When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie...

[liberty_mom]

Debbie is more than a little proud of herself as she bustles around the kitchen that night. After much time spent reading in really big, confusing books with a whole lot of technical words that mean jack shit to her, she's figured out how to make mozzarella cheese. She's got a little ball of it in the kitchen with her right now, and there's

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[holdthebucket]

Gordon Cutter hasn't seen a Pizza since the bar in Long Bay after a long day of curling and a longer night of drinking. It's the aroma that overcomes him first, the fresh scent of cheese, the sharp tang of tomato, the hint of meat...his mouth is watering by the time he strode into the kitchen, decked out in his finest glengarry, teeshirt, and jeans.

The woman is what gave him pause next, bigger than life, red headed, and surrounded by one of the finest foods on earth.

In the doorway to the kitchen, Gordon Cutter gaped. It went on for a long few moments.

"My good woman," he said at last, rallying and snagging several slices to his own plate. "You must be descended from divinity to have wrought such a feast. My deepest compliments and respects."

[liberty_mom]

Debbie's focused on the lemon bars, and she's used to people hanging around, staring at her as if giving her evil eyes will get her to serve their food quicker. She doesn't really notice anything, and pops the lemon bars into the oven, humming cheerfully the whole time.

She turns and the melody stops in her throat and she stands, blinking at the compliments. And then smiles broadly. "No gods and goddesses, just Italians," she responds with a hearty laugh. "But you're certainly most welcome," she adds, flourishing her hand just slightly and dipping into a scant curtsy. It seems required with his grandiose words. And that's one hell of a hat.

[holdthebucket]

Gordon laughed heartily, digging into the pizza with verve. "In my experience, they have often been one and the same." He tipped the glengarry at her with a flourish, giving her searing white grin.

"I confess," he went on, "That we had little in the way of the cuisine back in Long Bay, but it doesn't take a developed palette to recognize perfection. Well done."

[liberty_mom]

"Aw, it's nothing," Debbie demurs, still smiling, though there may be a tinge of red on her cheeks. From the cooking. "Be better if we had some basil. Or oregano," she adds in, suddenly more confident and forceful when she's talking about her own food. "But it's pretty good," she agrees.

"So, Long Bay. Where the fuck is that?"

[holdthebucket]

"Perhaps the island will one day provide," he said, tucking a napkin into his collar and digging in. "It did provide a rink for the lads, so it can't be nearly as heathen as it purports."

"The great and frozen north," he boomed, some res sauce streaking his north. "Canada. And where do you hail from, my good woman?"

America. Gordon Cutter is not a betting man, but this woman had America written on her in rainbows.

[liberty_mom]

Debbie smiles bright as day as she spreads her arms, as if it's obvious just by looking at her that she's American. And really, it is. "The good old US of A," she says. "Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I've never been to Canada, but you guys sure as hell got some things right. Somebody's gotta step up to the plate and start giving the LGBT community rights. Maybe we'll learn something from you guys."

She stops and grins, waving her finger at her own chin. "You got a bit of sauce in your soup catcher, honey."

[holdthebucket]

"Eh?" Gordon says, wiping his beard with a napkin, frowning accusingly at the red smear that resulted. "Damn and blasted thing. Neigh on useless without the homeland's chill."

He raised his eyebrows at the woman, leaning back in his chair and giving his bely as satisfied pat.

"LGTB? That's not the rookie curling league out of Vancouver, is it?"

[liberty_mom]

"I dunno," Debbie says with a softer smile and giving him an appraising look. "Gives you a dignified air. Like someone real wise. And respectable."

Debbie almost laughs at that, because the thought of her being in the company of someone respectable like that is almost laughable. But she blinks at his question, resting a hand on her hip as she looks at him. "LGBT. Lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered community."

[holdthebucket]

Gordon supposes himself to be quite wise and respectable, so he meets this statement with a noble tilt of his chin, his eyes sparkling. She really was such a colorful specimen of a woman...

"Ah," he says to what follows, giving a nonchalant wave of his hand, "My son and his second stone are sodomites. Married, apparently. Good on them, I say, so long as the team doesn't suffer for their canoodling and romancing. Love has no place on the sheet, I've always said."

[liberty_mom]

"Sodomites?" Debbie squawks in response, eyebrows shooting up, eyes wide. "You call your son and his husband sodomites?"

So much for the wise and respectable impression. "What in the hell kind of way is that to treat your son?"

[holdthebucket]

Gordon is honestly surprised by the response and shifts back in his chair defensively, feeling - ofallthingsgreatandholy - cowed by this woman.

"What? I...it's a statement of truth. Apparently they're in love additionally," he adds in, another flippant wave of his hand. "I hold nothing against them for it, as I said. Many things I've been called in my life, my dear, but bigot is not among them."

And, as if this would somehow aide his case, added, "The sodo- homosexual rink out of Vancouver plays a mean game."

[liberty_mom]

"Sodomites is the word those Bible-thumping hypocrites use when they're telling kids like your son -- like my son! -- that they're going to burn in Hell!" Debbie informs him in a deadly serious, emphatic tone. "It's hateful language, no matter what it means. If you don't wanna be called a bigot, then don't you go calling anybody a sodomite."

After her educational explosion, Debbie pauses, hands on her hips, judging him again. Old men and their old men values. Still, they can learn. "..But good for you otherwise," she says.

[holdthebucket]

He glowered into his pizza, stealing looks at her on the sly. She devil! Witch! Who was she to corral him so!

"I have never thumped a bible in my life!" he declared impressively, his expression grave. "Not once! The winters are long and cold in my homeland. No judgment is passed."

"Thank you," he said after a short pause. He gave her a searching look, wondering. Well, if the boy was the right age and the fight fitness, Gordon may be able to recruit another player for the League.

"You have a son?"

[liberty_mom]

She softens immediately at the mention of Michael, a smile forcing its way onto her face as she speaks. "Yeah, Michael Charles Novotny. He's about so tall," she says, marking out his height in the air, "30. Big brown eyes, adorable smile, cute butt."

Laughing softly at the last part, because clearly this guy doesn't care but she does, Debbie nods at him. "What about your son?" she asks.

[holdthebucket]

Gordon nodded, filing this information away for later, recruitment oriented purposes.

"Eh?" he said, apparently distracted by his food once more. "Christopher. Decent curler when he's not defaming the foundations of the game and turning tale and hiding for a decade at a time. He was ten years older the last time I saw him. And unwed."

He straightened his plate flush with the edge of the table, talking without much inflection

[liberty_mom]

Debbie's not always the most observant of women, but some things she can't miss. And she's especially critical of parents talking about their kids, being a mother herself and sensitive to such issues. So an answer like that does nothing to please her; in fact, it sets her a little on edge.

"And how is he as a person?" she prods. "You know, as a human being, when he's living his life away from this game you seem to care so much about, the part of his life that really matters?"