied up. It's a thrill, you know, not being able to do anything but squirm." She giggles softly.

She's doing her best to keep a straight face, but she's blushing just a little. She normally doesn't do this kind of thing, but having a different face that will change in about a week would embolden any person, really.

Sure, I experiment, Reuben thinks to himself. Just not with someone who randomly approaches a semi-well known celebrity in a bar and starts chatting him up. "Yeah, typical girl response. You all like to be tied up, blindfolded, stripped, spanked, covered in chocolate or pissed on. Honestly, I would've believed that you liked to be either double-stuffed or lit on fire. You look like a fire type to me," he says, taking another belt of his drink and shaking his head as the alcoholic wave washes over his mind.

"Wow, this stuff is good. You know what's best with sake? Because I don't."

"Can't say I like being pissed on, really. That's just crossing a line into disgusting territory, there." Elle wrinkles her nose, finally pouring herself a cup of sake and tossing it back. "Not so much a fire time. Electro shock therapy, now that is fun." She laughs softly, shaking her head and pushing a hand through her hair. "But usually, I'm the one doing the shocking."

His question prompts raised eyebrows. "Sushi, usually. At least, in my humble opinion."

"Electro-shock therapy? Wow. See, I knew a girl who was into the showering thingy. I was careful to never touch her unless she took a normal shower first. I just… yeah, can't abide that stuff," he says. "And sashimi goes well with sake, as well as certain types of rice balls. God, I could go for some yakisoba or something equally fried and bad for me."

Another swig of his drink and he starts checking his pockets for cigarettes. "Okay. Next question. Hrm… you're about to be executed for multiple homicides. What is your last meal and why?"

"See, I don't think I could ever even think about that. I think I would probably hit a man if he tried to pee on me. That's just nasty." She wrinkles her nose. "You should try the whole electroshock thing. It's fun." She grins. "Or so I'm told." The talk of Japanese food prompts a smile to the redhead's face, her tummy rumbling just a bit. She really needs to get some sushi again soon.

As he mentions execution, the woman's face suddenly pales as memories of a future that doesn't exist flash before her eyes. In a different future, she was executed by lethal injection. Not something she really wants to relive.

After a moment, she offers a shaky smile. "Umm, probably— probably curry. It's delicious, and I would stink up the place something fierce. My own form of revenge." She says it jokingly, but something about that question bothered her.

If Reuben saw that disturbed look on her face, he didn't let on. "Curry, eh? Maybe have goat vindaloos with shami kebabs and poppadoms. I'd personally like some mashed potatoes, a bacon cheeseburger, hibachi-style fried rice and mango habanero chicken wings with a pint of Guinness to finish it off. There'd be enough toxic chemicals in my body to turn me into a thermonuclear device," he says with a smirk. "Okay, your turn, Electra. Ask away."

The woman's smirk turns a bit less disturbed and more amused as Reuben speaks, bobbing her head slowly. "Sounds like a plan. May have to change mine to fit yours, though the habanero might do me in before they do." She doesn't like that topic, though, so she is relieved when he prompts her for a question. Her hand raises to her chin, rubbing at it thoughtfully as she peers up toward the ceiling.

"What's the one thing you'd like to do, more than anything else, before you die?" She tilts her head toward Reuben, regarding him thoughtfully as she slurps down the last of her beer, letting Reuben drink most of the sake. Too much of that stuff, and she'll start losing control of herself. Not that beer is different, it just takes longer.

"Before I die? I'd like to skydive without a parachute into the backyard of George Bush. Not the old and dead-looking one, the dumb and still living-though-he-shouldn't-be one. I'd rather go out with a bang, I think.. in that case, a splat," he says with a wide grin as he leans back in his seat.

"Either that or rob a bank and give all the money to Ethiopia or Haiti. You?"

"See, I was gonna go with something simple, like falling in love or having kids or something, but now I have to compensate for the awesome of your answer." Elle grins across the table to the man. "I'd have to say that I'd walk right up to Sarah Palin, give her a hug, and snap her neck." She snickers quietly, shaking her head.

"I'd just hug Palin until her face went pale, her eyes rolled back into her skull, and she slowly passed away. But then again, I think that's what most people would do. Sane ones, anyways," Reuben says, pulling out his wallet. "Okay, Madison… I'm gonna pay for your drinks and the sake… and I'm going to take a cab back to my apartment and attempt to sleep before my show which is in…" He checked his watch.

"Two hours. Well, shit." He grins widely and laughs. "Nice to meet you, Madison," he says, standing up and stretching, offering his hand.

Elle laughs softly. "Glad to know I'm sane for wanting to kill Sarah Palin." She shakes her head, then nods toward Reuben, taking his hand with a charming smile upon her angelic face. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Reuben. You sleep well, what little sleep you do get. Maybe we can have drinks again some time. I'll call in to your show." She winks up at him. "My treat, next time."

A grin. "That sounds good to me, Madison. See you later and be sure to tune in when I say a bunch of random words for fun on the air," he says, giving a strange, half-wave to her as he walks out the door, staggering a bit.

"I certainly will, if only to giggle and point out to my friends that I got to share drinks with the hot DJ who says random words for fun on the air." Elle laughs softly, offering a wave after Reuben.

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