|AIR DATE 2011.08.24|
|Location:||West Hollywood - Millions of Milkshakes|
|Synopsis: Elliot's milkshake does not bring all the girls to the yard.|
What better place to go after working at a coffee shop than a milkshake parlor, right? How can that combination get any better, except with the addition of hamburgers or something? Late in the evening and despite most of the school-aged kids having gone home, Concordia makes herself out to look like some private school freshman or something, sitting all alone at a back corner booth sipping on a tall milkshake. It's the white collared short-sleeve with three buttons and the pleated skirt, no doubt. The old-school glass sweats, and both a straw and a spoon are used to enjoy the melty treat. Even though comedies are being shown on the television sets around the place, she doesn't seem to be watching them, but rather, jamming along to some song…sans iPod.
The beauty of living in LA during the summer is that a milkshake is a welcome treat at all times of day, and even Elliot Couch isn't immune to the siren call of chilly dairy goodness. Indeed, it might just be the salve for a sore day. He's just finished ordering something tall and intensely chocolate when he receives a text message that distracts his attention from just where he's wandering. Auto-pilot sees him to the booth nearest the jamming Concordia, and once seated, he tucks his phone back into the pocket of his slacks and leans back into his seat with a soft sigh.
It's not just head-bobbing or finger-tapping; this is full-on jamming, from air-drumming to lip-syncing to air-pedaling on an invisible base drum under the table. The end result is that the tables nearest hers are probably getting shaken a bit. I mean, we're talking hair-band style head snaps and stuff. It would also explain the wide berth that most of the patrons have decided to give her, rocking out such as she is, and without any evident source for her jams.
Alas for Elliot and his distracting text. Still, it's impossible for him to remain ignorant, and the tension that had begun to ease from his face returns as it sinks in that the racket in his nearest vicinity is not, in fact, a passing truck. A moment passes as he considers whether moving would be prudent, but he's already claimed this booth and damn if he'll move now. He turns his head to fix Concordia with his best wilting glare and raises his voice to hopefully be heard over the imaginative pounding of her invisible bass drum: "Excuse me, are you having some kind of seizure?"
Abruptly, she stops, looking at the guy through some messy strands of hair and a pair of too-big glasses. "Why? Did I look like I was having a seizure?" She replies while moving hair back out of her face, which has the effect of making her blue eyes look gigantic behind the lenses. "I was playing the drums and stuff, you know, to go along with the music. Rock station from right here in downtown Los Angeles. I can stop though, I guess. If it looks like I'm having a seizure."
Harry has arrived.
"Ah, so you were just hallucinating, then," remarks Elliot with a snide smile to match. "As long as we're both on the same page. Don't let me stop you listening to whatever it is you're listening to, but if you could do it quietly, that would be fantastic." Having delivered this sweet admonishment, he turns back to his interrupted milkshake.
"Wait…you mean? Can you hear it too?" She leans way forward when she asks, making her eyes practically as huge as silver dollars. "That's so cool!" she continues, plowing her way through by assumption and with the social grace of a drunken elephant. "I mean, it'd be weird, because you'd think there'd be all kind of interference and maybe even that terrible screech that speakers make when you get them too close or whatever…but you know, right in the middle of your brain!"
BRAINS! That's Harry's cue to enter, correct? Either way, the CSI scientist slips into the milkshake shack without much looking around to who is there. She's gathered a liking to it ever since Theodore insisted they meet there before and no other milkshakes will do in her search for sweets and dairy products. And so, she finds herself in line to get a new concoction she will hopefully enjoy before sinking back to the lab to work some more on her latest case.
Clearly sarcasm is lost on this one. Elliot's smile curdles into a scowl and he leans pointedly away from the encroaching air-musician. "Dear Christ, no, I don't hear your magic invisible band or whatever-the-hell it is," he utters, at least having the decency to keep his voice to a low growl.
The jaw-waggle is pretty evident, as are the few heavy blinks. "It's not magic or invisible. It's there, really, for real! I have proof now. It's definitely KROQ, the radio station!" Still, she slumps back into her booth, deflated, crossing her arms over her chest. Chances are that milkshake isn't going to get finished tonight.
After Harry puts in her milkshake order, she leans against the counter and spies the trainee ACRU member that goes by the name of Elliot. Standing her ground, she neither acknowledges or makes a fact at the man who seems to be making another young woman horrified and generally upset - his usual MO. Instead, she will let him mind his own business and pick up her delicious ice cream-like beverage.
"Fascinating," Elliot deadpans, straightening in his seat again now that his precious personal bubble is no longer threatened. He makes as though to delve into his own milkshake, but he can't get more than a few stirs of the spoon and a sip from the straw in before he slouches back into his seat with pursed lips. Two milkshakes down …
Sulking, looking cross and petulant like a little child, Concordia slouches down in the booth seat and closes her eyes. She's not trying to take a nap though, she's looking for something the way only she can. Under closed lids her eyes move around like she's getting into some serious dreaming, but no, she's just trying to find one specific thing.
Whatever that specific thing is, Harry is completely unaware. Instead, the brunette takes her long glass of milkshake and walks by both Elliot and Concordia. As she passes, she sighs and shakes her head at the ACRU recruit, "You are such a jerk," she sighs as she moves past.
The jerk visibly bristles at the passing remark and turns a wide, wry smile on Harry. "Thank you, your opinion is highly valued." But some of the venom has gone out of his bite, and he returns to idly stirring his melting milkshake.
From behind, Concordia 'hmmphs' a bit, not finding what she was looking for, exactly. She blinks back to reality and looks around the place. "I was just having a little fun," she reiterates, all the while gathering up her purse and her thin little sweater for going outside and walking home. "You should lighten up and try it some time!"
There is no pithy comeback from Elliot this time. He is content to brood into his milkshake — which, it turns out, did not bring all the ladies to the yard.