2019-11-18 - Food for Thought

It is around lunchtime. Beth is sitting at the bar by herself holding up a menu but not really looking at it. She has a distracted look on her face, as if her thoughts are elsewhere, and not on eating. She is dressed in a somber suit and skirt in a charcoal gray with conservative hosiery and pumps with a low heel. Her hair is braided neatly. Her makeup is conservative. It is clear she is wearing some, but it's not fun or inventive. She is broadcasting blandness as a business move.

What is lunchtime for, but to...well, eat lunch? That is presumably what Ciprian is intending to do when he comes into the Firehouse, shrugging out of his coat as the door swings shut behind him and looking around, before starting to the bar. He doesn't see Beth until he's about halfway there, but when he does it certainly doesn't deter him from heading in that direction.

"Hi, Beth," he says once he sits down, not right next to her, but close enough to talk without yelling if she's inclined to do that. "How's it going?"

When Beth hears her name her head turns and she smiles pleasantly. "Oh you know. Living the dream." Her smile widens as she says this and her brows raise up. "How are you?" She puts the menu down and glances to the server to say, "I'll have a Miller lite." She is probably on her lunch break, but it's not like anyone could be hurt if she went to work tipsy all things considered.

"I can tell," Ciprian replies, looking around the establishment as though to confirm that this is, in fact, a dream that everyone would have -- eating lunch in the Firehouse. Hey, probably someone has dreamed about it before. "I'm doing well," he says as he turns back to her. "Just grabbing lunch before a deposition later. I have a feeling it's going to be long, so I'll need something to sustain me through it." He doesn't look at a menu, and when the server comes to him a moment or two later, he orders a sandwich and an iced tea. "I saw your commercial the other day," he continues once that's been done. "Very nicely done."

Beth picks up the menu to glance over it again as if she can't quite make up her mind. "I always thought it would be interesting to be a lawyer. You work for the DA or are a prosecutor or something like that, right?" She puts the menu down and turns a little on her stool to look at him. "A deposition is where people are questioned, right?" Her beer is placed in front of her and she turns her head slightly to order a burger before looking back at him. When he mentions the commercial she laughs a little. "I...uh, well I have feelings about that. But thank you."

"Right," Ciprian confirms, "I work in the DA's office. Though I do take a few cases on the side sometimes." He pauses, leaning back to allow the server to put down his iced tea, and once she's left it he reaches for it, taking a sip. "Yes," he says once he's swallowed, "basically. It's taking down the witness' testimony before the trial. Unlike most of the law procedurals on TV, there aren't actually supposed to be that many surprises in court." He smiles a little bit wryly at this, before her reaction to the compliment has it widening just a bit. "Well, you were good in it. Your dad was a little stiff. But I suppose I'm not one to talk. I doubt I could've done better."

Beth picks up her beer to have a sip now that the foam on top has settled before she asks, "Were you a criminal defense attorney before you started working at the DA's office?" She nods her head softly before following up with another question, "Are the side cases usually pro-bono? That is what it's called, right?" She laughs a little before she says, "Well, tv isn't reality but people think it is. By the way if you don't want to talk about your job just say so. I know sometimes it's nice not to talk about it." She smiles, her cheeks dimpling slightly, "My grandpa has been big into commercials since the eighties. I think my dad hates them and I'm indifferent, but it's hard to tell him no."

A little chuckle escapes him at the questions, and Ciprian shrugs, shaking his head. "I don't mind talking about it," he replies. "It's just not something most people want to hear about, so I try to keep it to a minimum. And yeah, I was, for several years. I was very gung-ho about saving the world and changing the system." Again, there's a little wryer twist to his mouth, before he admits, "I didn't end up doing that. But I think there's still potential to do that in the DA's office, too. Just in a different way. The things I do in my own practice are usually pro bono or on a sliding scale."

As for the commercial, there's a little sympathetic nod. "I know how that is. Maybe you should try to get him on board with social media or something instead. But that might be a lost cause at this point."

Beth shrugs a shoulder before she says, "I don't know. I think being in the DA office is more noble than being a criminal defense lawyer. You're trying to give people justice, right? I'm just..." She trails off a little hesitating as if she is about to say something controversial before finally she says, "I don't buy into this whole liberal idea that we need to put criminals before everyone else and coddle them. Maybe it's because I've seen the results of someone else's criminal behavior be it intentionally or not on my embalming table too often but I think victims getting justice matters more." She takes a sip of beer, "But you get to pick which cases you take, right? Like most criminal defense lawyers can't just deny someone if they think they are guilty."

"Oh he's on Facebook, too." Beth adds with a laugh.

Ciprian doesn't urge her on when she pauses, just waits, watching her with obvious interest in whatever it is she's going to say. When she goes on, he doesn't seem scandalized by any means -- instead, he nods, and when she's finished he says, "I can understand that point of view. I think there's a balance that needs to be struck. If the DA decides to bring charges, someone has to take it, but I've been there long enough that I've got more freedom to choose which I take than some. The side cases are my bleeding heart crusades." It's said with just a touch of humor, which grows at the mention of her grandfather being on Facebook. "Oh, well, then never mind," he says. "Does he sign all his comments with his name, though? That's how you know someone on Facebook is over 70."

"Well, I get that because we have due process everyone needs to have a lawyer. But public defenders or lawyers who work for non-profits that deal with low income people are the only ones doing it because they believe that, right? Most criminal defense attorneys are doing it because they are businessmen. And I understand that. I do. I own my own business. I just don't know if I'd call it noble." Beth laughs a little before she asks him, "Did you think you'd be engaged in political debate regarding your job today? Gosh I'm sorry." She laughs before she shakes her head. "No, but you know the stickers? He overuses them way too much."

"I didn't," Ciprian admits, "but it isn't a bad thing at all." He pauses again, because his sandwich has arrived, and he murmurs a thank you for the server before he picks up one of the halves to take a bite. Before he does, however, he has to concede, "You're mostly right. Of course, once you work for a big name firm, they have a lot more money to take on more pro-bono cases, and you have more clout with judges. So you can make a difference that way. But yes, most people don't do that."

He takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully, before he swallows and continues with a little smile, "In the realm of overuse of Facebook features, stickers are probably one of the better ones."

"We do payment plans for people who can't pay that much at once without it being a hardship. Sliding scale for families who truly can't cover the costs of a funeral." Beth says with a small nod of her head. "But we just can't give them the attention they deserve." She sighs softly and pushes a hand across her braid, tucking stray pieces of hair behind her ear, "Death is death and people are effected by it the same regardless of how much money they had. In the end we have to focus on those people who can afford the big funerals because we have to keep our lights on, pay our employees, and put food on the table for our family, too. It sucks that we can't give people who don't have a lot of money the same things because they deserve to say goodbye the way they want to." She shrugs a shoulder, "It seems like it's probably similar with big law firms and pro-bono cases. It's noble to take them on, but they probably don't get the attention they deserve. But maybe I'm off-base there. I'm not a lawyer."

She smiles and presses her lips together briefly, "Well it's a bit dicerning to have an eighty-two year old man send you the heart sticker six times in a row."

"It depends," Ciprian replies, "but yes, that certainly plays into it. You're expected to put in a certain amount of billable hours. But you're also expected to take on pro-bono cases because it's good PR. But if you work for a big firm, you're putting in an 80-hour work week no matter which cases you're taking on." He gestures toward her with the sandwich -- though carefully, so it doesn't go flying everywhere -- and continues, "But you obviously know about long hours."

He almost takes another bite, but it's a good thing he waits that split second longer, because what she says next makes him laugh. "I can imagine that," he admits. "Though I can't say I've experienced it. I don't have a huge social media presence. I'm sure that's surprising for you to hear."

Beth can do nothing but nod her head in understanding when he mentions long work hours. Indeed she knows all about that. Her burger gets sat down in front of her and she picks up the bun to assemble it before using the knife to cut it in half. "Honestly the only social media I use is Tinder, and that's a massive shit-show that gets me a date like maybe once a couple of months." She picks up her burger to take a bite before she puts it back down and reaches for a napkin to wipe off her hands. "Mostly it's just dudes who can't spell trying to ask for nudes."

The mention of Tinder gets a wince from Ciprian, though it's half-amused. "Sounds fun," he remarks a little dryly, reaching for his drink again to take a sip. "I think I'll pass on that one, then. Of course, I doubt I'd get as many requests for nudes, and I don't know if that would be a relief or a blow to my ego." His tone is still dry, but there's a little pull upwards of his mouth to indicate that he's joking.

"What are you talking about?" Beth asks with a sly little smile. "You'd be a catch on Tinder. You can spell out the letter you and you'd probably use a picture that at least resembles you and not you when you graduated from college." She takes a drink from her beer mug before reaching for half her burger. "You'd be surprised." She says with a little laugh before she takes a bite out of her sandwich.

"At least I don't need to lie about my height," Ciprian agrees with another little chuckle, lifting his glass to her before he takes a long drink. As he sets it down with a little sigh, he admits, "I'm nowhere near ready to test those waters again. Maybe at some point, who knows. I don't have the best track record." As soon as he says it, he seems to think better of it, and he waves that statement off with an apologetic look. "Sorry. Ignore that. Who knew the political debate would be the least awkward part of this conversation, right?"

"Oh I do." Beth, who is quite tall for a woman, says with an amused crinkling of her eyes. She gives Ciprian a sympathetic look before she says, "Look I have awkward conversations all day. I get to hear about stuff that is bananas. Unrequited feelings. Feelings of resentment that will never be put to rest. It's just...people don't talk." She puts down her burger and pushes the plate aside as if done with it, "So what I'm saying is whatever you've got going on in your personal life? I'm not going to find it awkward. So it's whatever you feel like saying."

"Anyone who doesn't like a tall woman doesn't know what they're missing." Ciprian reaches for a napkin, wiping his fingers off before his smile shifts a little bit wryly as she replies. However, he does look appreciative of her non-perpetuating his slight awkwardness. "Thank you," he says. "I'm mostly okay. It just hits me sometimes unexpectedly, and usually at the most inopportune times. I'm sure it'll fade with time. At least, that's what everyone says, right?"

"You'd think a short guy would appreciate where his line of sight naturally is when we hug, but alas." Beth jokes as she reaches for her mug of beer again. When he says he's mostly okay her head tilts a little before she asks, "Can I ask what happened? You're taking care of your daughter on your own now, right?"

This draws another little chuckle from Ciprian, and he replies, "Right? I'm sorry to say that my gender isn't always the best." He looks down at his other half a sandwich, but instead of picking it up, he just leaves it, looking back to her. "I am," he confirms. "My wife left, and the divorce just went through. It was for the best, but it's been a big change. We're adjusting. It's mostly important for me that Ashira is okay, you know?

"Your daughter has to be your number one priority now." Beth says in understanding before she amends, "Not that I'm saying she wasn't before. It's just that her needs are greater now that she'd adjusting to having just one parent and probably wondering why things have changed?" She takes a swallow of her beer as she waits for him to confirm.

"Yes," Ciprian replies with a nod, "exactly. Kids are resilient, but it obviously isn't going to be nothing to her. She doesn't talk about it much. I should probably try to find a psychologist or someone for her to talk to." He reaches up to rub a hand over his face, letting out another little sigh. "This is what I get for not listening to my parents when they told me to marry a nice Jewish girl." It sounds like a joke -- sort of. Maybe it's a little bit like whistling in the dark.

"It wouldn't hurt. Professionally I only know about psychology as it relates to grief but....well, isn't the end of a marriage something people often grieve about as well?" Beth smiles gently after she says this. She smiles broadly and laughs before she shakes her head. "I've taken some advice from my parents dating-wise. Mostly cause...well, I own a family business. I'm in my mid-thirties and I haven't had a relationship last longer than six months, and they expect me to have children so I can pass their legacy on. And now I'm rambling." She gives him a sheepish look. "Parents don't know what you need. At least not when it relates to the heart. You do, and no one else. And now I get to be the awkward one, right?" Her smile widens and shows off her dimples.

"So I've heard," Ciprian replies. "I think it's one of those big life changes. Along with the getting married, of course." He reaches for his iced tea, shifting a little bit so that he can look at her better. Her laugh gets one from him, too, a little bit smaller but no less genuine. "Ah, the never-ending quest for grandchildren," he remarks. "It can be hard to argue with that. But children are pretty good. Ashira's the best thing to have come out of my marriage, so I can't quite bring myself to wish it never happened."

He takes a sip, before he continues, "You're entitled to a little rambling, I think. I certainly didn't expect to get this deep on my lunch hour, but it's nice."

"But getting married is supposed to be happy even if it's a change." Beth smiles a little sardonically, "Can't let the line die out. God forbid I have kids and they don't want the place." I mean could you imagine someone not wanting to work with dead bodies and sad people every single day?" She nods her head in understanding, "I'm glad you have that. We are who we love in a way." She finishes off her beer. "Yeah. It was nice to have a real conversation. Thank you."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be able to indoctrinate them well enough that one of them will want to take over. I have faith in you." This gets a little wider smile, his tone shifting just a bit teasingly. He returns the nod after a moment, becoming a bit more serious as he continues, "It was. If you ever want to have another one, let me know. It's nice to have a friend."

"Well if it worked on me." Beth says in amusement. At his offer of conversation she smiles and nods her head. "Here. I'll give you my number and we can get all philosophical and stuff."

"Great." Ciprian gestures for the server as she passes, and motions to the other half of his sandwich. "Could you pack this up for me, please?" he asks, and once she's taken his plate he turns back to Beth. "And if you ever feel the urge to hang out with an 8-year old for whatever reason, let me know. We can all go to the park, and after an hour or so you can remind yourself how nice it is to still be your own person."

"If you ever get the urge to hang out with an eighty-two year old who likes social media a little too much let me know." Beth retorts with a grin. "And if you want a night out? That'd be cool, too. Adult time is valid, you know." She glances to the server before asking, "Can I get a box, too? thank you."

"You know," Ciprian says, as though he's actually considering it, "I might actually take you up on that. Your grandpa seems like a pretty cool guy." His box comes, along with the check, and he pulls out his wallet to grab some bills. Once the check is paid, he stands, but before he leaves he turns back to Beth. "Thank you," he says. "Sincerely. It was really nice to run into you today."

"So my grandpa was the cool one in that commercial, huh?" Beth says in mock disappointment. Her box comes as well as her check, and she puts her debit card down and begins packing up her leftovers. "Same." She says simply before she goes, "Oh! Here." She grabs a funeral home card out of her suit jacket pocket, flips it over, and quickly jots down her cell number. "The office number is just my office so if you want to text it won't really work." She says as she offers him the card.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you that he was." Ciprian smiles, reaching to take the card and glancing down at it, before he sticks it into his pocket. "Thanks," he says again. "I'll definitely call you soon. Have a good afternoon." With that, he turns to head out of the firehouse, shrugging back into his jacket before he disappears through the door.