2010-06-01: It's Official, You Suck



Date: June 1, 2010


Lee finally delivers a rant he's been saving up for months. Randall is having none of it.

"It's Official, You Suck"

East Village

Lee is at his favorite Lebanese coffee stand, which orders its coffee filters from the same delivery company where Randall works. He is there on his iPhone, on headphones, arguing with someone while downing the most insanely strong and pungent coffee possible. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no." Lee is explaining. Surely the person on the other end of the phone finds this helpful.

The stench of Somebody Else's Caffeine Fix keeps Randall at a distance. What do they do with that stuff, dump it in the East River for three days and then bring it back? He's still close enough to overhear Lee's side of the phone call, though. "This 'no' goes to eleven," he quips to the girl behind the cash register, pointing a thumb before returning his attention to the day's supply drop-off.

Lee has to come back to dump his coffee cup, when he espies Randall, and his eyes narrow and he quickly hangs up - a new target has presented itself. "Heyy, Randall." he sneers, viciously. "What's happening, made it on the sex offender registry yet?"

Randall turns, at the mention of his name, and… oh, great, that day is coming back to haunt him again. He's studiously avoided the Lair since then, lest Nequebaard or a released Leslie decide to use him as a bat'leth sharpener, but random encounters are another matter - and Lee's clearly heard only the ugliest version of the story. "For the record," he replies, "I didn't even kiss her, all right? She just crashed on the couch and, well, assumptions were made." Will he buy it? The jury seems to be out with the cashier, who quirks her lips and busies herself with dealing with the line.

Lee snorks, "Riiight." he says. "Well, I guess she was really lucky then, a real lucky girl not to actually get, ya know, attached to you." He smirks. "Because that always works out well. Let me tell you something, you shmuck." Has he not told Randall anything yet? "I knew Kory was too good for you the minute I met you. All that superpower conspiracy nonsense fucks with your head, makes you think the world ends about two inches in front of your nose, which is convenient since it's all revolving around your own head. It's a fucking epidemic and you're a goddamn Typhoid Annie of the disease."

Pulling up a chair to lean back against, Randall narrows his eyes. "Really? There are people who use their powers to murder people, there are others who get locked up for doing nothing— and I'm Typhoid Annie? Really?" Then, having shot his bolt, he shakes his head and takes a step back. "I don't even know why I'm bothering. Not like I'm about to change your mind— and not like I don't already know how clueless I am about women, without you jeering from the sidelines."

Lee says, "What, like I'm Lothario and Casanova rolled into one? Get a clue, moron, you have a problem with women, and I don't mean you have a problem getting them, I mean you have a problem with them. It's a lot easier to hide behind being a dork that gets himself into bad situations - 'gosh, here I am again, in a bad situation because I'm so clueless about women' - than it is to man up and do something about it. As for the rest, yeah, people are idiots, but it doesn't make you right, it just makes you an asshole." Lee ostentatiously wipes his hands on a napkin and tosses it. "Do us all a favor and grow up." He apparently means that to be his exit line.

What— what does half of that even mean? Maybe there's some sort of logic behind Lee's train of thought, but it's buried beneath so many layers of 'House is the most awesome guy ever and I must imitate him' that Randall can't figure it out, and isn't really inclined to try either. Yes, that's right, Randall thinks the guy is nuts. "Whatever, man," he finally says, shaking his head as he turns away as well. "Remind me to introduce you to Hallis one of these days, you two probably deserve each other." Another person he completely doesn't understand, even over and above his usual foibles.

Lee says, "I'll be sure to put it on my fucking calendar." He flips Randall off, walking backwards with uncanny grace, then spins on a heel, and is gone. Boy, caffeine really charges him up, doesn't it?

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License