Starring:
Summary: Three freaks walk into a bar. The bartender says, "There's a fly in your soup!" and Rudyard says, "Yes, I know. It's like a hot tub." Laurel freaks out about the spiders, and Daphne just sighs.
Date It Happened: 30 AUGUST 2007
WHO IS RUDYARD
Raccoon Lodge Bar
"Hold on," she says quietly to the tiny parrot in her hood. The little green thing flutters, peeks its head out - black eyes looking around curiously as Daphne enters the Racoon Lodge - then hides again. This is one of those times that Daphne simply couldn't leave the house without her constant companion tagging along with her, and this time, Daphne didn't even realise it until she was in her car and halfway there. She'd called Rudy earlier, then Laurel, and asked them both to meet her here. After the text she sent to her best friend, an explanation is duly owed.
Picking a seat by a window with two booths facing across from each other - and also, where she can see the other two as they arrive - she waits. Raptor hops down her arm and onto the table, picking up a packet of sugar so she can toss it around. "Don't eat it," Daphne mutters to the little bird.
"NO U," Raptor replies.
—-
Hoping he's not late, but being notorious for being an early arrival, Rudyard enters the bar. He's dressed casually enough, nice slacks, nice button down shirt. No tie, no suit. That should make Daphne happy. Upon entering, he looks around the bar. Seeing the woman, he smiles her way and approaches. "Hello, I'm not terribly late am I?" Silly question. He slides into a seat next to Daphne.. and notices the bird. Not again!
—-
WHO IS RUDYARD!?
That had been the response (in all caps) even if it'd been logged in backlog for when she turned her phone back on. The question hasn't been answered yet. But there's a meeting. She asked the question again, deflected. Meeting, okay, fine! She'll be there. And there she is. Dangling from her shoulder is an expensive camera bag, and she walks into the bar, casting a glance around. She's punctual. And there's her friend sitting at a booth— WITH A MAN. And a parrot.
She knows who Raptor is. But this man is new. Totally new. She's never seen him before. Oh god, oh god, Daphne really DID get a boyfriend. She starts to open up her camera bag almost instantly, hoping that they're distracted with each other while she pulls out the camera and takes a picture. If there's no picture, it didn't happen.
—-
Rudyard is…
Complicated. Very complicated. He's a friend, though he's sweet enough to be more. Maybe. Not yet. Daphne's still waiting on that, the verdict is still out, she's doing the 'wait and see' thing, because he's a bit stuck-up at times, though Daphne's starting to recognise that as a whole lot of shyness manifesting in strange ways. He's spoken with insects his whole life. They're his best friends.
"You're not late," she says, smiling as Raptor intricately tears the top off the packet of sugar, and dumps it all over the table. Daphne reaches out, picks up the little pain, and stuffs her in a pocket. Raptor, of course, protests, though the pocket has a /zipper/ on it. <I swear to /God,/ if you poo in there, I'm feeding you to the snakes.>
<Ur mean :(>
She sweeps the sugar into a pile with her hand. "I asked a friend to come, too. Someone I want you to— "
The flash indicates that Laurel has arrived. " —Meet her. I'm going to kill her first, though."
—-
Rudyard doesn't notice Laurel snapping the picture. Oh no. Not at all. Bugger. He's quite shy as it is! The small parrot is eyed ever so warily as he reaches over for the drink list.. being a bar.. it should have anything he might want to order. So perhaps.. a nice whiskey from the motherland. Glenmorangie should do the trick. Not that he's a big drinker, far from it, but it sounds good and it should help him loosen up a touch. The bird's antics earn a bit of a stare, then the flash gets his attention. As Daphne points out Laurel, the flash going off, he turns and stares in her direction. "…. I see. Photographer, I gather?"
—-
Picture taken. If it develops later, then the person in the picture is real and this really happened. Laurel puts the camera away, at least. That should be a blessing for these two. And maybe for her. She just got a death threat. :( She is mean, Raptor. Really mean. "Hi— um— a bar— that's not your usual… uh— place." She looks at him for a moment, and then settles into the booth across from the two of them and looks at him especially. She's seen her friend more times than she can count— so she gives most of her attention to this strange man across the table. Strange. Older. Man.
"I'm Laurel Halifax. Nice to meet you." Oh look, drinks. She picks up a menu. Don't make Raptor poop on her, okay? Thanks.
—-
"Yeah, she's pretty good, too." Especially when it comes to those weird symbols appearing at random in her photographs. Creepy. Anyway, this isn't the fanciest place in the world, but somehow it puts Daphne, at least, a little more at ease. It means no one has to impress anyone here. All she's going to order is a beer of some kind.
From the pocket comes Raptor's muffled voice: "SHE WANTED TO GET THE STICK OUT OF HIS AdSS."
Aaaand Daphne sighs.
"This is Rudyard," Daphne explains, attempting to hide the fact that her parrot has a big mouth. "I figured if we all met here, it'd be a little more comfortable for everyone. No… expectations or anything." That's the translation of Raptor's crude words, and she sticking with it. "We met in Central Park." The thing is, both Rudy and Laurel have abilities. Neither of them know about the other, so… Is there a way to get this out into the open?
—-
Rudyard is strange, and older. This cannot be denied. He offers a cordial smile across to Laurel and introduces himself, "A pleasure Miss Halifax, I'm Rudyard Thorpe." What Daphne said.. and then.. Raptor gets a look.. and he clears his throat embarrassedly. He thinks he'll order that whiskey now. Thanks. He's gonna need it, something tells him.
—-
"Guess so," Laurel says curiously, glanding towards the drink menu. When random waitress (cute) approaches, she orders first, some kind of fruity girly thing, but with tequila. And it's all frozen, too. She doesn't even get cardedawesome. The others get to order their drinks too, of course. "So, Central Park. Just met at random and— then went out together." And— oh, he has a hot accent too. Okay, Laurel approves. Just so she knows. But she doesn't say it outloud. Even if he's old and strange. "I'm a photographer— freelance, do a lot of work at weddings and graduations and stuff— and for companies too. What do you do, Mr. Thrope?"
—-
He's not THAT old, come on! Daphne gives Laurel a look as if to say 'See what I mean?' Or, rather see what Raptor means? He's so infuriatingly proper, maybe the alcohol will make him smile a little bit, or… something.
From the pocket: "I LIKE TA MOVE IT, MOVE IT. I LIKE TA MOVE IT, MOVE IT. ROW ROW ROW YOUR BOOOOOAT"
"Oh, for crying out loud. Rudyard," Daphne says. Speaking of accents, hers is painfully obvious with that statement. "Rudyard. Laurel. Daphne. We all have first names." Anyway. "Central Park, yeah, it was…" She could just tell Laurel. After all, they both have abilities, it's just a matter of letting each other know that. "Uh. He knows. What I can do. With the animals."
—-
"I am an entomologist.. Currently I am working with the Museum of Natural History. On loan as it were from the Smithsonian. I'm on a bit of a break from my teaching position at the University of Maryland," Rudyard explains, then is quickly distracted by the parrot .. singing. Daphne's outburst has his brows raising. "What? Oh.. yes.. forgot. She doesn't quite care for formality. And I do? Oh yes, I do, sorry." He offers up a brief and not quite forced smile at Laurel. "There was a bee incident I'm afraid."
—-
"Geez…" Laurel shrinks back a bit as her friend snaps at her— and at the crazy bird, too. "Rudyard, okay, okay." She'll use the name. Geez. Even if it's weird. There's a long moment when she's looking at him with eyes that show she has no idea what an ento-whatever is. No idea at all. But then— Daphne says he knows of her love for animals and he mentions bees. It's a damn good thing they're in booths. If this was a chair, she might have fallen out of it. And knocked it over. And caused a mess. "Bee— bees!? Bugs? Like— oh— he's the one who…" She points at him, looks at Daphne. And there's something accusing about her finger. Point! POINT. But at least she resists the urge to yell. 'YOU. BUGMAN.'
—-
Yeah, well. She didn't mean to snap, it's just that… The whole… Formality thing. They're in a bar, for crying out loud! In fact, when the drinks are brought, Daphne picks hers up right away. Nice cold mug. She's in the middle of taking a drink when Laurel starts pointing at Rudyard, and it's about then that she realises she's told her friend about this guy. Oops. WELL— "I… didn't think I'd ever see you again at the time!" she says, feeling the need to defend herself. What were the odds, really? Apparently pretty good, considering they exchanged phone numbers and everything, and now here they are, sitting together in a bar. "Sorry, Kipling. I really didn't."
—-
Rudyard looks taken aback by Laurel's change in reaction towards him. The pointing of the finger, the accusatory tone and expression. The man slowly shifts his gaze to Daphne. "I.. well.. I think.. That is I can see where you would have thought that. Understandable." He shifts a little in his seat then oh look, whiskey's here! Picking up the glass, he takes several calming sips. All his life, he's kept his ability a personal secret, close to the vest, now two people know. It's a bit unsettling.
—-
Sorry, sorry… Laurel lets her hand lower, suddenly looking around the room in a paranoid fashion, as if to see if anyone's listening in. Like the Men in Black. Or the Blue Glove Men. Those people. She would rather avoid them. When she's sure no one's paying undue attention, not even the waitress who brought their drinks, she looks back at him and just says, "It's just that I don't like bugs. They're creepy— crawly things." Creepy crawlies. She even shudders visibly. The frozen tequila drink has a straw, and she drinks from it a little, before she adds, "It's— kinda cool. I mean. You two meeting and then going out on dates…" Makes her wonder if she'll meet a nice guy at random. Maybe one who can… walk through walls, or something. "I'm weird like you guys." She says, casting another quick paranoid glance around. "Cept I make walls. Invisible ones." So, shh. ._.
—-
"It's not a date!" is Daphne's first reaction. Then she glances at Rudyard. "Is it?" Maybe? He's — Probably the weirdest person she's ever maybe possibly liked, and he's certainly got something in common with her, even if it's bugs, and even if his bugs kind of stung the living hell out of her in the park that one time, and… "They're all right," she says to Laurel. "I mean, he…" She glances to the side again. Raptor wiggles around in her pocket, some, but she ignores the bird for now, even as she declares the fact that Rudyard and Daphne are GETTING MARRIED, O-M-G. "He brought me flowers. With butterflies." There's a sigh, then, "Yeah, that's why I told her, Rudyard. She's got this thing she can do, too." It's quiet, but still audible, just in case someone's listening. "Told you there were more."
—-
"I can see how most people are under that misconception about insects. They're quite remarkable creatures.. and the spider above your head has taken great offense to your statement." Rudyard states this quite matter of factly as he takes another drink of his whiskey. Which he promptly chokes a little on. ".. it's just been one date thus far.. Well this is the second.. I think," is said about the same time Daphne protests as well about dates. Then when Raptor speaks up, he's slamming down the rest of his drink and signalling for a refill. "Walls? Barriers? Like forcefields you mean?" Hey, he remembers that term from movies and the few comics he's seen. The expression he gives Laurel is incredulous. "This is a bit much to take in."
—-
"Oh, butterflies are nice," Laurel says with a hint of surprise, trying to think of all the nicer bugs now. Fuzzy caterpilars are also cute. And rollybugs. And stuff like that. They're not all gross. But the spider above her head definitely gets a paranoid glance. You. Stay up there. No touchy. "It can't understand me, can it?" She asks, pointing up at it, though her hand is blocked from everyone not across from her by her own body. "Yeah, like forcefields, I guess…" It sounds so science fiction when they're called forcefields. "Daphne's accent came from another one like us. Though she's better at hiding it now." At least her voice is kept down. She's too paranoid otherwise. She takes a deeper sip on her drink. "So— two dates now. And meeting the best friend… big steps." And now she's smiling.
—-
Daphne's not a HUGE fan of bugs, especially bees, which she fears rationally now. But she has to say, some of them are pretty cool. Like praying mantises, and tarantulas, and beetles with horns on their heads, and, yes, butterflies. Daphne can be awfully girly sometimes. As Laurel talks, Daphne concentrates on her beer. Unfortunately, it's going to take more than one to get her to a point where she's not horribly embarrassed by the fact that she's just realised she's dating the bug-guy. Or, at least… Kind of dating the bug guy. Maybe she knew it before. Yeah, the crypic message to Laurel and all that. "It was really bad before," she says of the accent, dropping the American entirely now so Rudyard can hear just how bad it was. Totally stereotypically Irwinesque. Natalie did that on purpose. "Bou' the time tha' happened, I almos' lost m'job at the zoo. Came up with this story, tho', bou' gettin' 'it on th'head." She laughs, rolls her eyes, finishes her beer. "…And that's how I sound when I'm not literally concentrating on every single word I say. Her attention returns to Laurel, and she arches her eyebrows. "You're way to excited about my having found a friend who happens to also be male."
—-
"It can sense how you feel about it.. Don't worry. I've asked it to stay away and that you were nervous." How thoughtful of Rudyard. Although temptation is strong to mess with Daphne's friends. But he squealches that. Grateful for his refill when it comes around, he takes a drink and sets the glass down on the table. At the further explanation of Daphne's accent, he looks embarrassed and apologetic as he turns towards the woman at his side, "I'm sorry I did not believe you at first about the accent." He does wince as Daphne lets it come out full force. That is awful! The bar must have been a good idea, as he seems to be relaxing somewhat. "I think Miss.. Laurel is waiting for us to snog or something similar."
—-
"It's not that bad— it's kind of cute. Just stay away from sting rays." Laurel says, smiling a little. Part of her really does think the accent is cute. It's better than it was. And at least her friend can read again. There's a few things that she can add, but she suddenly has a side thought. "…Can you talk to sting rays? Or fish for that matter?" She knows her friend can talk to snakes, and penguins and other stuff, but— what about oceanlife? Or sponges! Those are animals, too, right? But yes, keep spider away. "I— I'd probably end up running into my own walls if it decided to drop on the table," she says, shivering. And taking another deep sip. She's not drunk yet. It's Daphne's presense that's making her feel able to talk about this. Even if she looks around again. Caution is important. And when she looks back. Snogging?
…
She picks up the menu. She hides behind it. "Please save that for Daphne's Little Zoo." Which is her name for her friend's house.
—-
Cute, right. Well, the beer's starting to get to her at this point, and she, too, has a refill set in front of her. That she seriously considers 'snogging' Laurel is strange, but she's not so buzzed that she doesn't realise that that's almost certainly the alcohol talking. She'll refrain. At least she's not embarrassed by it.
Can she talk to fish? "Well, there's the octopus," she says. "I think it has to do with… uh." She doesn't want to offend the spider. "Brain capacity? For me, anyway. The more advanced they are, the better I can talk to them. Sometimes I can hear bugs and fish and stuff, but not always." She pauses. "Then again, I've only been able to do this for, what, two years now." And, doubtless, there's still probably a lot to learn. While she can hear reptiles now, she has no idea how to talk back to them, which is why she has to be careful with them. Very careful.
Laughing when Laurel begs them to wait, she shakes her head. "Don't worry," she states. She's not quite sure she likes Rudyard enough for that yet.
—-
Rudyard is curious about Laurel's question to Daphne. Surely she must be able to talk to aquatic creatures as well. He glances between the two women, waiting to hear Daphne's response. Although.. now that he's relaxing a little, he does tease Laurel, "What's that? You want to say hello to Miss Halifax here?" Taking another drink of his whiskey, he coughs it back up into his glass at the dig about Daphne's little zoo. He catches the gist of that statement. What he's had to drink thus far is nowhere near enough to completely dull him to a lifetime of being an introvert.
Cue 'Flight of the Bumblebee'.. which is no more than Rudyard's cellphone going off. Mumbling an apology, he pulls out it to check the text message then frowns. "Sorry, I've got to go. I'm needed to help with.. well it's work." He doesn't go into detail, as he gathers from the message that it's something messy. "It was a pleasure meeting you Laurel.. Daphne? I'll call you, alright?" He gets up from the table, hesitating a moment as if pondering something, then just heads to the bar to take care of the tab so far before leaving.
—-
Aaahhhh ahhhhh. No snogging please. No spiders. Ahhh. But then the man starts to leave and Laurel lowers her menu. "Oh, you don't have to— okay… It was really nice to meet you Mr … Rudyard." What kind of a name is Rudyard anyway? Is it okay to call him Rudy? She might just give that a try later. "See you later, I hope." She almost reaches for her camera, to take a photograph of his retreating form. But then she looks back across at her friend. "You don't think I scared him, do you?" He left pretty fast. And she's paranoid.
—-
"Scared him? No, he's like that." Daphne laughs, wrapping her hands around her beer, and looking down at the table. "I didn't like him at first. He comes across like… That. Like he's rude. He's not." Somewhere along the line, Raptor decided to take a nap in her pocket, which is why she hasn't been heard from lately. However, when Daphne shifts, the bird gives a whistle, and Daphne finally unzippers her pocket to let the little critter out. She busies herself with another sugar packet, only this time, she doesn't tear it open. See? Raptor LEARNS. "He's really shy. I kinda figured that out, but… Look, it's nothing just yet. I'm giving him a chance, and so far, he's doing a damn good job impressing me."
And so the night goes on uneventfully. Raptor has a few more time outs in the pocket, and Daphne stops drinking somewhere around nine. She does, after all, have to drive her and Laurel both home.