2007-12-28: A Night At The Pub


Celeste_icon.gif Steiner_icon.gif


Randall_icon.gif Kory_icon.gif

Summary: Celeste goes to the pub meets Steiner, and makes random talk about what we do for a living.

Date It Happened: December 28th, 2007

A Night at the Pub

Oldcastle Pub

For a Sunday evening Oldcastle Pub seems to be a relatively happening place to be. It's not drawn the crowd one might expect from a Friday, but more than a few groups have taken up temporary residence at tables and the bar seems populated enough. A group of younger folk seem to have posted up near the jukebox where they've been wearing out every Dropkick Murphy and Flogging Molly song they can find—not that anyone seems to mind much.

Off by the dartboards, a lone blue collar sort sits with a pitcher of something dark and vaguely foamy. Aside from the occasional glance towards the door or a nod at one of the other patrons who catches his eye, his only pastime seems to be tossing the odd dart at one of the boards.

Celeste walks into the pub glancing around the room before walking to the end of the bar to an empty bar stool and asks the bartender, "Could I get a screwdriver please?" offering him a smile as she does.

Steiner looks up as the door opens, glancing at the new entrant before turning his attention back to a purple-fletched dart in his hand. With a shrug he chucks it at the dartboard, managing to somehow lodge it firmly on the inner ring of the 20.

The bartender offers a smile and a nod as he pours three fingers of vodka, adds enough OJ to bring the glass three quarters to the top, and drops in enough cubes of ice to get the job done. As he slides the drink across he offers, "no charge, miss. We've got a generous soul in here tonight."

Celeste grins, "Well thank you." she says smiling, "And who may I ask is the generous soul so I can alos thank him?" she asks politely, "Don't want to sit here and drink it without thanking him."

"That'd be the fella over there who looks like the biker and the construction worker from the Village People had a kid," the barkeep responds, motioning to indicate the guy in the corner by the dartboard. In a not-so-subtle move, the tender 'accidentally' nudges his tip jar with an elbow as he clears his throat.

Celeste looks to the guy over at the dartboard and smiles, then turns to the barkeeper and puts 5 bucks in it, "Thank you." she says with a grin, gets up and walks over to the guy at the dartboard with her drink in her hand, "Hi, I'm Celeste." she says with a little bit of confidence, "I would like to thank you for the drink, is there any way I can repay you." shey says with a smile.

"Jake. Didja tip the tender? He's a bit fussy about that shit—not that I blame him," he responds, moving a foot from one of the chairs of his table to nudge it out. "Have a seat if ya like, but ain't nothin' compulsory."

Celeste smiles, "Yeah, gave him 5 bucks, figured that would be good for now." takes a drink of her screwdriver and setting it down on the table, "Thank you for the drink." she says before taking a seat.

Steiner waves a soft, pale hand-not exactly congruent with his frame and demeanor-as he replies, "more than enough, or at least I'd think so. Then again, I'm still figuring out prices around here, so… yeah. Anyhow, you're welcome, Ms. Celeste. Then again, I can't exactly claim it was all for you when the whole bar's been drinking on my tab for the last hour."

Celeste smiles, "Well I just like to be nice, but still thank you for the drink, that is going to be quite expensive with all of those people drinking on your tab." she says to him, "But it's your choice, If you like, I wouldn't mind paying you back for the drink, I would hate for you to pay soo much for everything." she says with a grin.

"I'll do all right. Had a little windfall a few weeks ago—paid some bills and now there's just enough left for a couple last hurrahs… so I'm just gettin' 'em out of the way," he replies with another wave of his hand. "But you know how fta and fortunes go. Big city, but I'm sure you can track me down another time and buy me a drink if you're serious."

Celeste smiles, "Yeah that would be nice, but if I can't ever find you, I work over at Slinging Ink Tattoo Parlor, over in Greenwich Village, if you are ever out that way you can look me up." she says shyly taking another drink of her drink, "So what do you do for a living." she asks politely hoping not to be rude.

"Ahh… Maybe I'll stop by, I've been meaning to get some work redone-just kept putting it off sorta," he says with a slow nod. "An' I'm just a grease monkey. Cars, lawnmowers, tractors, bikes, that sorta thing. Cars for the most part, and domestic, but… well, it all works about the same, it's just figuring out where they put what when they built the one you're looking at." He pauses and cracks a grin her way, "boring stuff, I know."

Celeste grins, "That would be nice, maybe I'll be lucky enough to be the one to do your touch-ups on everything, that's kool, I just walk everywhere, it's a lot easier than trying to fight your way around the city in a car, plus I like to walk because it gives me time to think about life and to reflect on the day, I really enjoy it, but I think cars in themselves are pretty fascinating, and I don't think your job is boring, can just be a little frustrating at times." she says smiling.

"Tell me about it, I just keep my truck parked most of the time. Gypsies keep me in pocket money, though, so it's not all bad," he replies with a lift of his shoulders before taking a deep swig from his mug. "As for frustrating? Nah. Well, back when I started, yeah, but when you've got all the tools you need and you know what you're doing, it's kinda… relaxing in a sense."

Celeste grins, "That's kool, When I'm not working in the shop, i'm at clubs with my band playing, helps me to get frustration out, and also have a good time." she says smiling, "We are trying to get our names out there and hopefully one day become famous." she says to him before finishing off her drink.

"Just about everyone's dream, I reckon," he says with a small nod. "What kinda music ya play—and, more important, I guess, how long ya been playing it?"

Celeste nods, "We play hard rock and rock." she says with a small smile, "Well we've been playing for a about 4 months I would say, not too long, but we are good at what we do, and if there is something we have trouble on, we work even harder at it until we get it perfect." she says, "Mind if I go and get another drink?" she asks shyly.,

"You don't need my permission," Jake replies with another wave of his hand before finishing off the contents of his mug and pouring a fresh one from the pitcher. "Free country, all that."

Celeste smiles, "I know, but I hate interrupting a good conversation just to get something that isn't really needed." she tells him before getting up, walking to the bar and asking the barkeep, "Could I get another Screwdriver please?"

The barkeep nods and takes a quick look at his watch before looking over to Jake's corner. Apparenlty not getting any response as Jake's busy demolishing another mug, he quickly throws together another before sliding it back across. "Still on the tab, miss—for another few minutes, anyhow."

Celeste adds a couple dollars to the tip jar, "Thank you much." she says taking it and walking back over to Jake, "So, where were we?" she asks taking a seat back at the table.

"You were telling me about your band, and I was about to ask if you played any Skynyrd, I do believe," he replies with a thin-lipped grin. "Or is that a little to 'classic' and not enough 'hard' for you?"

Celeste giggles, "No, we do play some Skynard, I like the classic stuff more than the new music that plays today." she says with a smile, "I have a CD with me if you would like to take it with you so you can listen to it sometime." she says with a grin.

Steiner has to stop and hink about that for a moment-while polishing off the last of his beer, apparently. "Yeah, I think there's a CD player at the shop-guess I'll just subject the other folks to it for a bit. I am getting a bit tired of marimba music and everyone talking about how ghetto they are driving around in a car that costs more than i make in a year."

Celeste smiles and takes the CD out of her bag and hands it to him, "We are called Negative Zero." she tells him, "I hate it when people are like that, irritates me, so I just ignore them as much as possible, but yet my job, we don't exactly get customers everyday, so my pay depends on the customers, what they get, and how much it costs, so I don't exactly have a set pay really." she says with a grin.

"Eh. Gimme a steady paycheck and I'm a happy man, really," he replies as he pulls a pack of smokes from his shirt pocket and picks one from the box. "Discipline to live from paycheck to paycheck, I got… discipline to set back some cash when the next check might be half of this one… well… that, I ain't."

Celeste nods, "Me too, I like to spend my money on stuff I don't even need, but more stuff that I want, partly another reason I don't have a car, never really been able to save up enough cash for a car." she says with a grin, "But I do save up enough to keep the bills paid, and to keep on living." she says as she slams her drink back finishing it off starting to feel it a little.

"And you're shoppin' around here, I'll bet which can't be helping," he replies with a nod and a lift of his own glass. "Bought my last two trucks out of some guy's front yard—not the same guy, mind you, just how it's done. Didn't pay more than two grand for either one and both were just about rock solid. better than that after a little tuneup," he offers with a wink.

Celeste grins, "That's kool, I really should start thinkin about saving up for a car, Cause when it's cold, it gets kinda rough walkin in the snow." she says still grinning, "They still running good I hope, would hate for you to not have a car." she says with a smile, "Excuse me, think I'm gonna get another drink, would you like something also?" she asks as she stands up,

Steiner looks to his pitcher—which is looking the worse for wear after the recent attention it's been paid, then checks his watch. "One wnet the way of the dodo, thanks to one of the local drunks, the other one's parked 'cross town. Hrmmm… 'nother pitcher of snakebite should do me just fine, thanks."

Celeste nods, and walks over to the barkeep, "Another screwdriver please, and Jake would like another pitcher of Snakebite also." she tells him before putting a couple more dollars into the tip jar while waiting for the drinks.

The barkeep goes right to work, throwing together the screwdriver for the waiting patron before filling a pitcher halfway with Guiness before topping it off with some Hornesby's cider. "There you go. Anything else for you while you're up here, miss?"

Celeste thinks for a moment, "No thank you, this should be good." she says, "How much do I owe you?" she looks at her cell phone, "It's not free anymore so I would like to pay for the both of these." she says with a smile.

"Ah. Figured it was still goin' on his tab," he replies, tapping at the register. "Fifteen even, and you're clear for takeoff."

Celeste takes out her wallet and grabs Eighteen out, and hands him the money, "Keep the rest for yourself." she says before taking the drinks and walks back to the table, she hands Jake his pitcher and sets her drink on the table as she takes a seat, "That sux that your trucks aren't anywhere near, do you live close?" she asks him politely, "I would hate to keep you here all night if you live too far away." she says with a grin.

"Actually I'm a good way from home, but… well, you know how it is with a new place, not much sleep, all that," he replies, refilling his glass from the fresh pitcher before sliding the empty one to the side. "Besides, I'm not exactly a tourist—I know where not to walk after dark," he adds with a wink and a grin.

Celeste nods, "Yeah I might be crashing at a friends house tonight since they live right across from the shop, so I won't have to walk far in the morning on my way to work." she says with a grin, "But I'm not sure how far away Greenwich Village is from here, cause if it's far away, that is definitely going to be a long walk." she says smiling, "You wouldn't happen to know would you?" she says still smiling at him.

"Not far off, if I'm rememberin' right," he replies, taking a sip from his mug as he ponders. "Go west until you hit Fourth, then straight up-er… north. After that a left on Hyoo-erm… HOUSE-ton street as folk seem to be obstinate about calling it. Should run you right along the south side of Greenwich."

Celeste smiles, "Well thank you soo much." she says to him, "I don't think it will take me too long to get there." she slams her drink down, and takes a look at her cell phone once more to see the time, "So what should we talk about now?" she asks as she puts her phone away.

"Well.. if you don't mind some shop talk, I don't aim to let just anybody near me with an ink gun," Jake intones with a grin. "Seeing some of your work is nice, but it's nice to know a bit more."

Celeste nods, "I don't mind at all, what would you like to know?" she asks him with a grin.

"Well, how long have ya been at it, for one—not counting time spent practicing on oranges and pork butts," he hastilly adds. "Some folks might have a lot in common with vegetables and hind ends, but I'm still going to say it's just not the same."

Celeste nods, "Yeah I know what you mean, well I spent time as an apprentice for about a year and a half doing tattoos almost all the time, cause there was only two of us doing them, and where I worked we were getting customers everyday, so I've been doing that quite a while, and now I'm working at Slinging Ink as an artist along with Dani." she says ending with a sly smile.

"Uh huh. Mind if I see your wrist," he asks with a grin, offering his right hand, palm up.

Celeste hands him her wrists, "There you go, good as new." she says with a smile.

"I promise to give it back in nearly the same condition," he says with a mischevious grin as he lightly grasps her left wrist, moving hard, calloused fingertips to find her pulse before moving his eyes to meet hers. "And just how clean do you keep your shop? Good enough to keep up appearances, or are we talking surgery-ready here?"

Randall has arrived.

Kory has arrived.

Celeste grins, "We keep it surgery ready, nothing that could harm anyone." she tells him politely, "I like a clean and safe shop, if it's not I won't work there." she tells him smiling looking into his eyes.

Steiner releases her wrist, apparently satisfied with the answer. "Good enough. No offense intended, you know—there's just some things I don't feel like gamblin' on. So… what sort of work do you enjoy doing the most?"

Celeste smiles, "None taken, I'm the same way, if it seems iffy, I ask questions to make sure everything is safe and clean." she says to him, "Well I like doing black & gray, and portraits, something about them just fascinates me so that is what I am best at." she says to him grinning.

Speaking of black and— well, not gray. Tan? "I found out about the other mashups later," Randall says to Kory as they walk into the place together, "but the one with the White Album impressed me on principle because the sources are so many years apart. That's a lot of time for style to drift."

"Ah. Well mine's just plain ol' black and white. Sortof tribal, sortof… geometric, I guess," he says with a shrug before picking up his beer again. "nothing too tought, though, it's just a little patch of it that needs re-doing."

Celeste smiles, "Sure I could fix it up for you, mind if I see it?" she asks him, "That way I can have an idea and start thinking on it." she says with a grin.

"That's true," Kory agrees, bobbing her head enthusiastically. "And if you play them one right after the other, you pick up all these little nuances that you wouldn't catch if you hadn't heard one or the other in a few weeks. Those mashup guys are really clever."

Steiner glances towards the door from his seat in the corner near the dartboards, looking over the two entrants just long enough to get a general impression before turning back to Celeste. "Well, it's on my back… the whole thing, just about. I'm not sure how the fella behind the counter would take to me getting topless—I think he'd rather see the singles in his tip jar than down my waistband."

Celeste giggles, "Okay, I'll just wait till you come to the shop sometime to see it." she says with a wink, "I would prolly stick a couple 1's down your waistband just for laughs." she says with a grin, as she looks at her cell phone for the time, "Well think I might get going, It's a little late and I got a little ways to walk, thank you so much for the drinks, and a fun time." she says with a smile.

"Well, I do appreciate the compliment, but I ain't paying ya anymore for the ink based on a few sweet nothin's," he replies with a wink, before extending a hand. "Good to meetcha, and be safe. There's quite enough weirdos out there to make a Star Trek convention look like the last bastion of sanity."

Celeste laughs softly, "Don't want you too, and wouldn't make you either." she says with a smile and extending her hand also, "Good to meet you also, I will keep a knife and pepper-spray in my purse just for that reason, Would hate to have to use them." she says giggling, as she stands up, "Good night, and hope to see you soon." she says before turning to the door.

Randall nods to Kory, then turns his attention to the restaurant proper, particularly Steiner as he pipes up. "Hey, what's wrong with Star Trek weirdos?" he replies, though the grin on his face suggests he doesn't take any genuine offense.

Kory was about to pipe up the same thing, but Randall beats her to it. So she does the next best thing. A vulcan salute in the direction of the guy who said it. "Live long," she intones gravely, "And prosper."

Steiner waves again to the departing Celeste before turning his attention to the man shouting across the bar. "Slapping a latex mold of an elephant butt on your head and knowing all the words to a language that doesn't exist seems just a little out there for me, getting into fistfights over whether an overacting man in a girdle or a blad englishman pretending to be french is the better captain seems asinine… That and I have yet to see a four hundred pound Romulan."

Randall shrugs. "Well, I admit that cosplayers in general can easily go overboard on things, but generalizing that to the entire fandom is an unfair shake. Besides, any rational fan knows that Sisko was tops." Let's hope for his sake that Kory doesn't turn out to be a fan of Janeway (or Empress Sato), otherwise he's just stepped in it here.

It turns out Randall spoke the right name if she was going to speak of which captain was the best. "You don't want to see a four hundred pound Romulan anymore than you ever, ever want to see Man Faye," she assures the man across the bar. "But it's a pop culture thing. Generations can all geek out over the same thing."

Steiner kicks out a couple of chairs at his table before beckoning the two over. "I'd agree on Cisko… Even Picard pulled in more tail, but he wasn't exactly carting his kid around the universe, either. And I got to see a transvestite Janeway once, so I'm pretty certain I've reached and exceeded my trekkie yuk-factor. But you see my point. A gaggle of basement-dwelling hot-pocketvores playing dress up and arguing over mechanical layouts that aren't even possible in a language that doesn't exist just isn't what would be considered normal behavior, and is thus subject to be used as an example in an extreme scenario regarding relative sanity."

Randall looks sidelong at Kory, then nods and heads over, making a sour face at the general mention of cross-dressing. "I take it you just watched the show and stopped there. Then again, you can say kind of the same thing about football fans who strip from the waist up and paint themselves the team colors, can't you? Some of /those/ guys are pushing three hundred, at least."

"Aw, but it's just dreams and wish fulfillment," Kory says to Steiner in a mild tone. "And because society sneers at them so much, they have to be braver than most people to do it anyway. And even if it is, Roddenberry really did have som pretty progressive ideas." Kory's gaze returns to Randall. "Not just strip to the waist and paint themselves colors, but they do it in subzero weather." A moment's pause, and then she adds, "I cannot confirm or deny whether I have a 1960s Uhura dress in a closet at my place or my mother's."

"Lord save us from the Superfans," Steiner pleads, hands to heaven—before hastilly adding, "except for the ones rooting for my team." He chuckles to himself as he tips his mug to his mouth before continuing, "well, we've all got our guilty little pleasures. I can't say I've got any costumes stashed anywhere, but I do remember throwing what was left of my soda at a movie poster this summer. Megatron just ain't s'posed to be that big."

Randall looks impish. "Oh, I'll dig the secret out of you sooner or later. No one can resist a really good stretch of velour." Someone's a Futurama fan as well. "What's wrong with Megatron, though? You can't argue with casting Weaving for pretty much anything, the guy's got range to spare."

"Range?" Kory ripostes, tossing her head. "The man plays 'the thing that hates Humans.' Smith. Megatron. Elrond." After another pause, though, she adds, "Not that he doesn't have range, really. Have you ever seen Priscilla, Queen of the Desert?"

"Oh come on, the wole movie was rife with plot holes, and frankly, I spent two days crying when Optimus Prime died back in '86, I didn't need to see a movie where I wish they'd left him dead instead of resurrected him as a retard with passable leadership skills and a catchphrase," Steiner counters. "No matter who did the voices."

"I tried to forget that one. It didn't work." Randall leans back in his seat, rubbing his eyes. "The Autobots didn't bother me, outside of that one ridiculous hiding-out scene— what really bugged me was the bit at the end, with Witwicki and his girlfriend making out /on the hood of the car/."

Oh, you did not just! Kory waggles a finger in defense of the Optimus. "He was not a retard. He was trying to speak to Sam in what he thought was Sam's native tongue. It was in character for him to say 'My bad!' Augh!" By her reaction, she must have heard this particular complaint about the movie every day after the movie came out for several months. "But, okay, plot holes. Fair point. Michael Bay — not known for solid plot." She glances at Randall. "Bumblebee was a kinkbot. I mean, the whole bit with the radio playing 'Sexual Healing' at the beginning? He likes to watch."

"I'm pretty sure I'd walked out before all that," Steiner replies, waving his hands in protest. "And can't say as I regret it a bit. Besides that whole 'native tongue business was brought on by a leap of logic only avilable to people with severe learning disabilities and movie executives who think that kinda shit is 'hip' and 'cool.' Again, I stand by my 'retard' evaluation as stated earlier."

Randall shakes his head. "I can understand it being bothersome, even if it doesn't bother me. What I really worry about is all the classic science fiction that Hollywood /hasn't/ anally raped yet. One of these days, they're gonna hear about rishathra, and then we're all done for." Okay, let's find out what sort of fan this fellow in the plaid really is.

Kory finally settles in the chair closest to the wall, and casts about for a menu, or a waitstaffer. "I hear they've got Day The Earth Stood Still on tap for next year," she sighs. "I figure Forbidden Planet will be next. Although I have to admit I did like the remake of The Stepford Wives."

"Nutjob ex-husband or not, Ms. Kidman is a classy lady," Steiner nods as he lifs his mug to his lips. "Them fiddlin' around with Klaatu and Gort doesn't sound like it'll end well at all. I mean the original was pretty much in line with everybody loving one another and everything… I'm not sure what they could do with it aside from trying to explain all the science with whatever BS technology is 'popular' to talk about at the time. I gotta confess a certain sentimentality for the days when everything was just radiation."

The mention of the Wives garners an arched brow. "I didn't catch either of those, just heard about them… What did you like about it?" Randall nabs a menu as well, distractedly glancing over it. "And I don't think I ever saw the original Earth Stood Still either. If it's anything like When Worlds Collide— well, that one was pretty ridiculous to begin with, so it's hard to say what would count as screwing it up."

"The original one was a cautionary tale of sorts," Kory explains. "But they made the new one a black comedy with a pro-feminist twist. It's one of the few times the phrase 're-imagining'" and she makes the air quotes, "didn't fill me with a sense of looming dread."

"Oh I felt somethin' looming," Steiner adds in a tone of voice that implies the sentence could easily be finished up with 'in my pants!!!' "But it was one fo the few I actually liked better than the original. As for The Day the Eart Stood still… do yourself a favor and find the original. The acting isn't up to par, but it's better than most of the crap Nick Cage and Keanu Reeves pump out. Good story though, and if you're an Army of Darkness Fan… why you might just recognize a quote."

"Pfft, everyone knows /that/ quote." Randall pauses long enough to order a couple bottles of the obscure microbrew of the month. "Actually, the interesting trend is that fantasy and superhero movies seem to be picking up more— science fiction still gets done, but not as much. Makes you wonder what the next cycle's gonna turn out to be."

"It goes cyclic with what the country's societal vibe is like. The 50s and 60s were all 'aliens and bombs.' The 70s were 'bad boys with guns and death wishes and wacky fantasy'. The 80s were when the special effects got good enough to do really good sci-fi and fantasy. And we've been doing ever since." Kory orders an herbal tea for herself. The cookies she had earlier have her sugar rushing a bit.

"I can only hope zombies come back in vogue.. and they stop letting Romero back behind the camera," Jake intones as he finishes off his mug before pouring a fresh one. "Bless him for getting the genre a kick start, but the man can't write or direct worth a shit. He's like the George Lucas of horror."

Randall shakes his head. "After Tarantino's deconstruction? I don't see anyone else pulling off anything that good for at least another decade. Hell, most people'll be smart enough not to try— except maybe some Sci-Fi movies of the week, they'll pretty much slap anything up there."

"That wasn't Tarantino. He did the other one. Death Proof. But you know Hollywood. They'll grind an idea to dust if they think there's a profit." Kory smiles her thanks to the person who brought her tea, and drinks it plain, without sugar.

"Now, now, I think there's plenty of room for exploration in the genre," Steiner says with a shake of his head. "And don't knock movies of the week. Take "Hide and Creep" for instance. Low buget, independently made, and the acting was pretty much crap but the plot was solid and the dialogue was nigh on perfect."

Randall reaches for his bottle as it's dropped off, uncapping it and peering through it at the lights beyond. "Never heard of it, I'll take your word for it. And yeah, I guess you're right— I thought of him 'cause he's got that bit part in it, I don't know Rodriguez's work nearly as well. Was the overall pairing his idea, or both of theirs?"

"Mutual agreement, as I understand it," Kory says to Randall, over the top of her teacup. "And yes. That was indeed a memorable part." She makes a face. "And yeah, even the Sci-Fi channel hits one out of the park once in a while. They have a couple of zombie movies that are fun to watch if you're trying to find something to watch at 3 am."

"Pfft, Rodriguez is a Michael Bay clone with an eye for one-liners," Steiner pontifiactes between sips. "And leading ladies. I figure if you could tone down Tarantino's penchant for pointless conversation and add in dialogue actually relevant to the plot, then let Rodriguez handle the action sequence and you could probably cobble together a blockbuster not based on overhype and hipster attendance… but that's just one man's opinion."

Randall winces at Kory. "3 am? I know, insomnia, but I keep thinking back to what one of my college roommates said— there's only two things you should be doing at that hour, and both of them involve being in bed." Evidently satisfied that the beer is a winner this time around, he takes a long-ish sip. "And the pointless conversation is the whole point. Everyone /else/ does dialogue relevant to the plot, because they need to beat you over the head with it."

"Yes, well," Kory admits, "I'm usually in bed at that hour, just unable to indulge in either of those two pastimes." She has another sip of tea. "Tarantino," she declares, "also needs an editor who will keep twenty six minutes of foot fetish off the screen."

"Funny, folks back home say there's a third but involves a boat. But back to our talks of the silver screen… You're saying the answer isn't to actually have enough plot to say somethign new and interesting about it over the course of a two hour movie, it's just to talk less about it? Bullshit, hoss. Folks did it for years before the latest generation of pop-tart cinema started smeaing crap on the screen and telling us it was a film about pudding," Steiner rejoinds with a bit of a grin at his own humor. "And there's nothing wrong with feet… just with that damned much of it."

"I didn't think Kill Bill was /that/ bad about it." Randall sits forward now, dragging himself further into the film-geek conversation as a means of glossing over the other issue that he almost landed himself into. "And no, there should be a strong plot, just you don't need to be talking about it /all/ the time. And the so-called pointless conversation does serve a purpose, it fleshes out the characters above and beyond what they do in the direct service of the A plot."

"Kill Bill, the bride fights whatserface, California Mountain Snake barefoot. And then rips out her eye, and squishes it between her toes. It was there. It was just that much more intense." Kory shudders visibly at the memory. "But, hey, that's his thing and it works for him."

"An hour and a half movie where 20 minutes is action and an hour and five minutes is pointless conversation adds up to what, exactly," Steiner questions Randall before sniffing the air. "Don't smell like puddin' to me. I recognize that conversation is a primary element to having the audience connect and identify with the characters onscreen—or at least begin to understand them, but if I want to watch 'Seinfeld' with more guys saying 'dick, tits, and ass' then I'll probably do just that and add in the vulgarities myself." His nose wrinkles a bit at the idea of toe-on-eye violence. "Yeah… some things just… well, hell, that would have had far more of an impact if it were implied rather than shown. Now who's beating off the audience? …and yeah, I know what I just said."

"I guess you have a point there," says Randall, setting his bottle down again. "But no one except him and the other fetishists are watching Uma Thurman's feet while she's in the middle of the sword battle. Oh, and Seinfeld and Friends both lose to Drew Carey several times over, though I admit it lost some points near the end."

Kory has to remain silent here; she's never watched either show enough to make an intelligent comment.

"I didn't say Seinfeld was any better than Carey, just that it's about on the same level as Tarantino's dialogue," Steiner retorts with a grin. "And I must admit that Bader fella does tickle me just a bit."

"Well," Kory murmurs, "fun as this is, I'm starved." She motions for a waiter again, orders a chicken parm sandwich to go.

Randall inclines his head to Kory. "I hear you on that one," he adds, opting for what sounds like a Philly cheese steak with the rival city's name scratched out.

"Ahhh, I suppose it is getting a bit late," Steiner agrees with the unsaid sentiments. "Anyhow, it was good to meet the both of ya. Jake Steiner, by the way," he concludes, offering a large, calloused hand to shake.

"Kory," she takes the hand to shake. "If you wanna continue this geeky thing sometime, I work at the Secret Lair." She offers him a wink and a smile to show no genuine hard feelings.

The other guy offers a handshake as well. "Randall. Nice to meet you. And I promise to keep the camera turned away if you feel any costume urges coming on later."

"Not my sort of place usually, but I might stop on by sometime… and I don't think any 'urges' I have will be of that sort, but I do appreciate the assurance. If y'all will excuse me, I actually have some things to be about, myself," Jake replies as he pushes to his feet and calls the bartender to sign off on his tab.

"Well, it's not all geek stuff. There're books and movies. And if you really want something different, Enlightenment's just up the street," Kory tells Jake. "Thank you," she adds to the waiter who was nice enough to pack her and Randall's dinner quickly.

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