Participants:
| Scene Title | Popcorn |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Claire and Julian go for a beer and popcorn run, only to find a man they both know for entirely different reasons. |
| Date | December 17, 2008 |
Circle K
Or maybe it's a 7-Eleven?
Fake IDs are a blessed, blessed thing. But there is one thing better.
Having a friend who's actually of age to buy the booze.
Claire Bennet peruses the shelf of snacks in the convenience store while her partner in this endeavor, Julian Kuhr, gets the beer. She peeks over the shelf and whispers harshly when she sees her companion reaching into the cooler, "No! Not that one! I told you Red Stripe!" Smooth. She drops back down from her tiptoes, scowling now as she tries to decide between the overpriced Chex Mix or the overpriced Gardetto's. Ooh. Hey. Popcorn.
"Christ," Julian mutters to himself, yanking out the six pack of the lady's chosen beer, the tips of his fingers just visible from the almost fingerless, woolen gloves he's wearing. Another glance her way confirms that, indeed, the brunette has ducked back down to her usual 5'whatever" self to tend to the snack foods, and so the second six pack he drags out is his own choice. Compromise. "You keep your nose out've it, Bonnie." Bonnie? Not her name, but it may as well be if one were to look at the "official" paperwork.
When one has a large head, they wear a scull cap…especially when one tried to shave using a spoon as a mirror and so ended up with a Bozo-Buzz where there are patches of buzzed hair and then patches of skin. And seeing as the man who owns the large head doesn't tan, pasty white redneck ala not quite bald isn't very attractive. SO. Flint enters the store, hands in the pockets of a hoodie and scull cap pulled down as far as it will go over his 5-head. He looks around curiously and heads for the section that holds the Jiffy Pop. "There you is…I been in 2 or 3 different places, it's like folks up here ain't never heard of lazy ass folks that don't own no damn microwaves…I swear…"
"You kiss my ass, Clyde," Claire mutters in return, though maybe not loud enough for him to hear. But the man who strolls up next to her might. She looks a little sheepish - not just because of her comment, but because she's just plucked up the last bag of butter-topped Jiffy Pop. Who the hell eats popcorn plain? She glances up at the man a little apprehensively. She had it first. Finders keepers, right? …But he is awfully big. "Uhm, hi," she greets softly even as she pulls the popcorn in toward herself. Slowly. Mine. Her eyes turn quickly away, looking for something else to satisfy her craving for munchies.
Julian is busy buying booze, and doesn't notice yet the Mexican stand off over popcorn. "And a pack of Camel, thanks," Julian mutters to the employee, flicking money onto the counter and glancing over his shoulder to see how long it could possibly take Claire to make her selection. Long enough for his transaction to be over, and he pockets the cigarettes, picks up the plastic bag of beer, and heads on over, squinting a little when all he sees is the back of a rather large man, not immediately recognising him.
Flint's brow furrows, perplexed as he reaches for butter-topped Jiffy Pop and then…it isn't there anymore. Does. Not. Compute. He has to looks down a bit to see the pretty little blonde who is holding his pop corn and a fist starts to curl up, it is a reflex as he takes a step back and and into Claire's general 'way'. "Well howdy there lil' miss muffet!" Then he's pointing towards what she's holding. "That's mine." And he smiles! It isn't a nice smile really, but he's 'under cover'.
Honestly, if she didn't have her abilities, Claire would be scared. But she does have her abilities, and it makes her stupid sometimes. She hugs her arms around the snack protectively and stares up at Flint incredulously. "No it isn't. It's mine." She peers around the barrier that is Flint and catches sight of Julian. Her gaze speaks for her: Help me out here?
Julian sort of… tilts to see Claire around the man just as Claire does the same, and his expression sums it up best as: what the fuck are you doing now? "America the plentiful," he pipes up right about then, moving to stand with the other two. "Good t'see we're choosin' our battles. There a problem, Bonnie?" He looks from her, to the man— and blinks, raising a hand to point at him. "I know you from someplace."
Flint looks so confused, brow furrowing, lips parting and that fist coming up and then lowering again before he's reaching out to reach for the little woman. "I reckon' you're mistaken." He then blinks and is distracted from his upcoming assault to look at Julian. "Well I'll be damned! You're the man off the commercial with them lucky charms!" He turns away from Claire. "Them kids still ain't left you alone hunh?" He shakes his head and snaps his fingers.
Claire dances back a step. Choosing her battles? Well, that makes her frown. Because he's right. Popcorn isn't worth fighting over. Except, it seems, to the man in front of her. And Julian seems to know him. This can either mean things are about to get better, or much, much worse. She knows Julian can take care of himself, but she can't help but get a little nervous when the attention is taken off of her and put onto someone who can actually be hurt.
"…" Julian flicks a glance to Claire, then back to Flint. "Not in so many words," he says, quickly looking the man up and down again as if to see if maybe he made a mistake, but no, he trusts his own memory, as frantic as such a memory was. "You're not about to pick a fight in a Circle K— " Pause. He quickly glances around, because it might be a 7-Eleven. But when that seems not to be immediate true, he continues with, "— now are you?"
Flint folds an arm over his chest, hand toying with his own chin as he looks Julian over, and without looking. "Take one more step with mah damn Jiffy Pop goldilocks and I'ma hang you upside down until all the sugar and spice falls out." Then back to Julian. "…is ya talkin' to me or the girl over there? Cuz seems to me, she was pickin' up things that don't belong to her and weeeeeell…it is real important to make sure we leave a good example for the next generalization." He means generation. But. Whatever. "So I'm just protectin' the future." A pause. "…and my Jiffy Pop."
Claire's jaw actually drops a bit and one hand self-consciously goes up to her hair. Goddamn blonde roots. Her immediate response would be, 'I'd like to see you try, asshole!' But, Julian's there. And Julian would roll his eyes at her and tell her to shut up and she doesn't want to piss off the buyer of her beer at the moment. That, and it really isn't very conducive to this whole 'laying low' thing that she and her companion are attempting to accomplish. "It's not your Jiffy Pop," she grumbles. But all the same, she holds out the bag with a scowl. "Here. Just take it."
"Beautiful," Julian says, as Claire hands off the item, clapping gloved hands once together in a mocking gesture, before he's picking up his beer once more. "Maybe we can pick up some popcorn from one of the several billion other convenience stores on the way home, huh?" He nudges Claire to head for the counter, and looks at Flint once more, thoughtfully. "I reckon I do know you from someplace, big boy," he says, a little quieter. "Last I saw you were lighting someone up like a gas oven." With his free hand, he pantomimes the gesture Flint might make when doing such a thing. "Didn't catch your name."
Flint reaches out to accept his Jiffy Pop, clutching it to his chest with a tiny…snatch of a reception. My Jiffy pop damnit. He hmphs. "Don't mind if I do. Now that wasn't too hard now was it lil' cutie?" His eyes drop to her chest then he hmms and is distracted by Julian again. "Wha…oh yeah." He smiles a bit dopily at the memory. "Oh lordy, he screamed like a pig dipped in car grease, stuck in a fence with some fireworks shoved up him and lit off on the fifth of July didn't he…" He sighs and then blinks. "What in tarnation is you doin' wit your ha-geeze man!" He glances back towards Claire and then back to Julian. "…I ain't never done nothin' like that! There was this one little man named Pepe, but that was only durin' an overnight lock-up, and I got bailed out so that…and no. Not like - Not in front of the busty little kids. God." He frowns. "Mah name is Flint…did you see where they kept the peanut butter?"
Claire catches Flint looking at her chest and she fixes him with an 'are you kidding me?' sort of stare before she reaches over to the shelf to snatch up a couple Mars Bars and a bag of some sort of minuscule Oreo-like snack (it's supposed to be low in calories or something, ew) - all of which she drops when the man mentions his name. "Oh, no way." She shakes her head twice. What are the odds? A tall, redneck man that shoots fire out of his hands (if what the two are saying is any indication), and goes by the name of Flint? "…You don't have a big sister by any chance, do you?"
"I think y'mean the fourth, big boy." And this is what Julian gets for staying on the fringes of the group, as a look of confusion crosses his pasty features when Claire speaks up, attention going from Flint to Claire and back to Flint. Unsure as to what she's talking about, Julian just casually rests a hand against a shelf, standing on the other side of Flint, effectively blocking at least one exit. Just in case.
Flint doesn't kid about the boobies. Mostly cuz he hasn't gotten to touch many without being charged with stuff. So. THAT is another story as he flips up the hood of his hoodie and idly pets his bag of Jiffy Pop, looking between Claire. "…way. And I-" He now looks a bit alarmed! (or maybe excited! or maybe…confused! who knows!) "…yes, but she's real…ugly and probably not your type. Besides I think that's some kinda crime in most states. But chin up little lesbian lady Jiffy Pop thief. I'm sure you'll find somebody." This is why he can't be a secret spy, his cover stories…need work. Then he glances at Julian. "…noooo, I meant the fifth. Cuz on the fourth, they lock the pigs up and the farmers don't leave the fireworks unattended." He rolls his eyes. "…duh dee dee, get on the bus." - Cuz uh, everybody knows that.
Claire's jaw just kind of drops as Flint first goes on about her apparently being a lesbian and then explanation of why such a spectacular event can only take place on the fifth of July, rather than Independence Day itself. "Okay, first? No. And ew. And there's a whole lot more reasons why that illegal." She squints her eyes shut and tries to shake off whatever it was that just tried to flit through her mind that truly had no business being there. "Second, Meredith is my mother." She turns her gaze back to Julian, truly at a loss for this entire situation. She points to Flint and squeaks, "You know him?!" Her uncle just stared at her chest, after stealing her popcorn. What?!
Julian blinks a few times as the Jerry Springer show apparently takes up residence in this particular corner store, glancing around and hoping no one is watching this particular reunion and if they are, hoping they're not associating him with it at all. He even takes a step back. "He…" His voice comes out hissed and quiet, low enough for only the other two occupants of the aisle. "He broke outta the same joint they kept me in. Set some bitches on fire and that's about all I know. He's your uncle?" A doubtful glance to Flint.
There goes that confused look again as Flint listens to Claire. "Ain't nothin' ew 'bout that…is perfectly natural. Somethin' to do with college and experiments I think." Then something hits him like a mack truck and he opens his mouth and shuts it…then opens it again, clutching his Jiffy Pop bag tightly in one hand as he blinks. He looks to Julian who is backing off like they have cooties then looking back to Claire and he just finally says. "Claire?! Well…damn girl…" He looks her over slowly, undressing and redressing her with that not (totally) perverted expert gaze. "You sure sprouted up real fast like…all filled out and uh. Fluffy." He moves a hand to scratch his head. "Ain't you supposed to be a crispy fried dead baby?" Then he looks to Julian. "Looka here! I'm an Uncle! And she ain't a crispy fried dead baby!" He frowns. "Don't…do drugs, talk to strangers…" He's counting things off on fingers and getting stuck on three. So going back to one. "…smoke pot…" He's trying to catch up here. Forgive him.
Claire slowly stoops down to retrieve her dropped candy, grateful for an excuse to look somewhere that isn't Flint as she can't quite keep the shock off of her face and it's rather impolite to stare. Don't mention the underage drinking, Julian! "M'name's Bonnie," she corrects gently. Somehow, she's sure he isn't going to understand, so after getting to her feet again, she leans forward to whisper conspiratorially, "It's an alias. My fake name. You aren't the only one who doesn't like cops much." She looks over to Julian again and bites her lip. "Let me just pay for this stuff, and then we should get out of here." She glances back up at Flint for a moment, shaking her head before stepping around him to head toward the register. "Holy shi—"
Oh hell no is Julian going to mention any kind of underage drinking now. This beer? This beer right here? All for him, as far as he's concerned. A sort of quirky, forced smile makes its way onto the American-Irishman's face, that never-healing cut at his mouth pulling uncomfortably as he does so, and rather jovially cuffs Flint's on the shoulder. "Congratulations," is his response. "I'm Clyde, by the way." He'll just explain how he's not Clyde later on. "And m'not related t' any of you." He feels the need to clarify this point.
"…uuuuh…" Flint was still thinking of 'uncle' duties he might be slacking on, as Claire helps herself up. He eyes her warily and just nods slowly. "…There was that horror movie with that real big purple dinosaur and he said you can be whatever the hell you want to be." He offers sloooooowly and carefully. He doesn't get it. He just stares at her ass when she heads for the register, eyeing Julian at the congrats and then back to Claire then back to Julian. "That's probably a good thing, I find out you'd knocked up my niece and…" THERE IS NUMBER THREE. "…OH! And don't get pregnant!" Flint calls out after 'Bonnie'. Then back to Julian, a meaningful glance. Something else dawns on him and he makes his way towards Claire, shoving the jiffy pop at her. "Here…sugarmuffinlumps. Uh. - I don't know if we're Jewish or Southern Baptist…so Feliz Navi-Happy Birthday, That Candlestick holiday with no pork." It comes from his heart.
At the counter, Claire starts choking on the blue raspberry Slusho she'd just bought for herself. Her back straightens and she gapes at the pimply clerk working for a moment. "I- Just wipe that smirk off your face and ring all this up before I punch it off your face, would you?" And then, there's Flint. And the popcorn. Which she accepts, because it was hers in the first place. "Thanks," she mumbles, face as red as a candy apple. "Y- You too."
Julian is left standing, blinking at the space Flint has just vacated, then breathes out a quiet 'fuck me', turning to watch the debacle migrate towards the counter, somewhat incredulous. You are so on your own, Clairebear. Tucking his beer under one arm, Julian makes off to wait outside, pack of smokes already clasped in his other hand so he can tear off the plastic with his teeth. Hearing the exchange between family, however, he snickers despite himself as he goes. "God fucking bless us, everyone."
His…job here is done. And he's palmed a couple of candy bars, a pack of m&ms already, stuffed in his pockets…not that anybody would really notice. (he could just be really happy to see people). Flint just nods, looking so proud at her threatening of the clerk and pats Claire's back…hand sliding down for a goose as he heads for the exit, singing. And not very well. "I REALLY CAN'T STAAAAAAAY." Then in a horrible falsetto. "Baby it's cold outside." Then in his usual horrible bass. "I'VE GOT TO GO AWAAAAY." Falsetto. "Baby its cold outside. Bass. "THIS EVENING HAS BEEEEN!" Falsetto. "Been hoping that you'd drop in." He clutches his chest and lingers near the door trying to remember the words to this song. Bass. "Something something my niece isn't fried or knock uuuuuuuppppp." Falsetto. "BABY ITS COOOOOOOOOLD OOOOOOOOOUT SIIIIIIIIIIIIDE." Then as he passes Julian, getting outside he offers. "…I do hope them kids stop chasin' you. Every midget deserves a bowl of cereal." Then with a dramatic little…flourish he strips the wrapping off of his candy bar, shoving the chocolate into his mouth as it starts to melt cuz there's a flash of blue as he lights the wrapper on fire and tosses it in the trash. OFF he goes, leaving behind burning trash and bopping his head. "Baby it's cooooooold oooooooooout siiiiiiiiiide." Flint has…left the building.
Claire is literally left just gaping in some mixture of absolute horror and disbelief as Flint makes his exit. His musical exit. She accepts her change numbly and shoves it into her pockets before gathering up her bags and her Slusho and stepping outside to join Julian. "…I'm going to need one of those Camels," she tells him, still not quite able to close her jaw after she's finished speaking. "…How do I share genetics with him? There's no way we even dipped toes in the same gene pool." The look she gives Julian now is one of dismay. "Let's go before that bin gets out of hand." On that note, she grabs the man's hand and starts dragging him away from the convenience store, with the intention of taking the shortest route home possible.
Hudson's Note: This log was Flint's audition. It went so well, I have decided to make it his debut. Welcome to String Theory, Flint!
 December 17th: Stalk |
 December 17th: Lookout |