2007-03-16: Beat at Joes


Benjamin_icon.gif Seamus_icon.gif Bekah_icon.gif Lachlan_icon.gif Randall_icon.gif

Summary: Patrons at Lucky Joe's Diner are treated to dinner and a show when a drunken Lachlan shows up to wreak havoc.

Date It Happened: March 16, 2007

Beat at Joe's

Lucky Joe's Diner, Lower East Side

Benjamin is seated at a booth with an older woman. Stop right there pervs, it's his mother. Whom he just treated earlier in the day to a matinee of 'Mamma Mia', now he's treating her to dinner. So it's not the /nicest/ of places to take one's mother for dinner.. but it was on the way to taking her back home and everywhere along Broadway was just too crowded. "I want to meet her again, she's such a pistol. Reminds me of me when I was her age," says the elder Winters. "Mom, she's just.. overwhelmed right now. Finding out I'm her dad, she's got a grandmother and moving to the city for college. She appreciated the sheet music by the way," Benjamin says to Margie, stretching just a little. He's pretty sure Rose liked the sheet music, even if she didn't say so aloud.

So Joe's may not be the /nicest/ place, but it's not a dump, either. The niceness of the place is actually what makes it a surprise for Seamus to be sitting in one of the booths toward the back, oversized coat and old gloves tossed casually on the seat beside him. But, it's a nice night, and therefore, a night for wandering. Lucky Joe's also serves some of the best burgers in New York, and is one of the few places whose staff don't give him odd looks when he asks for mayonnaise for his fries. He's halfway through a plate at the moment, though it's a slow halfway. The Irishman likes to /savor/ his food.

Bekah makes her way inside covering a yawn with one hand. She's dressed in casual, if a bit scruffy clothes, with a backpack thrown over her shoulders. Bekah looks around for a moment before she moves to find a seat, ending up with a little table near the back, not too far from Seamus's. She takes a look over the menu as she slouches back in her seat.

"Now Benji, be honest and just tell me why she doesn't want to meet again," Margie says in a mildly chastising tone. Benjamin groans just a little and pushes his plate aside, "Mom, I just told you. She's seriously feeling overwhelmed." Among other things. Margie flashes her son a look, eyes piercing and she puts on that mother guilt trip expression, "Fine. Alright. She's overwhelmed. I only want to meet properly with my granddaughter. The /only/ one I have." There's a groan from Benji as he receives that look, "Mom.. I'll talk to her again. See about dinner together.." "What about her mother?" "Mom! She's married and there.. can we not talk about this here?" Margie throws her hands up in defeat. For now.


That is the sound of Lachlan Deatley making an entrance. The bell above the door has never sounded less merry as the Scotsman shoulders the door open quite roughly and then takes a moment to slump hard against the small barrier that separates the counter and dining areas. Bleary-eyed and somewhat red-of-cheek, the man has obviously been drinking. A lot. He squints at the counter and the big black man behind it, then teeters a bit and wobbles around the barrier to drop into a seat. Nevermind that it's, well, occupied. By a certain Mrs. Winters. "Whups!" is Lachlan's slurred and grunted apology as he peers at the older woman, not bothering to get up. "Sssorry 'bout tha'. Fuck, yer comfy." And then? He proceeds to lay his head on her shoulder — or attempt to, at any rate. He might fall more within the realm of her bosom.

The CRASH-AND-RING of the front door automatically causes Seamus to jerk in his seat, ducking his head and scrunching down in place, before lifting his head enough to /peer/ over the tops of the booth benches. And then he stares. Isn't that the guy with the dog? Seamus is just trying to decide whether the Scot is the type to be dangerous when drunk — when the man drops onto Mrs. Winters, and Seamus nearly inhales his mouthful of burger. One fist comes up to thump against his chest, dislodging food bits from his throat and allowing him a few muffled coughs. Holy /crap/. One more moment of staring… and the redhead bursts out in laughter, quickly biting the back of one knuckle to hold it back to snickers. /Boobpillow/. Snk.

Bekah looks up from her menu as the door opens. The openly drunk state Lachlan is in gets an eye roll from her. But before she can go back to choosing her dinner, she's lured into continued watching by the drunk sitting on a woman. "Idiot man." She mutters under her breath.

Cue indignant shriek and the grabbing of her purse.. Margie does not carry a fashionable handbag. Oh no. It's a little old lady bag o'tricks. Containing heavy items that have no purpose, only for occasions like this. The woman wastes no time in attempted to beat Lachlan around the head with it. "Get off me! Rape! Watch your damn language you asshole!" Yes ladies and gentlemen, Benjamin came from this fine upstanding lady.. and speaking of the son. Benji just kind of stares, mouth agape before he gets up from his seat and.. does nothing. His mother seems to have this in hand. In fact, he's a little embarrassed to be seen with her. "H.. hey! You just sat on my /mother/, go find another place to sit!" Or he'll.. probably do nothing. The man's clearly a suit, timid and not a fighter.

Mmm-mm-mm, comfy boobpil— AWAUGH! Just as Lachlan was getting /comfortable/, he finds himself horribly assaulted by way of Gigantic Old Lady Purse Of Death +9. He is suitably stunned, allowing Mrs. Winters to get in a few good whacks before he manages to half-fumble, half-drop off the bench, spouting out several words that are likely best left unwritten. His arms flail up and over his head in an attempt to protect himself from the brutal attacks. "Fer bl— ! Jesus— ! /Christ/, woman!" he splutters, flabbergasted. "The bloody hell're ye tryin' ta do ta me?!" He scrambles away on hands and knees, rams his shoulder into a chair, then flips over onto his back and half-sprawls, half-lays up against the post of a nearby table. Mrs. Winters is given a horrified look that quickly hardens into indignant anger when Benjamin jumps in. "'ll sit wherever I bloody well /wanna/ sit, ye pansy arse nancy git pansy!" he barks back at the other man. "Ye wanna make somethin' o' it?"

Snicker. Chortle. Snrk. Seamus continues snickering into his hand, though a GUFFAW bursts loose in response to Lachlan's snapping at Benjamin. "Yeah, /clearly/ th' man can sit wherever 'e damn well pleases, an' 'oo're you ta contest it!" he adds over Lach's head, his own face the very /picture/ of indignity and righteousness. Before the grin cracks back over his face, that is. Bahaha. Benjamin doesn't even get a second glance from him; instead, he leans sideways out of his booth, peeking down at the flop-sprawled Lachlan. "Oi. Y'need any 'elp down there? P'raps a bi' o' food ta sober y'self up?" One hand snags a fried potato slice from his plate and holds it out toward the Scot. "French fry?"

Bekah shakes her head again. "Yeah. Because one french fry is really going to sober him up. Sure." She mutters, not seeming to really care if it's heard. Instead she manages to drag away the attention of a waitress from the drunk man and place her order: grilled cheese, fries, and coffee.

Mrs. Winters does not stop getting in the swings until Lachlan is quite off of her and her seat. "What *SWING* DOES *THWACK* IT *SWING* LOOK LIKE!? Don't you talk to my son that way!" Oh dear, her swings get renewed as Lachlan turns to insulting Benjamin. "Mom.. you can.. stop that.. he's off of you now. MOM!" The last is said as Margie swings again, then pulls back, hugging her purse close to her, "Get him Benji! He /violated/ my personal space!" Benjamin looks from Lachlan to his mother, mouth gaping slightly. "Uh.. Nothing now. Problem resolved. You have a colorful vocabulary by the way.. but I think you should really go sleep off.." *sniff*phew* He waves a hand in front of his nose, "Whatever you've been drinking." He bristles inwardly at Seamus interjecting. This scene is just getting humiliating and Benji's turning red in the face. "He doesn't have a right to just sit on people," he utters, trying to fight temptation to give Lachlan that little nap.

AUGH, demon woman with a purse! When he's assaulted /again/, Lachlan's eyes get wide as saucers and he crab-walk-scrambles backward — which would be effective were his back not up against a pole. His legs get the brunt of Mrs. Winters' renewed savagery and he yelps loudly in protest (though it should be noted that he isn't in /too/ much pain, thanks to his overly inebriated state). "Fuckin' /crazy woman/!" he bellows, kicking his legs vainly and managing to propel himself in a half-circle around the pole. This is brought to an end by the second chair pushed up under the table, in which his feet get entangled. What a mess! "Oy, oy! Ye keep yer bloody daft mother away from me!" This, of course, is directed at Benjamin. And then there's a French fry. Lachlan stares at it in bewilderment, blinking once or twice in the hopes of clearing and focusing his vision. Doesn't work. It takes a few attempts of his weaving arm to snag the offered potato thing, and then there's more staring done at it before he happens to glance over at Bekah — and grin. "Heyyyyy, yer tha' woman from tha' nigh'!" Specifics? What are those?

Bekah gives Lachlan a closer look before she rolls her eyes again. "Ah yes. The man with the dogs who got into the fight with the homeless guy. How lucky of me to run into you again. And looking so wonderfully drunk." At least she does have a good memory.

"'Course no'," Seamus grins sidelong at Bekah, still holding the French fry pinched between two fingers. "S'th' beginnin' offer. I plan ta graduate 'im t'a sandwich." If he can catch the Scot's attention and hold it for long enough. Which… at the moment, is proving to be an issue. When Bekah speaks up again, however, Seamus blinks over at her before returning his gaze to Lach. "Tha's righ'— ya did 'ave a dog las' time I saw ya. Figure'n leavin' it 'ome in favor o' gettin' smashed, eh?" It's obvious from his tone that Seamus deems this a good choice! Then, Seamus doesn't like dogs.

"You had it coming," Benjamin says soberly. "Besides, I can't control her. She has a mind of her own." Margie does at least calm down, glaring death upon Lachlan, "Damn straight I do, son." The woman shoulders her bag, head held high, "I've got to catch the train home. You're taking me to Jersey Boys next month." It was not a request. Benjamin moves over to kiss his mother on the cheek after she rises. He doesn't walk her to the subway station, she's clearly able to fend for herself. Instead of leaving, he plops back into his seat, throwing displeased looks towards Lachlan and Seamus every so often. Louts.

Instead of getting a normal and sane reaction from Lachlan, the mention of dogs contorts his face into a dark, evil, /lethal/ scowl which is directed at Seamus. The Scotsman scrambles to stand, but the fact that he's under a table inhibits this process. It takes him several curses, failed and graceless attempts before he manages to get out from beneath the table and onto his feet, where he wobbles a bit unsteadily. "Hey, why don' ye /fuck off/?" he snarls at the Irishman. "Dunna be talkin' 'bout m'dogs tha' way, ye /bastard/, 'r I'll rip off yer bloody face an' use it ta wipe yer bleedin' /arse/!" His voice cracks a bit on the last word, eyes watering, and then he whirls around and storms (or stumbles /angrily/) out the diner door.

It's been a rough couple of weeks for Randall. First he blundered across people and other large objects being thrown around at high velocity, then narrowly avoided being caught in the crossfire of a turf war. And now he gets smacked in the nose by the door as it bangs open. "Ow!" he exclaims, taking a step back and rubbing the afflicted spot; he turns to see who was responsible, but decides it's best to just let it go.

Bekah rolls her eyes, it seems to be a common expression for her. "And there goes the drunk. Lovely." She notes dryly as she slouches in her chair. She looks over at Randall's exclamation, taking a look to the man. He doesn't seem too injured, so her attention is quickly diverted to the arrival of the waitress to pour her coffee.

…But… but… For a moment, Seamus just /stares/ after Lachlan, his mouth agape, French fry still pinched between two fingers. Then, in a jerk, he drops the potato bit to the floor and scrambles upright from his own seat, scooting awkwardly out of the booth and snatching up his coat and gloves. He almost dashes right off, but halts mid-step, digging a few crumpled bills from his jeans pocket and flinging them to the table behind him. "Good's always, Joe!" he calls to the man working the grill behind the back counter, before scrambling after Lachlan, whipping his coat on as he goes. "OI!" he shouts again as he exits the diner — barely avoiding crashing into Randall in the process — hoping to catch the other man before he gets too far. Chance meetings, any meetings, should not be left on sour terms.

Benjamin picks over what's left on his plate, and was just about to start practicing his ability on Lachlan.. when the Scotsman just goes off on Seamus. "He's such a delightful guy. I bet he's just a charmer when sober," is uttered sarcastically. "And there goes the other one." Nah, he's not annoyed at being laughed at and being made to feel like a wussy.. even if he is one.

Randall turns just in time to spot the door swinging toward him /again/, thanks to Seamus's decision to give chase. This time, he has enough presence of mind to put an arm up, letting it absorb the brunt of the impact. Finally, after a careful peek inside, he slowly eases the door open and steps inside, taking a quick look around.

Bekah looks over to Benjamin and grins. "Oh, I'm sure he's just such a wonderful ladies man with all that wit and charm of his." She states with a very dry tone before she looks over to Randall. "You alright?" She calls over towards him, raising her cup of coffee to inhale the smell for a moment before she takes a sip of it.

Benjamin looks around in some mild surprise as Bekah addresses him. A weak sort of smile is offered towards the woman. "Yeah, real ladies man. I hope his face hurts for days. Mom swings a mean purse. I think she has bricks in there on purpose." Noticing Randall, he winces just a little. "That's gonna sting in a bit. You okay?"

Randall puts a hand up to his face again, then shrugs. "Stings now, but no, I don't think it's broken or anything." Heading inside, he turns his attention to the menu, if only to get it off of the earlier run-ins.

Bekah nods her head. "You'd be swelling up and likely bleeding all over the diner if it was broken." She says this as if it's everyday news and then gives Benjamin a smile. "I bet he'll have a nice bruise or two to color his face when the drunk wears off. Or at least he will if life is fair. Ooh! Grilled cheese!" She takes the plate from the waitress pulling apart the sandwich to leave ribbons of melted cheese.

"That's good, cause you know, good luck getting that guy to take responsibility for things." Benjamin says as he finally gets up from his table. Money is laid down for the tip. "Sorry about the ruckus earlier.. even if mom and I didn't start it." He laughs a little, "I hope so.. even if that's not terribly nice of me to think. Sorry again about the show, I guess no one thought they'd get entertainment with their meal." He grins apologetically to Bekah and even to Randall as he heads for the door.

Oh, /that/ makes him feel better. Randall offers Bekah a glassy smile, then grabs a paper napkin and checks that he is not, in fact, bleeding all over anything. Once that's taken care of, he looks over again and settles on a club sandwich, hold the tomato.

"A little entertainment always makes dinner more fun." Bekah murmurs as Benjamin heads out. She gives a bit of a smirk as Randall checks his nose then shakes her head. "If you were bleeding everywhere, I would have let you know. No sense getting blood on people's dinners, after all." She points out to him. Seems she's not shy about talking to strangers.

Randall nods to Bekah, looking sheepish. "Yeah, you're right, I just— you know, you grab onto a thought like that and you have to force it to let go." Fishing out a couple of bills to cover his order, he heads over to a nearby chair and settles down, taking out a cell phone with a chunk of irregular-shaped glass taped to the fliptop.

"I guess." Bekah says, not sounding too convinced. "But hey, at least now you know you're not in fact gushing blood." She takes a big bite of her sandwich right after she says that, turning her attention to the rather interesting cell phone the man has.

"Mm-hm," Randall murmurs absently, his attention on the phone for the moment. No sandwich yet. Flipping it open, he looks around and takes a picture (with attendant simulation of a camera-shutter sound) of several other patrons, squinting at the result before saving it and trying again.

Bekah watches Randall do that for a moment before she just shakes her head and turns her attention back to her food. Ketchup is poured to dip fries in, and she savors more of the grilled cheese. It's quite the healthy meal, all in all.

A couple more shots, then the special-rigged camera is set down once again. "This is gonna take forever to work out the details," Randall mutters under his breath, using the bloodless napkin to wipe off both surfaces before stowing them back in his pocket.

Bekah gives Randall another curious look before she polishes off the last of her food. She stands, leaving money on the table as she grabs her backpack. It's slung over her shoulder as she shakes her head. "At the hospital or away, New York is just full of unusual people." She mutters under her breath as she heads for the door.

Randall glances up and waves, probably too far away to overhear the parting comment. Ah well, he's got his own meal to attend to, anyway. And there will no doubt be plenty more weirdness to come.

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