2021-10-07 - Diversion Tactics

October. Fall has come to Gray Harbor brining cooler temperatures, fewer tourists, rumors of a eighty foot tall carrot that tried to murder all the vegans in town and pumpkin beer on tap at the Twofer. Easton has a big pint of Sam's Octoberfest on the counter that he's behind serving tonight. He's got a pair of khaki canvas work-pants on with a flannel shirt over his black TwibS tee-shirt. The bar is pretty full for a late weeknight, lots of regulars and a smattering of unfamiliar faces. Easton is doing his best impression of being interested in a story a local is telling him about a bad date.

Bennie has clung to the last vestiges of summer as long as she could, but now it's oversized sweater, leggings and knee high boots weather. So what if she's still using a bikini top as a bra, Easton having been right that bikini season is just a state of mind. Somehow, despite the timeslip, she's retained her job as an EMT, and is fresh off a shift and needing a drink. "I need two fingers of something that can peel paint, with a short, ripped and handsome chaser, please." Said as she slips onto a stool at the bar.

Glancing up Easton's mouth twitches into a smile when Bennie walks in and he's glad that she immediately calls for a drink meaning he can politely slip away. He pops a glass down on the counter and pours her something more like three fingers of vodka, her usual brand. "Hmm, short and ripped?" Easton looks around and indicates an older fisherman with an upnod, "He's a little rough around the edges but I'd guess he's got those ropey old-timer muscles.. though I gotta say if you keep dry-humping all my customers I'm going to have to up my insurance coverage to cover all the harassment suits." He retrieves his own beer and asks, "Tough shift?"

"Look, I can't help if bar flies get me all hot and bothered. It's something about 'that's how we pay the rent' that really floats my boat." Bennie fires back as she tugs the elastic out of her hair and teases out the headache inducing tight bun. "It was worse than tough. It was boring. It makes minutes seem like hours and a shift feel like an eternity. I'm glad and all that losing six weeks is the weirdest thing that's happened lately, but come on! Is a teeny tiny car accident too much for a girl to ask for?" Her nose wrinkles at the first taste of straight vodka, but by the second it no longer burns.

The verbal banter back and forth is as comfy as his flannel or her oversized sweater, it's soothing. His rejoinder of "You're a sick woman Bennie Oakes" is half-hearted though. Shaking his head and says, "Right? I mean what the fuck? Can't someone just stab someone or get high and try and fly off a roof? It's really kind of a dick move on the part of all the townies to be safe and healthy." He looks at the drink and then back up at her and licks a little bit of beer of his mustache, his beard growing towards it's longer winter length. "How are you-.." Things he should have asked before now, but life gets busy and well, "How are you holding up with the lost time? And.." And whatever was going on before the storm..

Comfy, snuggly clothes and healthy banter can only provide so much of a barrier before that pesky real life cuts in. At the question, there's a little bit of a shrug in answer as her eyes divert to her glass of alcohol. "Eh, you know. As uncomfortable as using a cactus as a masturbatory device." Since her drug abuse has left her memory as holey as Swiss cheese, it's easy to dismiss that answer away as purely because of that.

Easton grimaces at that mental image and can't help add, "Like one of the little fat ones with a million little needles." He looks at her glass and back up, "You were a little freaked out before the storm. We didn't really get a chance to talk about it.." He has also been drinking more since Tom re-appeared and re-disappeared with the storm, but they also haven't talked about that. "What with Banks and then Dr. Fuzzy showin' up and you were working like hell to get everyone somewhere safe .." He stops. Edging up to something but not quite there.

Bennie starts drawing imaginary circles on the bar with the bottom of her glasses, swirling the quickly diminishing liquid inside. "It was nice of you to let him stay!" She says as sort of a perky aside, latching on to the safer part of the topic, "And Tom'll be back, don't you worry your pretty little head about it. I've decided he's your guardian angel and that's that." Her finger dips into the remaining vodka, running it along her bottom lip as a way to draw his attention. "Why are we talking when we could be going over last night's batch reports. In the office."

"Of course. It was a storm it was.." He wants to talk about how bad it was and the aftermath but that's all just gone so he lamely finishes, "Not a big deal." He raises his eyebrows and says, "Oh yeah? Pretty shitty guardian angel, keeps disappearing and hasn't done shit for me yet." He's smiling when he says it though, because it is a sweet thought even if he doesn't believe it for a second. His eyes immediately snap to her lips when she draws a finger across them. He is caught off guard enough to start nodding but catches himself, "I /do/ love the batch reports, but .. come on. I'm easy but I'm not dumb. What's going on?"

"Nothing!" Bennie says defensively when she's called out. Her eyes tick over his face, looking for a different escape route. "Look." She reaches out for his hand to draw it in between a sandwich of her own. "I know this can't be easy, Tom showing back up and then disappearing just as fast. Never really getting that closure. I'm just...worried, you know? You've made so much progress, but it's a tentative thing. I'm afraid you'll back slide."

Easton can't tell what's going on besides general Bennie squirreliness which does happen from time to time. "Nothing?" He echoes back as a question. "Yeah..? I mean, yes. Tom flitting in and out like a giant fairy minus the wings and tutu isn't exactly doing me any favors." He takes a sip and watches her over the lip of the beer. He narrows his eyes as if trying to figure out how they got from there to here in this conversation. "But.. I mean, I can get that figured out." Because just toughing it out works so well every time.

"Oh Em Gee, can you imagine? Tom in a tutu sprinkling fairy dust in his wake like stripper glitter. But he'd have to have tiny ineffectual wings for comedic flare, so you can mock him about his inability to actually fly." How did they get here? Strategic blonde espionage, of course. Bennie's built a life time around smiling and diverting attention from herself. "And you mean we'll get it figured out."

Narrowing his eyes, Easton hmms, "Yeah I think if Tom were still alive and I took him to Vegas with Geoff I could've made that happen.." Of course if Tom were alive, Easton wouldn't be in this town or married to Geoff. "And a little wand, but one that was surprisingly sturdy like a nightstick so he could actually crack a skull with it." It's a pleasant diversion, and it makes Easton smile but his eyes are still searching her face, trying to figure out where this is coming from. "Yea yea, we will.." He tilts his head and says, "Are you.. worried about me? Or.. I mean you know it's just a rough patch, I'll be fine." Her concern seems genuine and maybe that explains some of the odd behavior but not the drugs on the night of the storm and definitely not all of it. Right?

"Easton Thoroughgood Marshall," What's the fun in having an SO if you can't make up their middle name? "Ever since you limped into my life, there hasn't been a moment that I haven't not been worried about you. Wait is that too many negatives?" Bennie shakes her head to get back on track. "Point is, I love you, it comes with the job description. Jimminie Christmas, I just figured it out. The reason you married Geoff. It's so I wouldn't pressure you into marriage isn't it?"

Easton accepts the middle name because it does fit, exceedingly well, and then lets out a soft 'heh' as she tries to get her triple negatives sorted. He's pretty comfortable with where this is headed riiiight up until that last part. His eyes widen and he shakes his head as if slapped, "What? Wait.. what? When did we get on this topic? And why are we here?" He's not answering that one right away. He takes a sip and shaking his head says, "No. I married Geoff because I was fuckin' terrified of losing him and what that would mean. Especially then. I married Geoff for the same reason I fucked De La Vega." No one in the bar even blinks at this anymore it's been so thoroughly covered in most all of their presence at some point. But Easton's working up a head of steam on this and he shakes his head, "It wasn't about you." He offers a "Sorry?" Not that it's something he should have to apologize about but it came out a little strong.

And this is the point Bennie really starts to hate herself, it's evidenced in the way her eyes crinkle at the corners in a wince, but once this tactic is employed, there's no sense in backing out, but at least they aren't talking about the storm anymore? "Right. It's never about me. I'm just the ...third? Fourth fallback? You know, I think I'm getting a headache, you're on your own for closing, I'm gonna head home."

Easton's mouth hangs open after that apology, looking at her in mild shock that this is where the conversation swerved. He blinks, "What are you talking about? We live together. You are the only person I'm with. That's about you. My /life/ is about you..?" He wishes he could keep the uncertainty out of his voice in that last statement, but she just flipped the script on him somewhere and he can't figure out when or why it happened and he's floundering. "I don't understand why we're .. not even fighting.. what the fuck is this Bennie?"

"You know, I get freaking out about the baby, we've never wanted kids. But this Easton, this? I'm not saying this is a poop or get off the pot moment, but seriously. Two years, E. Two years! Just. Think about that. I'll see you at home, and if there isn't a pint of mint chocolate chip in your hand, you can sleep in the guest room with Gunner." Bennie turns away from the bar and Easton, mouthing 'what?' at herself in incredulity. But even this manufactured nonsense is better than dealing with the night before the storm. Somehow.

Easton's face gets even more contored in confusion when she brings up the baby. "What?! That baby wasn't even ours! And we don't-!" He can't even finish the sentence he's so thoroughly confused. The talk of 'two years' and for him to think about that have him even more confused. "Yeah well.. don't wait up." Because this is definitely a sleep on the couch in the office kind of night now. He watches her go, echoing her 'what' to himself in utter confusion. Yes, he knows she wants to get married, but when did that even come up? He starts to try to think about it but decides he'd rather just drink about it, so he pulls back her vodka, downs the last little sip and refills it with bourbon.