Tm 232: Kindness
Is there ever a situation where it's appropriate to be unkind? Hal Jordan doesn't think so. After all, he's such a damn Boy Scout. Or is he?
*ooc -- Ollie Queen used with permission of star_archer's mun -- who had nothing to do with writing this prompt except that, unlike Ollie, she is a very good sport.
Inspired by re-reading Denny O'Neil's "Hard-Traveling Heroes" storyline, together with these pages from the current series by Geoff Johns.
As the blonde waitress leaned over to set the plate in front of him, Hal's eyes caught a glimpse of the curves under her button-down blouse. Her lips brushed the top of his head.
"Y'all just enjoy this, sugar," she drawled.
"I certainly will, sweetheart," Hal answered, letting a little Southern flavor stretch out his California vowels, and giving thanks she hadn't said his first name so that he wasn't obligated to try and remember hers.
"I don't guess you boys are stayin' another night?" she asked, with a hand on one hip and the slightest note of hope in her voice. Annie, maybe, or Allie. Possibly Alice. There was a glare from the window and he couldn't read her nametag. "I guess there ain't much to do in this town."
Hal smiled an apology. "It's just that my friend's in a hurry in a hurry to get down to Odessa. We've been watching some of these troubles that are on the news, with the oilmen down there --"
"And you have to go yourself, because you're investigating America!" A---- beamed, tapping the edge of her menu on the table between Hal and his friend. "Well, you boys just stay out of trouble, all right, and if you make it through Muskogee on your way back --" She winked. "You know where to find me."
"Yes, ma'am, we will absolutely do that," Hal assured her, and as she walked away, he took a moment to admire her well-shaped body, taking a picture with his mind. It was funny -- just a few hours ago, she'd been pressed against him, warm and present and alive, and already it was as though he were remembering this moment from some point far in the future, when he'd look back on this summer on the road, and he would recall. . .
"Unbelievable."
"Huh?" Hal's gaze snapped back across the table, where Ollie's face was set in an inexplicable mask of rage. "Your beard's quivering," Hal said. "Is something the matter?"
Ollie spit out the next words. "She - brought - you - pie."
Hal looked down at the plate for the first time. He hadn't ordered dessert, but there was definitely a warm piece of apple pie in front of him. "I guess she did." He picked up his fork and pushed the plate toward Ollie. "Don’t get steamed. We can share."
"It's not about the pie," Ollie, muttered, crossing his arms. "Keep your damn pie."
With a shrug, Hal pulled the plate back. "Suit yourself." He cut off a corner of the steaming pastry with his fork, and took a bite. It was sweet, flaky. As he chewed, Ollie kept scowling. Hal hoped he wouldn't be like this all the way to Odessa, because the radio in the truck was broken.
A few bites later, Ollie still hadn't spoken, so Hal finally asked, "Something the matter?"
"You just --" Ollie looked over his shoulder and made sure the girl wasn't in sight. Then he leaned across the table and said in a low voice. "You took that girl to bed. And you told her you had to leave town. Because we're investigating America."
Hal swallowed, and frowned. "Would you say that's a bad description of what we're doing? How do you usually describe it?"
Ollie slapped his hands on the table, and repeated, "She - brought - you - pie."
"Here." Hal skidded the plate across the table toward Ollie. "Take some."
"It's just -- " Ollie said, ignoring the plate. "We've been friends a long time, all right? I just -- until this trip I guess I didn't have a very good idea of how you operate. This is the third waitress in the third town in a row --"
"Yeah?" This conversation was confusing the hell out of Hal. Among other things, there there was something wrong with Ollie's math. "No, wait," he said. "Wichita wasn't a waitress. That was the brunette aircraft mechanic who fixed the alternator on the truck." Now that was a memory to hold onto, listening to her talk about gyro-stabilized vectors and vertical thrust while he pulled her down on top of him. "Just, you know, for the sake of accuracy." The grin Hal flashed was, unfortunately, wasted, because Ollie had his head in his hands. "Look. . .buddy," Hal wheedled. "Like you said, we've known each other for a long time. I'm confused where the sudden moral outrage is coming from."
"Outrage?" Ollie repeated. "Pal, this is not outrage. I just -- I don't understand how you do it."
Hal blinked. "Oh. That." Leaning closer, he said in a low voice. "She told me she had a friend. Next time, if you speak up --"
Ollie's hand hit the table. "I don't care about Abbie-the-waitress's friend. I've got a very pretty lady of my own back home --"
"Okay," Hal agreed. He grabbed the pie plate back and took a big bite. Good table manners were deeply ingrained into him, and if he had his mouth full, he wasn't going to be tempted to argue this point.
Ollie eyed him suspiciously. "What?" He didn't take his eyes off Hal, as the other man chewed. Dammit. Once Hal had swallowed, Ollie repeated, "What?"
"Have you -- well, have you talked to Dinah since Spokane?"
"Yes." Ollie's beard was quivering again.
"Okay. Just -- and --" He eyed the pie plate hopefully, but Ollie yanked it away. "Does she know she's still your lady?" That might not have been the most tactful question, but it was at least a step above, Do you remember Spokane? Which, considering the strength of Dinah's punches and possibility of associated memory loss, would not have been entirely rhetorical.
"Dinah knows," Ollie said with a scowl. "All right, okay. The pretty bird and I fight sometimes. At the end of a long day, she knows she's still my pretty lady. That's just the way we operate."
"Fair enough." Hal reached out to take the plate back. "And how I operate is how I operate."
"Fine." Ollie glared at the last morsel of pie. "I just can't figure out how I have this reputation for being an asshole. And everybody thinks that you are such a freaking Boy Scout."
"That's a misconception," Hal agreed.
"I'll say."
"I went to Boy Scout meetings for a month. I got my aviation merit badge. I went back the next week and they were talking about knots and I said 'Forget this,' and went back to the airfield."
"I have to hand it to you." Ollie shook his head. "If you're nothing else, you're focused."
"Thank you," Hal said and, when Ollie sighed, he added, "You know I realize this is a radical idea -"
"I like radical ideas."
"True. How about this one? If you don't want people thinking you're a jerk, try being nice to them. A little kindness never hurt anybody."
"Nice," Ollie grumbled. "Kind. Fat chance. Nah, it's that pretty Boy Scout face of yours is what it is. I can't get together with any woman, anywhere, without it turning into an ordeal. You just smile that pretty smile, call a girl 'ma'am,' and have her bring you pie."
"Oh, for God's sake." Hal raised his hand and called, "Abbie, sweetheart?"
The blonde smiled from two tables down. "Yeah, darlin'?"
"When you get a chance, would you mind getting my friend some pie?"
"Sure thing."
Ollie buried his head in his hands. "Unbelievable."
Hal shrugged. There was no pleasing some people.
*ooc -- Ollie Queen used with permission of star_archer's mun -- who had nothing to do with writing this prompt except that, unlike Ollie, she is a very good sport.
Inspired by re-reading Denny O'Neil's "Hard-Traveling Heroes" storyline, together with these pages from the current series by Geoff Johns.
As the blonde waitress leaned over to set the plate in front of him, Hal's eyes caught a glimpse of the curves under her button-down blouse. Her lips brushed the top of his head.
"Y'all just enjoy this, sugar," she drawled.
"I certainly will, sweetheart," Hal answered, letting a little Southern flavor stretch out his California vowels, and giving thanks she hadn't said his first name so that he wasn't obligated to try and remember hers.
"I don't guess you boys are stayin' another night?" she asked, with a hand on one hip and the slightest note of hope in her voice. Annie, maybe, or Allie. Possibly Alice. There was a glare from the window and he couldn't read her nametag. "I guess there ain't much to do in this town."
Hal smiled an apology. "It's just that my friend's in a hurry in a hurry to get down to Odessa. We've been watching some of these troubles that are on the news, with the oilmen down there --"
"And you have to go yourself, because you're investigating America!" A---- beamed, tapping the edge of her menu on the table between Hal and his friend. "Well, you boys just stay out of trouble, all right, and if you make it through Muskogee on your way back --" She winked. "You know where to find me."
"Yes, ma'am, we will absolutely do that," Hal assured her, and as she walked away, he took a moment to admire her well-shaped body, taking a picture with his mind. It was funny -- just a few hours ago, she'd been pressed against him, warm and present and alive, and already it was as though he were remembering this moment from some point far in the future, when he'd look back on this summer on the road, and he would recall. . .
"Unbelievable."
"Huh?" Hal's gaze snapped back across the table, where Ollie's face was set in an inexplicable mask of rage. "Your beard's quivering," Hal said. "Is something the matter?"
Ollie spit out the next words. "She - brought - you - pie."
Hal looked down at the plate for the first time. He hadn't ordered dessert, but there was definitely a warm piece of apple pie in front of him. "I guess she did." He picked up his fork and pushed the plate toward Ollie. "Don’t get steamed. We can share."
"It's not about the pie," Ollie, muttered, crossing his arms. "Keep your damn pie."
With a shrug, Hal pulled the plate back. "Suit yourself." He cut off a corner of the steaming pastry with his fork, and took a bite. It was sweet, flaky. As he chewed, Ollie kept scowling. Hal hoped he wouldn't be like this all the way to Odessa, because the radio in the truck was broken.
A few bites later, Ollie still hadn't spoken, so Hal finally asked, "Something the matter?"
"You just --" Ollie looked over his shoulder and made sure the girl wasn't in sight. Then he leaned across the table and said in a low voice. "You took that girl to bed. And you told her you had to leave town. Because we're investigating America."
Hal swallowed, and frowned. "Would you say that's a bad description of what we're doing? How do you usually describe it?"
Ollie slapped his hands on the table, and repeated, "She - brought - you - pie."
"Here." Hal skidded the plate across the table toward Ollie. "Take some."
"It's just -- " Ollie said, ignoring the plate. "We've been friends a long time, all right? I just -- until this trip I guess I didn't have a very good idea of how you operate. This is the third waitress in the third town in a row --"
"Yeah?" This conversation was confusing the hell out of Hal. Among other things, there there was something wrong with Ollie's math. "No, wait," he said. "Wichita wasn't a waitress. That was the brunette aircraft mechanic who fixed the alternator on the truck." Now that was a memory to hold onto, listening to her talk about gyro-stabilized vectors and vertical thrust while he pulled her down on top of him. "Just, you know, for the sake of accuracy." The grin Hal flashed was, unfortunately, wasted, because Ollie had his head in his hands. "Look. . .buddy," Hal wheedled. "Like you said, we've known each other for a long time. I'm confused where the sudden moral outrage is coming from."
"Outrage?" Ollie repeated. "Pal, this is not outrage. I just -- I don't understand how you do it."
Hal blinked. "Oh. That." Leaning closer, he said in a low voice. "She told me she had a friend. Next time, if you speak up --"
Ollie's hand hit the table. "I don't care about Abbie-the-waitress's friend. I've got a very pretty lady of my own back home --"
"Okay," Hal agreed. He grabbed the pie plate back and took a big bite. Good table manners were deeply ingrained into him, and if he had his mouth full, he wasn't going to be tempted to argue this point.
Ollie eyed him suspiciously. "What?" He didn't take his eyes off Hal, as the other man chewed. Dammit. Once Hal had swallowed, Ollie repeated, "What?"
"Have you -- well, have you talked to Dinah since Spokane?"
"Yes." Ollie's beard was quivering again.
"Okay. Just -- and --" He eyed the pie plate hopefully, but Ollie yanked it away. "Does she know she's still your lady?" That might not have been the most tactful question, but it was at least a step above, Do you remember Spokane? Which, considering the strength of Dinah's punches and possibility of associated memory loss, would not have been entirely rhetorical.
"Dinah knows," Ollie said with a scowl. "All right, okay. The pretty bird and I fight sometimes. At the end of a long day, she knows she's still my pretty lady. That's just the way we operate."
"Fair enough." Hal reached out to take the plate back. "And how I operate is how I operate."
"Fine." Ollie glared at the last morsel of pie. "I just can't figure out how I have this reputation for being an asshole. And everybody thinks that you are such a freaking Boy Scout."
"That's a misconception," Hal agreed.
"I'll say."
"I went to Boy Scout meetings for a month. I got my aviation merit badge. I went back the next week and they were talking about knots and I said 'Forget this,' and went back to the airfield."
"I have to hand it to you." Ollie shook his head. "If you're nothing else, you're focused."
"Thank you," Hal said and, when Ollie sighed, he added, "You know I realize this is a radical idea -"
"I like radical ideas."
"True. How about this one? If you don't want people thinking you're a jerk, try being nice to them. A little kindness never hurt anybody."
"Nice," Ollie grumbled. "Kind. Fat chance. Nah, it's that pretty Boy Scout face of yours is what it is. I can't get together with any woman, anywhere, without it turning into an ordeal. You just smile that pretty smile, call a girl 'ma'am,' and have her bring you pie."
"Oh, for God's sake." Hal raised his hand and called, "Abbie, sweetheart?"
The blonde smiled from two tables down. "Yeah, darlin'?"
"When you get a chance, would you mind getting my friend some pie?"
"Sure thing."
Ollie buried his head in his hands. "Unbelievable."
Hal shrugged. There was no pleasing some people.