is it too early to bring in this dork
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Post by hound on Aug 5, 2015 17:08:24 GMT -5
"You can call me Alex then," he replied, eyes drifting towards the hall where the elevator dinged, allowing his first customers of the evening in. He inhaled deeply. Very deeply.
"I don't understand why I'm here," he began, placing the cloth to the side. "It's like my mother thinks I'm actually good at this job. Of course, memorizing drink recipes is basically rudimentary work, but the social aspect"—Alex paused to take a breath—"tell me, do I look like I enjoy being here? Late at night, in a bar, adjacent to an absurd amount of alcohol, with a bunch of unscrupulous strangers who might possibly rob me if they had the chance?"
Alex finished his small outburst just before the face of a customer materialized at the bar's entrance. He straightened himself up, pushing his glasses in in a habitual movement.
"But of course, I'm professional. If I'm to do a job, I do it well."
He was relieved to hear that Trace wasn't interested in his mother at all. He was 18 after all— young enough to be Alex's brother for crying out loud. At least some people had some sense of decency.
"You would be surprised at some of the questions I get. My mother lets practically anyone into the lounge."
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Post by trace on Aug 5, 2015 21:54:57 GMT -5
And just like that he made it to second base. "You can call me Alex," he'd said. How intimate. It was almost too soon in their relationship for Trace's poor little shōnen heart to be able to take a big leap like that.
Trace's stupid little internal monologue died down at his outburst, however. He felt a little bad, taking things so lightly and joking around (even if it was in his head) when it was so clear that Alexander ー Alex ー was genuinely anxious and stressed about this. The conversation he'd had with Laina not too long earlier came to mind.
"Listen, Alex. I probably don't have any right to be talking about this stuff, but. I did talk to your mom a little while ago and you sorta came up in passing." He ran a hand through his hair a little absently. "She loves people. Really loves people ー that much was obvious just listening to her talk. And I feel like... she really wants you to grow to love people too ー maybe that's why you're here, to gradually get used to it."
Trace turned to face the new customers briefly, smiling, before returning his attention to Alex. If that was the strategy, it didn't seem to be working so well.
"You look like you're under a lot of stress..." he said, smiling sheepishly. "I'm cool with hanging around here for a while, so if there's anything I can do.." |
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is it too early to bring in this dork
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Post by hound on Aug 5, 2015 22:37:01 GMT -5
Alex's shoulders relaxed a little as he listened to Trace speak. So he wasn't out to give him hell like he originally thought— and so he sighed a little, rubbing his shoulder.
"She told you about that?" he asked, looking away. "I don't think there's an easy way to... go about this. I'm sure she's told you plenty about me already."
Leave it to Lain to show off his baby pictures to anyone who so much as breathes in her presence. Sometimes Alex wished she didn't do that so much— not only was it embarrassing, but it felt a little invasive in its own way— but Lain was a mother, and Alex felt hat it couldn't be helped. Instead, maybe keeping quiet about his personal affairs might just make him a little less anxious. Especially concerning his... people issues.
It'd been there since he was young. Always the quiet sort who didn't quite understand how to mingle with others. Whether it was his odd way of processing things (i.e., more systematically than what was considered normal) or his... gender... things. Alex never found himself wholly excluded, but neither did he ever feel like he really belonged anywhere but with his mother. Of course, he and Lain were on fantastic terms despite the grief she gave him, but... a twenty-three year old whose best friend was his mid-aged mother?
And a virgin at that?
Not that he even cared for intimacy, but by normal standards, people would label him as either a prude or a downright failure.
"I know how she feels about... people. It's one of the things I like about her, really," he continued, watching a man take a seat at the counter next to Trace. "But we're different people. I can't force myself to be like her, even if I wanted to."
The man waved Alex down and asked for a greyhound, to which Alex simply nodded. With almost reflexive quickness, he grabbed a stout-looking cup, filled it with ice cubes and poured in vodka with one sweep, then stirred in some grapefruit juice from the fridge.
Alex was, after all, an excellent worker. He didn't need to taste-check to know his greyhounds were delicious. He slid the cup down to the man who nodded back in thanks. This one was a regular— he seemed to like Alex's to-the-point bar tending style, and... he guessed that was one thing good about his social skills; he didn't ask questions and his feathers were rarely ruffled— at least by appearance.
But Trace grew more and more curious by the second. With his change of tone, Alex found himself feeling a little bad for being so judgmental earlier. Trace seemed to actually genuinely care about his feelings, which... was funny, seeing that they just met, but...
"If you're staying, stay. That's your choice."
Of course anything out of his mouth would come out blunt, even if he meant well.
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Post by trace on Aug 6, 2015 18:36:17 GMT -5
There it was. Trace's powerful and focused compassion laser had melted through the spicy ice prince's (okay, that totally sounded like a paradox, even if it wasn't) AT Field and his warm gooey insides were about ready to flow out. Okay, no, in all seriousness (half seriousness? Maybe an eighth seriousness? ー"in all seriousness" was just too much commitment for a guy like Trace), it seemed like his words had some positive effect on Alex. Which was pretty sweet.
"Not too much. She really just mentioned that she wants you to be happy and cares about your wellbeing 'n stuff... It was pretty cute."
That was probably one of his biggest moments of surprise regarding Laina. She was, like, this super sweet and hot young mom who loved people and made the same kind of jokes that Trace loved so much. The kind of faux-vain, I'm super cute and I know it jokes that Trace knew so well. But at the same time, with just a few words she managed to convey such a depth of affection for her son, it was actually surprising. And not just because Trace was a YA fiction protagonist with serious parent issues whose trigger response to displays of parental affection he never received was utter shock. No, her brand of parenting was honestly really fitting of her personality when he thought about it, but it was just so different than anything Trace had personally experienced ー it felt like she was her son's friend moreso than his parent. Which also seemed pretty rad.
"You're right, maybe you can't be her. But I don't think dealing with people is a skill you're born with, either. And, well, I think having a mom who's so invested and involved in your life is pretty cool."
Trace watched as Alex got ready to prepare that Greyhound, looking as if he didn't even need to think to put the drink together, like he came out of the womb whipping up Sangrias. Now that was way more impressive than Trace's ability to rather effortlessly socialize with just about anyone. It made him think that maybe if Alex had led a slightly different life he could've ended up an actor like Trace. Memorizing something to the point where the action became inseparable from you, it became something natural and automatic, spontaneous, that was the stuff that some of the greatest acting theorists in history (rest in peace, Meisner) must have dreamed of at night.
Grinning, he slid onto the barstool and propped up his arms on the counter. Alex clearly wasn't going to give him an easy victory, but he could handle that. "Well, then. I guess I'll just hang out with you for a while, then." |
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is it too early to bring in this dork
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Post by hound on Aug 7, 2015 17:01:10 GMT -5
He sighed. Trace was right. Lain was a good mother— at least in Alex's opinion. Though she seemed, at first, like someone extremely lax and prone to inebriation, as her alcohol collection would suggest, Lain was always in control. Of everything. Of her money, relationships, emotions. And although she didn't always exercise said control, there was nothing Alex did that didn't get her silent approval for one reason or another— she was too observant for that. And yet, incredibly understanding. Yes, she seemed to know almost everything that went on in Alex's life, but never once did she make him feel constricted, or like he had to pretend to be someone else around her. She let him make his own choices, his own mistakes, and let him become his own person. That in itself was amazing— and Alex knew he was lucky. Some people didn't have such a luxury.
The words out of Trace's mouth came as no surprise, but the reminder made Alex's face soften a little more. He knew exactly he he was here. He just... he had a habit of complaining. Maybe it was one of his numerous coping strategies.
"Well, she's lucky I'm not drinking. Alcohol would certainly make this job much more bearable."
See, that was a joke because Alex wouldn't dare to come to work drunk. It was funny, right?
Alex watched as Trace settled down across the counter, not feeling particularly jazzed by his presence, but neither was he feeling particularly unjazzed either. So it was another factor into the many variables that could make or break his evening.
"Suit yourself," he replied, giving a curt nod in the direction of another order. "But I'm not making you a drink."
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Post by trace on Aug 7, 2015 22:28:52 GMT -5
Alex definitely cared a lot about his mother too, Trace could tell. He didn't spend 5 hours every day staring at newborn babies and practicing his mind reading skill for nothing, you know. Either way, Alex and Laina definitely had some really great, Kodak moment-level family stuff going on, it felt like. A special bond or something. If a wannabe Voldemort ever came around, Trace's money was on baby Alex and Laina giving Tom 2.0 a run for his money just like in the original.
"Now that's funny. I bet it'd be great seeing how you are when you're drunk."
Trace pulled out his smartphone and opened up his internet browser. There was important work to be done. By which he meant catching up on the latest shiba cams and checking out cute pictures of dogs on the internet. Alex could probably appreciate that, even being the spicy ice prince that he was. In fact, he would probably enjoy it because he was a spicy ice prince. That seemed like a thing to come with the Russian territory. Trace could see him with some kind of regal, strong dog. Something very loyal and distinctive. Maybe a husky.
Ooh, yes. Definitely a husky— -
Oh god he had the best picture ever on his phone and he needed to show Alex, like, right away: this was an emergency. Grinning, he slid onto the barstool and propped up his arms on the counter. Alex clearly wasn't going to give him an easy victory, but he could handle that.
"I have something I think you'll liiiike," he said, sliding the phone over to Alex when he was done making the most recent order. On the screen was a picture of two shiba inus making the most adorable faces ever. "And I think I also have a pic of you in like. Dog form, too." |
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is it too early to bring in this dork
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Post by hound on Aug 8, 2015 4:43:31 GMT -5
"..."
Alex looked at the picture.
He looked at the picture for a long time, with a glass in one of his hands, a bottle of cognac in the other, and one confused customer blinking at him as he continued to look at the picture.
It was a picture of two puppies. Two shiba inus. Factually, they were very intelligent dogs, which made them popular splicing choices for the canine-inclined. But another thing about them was that they were really fucking cute. And Alex, being a dog person (and also a tiny bit dog himself) loved dogs, which by extension meant he loved shiba inus.
His expression did not change as he looked at the picture. Nor did he stop looking as he poured the cognac into the glass and finally slid it over to the customer, who mumbled an awkward thank you in return. At length, Alex finally pulled his eyes away, staring somewhere at the wall with an unchanging expression.
"...Very cute."
That was all there was to say on the matter.
Except. Not at all.
"While I like shibas," he started, taking another order without missing a beat, "I prefer larger dogs myself. Something sturdier, larger, more befitting an active lifestyle and one that would warrant a large estate in which to get it run. I do like spitz in general, so shibas rank a higher on the list than a dog such as a chihuahua, for example, but compared to its much bigger relative, the akita inu, I would have to pick the latter for its sheer size difference."
Trace didn't realize it, but with a single picture he'd opened the flood gates of hell.
"Of course, taking coats into account, I prefer dogs with more varied coloration. Akitas are wonderful dogs, very intelligent, feisty, and independent, but I also enjoy russian borzois for their odd, but endearing skull shape and their gorgeous fur— and, on top of that, they're very active animals as well, which I believe is an important quality for a dog to have. Though, I'm not sure how fastidious they are. Cleanliness is an important factor."
"But I think I can overlook messes if such a dog is amiable in nature. Friendly dogs are the best kind of dogs. I do prefer the kinds that are very open about their emotions— the ones that greet you with lots of energy at the front door, for example. They are straight-forward which makes it much easier on someone like me, because I don't have to guess at how they are feeling, or otherwise worry about their emotional well being. It's funny, because dogs can't talk, and yet they seem to communicate better than some people do..."
"But, I think," Alex continued, seemingly unaware of the fact that he was on one of his rambling stints again, "that the best dog is a siberian husky. And I am not saying that because I happen to be somewhat genetically similar to one. I believe huskies are the superior dog breed because they possess all the traits I find attractive in a canine. For example, they are aesthetically pleasant to look at, with their lovely black and white fur, sharp eyes, and stately posture. But, in addition, they are very playful, loving, friendly, silly..."
He trailed off a little, seemingly distracted with thoughts of love.
"I love huskies." Alex mumbled at length, soon realizing that half the bar's population just heard him think out loud.
He turned a very obvious shade of pink.
And with that, Alex's entire life was over. That was it. It was over. Gone. Good bye. Sayonara. Leave the funeral arrangements to his mother— Alex was too busy grieving the untimely death of his dignity.
"Oh god," he breathed. "Did I just say all that in public."
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Post by trace on Aug 12, 2015 18:59:26 GMT -5
Ooookay, Alex was staring at that picture for an unnatural amount of time. Hell, Trace thought it was adorable (and he'd obviously seen it a number of times) but it was really just the side show for the next picture he planned to show the bartender. The shibas were great and all, but they were just miso soup leading into the all you can eat sushi buffet, dog photo style. Either Alex had some serious dog-related childhood trauma or something was going on with him and dogs. Like, maybe he was a dog whisperer or something. That was like, a thing in the 2000s, right?
"So cute, right??? I like to think of myself as somewhat of an connoisseur, being part shiba myself and all," he added, thinking about how Alex inadvertently gave him a secondhand compliment. Because that's how it worked. He had some shiba DNA in him so any compliments to the breed as a whole naturally reflected on him as well. Logic.
Dog whisperer, he'd thought. If only Trace had known how wrong he was... Alex wasn't a dog whisperer ー he was way worse. It was almost as if Alex was a sleeper agent in deep cover and Trace had just sent him the text with the magic word in it activating him after 20+ years of married with children life. Except sleeper agents were supposed to be discreet and tactful when they were activated. As far as Trace was aware, they were very much still inside of Black Milk as Alex continued to vent his True Feelings and ultimate affinity for dogs.
A smarter Trace would've whipped out his phone and recorded this particular display. It was gold, pure gold. Were all of Alex's cutlery and plates dog-themed? Did he have a Siberian Husky-themed calendar hanging up on his wall? Surely he had dog-themed blankets for his bed or at the very least a shrine somewhere hidden in his bedroom.
Okay, okay. That was enough teasing. Alex was being really sincere and strangely forthcoming about his love of dogs and it was frankly very sweet and cute in like 10 different ways. Even if it was several shades of embarrassing, something that Alex only seemed to realize after the fact.
"Uh, yeah. You kind of did," he said, searching through his pictures for a few minutes before finding the one. "But more importantly!! Look! At this! I think I might've found you in dog form." |
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