59.) Open Commentlog
[Whoever screwed up Sergei's did Herz something of a favor. After his absolutely pathetic attempt at a brawl the other night, he's more than happy to find the restaurant deserted, but still in need of his attention.
He knows if he left the mess long enough, the Stewardess or another invisible ship hand would see to it's repair, but he wants to ( Read more... )
He knows if he left the mess long enough, the Stewardess or another invisible ship hand would see to it's repair, but he wants to ( Read more... )
He shoulders a door open, glancing to where he can hear someone moving about. The lack of lighting has him alert, in case he just wandered in on a person whose privacy is sacred.]
Hullo?
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WW-w-whh-w-we're clos--
Close--Closed.
[...fucking stutter got worse again.]
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[He scratches behind an ear, placing that voice--
Aaaah.
Sean wonders if the boy stuttered before the whole fiasco, or if he's just delicate, or a mix of both. In any case, he's going with the initial impression of Herz not being the most outgoing guy.]
No need to get all shook up. By my estimate, you'll be needin' as much help as you can afford.
[He toes a slimy patch.]
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Fuck.
Fuck.
Herz doesn't reply, just...goes back to his scrubbing. He's not shook up, okay? And he doesn't need your help. But, you know, you're free to keep nudging the neurotic. He apparently doesn't have any concerns to voice.
Or a voice to project those concerns.]
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He plucks the cigarette out of his mouth to wet his lips and give the oddly-shaped shadows of Sergei's Bar & Grille a once-over. Sean's feet lead him to a toppled chair.]
Whist as ya like. 'S a bit of work for just one fella, yeah?
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...and neither is his goddamn cigarette.
He promised Leo he wouldn't smoke so long as they kept up their practice, but...he's skipped out on that the last couple of nights.]
...y-you--you got an...
[He pauses, then tries again. This time his words are careful and paced. They sound wholly unnatural.]
another
smoke on you.
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Strike me down if I go anywhere without.
[Stepping clear of any suspicious puddles of formerly-sentient goo, he extracts a pack from his jacket missing a third of its cigarette population. He pushes one above the rest and holds it out far enough to minimize how close Herz has to be in order to accept the peace offering.
...Which may or may not be a useless gesture, since he still has the lighter.]
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When out of the corner of his eye he sees the straight white roll of addictive nicotine-filled deliciousness re-extend, his fingers deftly snatch the lighter from his opposite pocket. He holds it up to the cig and graciously refrains from scorching Herz as he flicks on the light. Sean considers the illuminated scars on his face, and if they were what left their mark on him.]
I've just been dodderin' about, nothin' worthwhile to get my hands on. I don't mind the mess.
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thhhh--Thanks.
[Then the cigarette goes between his scarred lips and he's back to work. Assume what you will, Sean, but the lights are off because Herz can see better that way. He knows he's in for the long haul tonight. He reeeally hopes you won't be.]
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Welcome to it.
[The pack and lighter disappear into their respective hidey holes. He sidles on away and pops his lit cig where it should be.]
So where's the mop, boss?
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Man, he really doesn't need your teasing right now. Intentional or not.
Obviously, he's not gonna instruct him on how to get to the cleaning supplies. That'd only end in disaster and a heaping load of unfinished syllables. Instead, he drops his rag back into the bucket at his feet and starts for the kitchen. Either Sean can follow him to the broom closet, or he can wait here and be presented with a bucket and mop in the minutes to follow.]
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Sean stands there like an awkward Irish behemoth. Eventually he sticks his thumbs into his jean belt loops and proceeds to wander in the general direction of where he disappeared to. He follows the faint footsteps and in the middle of the creepy-quiet restaurant, is, for all intents and purposes, totally at ease.]
Em...
[He decides not to comment again, having nothing relevant to say. Sean is no chatterbox around people who aren't gonna gab right back at him.
He DOES whistle at the damage done to the kitchen.]
Christ almighty.
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...fuck, it's a no go. One of the food critters crawled inside and went to its death curled between the CD and the CD Reader.
RIP Sgt. Pepper.
This day is just fucking fantastic.
He smacks the CD tray shut and heads out to the restaurant proper again.]
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Extremely god damned surreal. Nothing like it at home.
He twists the mop dry, holds it high over his head, and screams a war cry. Just to see if Herz's silhouette flips its shit or reacts, period.]
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Herz whips around, gripping the table as he stares at Sean and his weapon of choice. His mouth drops open and from it his cigarette falls, thankfully fizzling out on the damp carpet around his wash bucket. In the next second, he's putting the table between him and his Fucking Crazy As Hell Guest.]
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