2020-10-29 - Will They, Won't They

Joe's still sporting that scruff that hasn't quite made it to beard status yet. Just groomed enough to keep him from looking like a complete mountain man. He's perched on his usual stool in his usual place, with a Cuba Libre set before him. Chin propped on his hand, and an air of sleepy contentment to him, lids of the blue eyes drooping a bit. Just gazing out at the lights of the dock, by the look at things.

Vic isn't working tonight, but she does come in to pick up her paycheck. Not that anyone could live on a bartender's wages, it's the tips that keep them afloat. Makes you wonder how she lives at all since she's not exactly the flirty, chatty sort that gets big tips. The blonde is in jeans and boots and a pale blue v-neck tee that gives just a flash of cleavage under a burgundy leather jacket. Her hair is in a loose, messy braid owing to the drizzle outside, making it unruly and wanting to curl. She shoulders her way inside, shaking the droplets of water off of her and splattering them on a departing couple. They yelp, she smirks, this is why she gets so few good tips.

Spotting Joe on his usual perch, she heads that way, and leans on the bartop beside his stool. "Cavanaugh, fancy meeting you here."

He slants that look of feline amusement at her. "Hey there," he drawls, lazily. "Man, it's like I live here. 've thought about askin' to work here, but I don't need the money, not really....and I'm so spoiled not bein' on anyone's schedule but my own. Funny how that works, innit? What brings you in, you're not workin' tonight, surely?" Joe straightens a little, from that languid lean, offers a little smile.

That smile is painfully charming, damn him. Vic finds herself smiling in return, something she doesn't do very often, or easily. "Just picking up my paycheck. Forgot about it until tonight. Figure I'd better get it before Marshall's dog chews it up or something." She signals the tender on duty, and asks for a bottled beer. "I can stay for a minute or two though. How are you doing? Thanks for coming to the barbeque."

He has that sunny assurance that welcome given will be welcome met, and that good nature will carry him nearly anywhere he wants to go. "Hell, how do you forg-" Then Joe pauses, looks sheepish. "Well, I guess if most of what you get here is tips paid daily, then you could forget the actual formal check, but..." He shrugs. "I'm doin' all right. An' you're more'n welcome. I did mean what I said 'bout helpin' you with it, if you want. I'm retired, time on my hands, so whenever it fits your schedule."

"You were in quite a mood at my house," Vic notes, with an arched brow. "You promised all sorts of things in lieu of being paid in beer." She brow waggles, then chuckles. "Don't worry, I won't hold you to any of that. I could really use help with the kitchen and bathroom. I mean I can rip things down and demo stuff, but fixing it after is really not my thing." Her beer is delivered, with her check in an envelope. She opens it, peeks at the tiny total on the pay line, and snorts. Thank God this job is just a cover and Felix actually pays the bills.

"I like to think I'm a cheerful drunk," Joe says, with what dignity he can muster, though his expression goes a little wry. "'least that's what they tell me. What'd I say? I don't remember." And he seems to mean it. Ruiz did have to haul him away, singing cheerfully filthy songs in both English and Russian. "But I really am good with tools," he assures her. "And tearing things out isn't so big a deal after all, either."

Vic strategically waits for Joe to take a drink before she says, "You said we could bargain over what the pay was, and that you brought really enormous things to the table. E. Nor. Mous. You even tried to make Javier back up that statement. And about 'being good with your hands'." There is amusement dancing in her dark blue eyes as she sips her beer.

As he listens, the blue eyes grow wider and wider....and his grin turns utterly sheepish. "Well," he says, cheeks reddening. "I'm also a talkative drunk, I do recall. I don't imagine Javier said much on that front." He's pink as a rose, now. "I am good with my hands, though," he adds, disingenuously. "On multiple fronts."

Vic chuckles and shakes her head. "He was egging you on. He kept saying he didn't remember me being so 'pristine' back in Portland." She sips her beer. "A lot of mileage between there and here. But don't worry, I won't hold you to any of that. I can pay in beer and pizza though."

Joe's lips purse, smile momentarily whimsical. "Fair enough," he says. "I'm not picky when it comes to either, honestly. I wonder if Clayton would help, though that kind of physical labor doesn't seem like his thing at all." No offer to try and recruit Javier - the cop has enough on his plate, presumably.

"I promised Clayton some lessons which I think I can swing as payment for him to help out. Maybe he can clean up the yard, he seems to like gardening," Vic muses. She gives him a wry look. "Afraid to be left alone with me, Cavanaugh?" she teases.

Joe snorts, favoring her with another of those sidelong looks. "Nah," he says. "I think I'm old enough to defend my virtue without a chaperone," he tells her, even as he dabs a fingertip into the condensation on the side of his glass, then uses it to draw a lazy spiral on the bartop. "What there is left of it," he adds, ruefully.

"He gave me permission, you know," Vic says with an amused look. "I'm not sure I buy he'd actually be ok with it though. That might just be my own hangups rearing their ugly head though." She glances at her phone. "I need to head out, but I'll throw you a text when I'm ready to tackle the rooms that have plumbing in them."

Joe lifts a long finger at that. "He did, or so I understand," he adds. "And.....I don't know, either." The facade of easy assurance falters a little, the smile turning a hair wistful. "But....it's all right. You have a good night," he wishes her, gently.

Vic claps him lightly on the back of the shoulder, before she heads for the door and out into the drizzle.