Lend me your ear while I call you a fool

[syl_thorn]

[Lunchtime, Friday day 54]Ended up sittin' wit' Tez pretty much all night, mosta th'day too. Wasn'as bad azzI'd feared, wasn'as good's'I hoped. Few spasms, 'f'e started seein' thin's 'e never said, didn' end up havin' t'tie 'im down. But'e wuz weak's a kitten, an'e didn' wanna be alone (never said so, but I knew it), so I stayed wit'im an' we

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[syl_thorn]

Gotta nice smile, Slaughterman does, even iffit makes th'scar pull'n twitch. "So far so good. Glad for sleep without the dreams."

Ah, tha's good. Wuzza bit worried; never dealt wit' dreams comin' from somewhere's outside b'fore. Heard offit, knew could happen, knew y'could guard 'gainst it, jes' never seenit b'fore. Them charms was basic'lly jury-rigged, buttI worked hard onnem. Damn glad t'hear they's doin' their job. "Tha's great. 'f we ever end up leavin'is town, 'll make sure I leave ya wit' a good supply'a th'oil."

"Hard for me to name people by their given name. You said not to call you 'Ms. Thorn'. Figured naming you for your work would be alright. Spoke like that in the old country - means 'witch'. Trade name, like 'Klavec'."

Ah, tha's good 'en. Didn' think Slaughterman'd be callin' me nothin' bad, buttif a fella starts callin' ya "darlin'" 'r "baby" on th'second date, yknow there might be a problem. "S'like me callin' ya Slaughterman, then. Ain't got no 'bjection t'that." I says, smilin'. "S'a real nice shop, here." Too bad th'owners a right cocksucker. "Y'do th'slaughterin' here 'r at th'farm?"

[simon_klavec]

"Tha's great. 'f we ever end up leavin'is town, 'll make sure I leave ya wit' a good supply'a th'oil."

Nod. Want to give it a few more days before I'll truly relax, but it's the best sleep I've had in weeks and I'm not minded to question it too hard. And again, there's the strangeness over them still being here. Not that I mind so much, since I'm liking this tall hard woman looking down at me.

"Ja, it's quite nice." I show her the cold cupboards, plugged in along the wall. "Been a long time since I could keep the meat cool like this. And no, we do the slaughtering out at the ranch. Wouldn't go well, right in the middle of town like this. And not with the stables next door so close.

"Good slaughterhouse at Marks' place. Floor's far from the pens, has a ramp, pulley. Can really do most of it on your own. Marks and I don't see much of one another. He leaves meat hanging at the ranch. Sometimes there's cuts in the cupboards from when he was in. Think he's been busy, though. Hasn't been leavin' stuff for me so much of late."

Not meaning to go on like that. Figured I'd make mention that we aren't close though. And I like talking about my work.

[syl_thorn]

'fridges, damn. Ain't seen those since I left Blaston. Always kinda wished we c'd get those set up at th'Carnival somehow. Best we got're ice boxes, an'ey c'n only be set up when we's in town. End up gettin' used mostly fer th'concessions, anyway (gotta have some way t'keep th'ice cream cold. S'amazin' how much ya miss thin's like fresh meat 'n eggs 'n such. Some folks've tried keepin' chickens'n cows, bu'really onna road's more trouble than's worth. "Whatever y'do, don' let Zann in'ere. Or'f ya do, don' letter touch'em. She'll have'em in pieces 'fore y'can say 'Hey, don' touch.' 'Course, she'll prob'ly be able t'put'em back t'gether, but might take'er a while." Look at the thin's, hummin' softly'n radiatin' cold. "'Course, 'f they ever break down, she'd be th'one t'call. Girl's a real wonder wit' machines."

"Good slaughterhouse at Marks' place. Floor's far from the pens, has a ramp, pulley. Can really do most of it on your own. Marks and I don't see much of one another. He leaves meat hanging at the ranch. Sometimes there's cuts in the cupboards from when he was in. Think he's been busy, though. Hasn't been leavin' stuff for me so much of late."

Lettin' me know 'e don' deal wit' Marks much. An'm glad; Slaughterman seems a decent sort, but ya c'n tell a lot fromma guy's friends. 'f'e hangs around wit' bastards, chances 're there's somet'in' wrong.

Whassat say 'bout Tez, then?

Shake'at thought off. Ain't here t'worry 'bout Tez. "Guess y'can't be too big'en, if'n th'two'a ya c'n handle it all. Can't do too many beasts't once, huh?" Must only do one atta time, I s'pose, but inna town like'is, might be 'nough.

[simon_klavec]

Zann, Zann. Right. The mechanic girl with the whirring speech. "Could still use iceboxes if they broke down. Be honest, I don't want to put too much trust in the power here. Somethin' like that gets people too used to living in comfort like the used to. Goes down and folks have forgotten how to live without it." Don't even like turning on the lights in this place - bought some candles for in the apartment.

"Town's pretty big but people aren't eatin' big steaks every night. Small cut with cheese or something like that. Sausages. And some have their own animals and don't come by here. Usually slaughter a few chickens a week and a pig and cow every week or two. Depends on what we sell, what's left. Stuff that doesn't sell can still be ground for sausage, or smoked."

Look around. Hasn't been too busy today. "So, what'd you like for lunch? Look around or tell me a cut, and we can bring it up to the apartment. Got oil and spices and such up there." Not trying to come on, but I'm a fair cook. Goes with the butchering and I like to see people enjoy my work.

[syl_thorn]

"Town's pretty big but people aren't eatin' big steaks every night. Small cut with cheese or something like that. Sausages. And some have their own animals and don't come by here. Usually slaughter a few chickens a week and a pig and cow every week or two. Depends on what we sell, what's left. Stuff that doesn't sell can still be ground for sausage, or smoked."

Makes sense. Sausage 'n smoked comes cheaper'n fresh, an' don't need t'be kept cold. Even inna town where's power, ya prob'ly don' wanna keep fresh meat 'round too much. Even th'inn an' th'restaurant prob'ly don' lay stock 'a th'fresh stuff. 'n if they make a big order, always another steer t'be felled.

"So, what'd you like for lunch? Look around or tell me a cut, and we can bring it up to the apartment. Got oil and spices and such up there."

We's eatin' at'is place? Was 'spectin' th'cafe...bu' don't think'e means nothin' by it. Look onnis face ain't th'look offa man plannin' to get hisself some pussy (an'm thinkin' I wouldn' object if'e asked, jes' ain't one fer th'runaround). Slaughterman seems like a decent fella, mebbe jes' wants t'show off'is work a bit more. Ain't nothin' wrong wit'at.

"Dunno much 'bout cuts," I says, leanin' back 'gainst th'fridge, "Ye're th'expert, Slaughterman. Pick whatever y'think's good. 'f's as fine as th'steaks y'left, I know I ain't gonna be sorry."

[simon_klavec]

There's a pause and she looks at me. Deep probing look. Keep my face steady. Not like that drunk she's so concerned about, no mind for anything or anyone but himself. I like havin' a friend here, someone with shared respect.

"Something simple and light, I think." Find a good pork shoulder (raw) and take a big, deeply curved knife. Brush the steel along the edge on each side. Cut a bunch of thin, thin slices off. Do the same on a beef shoulder cut. No fish here, more's the pity. Got garlic hanging in twisted ropes in front of the shop and I grab a bunch from it.

"Stairs are 'round the side. Mind bringing up a bit of wood for the stove?" Pull a bottle of wine from one of the cold cupboards as I head to the back door.

[syl_thorn]

Watch'im az'e takes a knife, nice big'un, and slices up some meat. Works well wit'at knife, but'I s'pose'at goes wit' th'terr'tory. Work wit' knives m'self, so've learned t'ppreciate a nice bitta knife work. Slices up some nice, thin slivers'a meat 'n grabs some garlic...Oh, see, tha's nice'a him. Nice chilled bottle'a wine'll go downa treat.

"Stairs are 'round the side. Mind bringing up a bit of wood for the stove?"

"Sure thin'." Woodpiles' outside, near th'side'a th'stairs. Grabba few logs'n some kindlin' 'fore we head up th'stairs. Didn' know'e lived 'bove th'shop, buttit makes sense. Means'e owes Marks fer both 'is job annis home, though, an'I ain't so sure tha's a good thin'. Bu'still, sometimes y'end up workin' fer bastards. Sad, bu's th'way life is.

We's right 'bove th'shop, so'if anyone comes by we'll hear'em. S'fine by me; s'a work day, an' th'craft comes first. Get that. "Where should I put'is?" I ask, heftin' the wood.

[simon_klavec]

"Into the woodstove. Need a fire to do this proper." I take some black bread from the box in the kitchen, and some lettuce from the old fridge. Grab a pan and a board with a cast iron dish set in it.

Syl's got a fire startin' up. Drizzle some oil in the pan and set it and the iron dish on the stove. Wait a bit for the oil to start smokin'. As it's heating up I cut some of the bread up and peel the garlic cloves. Set lettuce around the edge of the board. Once the oil's ready I set pieces of the bread in it just long enough for them to soak it up a bit and toast. Use a pad and put the now hot iron dish on the board.

"Here's how it goes. Take a bite of a clove, then a bite of bread. Take a strip of meat and lay it out on the dish to fry, then eat it with lettuce and sauce. Got horseradish mustard, sweet garlic, and a spiced tomato paste."

Magyar dish and not what we used to eat, but I've grown to love it over the years.

[syl_thorn]

S'a nice 'nough apartment. Ain't much furniture, but a fella don' need so much, I s'pose. Don't take me long t'build uppa fire. Gotten pretty good attit over th'years. Slaughterman spills some oil inna pan, waits tillit gets nice'in hot, an' toasts some bread in th'oil. Some sorta ritual behin' this, I s'pose. So I jes' watch. Fin'lly brings th'pan, still sizzlin'n smokin', over t'the board. Lays outta scpread; th'toastm peeled garlic, th'meat, lettuce, some jars.

"Here's how it goes. Take a bite of a clove, then a bite of bread. Take a strip of meat and lay it out on the dish to fry, then eat it with lettuce and sauce. Got horseradish mustard, sweet garlic, and a spiced tomato paste."

Ain't a huge fan a food that comes wit' instructions. Cook it 'n puttit in yer mouth, tha's 'bout as compl'cated azzi like m'food. But sure's hell smells good. So I take a clove'a th'garlic, bite of th'end (that fuckin' stings, dammit) an'en a bite'a th'bread.

...huh. Tha's nice. Bread's hot'n cripsy, soaks up th'sharpness 'a th'garlic leaves ya wit' th'flavour. Damn. "Tha's good," I says 'round th'bread, smilin'.

[simon_klavec]

Smile back. She didn't seem so sure of it when we started. Saw her grimace a bit when she bit into the garlic. I like the process of this meal. Doing the same motions in order is relaxing. Like when I work.

It's a light meal and quick, even if you want to linger. We do, over the wine. Nice to have it cold like this, the sour taste soothing away the garlic and the mustard and the horseradish. "You have plans for the afternoon?" Just minding the shop myself. Can get a bit dull. Slow work and I can make it up in a few hours. Not like I have a lot to do in my spare time.

[syl_thorn]

Gotta say, ev'n iffit does come wit' instructions, food's damn good. An's kinda fun, th'bread 'n th'garlic 'n tossin' th'meat into th'pan t'sizzle, grabbin'it still hot an' gobblin' it wit' th'sauce an' lettuce. Try all th'sauces 'e's offered, decide th'garlic's m'favourite but th'tomato's damn fine too. Goes fast, though, an's th'sorta meal where y'get so distracted by eatin' tha' y'don't realize how much ya've ate. When I fin'lly stop t'take a breather I'm full.

But there's still th'wine. Nice white, an' we set th'dishes aside so's we c'n sit'n enjoy it. Ain't talkin' too much, not neither ovvus, bu'tha's okay. Ain't one fer small talk m'self, an's kinda nice t'be 'round someone who feels th'same. Do ask'im how'is nose is, an'e says it's fine, which is good. Shoulda asked earlier, really.

We's 'bout reached th'bottom 'a th'bottle when'e says, "You have plans for the afternoon?"

That an invite, Slaughterman? "Naw. C'n always op'n up, but don't get th'heavy money 'til nightfall. An' did m'gatherin' this morning. Afternoons y'really don't find much...all burned off 'r hidin' 'r gone." Drain m'glass, "You?"

[simon_klavec]

You?

"None but minding the shop. Wouldn't mind a bit of company, if you have nothing else. Gets a bit too quiet and dull. Particularly on a Friday afternoon."

Forgotten how nice it is to have someone around. Little noises. Someone to tell random thoughts. Reminds me of when Alenka used to come by the shop on a quiet day and I'd work and she'd talk and we'd laugh. The memory doesn't hurt like it used to. It's not like that with Syl - sometimes think I needed Alenka more than she needed me. Not so much laughter in Syl, either.

And Syl's not so quiet as me, maybe. Or not so content with little things. By the time I'm closin' up she's getting restless, so I suggest we take a walk over to the Tavern. Think I still owe her some whiskey, after all.