The Bees


abby5_icon.gif lynette2_icon.gif teo_icon.gif

Scene Title The Bees
Synopsis Take a load off, don't slip in the condoms. Maybe talking about the future isn't always so bleak, after all.
Date July 19, 2011

Manhattan — Gay Bar

There are men making out in the bathroom. Possibly even having sex, though this being a classier sort of joint, only the last two stalls are used for that. The trash cans in them are morasses of condoms, candy-wrappers, glowsticks that had been spent elsewhere. On vast high-definition televisions placed beside the speakers, men are wrestling wearing little clothing at all, but at least— they're only wrestling. Some of the photography on the walls are nice. Black-and-white. Flowers growing through pavement, neon lights and chiaroscuro, minor celebrity portraiture. Tasteful.

Abby's probably having an aneurysm.

Pros: beer's cheap, though, and liquor's in more varied supply. Teo looks tired but happy, and has been ever since he picked the women up, dressed in a hoodie and jeans, nothing fancy, and certainly nothing as fancy as what some of the men careening around in here are wearing. "First round's on me," the Sicilian announces, waving at the barman. He pauses, and glances at Abigail. "First two rounds are on me."

Bars are not a strange place to Abigail, nor the concept of people furtively fucking in stalls, trying to get off on the thrill of sex in a public place. If Abigail should see the condoms, one can guarantee red cheeks and averted eyes - Do they even have a ladies bathroom here for that matter? Is it co-ed? - and a silently murmured prayer of thanks that people have the sensibility to at least use protection.

"You brought me a bar bar" Which means that Lynette is likely in heaven because it's everything that she needs to survive, or at least have swimming through her veins. Abigail's close to Teo, blonde and brunette muddle hair clipped back and hands sunk into her pockets. Somewhere in the Bay House, Kasha getting ready to sleep while her defacto mother is trying to focus on the pictures on the walls. "You order for me. Lynette?"

Once upon a time, Lynette would have shown up dressed much more fashionable. In fact, she didn't even own a pair of jeans until the network ran off to live in exile, but they're all she's seen in these days. She got over the chagrin a few months ago. Plus, there's no reason to worry about bothering to attract the opposite sex at the moment, so she's even comfortable in her jeans and t-shirt look.
And given the smile on her face, heaven is probably just about right. After all, it's been a while since she's seen so much alcohol all in one place, lined up nice and pretty and just waiting for her. "Dirty martini, Stoli. Three olives," she says sort of to her companions, but more toward the bartender. "Might think about getting her something strong, hunny," she adds, as far as Abby's drink, "Give her an excuse for the red cheeks."

Teo leans across the counter top to yell in the barman's face, because the barman's looking at him with mild interest. Mild interest is just polite around here, of course, unless you're female, in which case being wholly platonically friendly and staying entirely away from harrassment is the polite thing. "Long Island Ice tea, shot of tequila— whatever's cheap, and the lady's martini's on me too. Thanks." He doesn't blink when he's called sweetheart in response, straightening with a smile, and turning back to look over the two women.

"Kind of doubt there's a lot of dancing where you two have been staying," he says, pointing at the dancefloor past them. Perhaps surprisingly, there are a fair number of women out, and while some are dancing in pairs there's nothing particularly sexual about it. There's a reasonable demographic of heterosexual women who come out to these places for the lack of pressure, ambience, eye-candy. "But you want to drink and talk first?" He is possibly a little concerned about Abigail's blood pressure.

Abigail's blood pressure isn't that high. It's lowering at the sight of other females, little by little. The worry of incinerating people is a risk that is very low and while they wait for the drinks to be created and delivered, Abby in what seems to be the uniform du jour for this group of jeans and shirt, looks between her partners in crime. "We have until curfew to get back to Francois. If you want to dance, you can dance, don't mind me" She might get up and dance. Maybe. After a drink in her. One at least. She can't afford - situation wise - to get drunk. Someone needs to be able to get everyone the hell out of there in case frontline or DoEA and any other manner of alphabet soup thinks to look for terrorists in a hopping gay bar.

"I didn't think, when I said I wanted to go have a drink, that you'd choose a place like this Teodoro" Over the din of the music and bodies. "It's a good place, good choice"

"I don't want to think about how long it's been since I've been dancing." Lynette turns too look out that way, her smile crooked as she observes. "Shamefully long, I imagine." She looks back over at the other two, lifting an eyebrow at Abby. "Oh, we'll see. If you don't take advantage of our night out, I'll be severely disappointed, for the record."
But she looks over Abby to Teo to add, "I think drinking and talking is a good start. It's definitely been too long since I've had a decent drink." Really, it was probably only a couple months ago, but it feels like forever. "And I've never mastered the ability to dance without spilling. Unfortunately."

Producing slim folds of cash, Teo hands it over to the barman when the drinks are slid over. He passes Abigail her taller glass first then balances Lynette's wider one between long fingers, carefully, waiting until theirs are secure before taking his tequila rather abruptly right there at the bar. It makes him look like a bit of a lush, probably, but after the last few weeks he's had, maybe that isn't surprising at all. He's furnished with a second shot of tequila before he picks up and starts to follow the women, craning his head over theirs to find a good place to sit.

"Francois is sorry he couldn't be here tonight," he calls over the music, which gets louder as they pass through the corner of the dancefloor. "Still feeling a little weak, although all his stats are good by now. Steady. Think his white blood-cell's gone up too. How are your," a beat, automatically screening out hot-words. "Roommates? No conflicts?"

Long Island Iced Tea is gathered from Teo, weaving with the pair of them, sipping at her drink, the sweet of the tea and the bite of the alcohol. Swallow it down, take off a good quarter of the drink before lips relinquish the edge of the glass. "Good. I was ready to pop back in a for a while, if it was needed, but if he's doing better, I'll leave you freshly engaged love birds alone"
She's looking out for a table, for a corner to lean in and talk where they won't be disturbed. "They're good. There's some pests though, moved in on the property out by the edges. Too close for comfort, and we don't know whether to smoke them out or leave them be and hope they'll move on" For all that anyone knows… they're talking about bee's. Not military forces that set up camp.

"Engaged, hmm?" Lynette says as she takes her glass, too, lifting it in a miniature toast, "Love is in the air, apparently. Congratulations." It even sounds sincere. Of course, the way she drinks about half that martini may speak more to her state of mind. Or her alcohol addiction. Either or. She doesn't even care that it's terribly uncouth.

"Hmm, yes. Not quite bothersome yet, but might become so in the near future. If our luck keeps running the way it has." Bad, of course.

Talking in euphemism is the most fun part of being secret terrorist-refugee-operatives. Teo sits down once the women have, immediately begins to slouch, pinching at the lime and listening intently. "Fucking pests," he says. "Generalized pesticides tend to fucking poison everything about the area too, huh? And that's bad, if you have kids around." He shakes his head, makes the hair fall in his eyes, and slouches comfortably to lick up some salt. He doesn't even glance over when a gentleman or two look their way.

No doubt, exactly because of what they just said. "Thanks. A lot." He grins suddenly, wide, and it reaches his eyes. "I'm sure he'd love to have some visitors, if you want to drop by. Have you worked with him too?" Pale eyes shift at Lynette.

"Raith could probably use Ghosts expertise is pest control, if he's looking for something to do. I know that we're concerned about what might happen if they make their way to us and actually come in contact." Another heady sip of her drink. "Roomates're also looking to taking a long trip oversea's. Set up a home somewhere. Little less warmer. Where they can spread out some. I'm of a mind that I might join them, or at least, take up the idea. I'm thinking more along the lines of somewhere in Italy or Sicily, Lynette here thinks I'm crazy but approves. But won't come with me forever"

The question makes Lynette chuckle a little, but she nods, "Here and there. I'm glad he's getting better. Last time I saw him he looked like hell frozen over. Handsomely, of course." She looks over at Abby, a hand going to her hip, "I seem to recall being very supportive. It no crazier than… the rest of what we do." In fact, far less crazy.

As far as the last note, she lifts a shoulder and notes, "I can't help it. I'm a patriot." She takes another drink before she sets her glass down, a smirk coming to her face, "And I think we need to counter the shop talk with a little dancing. And Abby, I'm not taking no for an answer, for the record."

The Sicilian sets his jaw on his fist, leaning there, looking pleasantly fuzzy with two shots of tequila and not much in the way of food in him. Perhaps surprisingly, perhaps not, he hadn't drunk much at all during Francois' illness.

Good-bye tolerance. "Yes yes I agree Lynette. He has very fine bone structure," he says. If Abigail were a guy-friend instead of a girl-friend she would probably be rolling her eyes by now. "Like a little aristocratic. Very fine. His nose is what I think they used to call 'aquiline,' according to Grecian standards. Even when he was a bit gaunt, he was very fucking handsome." Newlyweds. He may not be one yet, but at the very least, he can be quite embarrassing.

"If there's anything I can do to help your transition to Italy, I will," Teo adds, scooting aside so the women can rise, or at least, Lynette can rise dragging Abby by the wrist. "And I'll call Caspar up if Raith hasn't already."

Dancing. Oh Lynette, you asked for it. Abby's drink is left at the table - It'll be safe with Teo - letting her wrist be caught up and intentions made clear. «Francois has always been handsome and will never cease to be handsome. And I expect that you will visit me wherever I settle» Firing it off in Italian before she letting herself be dragged away in earnest. It's a Monday night. There is alcohol running through her veins and Lynette has a need to dance, and she won't deny the woman. Anything to make her happy, Abigail will do. "You're up after me" And with that, Abigail's being swallowed by the crowd, stiffening now and then when people who don't have the name Lyentte bump into her, graze their bodies against hers. Oh yes, she lived with two gay men - Bisexual they will proclaim - but that doens't mean that this will have been the greatest place to take her. But she'll survive, endure, mark it down as an accomplishment.

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