You're A Dick


abby_icon.gif claire2_icon.gif deckard_icon.gif diogenes_icon.gif

Scene Title You're A Dick
Synopsis A conglomeration of people at Old Lucy's, an attempt to pick a fight, an attempt to ask some questions and a successful returning of a key.
Date August 10, 2009

Old Lucy's

It's evening, the bar that those in the neighbourhood knows is always hopping, or at least the bartenders are dancing every hour for a few minutes. But it's monday night and so it's slow, but steady. Little less dancing and screaming. It's looking like it might be a downright sedate night. Sorta. It's also time for Abby to start gathering paperwork to mail off to the accountant between studying for her finals at the end of the bar near the exit door. Stairway to heaven plays on the sound system. No live band tonight.

Running a hand through his darkly dyed hair, Diogenes steps into the bar with a tired sigh, one that hints at quite the day. Tonight the guy has exchanged his royal suit for something more mundane and simple - a sky blue shirt with its sleeves rolled up and a pair of tight-fitting pale blue jeans. Although it apparently wasn't particularly hot due to it being relatively late in the day, he still had the top three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned.

"Some Jack Daniels", he would murmur to the first bartender whose attention his weary voice would attract. And, whilst placing his order, he would look around the bar with an observant gaze. He was on his (fairly long) way home, and he figured - why not have a stop here and have a drink?

Deckard's momma told him there'd be days like this. Tall and lean beneath the scuffed up drag of a familiar brown leather jacket, he had no intention of actually coming inside where there are other potentially familiar people, but Joseph had his key and Joseph isn't living upstairs to let him in anymore, so. Short of breaking into his own temporary place of residence or sleeping in a rathole, he's shit out of options. And his back is sore.

He's too thin, as per usual, and unshaven, also as per usual. The fact that his hair has been buzzed down to a brutish level with the bristle of his beard growth lends him a thuggish air that he might otherwise be harder pressed to achieve, but. He's neat and clean and trim and doesn't appear to be bleeding from anywhere as he scowls his way in through a gaggle of girls clustered near the door and adjusts the sling of his backpack across one shoulder. Maybe no one will notice him.

Tired of doing a lot of sitting around at the safe house, Claire decided a change of scenery was needed. So, she has decided to slip down to Old Lucy's and maybe catch Abby to ask her about a certain someone. Or maybe not, she feels weird asking someone about a boy. Wearing her skater grunge clothing, with is worn jeans and black hoodie. The whole outfit looks wrong with her cheerleader blond looks.

Flashing the bouncers her fake ID.. one that she'd only need for about one more year. Yay! Claire search the fairly quiet bar for a familiar face. Of course, her luck, first one she sees is Deckard.. Shit.. Her cheeks flush pink and she flips her hood up so that maybe he won't notice her. It doesn't exactly occur to her that he hasn't seen her blond either. Working to slip discreetly past the man she continues her search for Abby. The other blond is quickly found, "Abigail. Hey." She says as she approaches, hands stuffed in her pockets. "Busy?"

Claire's SOL on getting drinks though, not during business hours. "Hey. Just studying, paperwork, but you can sit. Whats u…." Flint. She catches a glimpse of him, and automatically she brightens a fraction while dipping her hand into a pocket of her backpack. "See that guy over there?" She points to Deckard and passes a key to Claire. "Give this to him. Tell him the sheets were changed"

Dio gets a glance though too from Abigail. He doesn't seem the type to come in here, she's never seen him before. Though, pot kettle black, she with the golden cross around her neck doesn't seem the type to own a bar that's two steps above a stripclub in class, and doesn't dress like the other bartenders. Brenda, the red head, gives Dio a wink and starts to fill his order. "Coming up sugar. Careful, boss is looking at yah"

Much to Deckard's possible dismay, Diogenes catches sight of the strange man trudging across the spacious room. As curious as he was why the aged stranger has chosen something as impractical as a backpack and why he'd go for the look of a skinhead at an age which the youngster presumed to be over the fourth decade, Diogenes has his heavy gaze fixed on Deckard; even terminally ill puppies have more cheerful eyes than this self-proclaimed philosopher.

His attention is brought back to the bar with a visible cringe when he hears the overly upbeat greeting Claire offers to Abigail, who is most likely a friend. 'Unlucky' is the first adjective that comes to mind when describing someone who happens to be within hearing distance of Diogenes, and Claire was unlucky enough to be near the crazy jerkface. "Yes, she is", he answers her question before the true addressee can respond. "See, on this side of the bar, people drink their sober faces off. On the other side of the bar, people work and are generally busy. Just lettin' you know — in case the whole 'bar' concept confused you." Definitely unlucky. Brenda is equally unlucky, because her wink would receive nothing but a scowl in return.

Deckard's not entirely skin-headed so much as he's been shorn down into a scrub-brush bristle from skull dome to the patches of grey taking hold on either side of his chin, but the effect is much the same in terms of approachability. Particularly when Diogenes's stare pulls his attention away from the beginnings of a track after something familiar about the awayward turn of Claire's face and he's compelled to stare back more aggressively than is perhaps polite. Apparently you don't actually have to have hackles to raise them. But when Dio breaks off his end of the exchange, so does Flint, backpack shifted once more when he has to step out of the way to make room for a passing bartender. One he doesn't know, if the puzzled knit to his brow is any indication. He really hasn't spent much time down here for all that he like, lives upstairs and all.

Claire's eyes drop to the key and her cheek color again, her hands not leaving her pockets. She doesn't want that! "Ah… can't you?" She says in a worried whisper, not even looking back at Deckard. "Seriously, I don't want him to remember me.." she hisses those words softly, "Thanks, but no thanks. Not exactly the best day of my life. Bad enough the other guy called me Red."

Then the man next to her, opens his mouth. The ex-cheerleader slowly turns her head to gives him a look. "Is that right? Wow. I really did not know that. How very observant of you." With a little shake of her head, which makes her hood fall back she turns her attention back to Abby and that key. "Please? Don't make me." The young woman practically pleads.

"Fine" Abby answers when Claire's refusing and Dio is.. sassing Claire. "Get her coke will you" Said the bartender. "And his drink is free. Welcome to Old Lucy's Sir, drinks on me. In all fairness, I'm not on the working side of the bar. I just own it and chose to sit on the customer side" Because she can sit wherever she pleases. "Becky, his tabs on the house" Maybe it'll perk him up. Not be all sour Suzy. "and Fine Claire, I'll give him the key. At least he's only seen your underwear. He used to see much more of me" Yes, she hasn't forgotten what he could do before they met Tyler Case.

With that, the religious blonde whom Becky retorts "Yes my Nun" starts tow end her way to flint, key in hand.

Even though Deckard stared back at Diogenes aggressively, the young man still looked away in order to deliver that line to Claire. Knowledge is power, after all, and Diogenes was more than happy to provide it to the unfortunately ignorant. Or a mockery of it. One of the two. "Always happy to help, Lola", he quips, shooting an absent-minded side-glance in Claire's general direction. He really needed that whiskey. Why did he want whiskey? Perhaps because that particular beverage was associated with cigar-sucking hard nuts in intense action films or brooding neo-noir detective films, and Diogenes subconsciously wanted to recreate such an image in real life.

"Woah, wai-wai-wait, you hand out free drinks to those who piss customers off? Can I insult the overgrown skinhead schoolboy, too? What do I get for that?", he inquires Abby before and as she rises to head over to Flint, who Diogenes has just describ— well, insulted, really.

It doesn't require too much of a mental leap to chase the souce of Diogenes's distraction across the bar to Claire and Abby — the pair of which are trying very hard not to look at Deckard and heading his way respectively. He's quick to pull his glare off sideways, like he wasn't watching…and there again is Dio with the assist. He seems to have a penchant for making himself easy to stare at.

Irritation is briefly lost to bafflement while Deckard plays 'connect the adjectives.' Doesn't take him long to realize he's the only overgrown skinhead carrying a backpack in here, and for a few precious seconds he teeters on the edge between being at a resigned loss and letting his temper get the better of him. Tick, tick, tick and pretty quick a forward shift in weight and a furrow at his brow are suggestive of his leaning towards getting pissed off.

"Well, at least he didn't see me throw up. I'll give it that." Claire mutters within Abby's hearing, that whole night was a total embarrassment she'd rather forget. She moves to slip into a seat next to Abby. "I wanted to ask…." About then, Dio's comment grabs Claire's attention and boy does she look annoyed with the jerk next to her. She just wanted to ask her fellow blond a few questions. "Look… She probably just wants you to shut you up before you upset more." A figure out of the corner of her eye, makes her take a quick glance back. Oooh please don't let him recognize her.. course, he probably wasn't looking at her face that night… ever.

"Ask me when I'm back" She tosses to Claire. 'And no, But I like to do a good turn now and then and since I own the place" It's her caveat. "Either take the free drink, or not. No skin off my teeth" Abigail offers to Diogenes, a pointed look to Claire to be nice. Beside Deckard Abigail falls into place, proffering forth the key to upstairs in the hopes that will distract him from trying to… death by look, her customer.

"Don't worry, I'll shut up after I get my whiskey." Pause. "On the other hand, I might be an even bigger jerk once I get it. I'm not really sure."

As he follows Abby with his eyes, Diogenes once again finds himself looking at Deckard. Not at all phased by the look of irritation verging on a look of sheer anger, he sends back a penetrative cold glare of his own. It is as though no one was around and a canyon separated the two. Dio appeared genuinely disinterested, but kept on looking at Deckard, as if waiting for him to do something that might be worthy of his attention, something that Diogenes would hate to miss.

Recognition is harder in general without the whole x-ray vision thing to layer over the everyday blur of the visible spectrum, but Deckard's eyes definitely linger on Claire when they flicker over thataway for the second time. There's even a little speculative brush towards the region of her underoos, complete with brow tilt before Abby's sudden presence at his side has the opposite effect of what she might've desired. His eyes go back to Diogenes while his hand closes around the offered key — namely because he's something to look at that isn't her and the fact that he's still looking reminds him of one of the reasons he was annoyed in the first place.

Right hand still half-closed around Abigail's, there's a twitchy narrow at one of his chilly eyes. Then he's moving, key and Beauchamp left behind on his way to trailing over to Dio's post.

Claire only rolls her eyes at Abigail and gives her a 'he started it' look, she doesn't look where she goes, just keeps her attention straight ahead. The arrival of her soda gets a soft thanks and she busied herself with sipping at it. Of course when Deckard heads towards Dio.. that means he's coming near Claire. So the former brunette is forced to turn her attention to him. Her brows lift a bit as she realizes he doesn't look too happy. "Ah…." Is all she can say at first, but then she realizes he not coming towards her, Claire glances at Dio. Oh boy.

The pull from him, the strange sinking of heaing to her tongue and her thigh comes with the touch, the warmth and tingle that heralds her ability coming from Deckard. Save with that murky tint to it that was never there when it was hers. But as quick as it started, it's gone and Flint's making for Diogenes and without the key in hand. Shit. Fuck. Language Abigail! She chides herself and quickly follows behind him to latch a hand onto his arm from behind. "Mike…"

Deckard stepping over the imaginary canyon between him and Diogenes prompts the latter to change his position. Namely, he turns around to lean against the counter with a single elbow propped on top of it, just so that he would face Flint as he's heading nearer. Claire's timid gasp invites a wayward glance, but it's a matter of seconds until Diogenes is looking at Deckard again. He certainly seemed more interested now, and - judging by an involuntary twitch of a sole corner of his lips - amused. The prospect of being punched wasn't entirely a perspective he looked forward to, and he lets Deckard know as much.

"Before you decide to punch me — I'm very much pain intolerant", he elaborates, his tone rich with venomous sarcasm. Coincidentally, his whiskey arrives. His hand reaches for the stout glass in what would have been a fully casually manner if not for the tinge of mockery to his motions. After the first sip that makes him frown and smack his lips, he lifts his eyes to the approaching man again. "I'm sure that 'do is fashionable in some cultures, cheer up."

No telling what Deckard's voice is rich with given that he hasn't said a word since he got here, but there's a stiff amount of force to the start of a twist and shove meant to displace the southern girl hanging off his arm. Disappointingly, he manages to stop himself short of slinging her off into the nearest table, reflex curbed into a hard look that's rounded back on Diogenes soon enough.

He's still out of reach, stupid backpack, bad hair and worse attitude all wound up like a stray dog that's been kicked one too many times. Tension hoods at his brow and etches over wiry muscle strung taut into his neck…and…he doesn't do a damn thing. Well, that's not entirely true.

"You're a dick," is decided plenty loud enough for those nearest to overhear. Turns out his voice is rich with dust and gravel and decade old cow shit and cowardly inaction, which seems about right in the big scheme of things, really.

Deckards look and his movement to dislodge her is enough to make the southern belle take a few steps back. She's become more aware over time, the shifting nature and general curmudgeoness of Deckard's moods and behavior. Right now, he's far from Curmudgeon and more into… yeah, that kind of attitude. So the key is slipped into his coat pocket as she moves past so she can gather her books and just disappear into the back. She'll patch flint up later, if he gets into a fight in her bar. "Claire. Be careful" all she offers to the other woman before through the back room doors she disappears.

Brows lift high on her head as everything plays out. Seriously, the man just clearly doesn't know how to shut up. Claire stares at Dio for a moment in shock. "For god sake, shut your mouth." She hisses those words viciously. A hand flies out to point at Deckard. "He's right. You are."

Claire hops off her stool as Abby flees. "Oh great.. Look what you two did.. Seriously, I needed to talk to her." The small blond sighs heavy and eyes Deckard. She leans close to him so that she can whisper. "I would like to say, that while I totally support you kicking his ass. I wouldn't do it in Abigail's bar. Even more, he's seriously not worth the time or effort it would take to do so." she says that eying Dio, with a small frown.

For some bizarre and inexplicable reason, that particular remark that came from Deckard catches Diogenes off guard. Perhaps because he didn't expect the stranger to be this blunt; he expected to indulge in a pissing contest, and not have his attitude pegged. What amusement twinkled in his eyes is now gone, and that wearily sedate facial expression overcomes his youthful visage once more. Claire supporting Deckard did not help Tom at all.

"Everyone's a dick", he mutters, bringing the glass to kiss its brim. After another swig and a raspy ragged sigh, he continues his initial thought, his eyes on Claire as she walks past him to whisper something to Deckard, "Comes with the whole homo sapiens package."

Deckard's chilly eyes don't break away from Diogenes to skim down after Claire until what she's whispered has had time to sink in through the thick of his skull. As with most things lately, it takes time to permeate, but once it does the hollow clench of his jaw eases back out of murderous unresolved and likely misdirected anger into something that bears a more comfortable resemblance to normal sapien annoyance. Or dickishness.

When he looks back to Dio it's only at a glance before he's stepping away from Claire and him both, lines etched out flat across his forehead. Maybe walking away constitutes agreement. At the very least, he doesn't argue or try to break anyone's face — just trudges his way back towards an office door near the back to slip inside and out of sight.

There is a soft relieved sigh as Deckard seems to listen to reason. A glance towards Dio and Claire shakes her head. "Well, some are worse then others," she grumbles softly, moving to drop back into her seat and sip at her soda. She props an elbow on the bar and her chin in the palm of her hand. Damn it… now she'd have to wait and ask Abigail about a guy she knows. Damn it.

It's all very different when your attempts to rile up people are fueled by their frustration and ill-devised come backs - attempts to get back at you. When you're given a curt statement like the one Deckard offered Diogenes, instead, however, you feel disarmed and exposed. It was decidedly awkward; it was an obvious yet unspoken truth. Nobody tells a clown in the midst of his jokes that he's funny, and nobody is supposed to tell a dick that he's a jerk. That is not how things are supposed to work. Universe dictates that you're supposed to react to people and what they are like, instead of pulling up a mirror.

With his yearning to tick off others vanished, he sulks, remaining to stand where he is and the way he is, lazily lifting his glass again to take another sip to burn his throat and hopefully get his mind off what has just happened. "None are worse than others. Some just hide it better than others", he corrects Claire with another sour murmur.

Her eyes role skyward and Claire takes a sip of her drink. A glance is cast at the man sitting near her and she asks blandly, "Are you always so pleasant?" She looks down at her glass and frowns a bit, then turns to look at him. "Is that a natural talent of yours?" She not exactly in a pleasant mood since she didn't get to ask her questions.

Unlike Deckard, Claire indulges Diogenes, trying to spark the fire that's been extinguished. Whether she intended such or not is questionable, but it certainly returns limited vigor to Tom. After he takes a hasty sip of the intoxicating beverage, he pushes himself away from the bar and faces Claire. He stands silent, merely looking at her, his sad grey eyes examining her closely, as if trying to read a closed book. "Y'know, I never liked blonde jokes, because I didn't believe the 'blondes are stupid' stereotype. You've just made me doubt myself."

Her eyes narrow at him thoughtfully and Claire takes another sip of her drink. "Aww… and here I thought you would be wowing me with the worst of them." She slides off her stool, and looks up at him. "I'm disappointed really," her tone sarcastic. Fishing in her pocket she pulls out a few dollars and tosses them on the counter as a tip for Brenda, giving the bartender a small smile, "For having to put up with him." She gives him a small glare and turns to leave since her reason for being there was gone.

"I'd wow you in a different manner any day of the week", he murmurs to himself, "Just need something to gag that mouth with."

Although Claire turns to leave, Diogenes stays to finish his drink, and only then he would leave for his home to hopefully pass out and have a good night's sleep for once. He has had enough of adventures for today, and important matters awaited him. He needed to be diligent and vigil, and chasing people to annoy them whilst consuming alcohol is definitely not the way to go about it.

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