Carter had been strolling along, minding his own business when he stumbled upon Jim. And whoa, that was some strong stuff he smelled. It practically burned a third nostril in his nose.
"Jesus Christ, Jim," he started to laugh but the sound faded as he drew closer and realized the kind of state he was in. "That stuff could melt half of New York," he smiled gently, hands shoved into his pockets.
Carter had dealt with a lot of crazy, moody people in his life. A little grumpiness from Jim wasn't likely to scare him off.
Carter plopped down. "Actually I'm sure you'll be all kinds of fun once you pass me some of that enginecleaner," he returned, wagging four fingers at the moonshine in a gesture that certainly meant 'come on, hand it over'.
Carter grabbed it and brought it up to his nose for a sniff.
Bad idea. He pulled one hell of a puckered, scrunched up face and whistled. "Uh, now that's no exaggeration. Who's the charming sister-marrying backwoods fellow who rustled up the stuff?" he smiled through twisted lips before taking a large throat-burning gulp.
He actually couldn't help but laugh at the expression. He had the same one when he first encountered the stuff.
"His name is Jay," he replied. "Southern guy, yes, but real nice. Don't think he's the sister-marrying type. He's kind of the go-to guy for a way to get plastered here."
Which he still needed to do. He held out his hand, motioning for him to give it back. It wouldn't be good if he fell behind his drinking schedule.
"Wow. Wow, that's ripe," he choked, words strained as he handed the bottle back.
"Sounds like a good man to know. Remind me to thank him for the puddle of goo that's going to be my liver after a few more sips of that. I'll pay you back in coconuts, I promise. Add some more bowling balls to your collection," he grinned, ruffling his own hair.
"So. Did your pet monkey or other recently tamed jungle creature die?"
He grinned as he took another sip. Yeah, the stuff was rancid, but it definitely would do the job it was intended to do. He could already feel the buzz going already and he was only a few in.
"No need to pay me back. I probably shouldn't drink this whole thing anyway, as much as I'd like to."
He stared at the liquid as he swirled it thoughtfully in its jar. "...Eh. It's complicated."
He took another sip because there the memory was again. He makes a face as he holds it back out for him to see if he wanted more.
Carter got more comfortable, looking casually interested. "Women are like that," he ventured.
Oh as if he hadn't noticed the way Jim and Pam got on with one another. Although he wasn't exactly the most qualified person when it came to giving relationship advice, one thing he knew was that honesty mattered.
Jim winced a little. He really did wish people were as clueless here as they were back home.
"Yeah," he muttered, shaking his head. "Don't even know why I bother. Oh wait, I remember, it's because I was written that way."
His voice held a bitter tone, not realizing his statement likely would not make much sense to Carter. Still, it seemed as good an idea as any - blame the writers. It was their fault, clearly. He wouldn't be in love if it weren't for them.
No, he didn't understand at all really. Well, not exactly. Carter thought Jim was making a joke in reference to the first time they'd meant. Attempting to lighten his own mood.
He chuckled a little. "Must've been some good weed, huh," he teased. The Almighty Writer - or should he say the Holy Trinity of the writer, producer, and director. "Hey we're sharing, remember?" he smiled, reaching for the bottle again.
Carter took the drink and downed another gulp. He was getting better at this - the expression he made this time wasn't quite as spastic.
And then Carter chuckled goodnaturedly too. "You're kidding, right?" But after some startled staring, Carter took another gulp. "You're not kidding," he wheezed, throat burning.
"Wow," he finally managed. "That's..." Weird. Deep. Complex. World-shattering. "Uh," he paused, remembering what Jim had said about feeling sorry for those characters. "How did you find that out?"
Carter didn't know what to say. Gee, I'm sorry you're a figment of someone's imagination. Here, have a lil more drinkie drinkie!
He licked his lips awkwardly. "TV Guide's got some really interesting editorials. Totally underappreciated. Used to advertise cell phones with them but it ended up being a dead market since nobody reads it anymore. So, uh, was the article any good?" he asked, presenting him the bottle.
"There was just a little blurb about my show. Enough to piss me off, though. I ended up making a nice bonfire using it. It's amazing how satisfying it is to see something like that go up in smoke. But, whatever. I'll get over it."
It really wasn't his true reason that he was in this bad a shape anyway. The whole not-real thing was just the straw that broke the camel's back.
"Jesus Christ, Jim," he started to laugh but the sound faded as he drew closer and realized the kind of state he was in. "That stuff could melt half of New York," he smiled gently, hands shoved into his pockets.
"Mind if I sit down?"
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"That would be the point," he snorted slightly, taking another sip. The sting would inevitably lessen soon enough.
He waved vaguely toward the space next to him. "If you want. Might not be the best company right now, though."
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Carter plopped down. "Actually I'm sure you'll be all kinds of fun once you pass me some of that enginecleaner," he returned, wagging four fingers at the moonshine in a gesture that certainly meant 'come on, hand it over'.
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"Go for it. Stuff's strong, though, if you couldn't tell. Homemade alcohol tends to be like that."
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Bad idea. He pulled one hell of a puckered, scrunched up face and whistled. "Uh, now that's no exaggeration. Who's the charming sister-marrying backwoods fellow who rustled up the stuff?" he smiled through twisted lips before taking a large throat-burning gulp.
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"His name is Jay," he replied. "Southern guy, yes, but real nice. Don't think he's the sister-marrying type. He's kind of the go-to guy for a way to get plastered here."
Which he still needed to do. He held out his hand, motioning for him to give it back. It wouldn't be good if he fell behind his drinking schedule.
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"Sounds like a good man to know. Remind me to thank him for the puddle of goo that's going to be my liver after a few more sips of that. I'll pay you back in coconuts, I promise. Add some more bowling balls to your collection," he grinned, ruffling his own hair.
"So. Did your pet monkey or other recently tamed jungle creature die?"
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"No need to pay me back. I probably shouldn't drink this whole thing anyway, as much as I'd like to."
He stared at the liquid as he swirled it thoughtfully in its jar. "...Eh. It's complicated."
He took another sip because there the memory was again. He makes a face as he holds it back out for him to see if he wanted more.
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Oh as if he hadn't noticed the way Jim and Pam got on with one another. Although he wasn't exactly the most qualified person when it came to giving relationship advice, one thing he knew was that honesty mattered.
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"Yeah," he muttered, shaking his head. "Don't even know why I bother. Oh wait, I remember, it's because I was written that way."
His voice held a bitter tone, not realizing his statement likely would not make much sense to Carter. Still, it seemed as good an idea as any - blame the writers. It was their fault, clearly. He wouldn't be in love if it weren't for them.
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He chuckled a little. "Must've been some good weed, huh," he teased. The Almighty Writer - or should he say the Holy Trinity of the writer, producer, and director. "Hey we're sharing, remember?" he smiled, reaching for the bottle again.
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"Didn't smoke weed," he replied, slightly offended. "I mean I'm a damn television character. On the most generic titled television show ever."
Who the hell would name a show The Office? He burst out laughing, though he wasn't really amused.
"Want my autograph? I'm the normal guy in love with the receptionist for ratings."
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And then Carter chuckled goodnaturedly too. "You're kidding, right?" But after some startled staring, Carter took another gulp. "You're not kidding," he wheezed, throat burning.
"Wow," he finally managed. "That's..." Weird. Deep. Complex. World-shattering. "Uh," he paused, remembering what Jim had said about feeling sorry for those characters. "How did you find that out?"
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He sighed, motioning for him to hand the drink back over. "TV Guide. Apparently my show is underappreciated."
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He licked his lips awkwardly. "TV Guide's got some really interesting editorials. Totally underappreciated. Used to advertise cell phones with them but it ended up being a dead market since nobody reads it anymore. So, uh, was the article any good?" he asked, presenting him the bottle.
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"There was just a little blurb about my show. Enough to piss me off, though. I ended up making a nice bonfire using it. It's amazing how satisfying it is to see something like that go up in smoke. But, whatever. I'll get over it."
It really wasn't his true reason that he was in this bad a shape anyway. The whole not-real thing was just the straw that broke the camel's back.
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