2007-02-20: Broken Glass


Adam_icon.gif Alyssa_icon.gif Cass_icon.gif Hector_icon.gif Randall_icon.gif

Summary: Adam breaks things and is mysterious, the girls are intrigued, Randall is also mysterious, and Hector is shabby.

Date It Happened: February 20th, 2007

Broken Glass

Oldcastle Pub and Restaurant

It's early in the evening and while the pub has some people in it, it's by no means crowded. Once again, Cass has closed the store early today in order to give herself a bit of a breather. The weirdness doesn't really have any end in sight and when that happens, she decides that it's not a bad idea to get a drink. While she is alone, she's also getting some food with it, so she doesn't feel like quite the alcoholic that she stereotyped herself as when she entered. Staring moodily at her fries, she takes a long drink of her Guinness.

No one really tends to notice Adam. Much, anyhow. Who would notice a man who keeps mainly to himself in a corner booth. Laid out in front of him, on the table of the booth, are several items. A wallet. Newspaper. Map of the United States. A mug of some dark brew. And a half eaten plate of fish and chips. For the most part, he's silent, save for the occasional muttering as he looks at the map.

When Hector shows up in a pub, it is generally for a reason. And that reason is to drink. Dressed in a grey suit shabby enough to have long lost any semblance of formality, he shrugs out of his similarly shabby overcoat at the door, and proceeds immediately for the bar. "Whiskey, to start," is the gruff order placed there, and he glances aside to the watch of the man seated next to him. Could be earlier!

As the door is swinging shut behind the other, it hits Alyssa's foot and with a strong kick she gets it open and slips inside. "Brilliant!" she announces to the pub space, though the brightness of her expression fades slightly to see the less than amazing amount of people there. With a shrug for that opportunity lost, she moves to the bar, pulling her newboy cap off and scrunching it into her back pocket. "I'm still processing," she tells the bartender before glancing along at the meager patrons. Her gaze hits on the shabby man nearby and stays.

From her perch at her own booth, Cass swirls some fries around in ketchup and then munches on them. While she hasn't really been paying attention to her surroundings - it's just another fake Irish pub in the city - she finally starts to look around to see who else is here for a drink. It's hard to miss Alyssa's announcement of pleasure when she enters and the shop keep keeps her eyes on the girl for a bit before wandering around the rest of the room.

Alyssa's 'Brilliant!' earns an over-the-shoulder glance from Hector as well, but he is single-minded enough that it doesn't last. His scruffy jaw worked back down at the bar until the drink he ordered is pushed across into his hand, he is quick to lift it for a swallow that ends in another sidelong glance at Alyssa once he realizes he's being ogled.

Alyssa doesn't seem too affected by any glances her way because she's too busy making someone /else/ feel stared at. If she'd drifted off any more she might not have noted Hector's second look, but as is, she notes his attention and, without batting an eyelash, asks, "Do you dress shabby because you /are/ shabby or because you don't want anyone to notice you in a crowd?"

Cass's drink is halfway to her mouth when it stops. Putting the pint glass back on the table, she looks back over to where she's kept half an ear on Alyssa. Do people actually talk like that to strangers? This is New York, after all, but it's still a half quiet pub. It's hard not to listen to the woman's faux pas. Gathering herself again, she picks up her drink and takes a swig, gesturing for a server to come over so she can order another. She's almost finished.

Hector, who looks like something one might dig out of an ash tray, and smells much the same, sniffs at the question. Or at his whiskey. Either way, he lowers his glass back to the bar and lifts a brow to force a tight smile. Polite. Sort of, anyway, for all that he seems somewhat rumpled by the question. "I am exceedingly shabby."

"Oh." The answer is short and unabashedly disappointed. After sitting with furrowed 'brows a moment, Alyssa is gracious enough to add, "Thanks, anyway, not everyone would have answered. Or, at least, not without some swear words." She then pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket but as she's smoothing it out on the bar top, her other hand is searching for a pencil that isn't there. Both ears, empty. Hair, empty. Pockets? No pencil. Well, that /never/ happens.

Cass watches the exchange with as much curiosity as she can muster, but it ends quickly. Sighing, she goes back to her now cold fries and her just finished beer. Luckily, the server comes by and she orders another Guinness, but keeps the plate of fries. Even if they're cold, she'll still pick at them. The server takes her empty pint glass and saunters off to get her another beer in an unhurried manner.

"Mmm," says Hector. Altogether less than impressed, he gives her an up-and-down looking over that trails into a look at Cass when she places her order, and Adam, with his map. "For your own well-being I recommend that you make an effort towards tact in the future. Not all New Yorkers are as mild mannered as I am." Ignoring the fact that the rough of his accent does not have roots in America, much less New York.

Alyssa pulls both her hands onto the bar in discontent, her fingers tapping out a boredom rhythm without a utensil to occupy them. She mulls over what Hector says, not noticing that she's being eyed by the waiting bartender again. "I've had some experience with them," she notes finally, "And I feel that you shouldn't dress a certain way without being prepared to get flak for it, just incase." Her usual glance around the room notes Cass this time.

Cass's attention has moved from Hector and Alyssa to the server, who is slowly but surely filling her order. Not normally so impatient, she pops another fry into her mouth and glances around. That's when she notices both Hector and Alyssa looking her direction. Blinking, her eyes switch between the two of them, an eyebrow raised in a questioning sort of manner.

"I could be poor." Whiskey is lifted, sipped, and lowered, only to be sipped again. "I could be homeless. You don't know." With that, and a stiff grunt, Hector drops himself down on the stool he's been leaning against.

Alyssa looks rather pointedly at the whiskey Hector is drinking but seems to refrain from verbalizing her complaint — this time. She's also very determinedly ignoring the bartender who just as obviously wants her to give some kind of order if she's going to stay at the bar. So it turns her back to the noticed Cass for the question, "Hey, you got a pen or something I can borrow a sec?"

Cass is in the middle of chewing a french fry when Alyssa makes her request. She keeps chewing, smiling a slightly embarrassed smile as she's unwilling to talk with her mouth full. Reaching back into her clipped up hair, she pulls out a pen that she's kept perpetually stuck there while marking up her copy of Activating Evolution. It's within easy reach there and she often forgets it until asked or she looks in the mirror. Finally, she swallows and holds out the cheap pen to the girl. "Sorry. Here you go."

"Dammit, woman!" comes a shout from Adam's booth, as the waitress trying to remove the used glasses from his table accidentally knocks one over. "I….I'm sorry, sir." the young woman sputters, as Adam shakes his head. "No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that." he says, picking up a stack of napkins and beginning to start sopping up the spilled liquid. "Th…thanks." the woman answers back timidly before picking up the rest of the glasses and disappearing into the back.

Adam shakes his head, watching her disappear behind the door. "That one there needs a bit more perk in her personality." he mutters under his breath as he straightens out the map.

As Alyssa looks pointedly at his whiskey, Hector looks pointedly back at /her/, belligerent at best, with level brows and the corners of his mouth down-turned. But before he can offer any argument in return, there is a minor ruckus about Adam's booth, and he turns to look, along with most everyone else, dark eyes tracking after the young woman at fault.

"I keep mine the same way," Alyssa admits cheerfully as she hops from her place to stretch towards the offered pen, "Ya know, when I remember it." As two fingers claim the tip of the pen, her attention is distracted by what is probably the loudest event this evening so far. Rather than watch either of the two people involved, Alyssa's gaze is attracted to the map on the table and she squints hard but it's just no use from here. Afraid that concentrating /too/ hard will make something… unwanted happen, she turns away to retrieve her crumpled paper for writing. "Bar," she mutters, "Quiet… Anyone know the date?" Her voice raises for the last.

Cass nods at Alyssa and gives a friendly smile. "Easy place to put it," she agrees. Hand still held out, but now without pen, she stares at Adam when he has his outburst. Once again, her eyebrows are raised questioningly. "The 20th," she says distractedly to Alyssa. After the little mix up with Adam's drinks the woman comes back over with Cass' and she gives the woman an almost apologetic smile. She's doesn't know Adam, but she hates to see people yelled at for harmless mistakes. In fact, one beer in, she decides she doesn't enjoy seeing the injustice and she'll say something about it. Pitching her voice just loud enough for the stranger to hear. "You know, it was an honest mistake. No need to yell at the poor woman. Maps sell for about fifty cents around the corner."

Adam glances up at Cass, his green eyes cutting a path right to her. "Ordinary maps, yes." he comments back, looking down briefly at the map. The map itself looks rather old. Faded. Folded over and over again. "My mistake, though. I shouldn't have yelled at her." he adds, shaking his head. The apologetic tone in his voice is there, but barely noticeable. His attention soon turns back to his study, unless something else drags him away from it.

Hector is slow to turn back to the bar, and slower still to resume drinking, though cold condensation has had plenty of time to trickle its way down around his wrist and into his sleeve. "Who is that?" is asked of the bartender over the rim of his glass, only to earn a shrug in response. "Hrmph."

Alyssa has written what she wants and is drifting back towards Cass with the pen when the map exchange comes up. Okay, see, now you're just asking for her to forget her earlier caution. Standing near Cass, but wagging the pen in map-guy's direction, Alyssa calls, "So what's so fantastic about yours?" Despite phrasing, the inquiry is not cynical. She really /really/ wants to know.

"Then perhaps you shouldn't put your super crazy expensive maps right next to your full pints." Cass' own tone is not exactly confrontational, but there is a hint of sarcasm and challenge that she can't keep out of her voice. "Right. Well, good thing you apologized and didn't continue to be a jerk to other people." Okay, now she's overstepping herself a bit. "Well, anyway, hope your non-ordinary map is fixable." She takes a sip of her Guinness, frowns and puts it back down. "Sorry if I'm being rude. But my extra-cold Guinness is totally not extra-cold. It makes me a little annoyed."

"Perhaps you should keep your nose out of other peoples business." Adam retorts. If she's gonna overstep the bounds, so is he. But then, she changes up and apologizes. What is with women these days? Dirty blond hair shimmers in the light as Adam nods. "Aye, I know what you mean. I prefer my Guinness almost down near freezing cold. Hence these…." he states, waving his hand over the three half-empty glasses. Obviously he's let them get warm and never finished them.

Alyssa catches herself right before nibbling on the end of the pen she's holding. Obviously these two are caught up enough in their confrontation-not-confrontation, but also Alyssa is content to just listen this round. Distractedly, she shifts the pen onto the table near Cass' fries, "Here, thanks."

"Yeah, well, you're the one who yelled in a quiet pub," Cass fires right back. "If you don't want people to be in your business, keep quiet." Shrugging, she takes one more sip of her not-quite-so-extra-cold Guinness and puts it right back down on the table. "I don't mind them warm, but they're better cold. Maybe it'd be better for them to just take the glasses away so your…you know, whatever, doesn't get all messed up." Blinking, she looks up at Alyssa when she thanks her. "Oh! Right. Sure! No problem. You can just keep it if you need to. I've got a million back at my shop." Picking the pen back up she holds it up again for the woman to take back.

Adam cracks a grin at Cass and nods. "Guinness gets too bitter to me when it gets warm." His finger runs around the rim of the latest glass, that is still displaying frost from the freezer on it. "Though I know chaps back home who prefer it warm. Wouldn't drink it any other way." Disgusting thought to Adam though. As if he could ever stomach warm stout. "You're probably right. I'll just set them on the edg…." Adam's sentence is cut short as the waitress reappeared at his booth without him noticing and glasses collide. The result is several broken glasses, and shards everywhere. Including his own hand.

Utilizing his temporary lack of company to pass quickly through what's left of his first glass and well on into the next, Hector's eavesdropping goes from broody to the bare edge of tipsily cheerful in a matter of minutes. Altogether more companionable once he's put in an order for round three, he leans off of his stool and turns to trail absently after Alyssa just in time to catch the shatter of glass. He stops and blinks, only halfway there, and thusly somewhat conspicuously disorderly in the pub's middle.

One can never have too many pens. "What kind of shop?" Alyssa attempts to insert in between sentiments about Guinness - eww - as she claims again what is now her pen. She is just shoving it behind her ear when noise and broken glass from the same table with the shouting before prompts her to move in that direction. This is probably not the greatest moment of that waitress' life and it's all she can do to grab a few scattered glass pieces and quip, "Glasses /hate/ you today." Doesn't matter if it's for the waitress or Adam, both could apply.

Cass returns the grin with her own lopsided smile. "I don't mind a bitter drink once in a while." When the drinks spill everywhere and there's shards of glass and beer and blood everywhere, she pushes herself to her feet and crosses the couple of feet to Adam's table to help clean up. She can't help it, it's in her nature to help out. She'd feel like a total jerk if she just sat and watched. Seeing that Alyssa is heading in the same direction, she nods in her direction. "It's a bookstore. New Age, really. Called Enlightenment Books. It's in the East Village." Grabbing some napkins, she drops a couple on the table to mop up the beer, then keeps a couple to staunch the blood from Adam. "Did you cut yourself? Here, let me see it." Unabashedly slipping into her 'doctor mode' she holds out her hand so that she can see the damage done.

Randall comes into the bar through the front entrance, pausing to adjust the shoulder strap of a battered backpack, and looks up just at the right moment to take in the crashing noise and subsequent confusion. Instinctively, he winces and takes a step back, looking around quickly to get a handle on where that came from and whether he needs to watch his step right away. As Cass moves in to assist, he snaps out of it, heading forward again: "Anything I can lend a hand with?" he asks, craning his head upward for a closer look.

Strangely enough, there's no yell of pain or any reaction from Adam. Instead, he calmly look up at the young waitress who is about in tears. First the spilled beer and now this. Fortunately, she escaped with no glass on her hands. "Alas, my bad." Adam starts, shaking his head. "Apparently I'm a total klutz today." The girl starts apologizing, but Adam holds up his hand. A few shards of glass fall out of the back of his hand, and a keen eye might spot the wounds healing themselves. "It's alright, dear. Tell the owner I'll make amends for the glasses." He reaches for his wallet, glass still falling from his hands and glances at Cass and Randall. "No cuts. No harm done." he says to Cass, shaking his head at Randall. "Just a couple of broken glasses is all. Nothing big."

At times rather capable of being a total jerk, Hector stands and watches…and lifts his glass for a long swallow of whiskey. Booze and a free show! What more could a man ask for? "Please, find something to bungle. That was a complete waste of drama. Not even any yelling." This is apparently addressed to Randall, though the elder gentleman makes no actual effort to get his attention.

From where she is half-crouched near the booth, Alyssa watches Cass and Adam's exchange, though the dreaminess in her eyes might suggest she's seeing something entirely else. That's probably why she doesn't seem too concerned even while scrutinizing the hand that's supposedly all clear. /Wouldn't/ it be cool if your skin rejected injury? Awesome. She's remembering that one. Sweeping some glass onto a napkin, Alyssa rises and offers this to the approaching Randall, "Dispose of this?" Hector is noticed behind them all and it's to him that Alyssa raises her voice teasingly, "Woulda been great if something flew across the room at least, huh?"

Cass stares at Adam's hand. Is the glass falling /out/ of the back of his hand or /off/ of it? She can't make heads nor tails of it. "I…wait. But…" she holds out the napkins to Adam so that he can blot the spillage off of himself. Or the table. Or his map. All of the above. "But I thought. Isn't that blood? How can you not be cut?" She's paying close attention to the back of his hand, so she does think she sees something…but she's not sure what it means. Her confusion is a little taken aback, though, when she hears Hector's jeer. She's still feisty and now she's confused. That makes her talkative. Glaring at anyone who might be staring at them in an interested manner and not trying to help, she makes shooing motions with her hands. "Hey, someone could have been hurt, here. This isn't a freak show, go back to giving your liver diseases."

Alyssa's request distracts Randall from the heart of the action, causing him to overlook what she and Cass are noticing. "Hmm? Oh, sure, right." Setting the pack down, he carefully closes up the napkin and carries it over to the nearest obvious trash can, or to the bathroom if there aren't any of those. He's checking the skin of his own hands as he returns, to see if anything managed to work its way in. "Flying? They don't really punch you clear across the bar except in the movies, right?"

Adam takes the napkins from Cass and uses them cover his hands. They stick thanks to the wet beer that's left on his skin. "I should probably go get looked at." he says, noting the somewhat confused look on Cass' face. He works to gather up the wallet and map on his table. Care is taken not to uncover his hands as he does. "This should cover it." he adds, leaving one hundred and fifty dollars on the table and standing up.

"Oh yes. Death by a broken glass. Very serious business." Brows knit to place a hint of extra emphasis on the true gravity of their situation, Hector does not bother to keep condescension from his tone, preferring to put his energy into being an ass. And drinking, if the sip that follows is any indication. "Quick, someone call the fire department before the remaining shards take it upon themselves to leap up off of the table and attack." Ignorant of the unharmed state of Adam's hand, he is not ignorant of the money dropped down onto the table, and he pauses long enough to look to it, and then flatly back up to the unfamiliar man's face.

"Depends," Alyssa responds in all seriousness to Randall on his return, "Who's 'they'?" She's grinning and glancing around again when-hey! That guy's leaving and he's taking his map, too. "What, really?" she blurts out, "I thought it looked fine." Now she can't remember between real life and what she'd been wishing had happened.

Cass's eyebrows raise when she sees the money Adam leaves on the table. Quickly, she looks from the money to Adam and then back down to his hand. "Good luck with that. I hope your map isn't ruined." At Hector's heckling, she doesn't quite glare at him when she turns her head to look over her shoulder. Slowly, she turns around and just gives him a look. When she speaks, it's with simple coldness. "You're a sad man if what you get your kicks off of is other people's pain and making fun of it." She slowly walks back to her table, finishes the rest of her almost full drink and drops some money on the table. It would be a lot more hardcore if she had enough money to drop like Adam, but all she's got is enough to cover her food and drinks and a tip. It's measly next to the hundred and fifty. She would also be more badass if she didn't stop to tell Alyssa, "Take good care of your new pen. Maybe I'll see you at my store some time." But, head still held high, she grabs her messenger bag, tosses her jacket on and heads for the door.

Adam turns to look at as he hits the door. "I think it will be ok." he says, as he disappears out into the streets of the city. The only legacy left behind is the broken glass, the money, and a few scraps of paper with meaningless scribbles on them.

Randall returns Alyssa's grin, and once again becomes properly aware of Cass's and Adam's respective departures only after they've become fait accompli. Hector gets a quick glance, but is left alone; instead, he peers at the name printed on the side of Cass's promo pen. "Hmm," he murmurs to himself, before looking up again. Now what? Oh yeah, there /is/ the original business of flagging down a drink for himself.

"Schadenfreude," Hector murmurs with a certain amount of relish, expression even until he grants Cass a nod of agreement and cannot help but crack a half-smile. "I am a terrible man, it's true. Terrible and shabby. I think after I finish this drink I shall go and have a cry." His eyes go back to Adam on his way out, and without further commentary, he turns back for the bar.

Oh yeah, pen. The one against her ear. Alyssa tips her head slightly to the side to acknowledge it's presence as Cass leaves and then a glance over her shoulder shows everyone retreating back to the bar space. Well, that summed up pretty boring. After considering a second, she trots up to where Randall is heading, shoving in next to him playfully, "Have /you/ ever seen a bar fight? Even one sans flying?"

Randall leans down to scoot his backpack closer to the bar, then straightens up and looks to Alyssa. "Not in person, no— I did get into a short fistfight back in high school, but I don't think that really counts. You?"

Having resumed his earlier seat, Hector has traded his frost-clouded glass for one that is still clear in an awkward reversal of Adam's earlier plight. From the occasional glance cast lazily after Randall and Alyssa, he has also resumed his eavesdropping.
"Nooope," Alyssa gives a loud lament, leaning both elbows against the bar, "Nothing so much as that on my record. But I've been keeping my eyes peeled. Since you admitted you were in a fight, you'd better tell me what it was about now to clear your good name." Noting the return of Hector, she cocks her head towards him, "/He/ hasn't fought. He's mild-mannered."

Randall's eyes flicker over in that direction for a moment. "He's a carrier, though," he muses. "Oh, it was something about grades and ego, you know, high school stuff. Not even a decent love triangle to spice things up."

"Most assuredly," says Hector to Alyssa. That the scar-crossed state of his knuckles says otherwise does not seem to phase him. He merely sniffs again, and stops tilting his glass from side to side for long enough to narrow one eye at Randall. "A what?"

Alyssa echoes Hector's question with her own "A what?" before glancing between them and adding, "Oh, girls and love triangles are overrated. There's far too much of them these days, unless you want to go into the whole romance novel or high fantasy bit. Elf chicks with big racks. Blah, done and done."

"Or anime," replies Randall, "but they tend to get even worse than triangles. Old friend of mine used to call them love dodecahedrons." He conveniently ignores any questions about the earlier throwaway quip. "Well, if you haven't been in a fight, then you owe me something else. What's something that makes you a fun flawed human being?"

Too muddled by the alcohol drifting around in his bloodstream to be particularly astute about the implications about this particular question going unanswered, Hector merely keeps up that odd look for a minute, then goes back to drinking. Young people.

"Ha, anime, yeah, that's a good point. It's being flooded into our media so badly right now," Alyssa chirps along happily. Two people can play at this ignoring parts of the conversation game. "But I've certainly never used dodecahedron, or carrier," she tilts a meaningful look at Randall but is interrupted by the motion of the waitress coming back to clear the map guy's table. "One second," Alyssa motions, slipping away from the bar. She wants to play vulture and see if anything interesting got left behind first. No, she's not going to take the tip.

Randall shrugs, leaning forward against the bar and crossing his arms on top of it. "Well, that's the thing, picking up bits and pieces that aren't being flooded. You've probably—" At that point, he leaves off as Alyssa gets up, instead reaching for his order (a bottle of Killian's, relatively safe ground) as it's dropped off.

Hector notes Alyssa's absence on a delay. It is enough to prompt him to sit up a little straighter to look back over his shoulder after her, and then back to Randall once he assumes that she is stealing the tip. Nothing to see there, clearly. "Hello."

Alyssa chats up the still-flustered waitress for a few moments, eyeing anything that looked like she could pretend it was some mysterious coded language. Barely a scribble on a napkin seems obvious but scoops a few up nevertheless. If nothing else, it's less trash for someone else to clean later. "Hey, shabby man," she greets on her return to their side, seeing him look a little perkier, "Find out what you're carrying yet?" Brain like an obnoxious broken record, this one.

Randall turns and generally regards the others. "'Ulcers' is the usual punch line, I think. What've you got there, anyway?" he adds, nodding to Alyssa. "Working on a collection of street artwork or something?"

"Rabies," is the offhand answer, slightly slurred when the shabby man in question peers blearily over at Alyssa in search of what she's brought back. "Ulcers as well, probably. I do have a name, by the way. It's Hector."

"A blog, actually," Alyssa admits, stuffing everything she's now collected throughout the evening into the same pocket. The pants are obviously used to it as they're quite stretched past their size. "The fictional accounts of someone with a life more interesting than mine. A superhero, no less," she pats the back pocket, "And some deserving people get cameos. Like my man Hector here." She bats big innocent brown eyes at him, "Well, then, I was off before. Cause you look pretty /good/ for a guy with rabies."

Randall considers that. "Superhero. That covers a lot of ground— Batman was basically from New York. Goes downhill fast from there, though." And he joins in with the light kidding of Hector over there. "Yeah, you can hardly see the foam unless you're looking for it."

"Now I'm going to be famous," Hector proclaims without conviction, shaking his head when the bartender leans in to offer another round from the bottle. Long fingers curl about what he already has, ignorant of ice spidered crisp about the rim, and he sighs. Content. For the moment, at least. "It blends with the beard, I'm sure."

Alyssa gives a determined shake of her head at this declaration, "I don't use real names, none of it is real. All fake." This is clear and emphasized. As is the look the bartender gives her after attending to Hector. She's gotta buy something. And she doesn't want to. Grinning sheepishly for the first time that evening, Alyssa bats Randall on the shoulder, "Batman's too self-involved." And she twirls away from the bar, turning to wink to both of the boys as she fishes the folded hat from her pocket and shoves it on her head, "Maybe I'll catch you around here again, guys. You know, if you're that unlucky in life."

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