tucky | ♻ 012

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♻ 012 | audio

I been thinking. I thought it was cool how the Enclosure got programmed the way it did for Bucky's party, so I was wondering if I could do that, too-- not for a party, but for a fireworks show. I don't know if any of the people here have ever been to one, but where I come from, they're real popular in the summer. You go to a big empty field at night, sit on blankets, and just... watch. Maybe bring out a keg of beer or something, I don't know. You think the Enclosure could do that?

I wanted to do it on my birthday, if things are all calmed down. Sometimes these shows can get crazy and loud with people dancing and partying, but I know I ain't in a raucous mood, and I bet I'm not the only one. So maybe a quiet one would be good right now. Something relaxing.

It'd be nice, I think.

[filtered to Dillon, Iris, Letty, Mason, Morgana, and Simon]

Merlin's better. He-- it's real complicated, but he didn't mean that stuff he said. I know that nothing was making him say it, but he had those parasites in him that had him thinking it was the best thing to do, and... he regrets it. He changed his mind.

[She sounds relieved, if just a tiny bit wary. She wasn't affected by the Sha herself, and she still isn't 100% clear on what exactly it was or how it worked-- so while she's ever-trusting and wants to give her warden the benefit of the doubt, it's going to take her a week or so of him being normal for her to fully believe that he really is staying, and he really does want her as his inmate.]

I ain't mad at him. Y'all don't have to be either.

[Mason and Simon, she's looking at you.]

[filtered to Crowley]

Hi.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

They don't have to be real explosives that we set off ourselves. It could be a fake show that just looks real.

[private]

Thanks.

For sitting with me in the port, I mean.

Why not a laser show? I'm sure someone would rig that up.

[Private]

Don't worry about it, get me a drink sometime.

Nah. Gotta go traditional.

[private]

You can get drinks for free, though.

It had better still have a great soundtrack.

[Private]

Then you'll just have to owe me one.

You mean like a band or something? I don't know if we can get that.

[private]

Hm.

Could go to the pub now if you wanted, actually. I could use a drink.

[Things are going better, but this week has still been overwhelming.]

No, like when you go to a laser show and they play Pink Floyd or John Williams.

[Private]

Why not. I'll meet you there.

[It's been ridiculous. Crowley hadn't been in the thick of it but he got caught on the sidelines, and let's just say it wasn't so easy to watch.]

I've never been to a laser show.

[private]

Can you get a warden to let us in?

[If she arrives after and finds him already in there, she'll just assume he found someone.]

Well, you are American. There's an innate fondness there for blowing things up.

[Private]

Oh yes. You're not the only one who owes me a favour.

[He'll be there before her -- Duke's there in the evenings so getting in wasn't an issue. Not that it would have been anyway. Crowley has waited for Tiffany before ordering a round, though.]

[Once he lets her in, she slumps down in a booth with a sigh. She's not unhappy-- on the contrary, her mood's actually pretty good-- but she's tired. Weary.

Not too weary to drink, though.]

What do you want? I was gonna have a Bud.

[Crowley stands and, after some consideration, drapes his suit jacket over Tiffany's shoulders.]

A what? [He looks horrified.] That's not even a drink, that's just a reason to be sad. No, no, trust me. [After a trip to the bar, he returns with two pint glasses filled with frosty amber beer.]

Here you are, a decent Trappist ale.

[She gives him a skeptical look, but accepts the drink.]

Well, it ain't the beer I grew up with, but...

[She pulls his jacket a little closer around herself.]

Why'd you give me this? It's not that cold in here.

That's because it's better.

Oh, that? That's because you looked like you needed it. But if you don't... [He settles into the seat across from her and holds his hand out for the jacket.]

Nah, it's okay.

[It's probably the most expensive article of clothing that's ever touched her skin; she'll keep it on for a little while.]

I guess I just don't get why you're so nice to me.

[The wardens, she thinks, have a reason-- it's their job. She doesn't think their kindness is disingenuous or fake, but by this point it surprises her a lot less than kindness from inmates (or... people she thinks are inmates).]

[Greed is of course encouraged in Crowley's line of work, as is vanity. The jacket is infuriatingly expensive, but he withdraws his hand without a fuss.]

Because you're cute.

[Flatter flatter flatter flatter. She smiles, and tries a little more of her beer. It's... different, but not bad. She still prefers Bud, though.]

Think we've had this conversation before.

[Hey, not only is it true, but it's the easiest possible answer. "Because you're hilariously misguided" would at best lead to a slap in the face.]

That just shows I'm steadfast.

Come on. That's really the real reason? If it was just that you were trying to get in my pants, you would’ve given up when I said no before, I think.

[... Maybe.]

I said you were cute, not that I was trying to sleep with you. They're not synonyms. I mean, puppies are cute.

[To other people, anyway. Puppies are gross.]

You said you wanted to kiss me before, so I assumed.

I ain't a puppy.

And you didn't, and you're still cute. It's not rocket science.

[She smiles-- pleased, because yay compliments-- and shakes her head in an "oh, you" sort of way. Then she finishes off her drink.]

Well, that was okay-- pretty good, actually. But I’m getting a Bud next; maybe I'll get another one of these after that.

You ever had a Bud? Bud Lite?

[Crowley sips at his, taking it slower; Trappist beer has a higher alcohol content than American, and he's curious if it will hit her soon.]

No. Don't think I ever will, either.

Hey, I tried your kind. Ain't it only fair for you to try mine?

[Still, she orders up just one Budweiser, and drinks it straight out of the can.]

You would think, but the difference between yours and mine is that mine is good.

[That's fine, he will nurse his ale over here. Drink your American cow piss, Tiffany.< / liquor snob >]

[She flips him the most good-natured bird possible, grinning. Then she takes another long sip.]

Mmmmmm. That’s good. That tastes like home.

Your shit's some strong stuff, though. I think I'm feeling it a little bit.

[That's not bad, though. She likes getting drunk, and after the week she's had, she's of the opinion that she needs it.]

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