Participants:
| Scene Title | Taco Tuesday |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | An innocent attempt on Peyton's part to help mediate between Aaron and Wendy fails miserably. |
| Date | September 22, 2009 |
The Taco Tavern
Taco Tuesday! What better way to celebrate the second work day of the week — that is, if they had normal 9 to 5 jobs, or jobs at all — than spending it in a little dive cantina with two-dollar margaritas and one-dollar tacos?
Peyton already has a blended margarita and plate full of tacos as she sits at one of those tall pub-style tables. While the place is Mexican-themed, the music is anything but. Taco Tavern is a dueling piano bar, and Peyton selected the place to show to Aaron in case he might want to think of playing there, substituting for the regular pianists.
The other reason for the night out is to have Wendy and Aaron meet on neutral ground and try to patch things up between the two — not that they were ever friends, but since Peyton is friends with both, she's trying to get them to the point of not hating one another.
"So remember, nothing but small talk, and no judging and no talk of anything that will set her off," Peyton reminds Aaron.
Mexican! Wendy is dressed the part. A sundress with more southern colors, scarf tying her hair back, the ends of which are oh so casually over her shoulder and a brilliant contrast to her ink black hair. All long limbs, made taller by the espadrilles and the leather moorcycle styled brown leather jacket. As if she walked in from some magazine page. Mexican was not something she did often and when Peyton called to invite her, and it wasn't hoity toity paparazzi infested, she was all over it. A doze of refrain - long enough before she had to go so that she didn't need to worry about still being out of it before she was to meet - and she was taxi'd over. Waaaay over. Thanks to the bombs and the like, taxi's were fewer - still the bane of the city - and a little bit more expensive.
One hand rises to airly brush her bangs out of the way even though they end up just falling back into the same place as she looks around for Peyton. ooooh, hello, one for the radar… She eyes the bartender with raised brows, lifts and drops them a couple times and sidle sup for a few moments to order a drink and to get a touch in.
Yes, the touch slut is in full gear.
Aaron is … well, Aaron. He's not so much worried about saying something that sets Wendy off as he is that something she says will set him off. After all, it's not Wendy who stabbed Aaron with a needle. He's seated as close to Peyton as is physically possible given the seating arrangement because he's more or less paranoid of the mere idea of this meeting. Bella told him to move on now that he's apologized, and moving on to him means never seeing that crazy evo-radar again.
He's stuck to a non-alcoholic beverage, coke with a wedge of lime, and works at eating tacos instead of planning any casual conversation, especially when he notices Wendy enter. At first he didn't think it was her, but the way she just waltzed on up to the bar and touched the bartender. Well, that's just unmistakable.
Taco Tavern. Not the first stop on Keene's allocation of locales to barhop, and it likely wouldn't be the last either. He's a new addition to the 'tavern', fresh of the street, not yet having so much as sat down. He's wearing a suit, a black one; not fit for a funeral, yet somber all the same. From the entrance he takes pause, and a look around. Sure, he fits with the 9 to 5 suits (the more well dressed ones) fresh out of their office habitats; but, he isn't one of the usuals. Not here, not of that sort.
He doesn't bother waiting to be seated, if it's that sort of place, and simply slips in toward the assorted layout of tables. It's not as if any are particularly empty, though the way those that go out together tend to group, it isn't ever unusual to see two or three at a table at the busiest times. He doesn't bother looking too long for empty seating, and settles in at the closest available empty seat.
The former socialite likes this place — paparazzi would never think to come to such a place, and while she hasn't been hanging out with many celebs of late, the photographers have been trying to capture pictures of the recent kidnap victim that's shoved Peyton back in the limelight. She's laid low for long enough that no one is stalking her outside of her building, so it was easy enough to get to the place without anyone following and finding one of her secret hot spots. She sips the margarita through its festive pink straw. She's dressed down quite a bit, in jeans, kitten heels, and a blousey royal blue sleeveless top. When she sees Wendy, she raises a hand to get the other women's attention. "Wonder what Bar Boy is," she murmurs quietly. She looks more closely at Aaron to make sure he's listening to her advice, then glances behind her as she senses Keene walk by — she's ever cautious of her surroundings these days.
Bar boy is something the Wendy hasn't run across in a while and one round of flirting later, she's walking away with a pina colada and a grin on her face as she spots Peyton. A lift of her hand and the straw bag on her arm to wave before… oh crap, right. of course. The smile is wiped off Wendy's face and she glances to Keene as she heads towards the table. The man settled at the table adjacent to the pair, she plops her untouched pina colada in front of him. "here you go free drink"
And… he's on her radar too when she realizes the pull comes not just from the table in front of her but to this man too. She'll touch him later, but for now.
For now wendy looks like she's getting armor on and takes a seat at the table that Peyton and aaron are on, an unamused look on her face. "Pey. Aaron"
Yeah, he had a feeling that was the reaction he'd get from her. No big shock there. Aaron fights with himself for a long while before he offers only a very awkward "Wendy" and resumes eating. At least he managed to refrain from greeting her with the same tone she greeted him with. But he's suddenly very self-conscious and stops eating, sitting back slightly and sipping on his Coke. He almost looked like a glutton.
Keene isn't exactly 'in the know' for all things celebrity and star related. Being away from regular television as often and for as long as he's been definitely having a major impact to his knowledge on all things pop culture. He stretches some, his legs beneath the table, as his shoulders go back against the backrest of the chair. He doesn't see any servers nearby, though he nearly mistakes Wendy for one as she places the drink before him. He half expects to need pay for the beverage before it's declared free, before she heads for the adjacent table.
His gaze? Not following Wendy, but instead locked upon the drink. He takes it in hand, lifting it to his lips and taking the opportunity to sniff it secretively; paranoid, but not openly awkward in such a situation. He hadn't offered so much as a thanks for it though, and after a test sip, places it back down upon the surface of his own table. The others at it across from him, paying no mind to his presence as they might seem to be interlocked in a rather involving conversation. He tilts his head, in order to look over his shoulder to peek in on this other group, with the one who had served him the free drink. Curiosity is starting to get the better of him, though that's nothing new.
Luckily there's a rousing rendition from the two pianists of "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" by the Beatles — so it's not like one has to make a lot of conversation, if things get tense. Peyton smiles and raises her glass to Wendy. "Sit down, Wendy. So I was saying this might be a place Aaron could work, maybe sub for the two guys once in a while. I think they work here most nights, but you know, once in a while they gotta get laryngitis singing that loudly, and Aaron's as talented as they are. More, really." She glances back at the guy with Wendy's drink and she arches her brow. "On the prowl?" she adds with a little smirk.
"Sorta" Wendy glances to Aaron adn then around her. "Yeah, I think he'd do well here. I could see him banging away at the piano's and yelling" Stabbing people in the neck with fucking drugs. Bitter much? "How's it going Aaron? She trick you here too?" Wendy makes to poke at the little menu, see whats to nibble and eat. Actually, aarons looks good, but she's not touching his plate.
Do not cry, do not cry. It's a mantra really, especially the last few days. The taco Aaron's holding breaks in his hands and he's forced to silently excuse himself to go wash them in one of the restaurant restrooms. While he's there he tries not to have any form of breakdown. Peyton's trying to be nice, trying to play the mediator, and he'll be damned if he lets Wendy ruin it for her. He can do this. "You can do this," he tells himself in the bathroom mirror, even though his unhealthy pallor and red-rimmed eyes betray his faux-confidence. Maybe he'll wait a few more minutes before going back out. Not too long, though. He doesn't want to make Peyton worry.
Keene takes his attention back to the pina colada for the moment. The drink itself may not look suitable when placed next to him, in terms of belonging. It doesn't stop him from partaking though, seeing as how the test told him nothing ill of the beverage. It's a slow pace to drink at, though it keeps the servers away with the fact that it seems that he's seemingly already been served. Maybe a trick that he's used to employing in the more crowded of establishments; though, a little less effective once the room begins to thin.
During this tasting, and observation of what's ahead, he isn't able to notice Aaron taking leave of the adjacent table. Though through the use of his peripheral vision, and a tilting of his head he's able to after the fact. It doesn't mean anything to him, really, not being familiar with the other man, it's merely something he takes notice of in his silent observation. His own relative silence being something he was used to so far, this day.
Peyton sighs a little, giving Wendy a disappointed look as Aaron leaves the table. "No, he knew you were coming, and I didn't say I was coming by myself when I called. I said 'we'd be there at 7' so I wasn't lying or anything," the younger woman, whose fake ID has allowed her to purchase the drink she sips. "Okay, look, you don't have to like him but just … try to be civil. Pretend he's some boring person you don't care a shit about, but try not to constantly give him a guilt trip, already. He's punished himself plenty for his stupid mistake. You and me, we've both made enough stupid mistakes. Cut him some slack, please? At least just… you know. Talk about your art or something." She glances back at Keene and back at Wendy. "Like him, or just your curiosity burning?"
"What the hell pey, how did I guilt him? Tell me how I guilted him? I said hey, hi, that yeah, hey I actually do think he'd be great in this place. Just think of blast everyone here would be having with an empath. I didn't say anything else Pey, so seriously. Fuck, the guy is so in love with you, he can over to blame me. But whatever Pey, I can play nice. I'll be nicer" Wendy looks over to Keene a shrug of her shoulders as she pushes back with her chair to make it balance on the two back legs and put her in close proximity to Keene. "Hey, honey, can I shake your hand?"
There's only so long a person can stand the smell of a Mexican restaurant's bathroom, so soon Aaron comes out. However, he doesn't immediately come back to the table. He goes to the bar and then, after a short while, returns to the table with a margarita in hand. Peyton may be somewhat disappointed that it's not merely a refill, as Aaron takes a sip from it. He amazingly succeeded in his attempt to not have a breakdown, but only through his resolve to get alcohol. His gaze falls on Wendy as she does the whole handshaking routine. Rolling his eyes and the faux-interest behind his question probably don't help, but he nevertheless asks, "So, sculpt anything new recently?"
Here Keene is, having walked into and sat down in an unfamiliar bar (known as the Taco Tavern, apparently); a place of dueling pianos, and foods of varied alignment in the war on clean air (most, hostile in this regard). All usual, in terms of staying within the limits of what he can viably accept. The offered drink, a little less usual; except for, at bars with names more along the lines of 'the tool box' and such. The request though, for the stranger to shakes his hand, that's actually completely new to what he's experienced. As such, and having missed the conversation between her and Peyton over the din, he's completely in the dark as to what it might mean. The paranoia in gripping his mind disregards any possibility that it might be an awkward greeting of sorts.
There is some pause though, as he regards her with a tilt his head. A temporary leave of life from his eyes, as he seems to look through her. Once that passes, a brief smirk (which fades just as swift). "James Reese," he offers, in place of his name; and while it may not be his real name, he says it as if he owns it well enough. His hand is offered afterward, as he awaits the same from Wendy. He almost seems to be expecting something though, and not just a return to the gesture.
"Just … you know. Watch the tone," Peyton murmurs. No, Wendy didn't say anything that was a guilt trip, but the look on her face as she regards the empath is more than enough obviously to send Aaron running for the bathroom. And back. Peyton arches a brow at the drink — not like she's one to criticize of course, living as she does in a house with glass walls and ceilings. "Whatever, she's busy and the margarita sucks anyway," Peyton says, apparently not in the mood to play mediator any longer. "Finish your drink and we can go," she tells Aaron, glancing over at "James Reese." She gives a nod and smile, as if to say 'Sorry for the crazy woman who's trying to feel up your power.'
"Hey James, i'm Wendy" Her hand closes around his, the french manicure and smooth hands courtesy of a day at a nail spa today, firmly, tightly. Her eyes go a bit distant. Oh shit, telepath She pulls her hand away then reaches out to touch Keene's shoulders. Hah. telepath. ohhh are you listening to me right now? I bet you are! Wendy apparently loves telepaths.
"I don't have much time. I have to go meet up with John and Henry, they apparently want to discuss my parents anniversary presents and what to get them" Mr. Reese is summarily forgotten. Not really, but Aarons returning to the table. "Yeah, i'm working on something, found this great piece of wood that i'm trying to carve as well. Anyways, I think you should see about applying here Aaron. you'd do good" She pushes her chair back proper, rising from it. "I'm sure pey can get you in easy with her celebrity status. I'll leave, so that you know, I don't make you loose your job" There's a bit of a salute to peyton as the brunette starts to turn to leave.
A salute to Peyton and nothing but veiled meanness Aaron's way. Suddenly those tacos don't sit nearly as well as they used to, and he's more than happy to go with Peyton. Leaving sounds really good to him. He does finish his drink, though, before getting up from the table to follow Peyton out. Of course, he has no intention of applying anywhere until he has finished getting his head back on straight, but it's the thought that counts.
Oh, Keene knows what the plan is. He has his ability to thank for that. Yet, he offers his hand to Wendy all the same. A glance to Peyton and Aaron, if only for a moment to regard the others at the adjacent table. A group, or enough of one for him to assume them all together. Than, he gets what he was waiting for. A name, or, half of one (if real). It's enough for him to deem this a success, seeing as how his own name remains his own.
"Thanks for the drink, Wendy. Something on your mind?" he questions (maybe not expecting much of an answer, if any; at least in vocal form), calmly, though with a grin to accent it. He doesn't even attempt to remove her hands from his shoulders while they're there. If he hears her more recent thoughts, he doesn't project his own into her mind, if he can (he can't, yet). As she gets up, and makes for leave, well, he shifts and adjusts his chair in order to return to his drink. He's listening though, and the name 'Aaron' adds to his repitoire of 'maybes', and the second 'Pey' woman, as likewise. He'd return to his pina colada though, yes, and even finish it in time. He'd take his time, though, he did have one more stop to go before curfew would be up. A place called 'Old Lucy's'. He just had the name, and an address; but that's all he'd need for now. He only had the same for here, after all.
Even though Wendy's already leaving, Peyton's "Taco Tuesday" mood is spoiled. She pulls out her wallet to toss enough to cover the drinks and tacos — the glory of Taco Tuesday in a place like this is that a ten actually covers their bill. Her own cheeks are a little flushed, both from the burn of the tequila and the slight embarrassment at her failed attempt at the Wendy and Aaron reconciliation. "Sorry," she mutters to Aaron. She gives Keene another slightly apologetic smile. Apparently Peyton feels she has to feel bad for lately.
Always something on my mind. Wendy mentally fires back before she slips out the door ahead of peyton and Aaron. A wisp of color in a taxi that heads off somewhere presumably to party the night away proper and maybe get a little drunk, and high. Maybe she'll go find Logan. Get a whole different kind of high.