Get A Goddamn Hobby


ethan_icon.gif raith_icon.gif

Scene Title Get a Goddamn Hobby
Synopsis Ethan and Raith discuss insult each other over coffee. America's Dumbest Criminals? Stay tuned!
Date November 9, 2009

Old Dispensary

Electrical power? No-go. Not yet, at least, and that means another day living off batteries. Or more specifically, another day that Jensen Raith spends using his mechanical knowledge and some of the old 'Yankee ingenuity' to make his life a little easier. Setup in the kitchen with the soft glow of an electric camping lantern, pedaling away on a modified bicycle that isn't moving anywhere and really isn't doing that much to keep him in shape. But what it is doing is providing a modern convenience, attested to by the magnets glued to the rim of the rear wheel that spin rapidly past a nail wound up in copper wire. Anyone who stumbles into the kitchen finds something they might expect to see on an episode of Gilligan's Island; Raith riding a bicycle that, through the miracle of science, provides just enough electricity to power the Mr. Coffee he doubtlessly stole from the thrift store. How d'ya like that?

"This is stupid."

It's said over a mouthful of peach, hand coming to wipe away the spittle and juice that drips out onto his lips. Brows knit for a moment as an overly loud sucking noise is made as the Wolf creates a vacuum around his mouth for the moisture to be drained into. Lowering his hand, Ethan brings the peach up with his opposite hand, creating the same old situation as always. His eyes watch Raith riding the bike coldly, before finally dropping onto the Mr. Coffee. The peach pit is tossed carelessly over to the makeshift trash receptical they have created.

He misses.

"You wanna go shoot stuff?" Sticking both hands into his leather coat pockets, the Wolf watches Raith curiously for his answer, seeming not to like this whole swiss family robinson dealie.

"Like what?" Raith asks, "Hobos? If you don't want this coffee, just say so. We'll go to Starbucks or something, not tell Eileen about it. Our little secret." If they did, and Eileen found out, she'd give an earful to both of them. And maybe even a couple black eyes. And likely, both of them know this. "Unless you think you're tough enough to take her on? Are you? I don't think that you are." How long has he been pedaling? It hasn't be that long, but without different gears to make things easier for him, Raith is beginning to heat up, just a little bit. "Here, listen, how tough are you, anyway? Didn't you sort of get into a car wreck a few weeks back? How'd that work out for you? Lose the last few brain cells floating around in your cranium?"

"Yeh." Ethan answers at first. "Or targets, what the fuck ever. Or we could knock over a fuckin' convenience store for all I care. I'm fuckin' restless. I need to do somethin'. Come on. Let's go 'old up a starbucks. Then you get your fuckin' coffee. And I get to punch somebody in th'fuckin' 'ead." A few scuffs of his boots take him over to the downed peach pit. Instead of bending down and picking it up, he gives it a good kick, sending it scuttling into a corner where it's less likely to be seen. "Y'can ride your fuckin' bike if you want, come on, it'll be a bonding exercise. Maybe I'll stop makin' you feel so insecure after. And then what the fuck ever, we can play cranium, sure." Ethan has listening problems. :(

Exasperated though he is, Raith manages to keep riding, even though he rolls his eyes at the absurdity of all this. "How did grandpa get it in his head to put you in charge of anything?" he asks. It's clear what 'grandpa' he's referring to, or at least should be. "I'm amazed that you didn't burn half the city down one afternoon because you got bored and thought it would be a great idea.

"Seriously, are you only happy when you're throwing slug out of a gun barrel?"

"Because I'm th'fuckin' best. And you are a pussy." It's stated matter of factly, as if it's painfully obvious that is why it's the truth. "I'm amazed you 'ave the balls, to sit 'ere and say I'm crazy, McGyver. Oh fuck you, we don't 'ave to shoot anyone. I'll take a fuckin' baseball bat. You can take your pom poms." He folds his arms over his chest for a moment. "This is a great idea, it'll be 'ealthy for you, keep your tactical intuition in shape. And if you say no, I will continue to call you a pussy or an old man until you change your mind." His feet set into place as if he is ready to do just that.

Now, Raith does stop peddling, and Mr. Coffee gurgles to a halt because of it. "Holden, you are the only man I know with a bigger mouth than me, and that's saying something." A moment of silence, and he speaks again. "Okay, okay, fine. We'll find us a 7-11 to knock over, or something, but if you get us on America's Dumbest Criminals, this relationship is over. I hope you understand that."

A slow grin crawls up Ethan's lips at Raith's concession of how awesome he is slash him having a bigger mouth. Whatever. Letting his arms drop, he tucks his thumbs into his belt, giving a happy nod. "Why, Jensen." He glances down then back up. "Don't look now, but I think your bollocks just dropped." Ethan gives a big thumbs up, before turning around to duck back out of the kitchen. "I'll get ski masks, a gun and a baseball bat." He sounds happy, as if they were going out to a baseball game.

"As long as you get a goddam hobby afterwards, we'll call it square." Raith climbs off his bicycle, and unlike Ethan, he sounds very not happy about this development. "A hobby other than knocking over liquor stores. Something like fishing, or auto mechanics. Take up flower pressing, something." He has every reason to be displeased. Now, he has to wait even longer before he can have his coffee. You'd better watch yourself Ethan Holden, you son of a bitch.

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