2020-01-19 - Burn Your Resolutions

There's an empty lot somewhere close to the middle of the park that has been taken over for the evening's festivities. People have been working most of the afternoon to get set up. Well, 'working' really means moving some wood or some chairs around, stopping for a toke, a smoke, or a beer, then moving a few more. In any case, there's been activity for awhile.

It's just starting to get dark, but the fire is well and truly lit. It's a good thing because it's already getting cold. There's mismatched lawn chairs around the bonfire, many piled with threadbare blankets in case a little extra heat is needed. There's a bank of grills set up and the scent of meat carries far beyond the lot. There's sparklers and glowsticks for the children, though the young ones are already getting bundled off as the temperature drops and the drinking picks up.

There's a table set up for anyone who brought anything potluck style to share with neighbours. There's also a table covered in scrap paper and lit with a lantern. There's a hastily drawn sign on the inside of a beer box that says 'DON'T BURN YET.'

Tor is seated near the fire, with a pen knife he uses to whittle sticks into marshmallow or hot dog roasting sticks. He's not been at it long by the looks of the two or three sharpened ones and the dozen or so more to go. He's not making a lot of progress because he stops every slice or two to sip his beer. He's bundled for the long haul, in work boots, ratty jeans, a puffer vest over a winter jacket, and a wool hat pulled down over his ears. His gloves are the sort with the mitten flap.

Parts of the area are somewhat familiar with her knowing Jade and Thewlis. Word of mouth likely spreads fast in the small town so, feeling a need to get out and socialize, she decides to leave the gallery behind for a few hours or so. It /is/ cold and she hasn't forgotten it. Fortunately, she had the sense to dress up for the occasion. Her slender figure is covered in a sweater that easily gives her ample warmth and the pants she wears are clearly bootcut that go below the ankles. The footwear is also brown, not too far off from her red hair color and she carries a coat with her. When she gets closer she puts the coat on and then reaches for the bottles of wine she brought to the gathering. As a dutiful companion, her German Shepherd comes along with her, not needing a coat but maybe needing petting. He does seem to be at ease in the environment and while he's unleashed for now, Hera did make sure he has his collar on.

The Christmas party had lured over Itzhak, curious about all the activity and ready to stick that big nose of his into someone else's business. This to-do has the same effect; he's rolling up on his sauntering, leggy stride. He's dressed for the cold too, in a big woolen peacoat and a thick knit cap and handsome handmade scarf. Both hat and scarf have a violin knitted into them. He has a glossy, cherry-red violin case slung over his back as he comes over, cigarette in hand. Upnodding to Tor, he says, "Yo. What's shakin'?"

"'Ey, sup beanpole," says Tor with a returned upnod to Itzhak. He half-swints and tilts his head to get a look at the case over his shoulder. "If you came here to busk, you should know, all of us are damned broke." He cracks a grin and kicks at a nearby lawn chair. It looks like it might hold the weight of a full-grown adult. Probably.

There are other dogs about as well, similarly off-leash. Most seem friendly, if not the most well-behaved. A pair of scruffy ones bound up to the visitor.

"Busk?" Itzhak says, with a hitch of a lopsided grin. He seems tired; dark circles are around his eyes, and he's definitely not moving with the kind of boundless energy he had at queer drank night. "Please, like I need pocket change from the likes a youse. Nah, I'm here to contribute." He slings his long-ass frame into the rickety lawn chair, which...huh, funny enough, holds up under him like it was made of oak. No shuddering or untoward leaning at all. Hera he glances over at, eyebrows up. "Hey, I like ya dog," he calls to her. Dogs are great icebreakers!

Hera has likely seen the two around town. Itzhak, being a musician, is easily recognizable. She might have been 'part of the crowd' watching him play at some point but still, a fiddler should be somewhat familiar in the community. Before offering a wave hello though, the other dogs catch her and Hans' attention. "Aren't you sweet." Being bold she reaches out to pet one of them, her canine companion watching carefully as she does.

But then when he mentions Hans she smiles over at him, "Best friend a lady can have." she says, "Come on Hans, lets go say hi."

Tor reaches down and tosses Itzhak a can of something domestic and unexciting. No need to use a cooler in this weather. "Gonna play us Old Lang Song?" Hard to tell if he butchered that on purpose, because it's accompanied with a sort of playful grin.

The dogs might not be well-behaved, but they're not dangerous. They're also a little dirty, but accept pats and try to get the stranger-dog to play as well.

"Ay, that's a bad crowd. You should be careful. City pup'll get into trouble." He lights a cigarette and exhales a mix of smoke and condensation.

"I could, but it's fuckin' boring. Rather take requests, play something fun. If I don't know it I'll improvise." Itzhak catches the can neatly, cracks it open, takes a swig. "Whoooo boy that's cold!" he complains/compliments. His violin case gets set at the side of the chair for now, and he watches Hera and her dog interact with the locals with amusement.

Hera offers the German Shepherd a certain gesture and he stays by her side. She doesn't pet the other dogs too much. Simply knowing Jade and Thewlis not too far from here doesn't mean that everything is safe. She goes toward Itzhak, a wave given to him specifically, "I like your music. I've seen you play here and there. It's very moving." She seems sincere as she says that then she gives the formal introduction, "His name is Hans, though you might have already heard me call him that. Fortunately he doesn't need that much of a coat in winter."

Tor pinches the cigarette between his lips as he returns to the lazy whittling. "Yeah, right? Maybe whiskey'd be a better choice." Never mind that the warming sensation is all in your head and probably no better for you than a cold beer. He looks from Hera to Itzhak and upnods, "Where've you played?" He's not exactly a music afficionado. His DJing at the queer night was really just hitting shuffle on top 40 of the past four decades.

"Hey, thanks," Itzhak says easily enough to Hera. He's a little red. Probably from the cold. "What's up, Hans." He offers one gloved hand over to the big dog to sniff. "What's your name?" That's to Hera, as he looks at her with a certain curiosity. "'m Rosencrantz. Itzhak. Lotta people can't pronounce my first name though so just Rosencrantz is fine. I played around," he adds to Tor, "open mic night, played at Winterfest, just, yannow. Around."

"So 'stead of figuring out how to say your name - which is not that hard by the way - they decide to go with a million more syllables?" Tor snorts, shrugs. His facial expression says 'whatever.' He goes, "Huh," for the comment about where he's played. "What kinda music? I mean, aside from the fact that it's played on a fiddle and all."

Hera replies, "Oh I went to Winterfest, had a great time there. Name's Hera." she replies, assuming the question was for her. Hans leans forward and takes a moment to get Itzhak's scent, noting it as not so strange for now. "I opened an art gallery downtown. Always good to have some sort of an appreciation for all the arts though."

"Cajun!" Itzhak says to Tor, lighting up like Times Square. "Bluegrass, mountain music, jigs and reels and all that good stuff." Oh no, Tor's done it now. "Cape Breton all the fuckin' way down to Louisiana." He's gesticulating with his cigarette and the beer can, hands really getting into it. "I play just about anything, but that's my favorite. Folk music. Classically trained, people like me playin' classical too, but like at the open mic night and Winterfest I played my mandolin, so I could sing. What kinda art?"

There's a twinkle of amusement in Tor's eyes when Itzhak gets so animated. "You mean like..." and he deedle-deedles his way through a really rough approximation of 'do your ears hang low,' complete with rough foot stomping. Hey, he's born and raised in Gray Harbor. He's not exactly a widely-travelled or worldly individual. He exhales cigarette smoke and squints at Hera. "Tor." His parents clearly didn't want to waste syllables when they named him.

Hera politely nods her head at Tor's introduction and says, "Nice to meet you." At the mention of folk music she asks, "Like, Zydeco and such?" But a discussion on art could lead her into another topic, "My place? Painting, pottery, sketching, you name it. Mainly pottery. I do have some featured artists showing off their photos and digital work too." she grins, "Fun stuff."

"We played zydeco," who's this 'we'?, "mostly we played the real old-timey stuff right from the swamp, la musique acadienne. That's real party music right frikkin' there. Cajun tuning, too, though I ain't tuned a fiddle like that in years." Oh man, Itzhak is excited to talk about old timey folk music. He laughs at Tor's attempt. "That stuff ain't my favorite, but I sure can play it. So what's ya favorite?" he asks Hera.

"Seems like party music. I can get behind that." Tor swings one of the pointed sticks around and picks up another. More and more people are filtering in, and most of the young families have already filtered away as the sun starts to dip. As it gets darker, it also gets more still, which makes being outside more bearable. Then, "I know even less about art than I do about music."

Hera thinks for a moment and goes to scratch Hans behind the ears as she ponders the question, "It's really really hard to say. I would say I enjoy almost all types of music, maybe country isn't my favorite but even I can get into some of those songs. I admit, a few classical songs are nice every now and then."

Bennie was raised here in the Huckleberry, and just because the Oakes Family trailer has since been rented out to someone new doesn't mean Bennie she's an unfamiliar face around the Park. Easton's parked his jeep over by Geoff's lime green home and the pair has wondered over to wear this evening's festivities are. There is one person in particular that Bennie wants to introduce Easton to, and she draws him over towards Tor with her arm hooked into his. "Pizza boy!" She greets as they approach before peeling off from Easton's side to come give him a laughing hug and a kiss to the cheek. "Nice shindig."

"I meant art," Itzhak says to Hera, with that lopsided smile, "but hey, good to know." He sets down his beer and flips the latches on his fiddle case, getting the instrument out even with how cold it is, and beginning to tune it. Bennie and Easton show up, and he looks up at them. "Hey!"

"Pizza boy." Easton nods to Tor as if that were the most sensible of names. He waits for the hug to be over before offering a hand, "I'm Easton. Unless Benz wants to give me a cute and slightly embarassing moniker to use for the night?" He looks at her with raised eyebrows offering her a chance to chime in there. But then he notices Itzhak and he raises his chin in greeting.

Tor has just finished his cigarette when Bennie comes up. He tosses the butt into the fire. He's a little surprised by the hug, but doesn't dodge away. "Well it's not really a shindig yet. A gathering at the moment, maybe transitioning into a hootenanny if beanpole has anything to say about it," he gestures to Itzhak and his tuning violin. Then his eyes flick over to Easton, then between Easton and Bennie. He shakes the other's hand and says, "Tor. And hey, pizza boy is accurate. I mean, I do bring pizzas to peoples' houses." Among other things. Ahem.

Hera offers a friendly wave when more people come in and she goes over to open up one of the bottles of wine she brought. Cups are somewhere, if she didn't bring any herself and she doesn't comment on Itzhak's response, perhaps finding it a bit odd. Looking over at Bennie and Easton, she does offer a polite nod and gestures for Hans to stand beside her.

"We shall call you Captain Tightpants." Bennie informs Easton in all seriousness, before getting distracted like a cat who just heard a noise in the other room. "Itzhak!" She practically squeals before bounding over, and if that Tall Nose isn't quick to move that violin aside, it's going to get squished between him and an enthusiastic Blonde who is unleashing hugs on him as well. It doesn't even occur to her that she might have left Easton and Tor awkwardly together.

Itzhak's eyes go wide and alarmed--he swings the violin out of the way JUST in time to get tackled by Bennie. "OOF! Jesus! Hi, Benz," he says, laughing a little breathlessly because she's squeezing all the air out of him. "'ey, Easy, ya both lookin' good." Then he sets Bennie on her feet, grinning ruefully. "Stand back or you might get a bow in the eye." He puts his fiddle under his chin, and starts playing something very lively, grinning to himself, his eyebrows working along with his bow.

"I assume she's then at least kissed you for bringing her food or possibly tackle hugged you at the door?" Easton grins to Tor at news that he is in fact a pizza delivery guy. Granted he's just basing this on Bennie's enthusiasm for life, gratitude for food delivery and complete lack of personal boundaries. Innocent whistle. He looks at Bennie a bit confused, "But I'm not wearing my hotpants? Should I have been?" He doesn't argue with the name itself only worries that he's not quite living up to his title. At Itzhak's greeting he calls back, "Yea same to you buddy." in a faux aggressive tone.

Good thing it's kind of dark because otherwise Tor might be turning visibly red. He doesn't know quite what to say to that, so instead, he finds his beer, finishes what's left in it and sort of stomps the pointed stick he was whittling against the ground. "Something like that." He glances over to where Bennie nearly tackled the musical entertainment, then lifts his brows in interest as Itzhak starts to play. Huh. Definitely better than the crackly music he was going to play later on out of a bluetooth speaker attached to his phone.

Hera takes another sip from her cup and then looks to her dog. "Ok, I don't like this." Yeah, it's cold, maybe more than she would like. She reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out what may be 'dog shoes' of some sort. Kneeling down as best as she can, she begins to put the small booties on Hans' paws. "Just while we're out here." She says. There's always a need to be a good pet parent.

"Oh, that's okay, I'm used to being hit in the face by phallic instruments." Bennie eyebrow waggles dramatically at Itzhak before indeed standing back because: Dog! Oakes ping pongs over by Hera, her voice gone up a few octaves, "Oh Em Gee, look at those tiny shoes! Can I pet your pooch? Hi, I'm Bennie, by the way. So now it's not some rando getting all handsy with your fur baby." Has she ever met a stranger? Probably not.

Easton doesn't pay much notice to Tor going red or being weird about anything. He looks around at the drink selection and blows out a stream of air before pulling out a pack and putting a cigarette between his lips to light it. He leaves Tor for the moment to join Bennie in meeting the dog, squatting down to look the dog in the eye and decide if he wants to be pet before doing so. "Are you a good pup?" Yes, he's talking to the dog not Hera. At least Bennie has some manners.

Tor looks a little bit relieved when Easton moves off. He goes for another beer and eyes the dog-petters from a safe distance. He then shuffles over to toss a few more logs into the fire so that it sends firefly-sparks up into the cold air. It's definitely a good idea to stay close to the bonfire, as outside the radius, the damp of the January night quickly seeps into the bones. "There's marshmallows and shit," he calls out to the gathered people and not anyone in particular.

Hera finishes 'dressing up' her dog in his little dog boots. She then stands up and offers a smile at Bennie, "Hi" she introduces, "I'm Hera and his is my best friend Hans. Sure, he's up for petting I think. Nice to meet you Miss." Easten gets a polite nod in greeting as well but continuing to be friendly she tells Bennie, "I brought some wine if you would like some."

Harper exits Geoff's Key-Lime trailer looking like she just woke up from a fully dressed-nap. A grey hoodie that's too large hangs to her thighs over her comfortable jeans. A pair of sneakers on her feet. She's just finishing pulling her dark hair up into a loose, messy bun as she hops down the steps. People! A fire. A second sweep of her gaze and some sleepy blinks help the librarian realize that there are familiar faces in the crowd. A ready, if still sleepy, smile curves and she heads over to Hera, Bennie, Easton and the dog accompanying the gallery owner. She lightly punches Easton in the bicep while he greets the dog, smiles warmly at Bennie, then says in voice still tinged with sleep, "Hi, Hera. It really is a small town, huh?" How many times is it in the past week that they've crossed paths? Marshmallows and shit? She pivots to look to Tor, then heads that way. "Don't mind if I do. I see we're not sacrificing any furniture tonight." She sounds faintly disappointed by that fact.

"He's a good boy." Bennie tell Hera, but apparently it's about Easton as she reaches out to muss his hair before then, yes, scruffing the dog's neck as well. "I always forget how much of a monster Gunner is until I pet another doggo. Oooh, we should get him an AT-AT costume for next year and Hans could be a little Ewok." Bennie pat pats Hans and then straightens with a groan. "Wine makes my clothes fall off, and it's way too cold for that. Hey Tor, when do we get to burn things?" The blonde's hand strays down, absently stealing Easton's cigarette and trailing after Harper to link an arm through hers and hug up against the other woman's side in greeting.

Vigorously rubbing the dog and putting his face awfully close to the muzzle Easton is obviously a dog person. He nods seriously at Hera when Bennie ruffles his hair. He shakes his head, "Nah, Hans here obviously needs a vest and a blaster. Hans. Solo." He pauses between each name for dramatic effect but doesn't disagree about the AT-AT costume. "Wine. Tequila. Wednesdays. Marines in dress blues. It's a fairly lengthy list." Easton ribs Bennie before adding, "But there is a fire. So..?" Maybe some wine? He doesn't protest the cigarette swipe, in fact it just makes his smile push wider. \
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"Harper Lee Harper, Harper at Law." Easton greets Ms. Price with an overly long title and light shoulder check. "Yes, yes we do need marshmallows. And a beer. Join me?" He asks her as he heads for the sticks and beverage table.

"The night is young," is Tor's response to Harper's quip about sacrificing furniture. He might not know the exact reference, but he can try to be clever anyway. "Spear?" he asks, offering up one of the newly-whittled sticks. They're probably sharper than they need to be, but this is Gray Harbor. Can't be too prepared.

He glances over at Bennie, then nods towards the table. "Write your resolution down and...you know what?" He pulls over one of the more sturdy plastic chairs, then gets up on it. He lets out a sharp whistle that should hopefully draw the attention of those gathered. "OK. So. This thing sorta started as something my uncle and dad did when they were kids. What started it depends on who's drunker when they're telling it and uh," he half-sniffs. "...how creative they're feeling. Something about a witch great-aunt who said it was a way to invoke a spell or some shit. Who knows? Anyway, it sorta became a family tradition to gather together after everyone's recovered from the holidays but before everyone kinda sinks into that routine where they don't leave the house after they're home for the day to get through the dead of winter. So what you're gonna do is write your resolution on the paper over on the table there. If you're saying fuck it to your resolution, which I heartily endorse," he holds up his beer. Several people hoot. "...you rip that shit in half before chucking it in the fire. If you want to try and keep it like a fuckin' adult or something, you throw the whole thing into the fire. Got it? Up to you whether you wanna say it out loud or not."

Hera spots Harper and grins at her new friend. "Definitely a small small world. Is Jessica coming out tonight?" A curious question followed by a hug. "I didn't expect to see you out here, but glad you are. You mean the world to your best friend." Then she looks over at all the petting that Hans is getting and the dog just wags his tail and looks like he's eating it all up. "Yeah, the fire is really important in this cold, but I guess it makes us appreciate the warmth more."

Harper half turns into Bennie's side-hug and lifts her farther hand up to trace a knuckle down the side of her pretty face. "Hi there. Nice to see you again, bowling partner. Looks like coffee wasn't bad. And I'm glad about that. Bad coffee is ... bad." She drops her hand away and flickers a look back to Tor without unhooking her arm from Bennie's. She likely believes Bennie is quite capable of self-extrication. To Tor, she murmurs in that sleep-thick voice, "I don't know you. I'm Harper." She points over to the key-lime trailer. "I sometimes live there." She murmurs more to herself than anyone in particular, "I love bonfires."

Harper'll cheerfully accept a 'spear' for her marshmallow toasting efforts. Tor earns himself a hint of her sparkling smile at the suggestion that furniture may be added to the mix at some point. "Then I'll stay awhile, I think." Instructions are given about resolutions. "Is this an annual event? Because if it isn't, it should be." Easton's greeting drags Harper's gaze around and over her shoulder, an amused expression at her full name and title. "Marshall. Of course I'll join you. And Bennie. And we'll see once and for all whose marshmallow skills are most praise-worthy. Since Geoff's not here, you get sticky finger application in surrogate. Prepare yourself." Hera asks about Jessica. "I don't think Jessica knew about this. You can probably find her at the paper tonight. Deadline is pretty big. I try to take a treat over later in the evening when she's working late to get her stories in. Maybe you can come with me sometime." Because Harper knows the secret to getting past security at the paper.

There is a full laugh from Bennie, wild and carefree as Easton makes the joke about the dog and everyone's favorite Scruffy Nerfherder and it continues on as he names all the things that make her clothes fall off. "Lengthy but legit." Bennie declares, because everyone knows about No-Pants Wednesday, don't they?

"Coffee was wonderful." Bennie imparts aside to Harper before hoisting her cigarette up over her head and dancing to Itzhak's music towards the resolution table to get in on this pyromania. She leans over, writing something down in a scrawling hand, her butt never ceasing bouncing to the beat as she does so.

Harper extricates herself from Bennie to join Easton as requested.

Easton joins Harper and says, "Are you sure you want to get embarrassed in front of all these people Harps? Because marshmallow skills are about the only outdoor skills I have, and they are fiercely on point." He may not know how to fish, but the man can roast a marshmallow. He uses the stick to spear one from the bag, and points it at Harper in challenge. "It's on bitches."

His challenge is distracted though by Bennie's dancing. He watches her appreciatively and it's clear what his weakness in any m'allow fight will be. Before he heads for the fire he plucks the cigarette out of Bennie's hand while she dances, gives her a nice firm slap on the booty and goes to find a beer.

"Yer dad and uncle from round here?" He asks Tor, following up on the tradition. "Cause call me somewhatstitious but it feels like taunting fate a little bit to do an honest resolution here.." He's not SUPERstitious, just a little bit.

Hera tells Harper, "I would like that, but I wouldn't want to disturb her while she's at work. It's good to stay on target with what you have to do. Hopefully she won't have much work to do when she has dinner. Thank you though." She looks downward to check on her dutiful hound. "Still having fun boy?" As if he could understand complicated phrases.

"Tor," says the host for the evening to Harper. He points in the direction of his own canary yellow trailer, former home of Camilla Eriksen, his mother and many years not a Lockhart. She was best known for managing a New Age store that no longer exists called Blessed Be. "And it's annual in my family. But I couldn't get them to get their asses in gear this year, so I thought I'd do it without them. Their loss." He tips back more of his beer and hops down off the chair. The plastic makes a cracking sound as he does. He winces, then kicks it over. "Can't throw that in the fire." Well. They could. It would just be really bad for marshmallow roasting. Speaking of which - there's an obscenely large bag, cheap but giant chocolate bars and several packages of graham crackers. He grabs up a spear, jams a mallow onto the end and then stops in front of Easton like a very unimpressive spear fisherman. "Yeah, way back. Lockharts've been in Gray Harbor since the start. Again, depends on who you ask. And you might be right? But I've been doing it most of my life and I'm still here." Working a dead-end job. Working for criminals. Maybe not the best example.

Harper spears her own marshmallow. "You want to do this, Easton? It's on." Harper takes her competitions seriously. Perhaps with some serious delight. She points her skewered marshmallow at Easton. "You're going down, marine. I would have just kept it to your nose or chin, but if you're going to play hard, there's going to be full face and hair action involved. You'll be washing sticky out of places you've never had sticky before." She pauses, then volleys back, "Bitch." It just sounds wrong coming from Harper's lips. But she said it!

Heading back over toward the fire, Harper smiles at Tor. "Nice t'meet you, Tor." She follows the pointed indication of the yellow trailer. "Definitely their loss," she agrees with her new acquaintance. The name 'Lockhart' earns a thoughtful expression from the librarian for a few moments. Harper moves to the edge of the fire and lowers herself to her knees on the ground, close enough to feel the heat close on her face as she looks for a good bed of coals to use for toasting. "What'd you say you do, Tor?" Harper inquires. Because she missed the pizza-guy conversation before coming outside. Once she begins her very-serious toasting, slow and careful, Harper asides to Hera without dragging her gaze from her task, "Oh, she requires interruptions. It's part of her process. I think it's a must-do. You and me. Late night Tuesdays and Fridays. You just toss me a text and we'll go over together. I'd very much enjoy the look on her face when she sees you walk in." Harper does look to Hera at the mention of dinner. "Are you kidding me, Hera? I don't think she's focusing on much other than dinner right about now. Trust me on this." Brown-eyed attention snaps seriously back to her 'mallow slowly turning over the coal-bed. It's a slow process. But Harper's not risking a too-fast burn now that the stakes are high." She's abandoned the resolution burning for the time being. Wonderful coffee earns Bennie a delighted look that is more weighted that one would expect from java-based conversation.

There is a yipe from Bennie as she's swatted on the behind, turning to stick her tongue out at Easton and waggle her little piece of paper at him as if taunting him with the words she's not going to let him read. "I like this idea, it feels very...cleansing." She gives the slip a little kiss and then walks over to the fire. As she holds it out to the flames between two fingers, she hasn't torn it in twain, which means whatever she jotted down, is something she plans on keeping according to Tor's rules. Even though it's uncomfortable warm, she waits until a flame has licked it and started charring the edges before she drops it in.

Hera sees that someone else has already scribbled something onto a sheet of paper and she has a piece of paper herself. "Well" she walks over to the bonfire and moves to toss the slip of paper in. "Future" she says, "Now on to a beautiful future."

"I think you are vastly underestimating where I've had sticky things lady." Easton defends(?) himself but can't keep a straight face when she tries to call him bitch. It's so damn endearing. He puts his stick out over the fire and watches as Bennie takes her paper to the edge of the flame. He agrees, "I do like the idea." his head wobbles a little as if to say, 'if it were not for the fact that we are in Gray Harbor'. But this is a costly distraction. His marshallow lights up and he's forced to blow it out with a scowl on his face. He looks over at Harper with narrowed eyes as she oh so perfectly roasts hers.

Handing the stick, complete with burnt confection on it to Bennie he heads for the slips of paper. He writes something down and looks at Bennie with a raised eyebrow before letting it float into the fire, still intact.

"Pizza Kitchen," says Tor by way of answering Hera's question. Which might be why Lockhart twinges the memory. The family's owned the place since its inception. They're also not quite so subtly whispered about in criminal circles. Really good pizza, though. He's about to go roast his mallow (not to join the competition, because that's too intense) but he's sidetracked by a group of people who emerge from the darkness. He goes over to greet them, still holding the impaled marshmallow and gets drawn into a conversation with them. He will eventually burn his resolution, but not right now it seems.

Harper flickers a glance over to Easton and his progress as he gets distracted. "Loser!" Harper singsongs the two syllables. "Let me finish doing it the Superior Way, and I'll be over for your punishment. And then we'll see about your intimate knowledge of sticky. I'm pretty sure Bennie will help me with that." Sure enough she pulls her marshmallow back and it is golden brown all the way around. This gives Bennie and Easton some time for their signficiant resolution-burning ceremony. She notes Tor's occupation with a slow nod. "Pizza's good. Everyone needs pizza in their lives." Slowly she pushes to her feet and takes her time meandering over to stand a few feet from Easton. Nope. Not interrupting the eye-contact. Likely, Harper is enjoying the looks exchanged between the couple. "Gaze upon a perfectedly roasted marshmallow, Marshall. Then come take your medicine." A flickered look back to Bennie. Does she want to help?

"It's true!" Bennie pipes up about Easton's sticky past. "There was this one time, we had to fumigate the apartment because Easton came home absolutely coated in..." Dead Uncle Goo? Okay, not really the type of happy bonfire talk that should be shared, so Bennie is bumbling and filling the rest in with a hurried, "Margarita bukkake. From a bar accident." Yes, that's it.

Gifted a blackened marshmallow, Bennie makes a little delighted noise, "How did you know I like my S'mores straight from the fires of hell. If it ain't charcoal, it ain't right." She moves to peel the thing off the stick with a graham cracker wedge. As Easton floats his resolution into the fire, Bennie's lips turn wryly. Maybe they'll get each other's answers out of each other later. The fun way. "Oh, please, this is all your victory, Harper. But I'll help with clean up." Said as she Oh So Innocently licks her melted marshmallow off her cracker.

Cracking open a beer, Easton eye narrows at Harper. He shakes his head and says, "This is only because you didn't have Turner's perfect tight ass to distract you." He nods towards Bennie's posterior as if to blame it for his loss. Bennie's comment about margarita bukkake gets a confused eyebrow quirk until he realizes what she's actually referencing and he shudders before taking a big gulp of the beer.

"Alright Harper. Do your worst." He flicks his spent cigarette into the fire before beckoning her towards him with his free hand.

"Maybe you're right about that. But you knew the conditions when you made the threat," Harper replies mildly to Easton. Over her shoulder she inquires of Bennie, "Any requests for sticky, Bennie?" Bennie's ass is absolutely worth losing a marshmallow contest over. Harper wouldn't ever argue that fact. She glances from Easton's face up to the top of his head then all the way back down his body as if contemplating her options. While she does so, she takes two fingers and pulls the beautifully browned outside of the marshmallow smoothly off the gooey inside, and pops that part into her mouth, not quite managing to quell a plotting grin.

"The abs! The abs!" Bennie offers oh-so-helpfully, it doesn't hurt that happens to be her most favoritest part of his anatomy that is publicly acceptable to be smearing things on. Because she did offer to lick it off, so it's only right that it gets to be someplace more appetizing than in his hair or something of that ilk. Still munching on her own treat, she wanders over now to steal Easton's beer. You know, so he doesn't spill it. And because she wants a drink.

With one final look over her shoulder to Bennie, as if making sure permission is inherent, Harper turns back to Easton. "Give the artist time to create her masterpiece." She dips two fingers into the goo of the melted 'mallow. It's not so hot at this point that it would be painful. Lifting her hand she slides her fingers into Easton's hair and runs them thoroughly through. Next a dip of her finger and she has the audacity to poke her finger into Easton's ear, laughing a little at his reaction. "Not finished. Hold your ... whatever you hold." More goo is on her finger now and there is one swipe of it across his face beneath his left eye and the rest as scruffled into his beard. "Hmmm. I still have half of my marshmallow left. Hold on to something, Easton." She drags half of what remains between her index and middle finger and shoves the stick between her arm and her body so that she has use of both hands. One hand reaches out to grab at the waistline of the man's pants and the librarian actually slides her goo-bedecked fingers down the front of Easton's pants. Not quite all the way. But far enough that her arched brow challenges him to protest. Finally she grabs the last bit of marshmallow -- really, where could she go from there? -- because Bennie requested abs, and she tugs his fleece pullover and the tee shirt beneath out and drags the remaining stickiness in a 'z' shape back and forth and back again across those self-same abs. She releases his shirts and steps back. "I went easy on you. Just keep that in mind." With a grin she licks her fingers, pivots and walks over to Bennie to place a kiss on the beautiful woman's cheek. "Where did everybody go?"

Relinquishing his beer, Eaton splays out both hands in acceptance of his sticky fate. The fingers in the hair causes him to narrow his eyes at Harper but he laughs at the 'wet willy' of fluff. "Ugh, that's not coming out." He sounds like he's speaking from experience there. The grab at the waistline of his pants gets both his eyebrows to raise. He glances over at Bennie but if she is seeking to shock him, well, the fact that he pulls his pants down just enough to accomodate her hand is probably a good indicator that he is not shocked. He is grinning though. "Wow. Remind me to tell you about the big finish to Geoff and my routine one day. Maybe I'll get some fluff to return this favor." He holds up his shirt and shakes his head. "I ... underestimated your Harper."

The song and dance number of the spread of goo earns an entirely lascivious whistle from Bennie like a cartoon wolf whose eyes might be Awoooga'ing at any moment as Harper's hand dips into Easton's pants. It turns into a giggle as Harper Zorro's Easton's stomach in marshmallow fluff, shaking her head at the amount of clean up this is going to require and it's not going to happen by tongue alone unless maybe Gunner volunteers to do the beard. She's leaning to accept the cheek kiss, her smile lingering around her eyes. "I guess it got late." Bennie says aside to Harper, but her eyes are remaining glued to her sticky boyfriend. "Just...pay no attention to the rocking jeep outside Geoff's place in like, five? Ten minutes?" The question lofted back to Easton as she casually takes another sip of her beer.

"Two?" Easton responds, maybe a touch too quickly.

Harper leans her marshmallow stick up against something and stands with her back to the fire for awhile, soaking in the warmth. It may be that Easton's reaction pleases Harper. "I'll remind you. But I'll probably save it for sometime when there's tequila." She adds, "You have to 'win' to return the favor, Easton. And frankly, I just don't think you have it in you." She knows they're fighting words. She turns her gaze to Bennie. "Enjoy." Rocking Jeep. Harper's laugh is delighted.