Tiernan (pixielated) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-10-18 23:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | maddy rigby, tiernan smithe |
Sham-mwah
Who: Tiernan & Maddy
What: Popsicles
Where: Las Vegas, Bruce Trent Park
When: Wednesday Afternoon
Ratings/Warnings: Language
Tiernan leaned up against the water fountain, placing himself conveniently right next to the Joy Pop cart. Not many places held their farmer’s markets on weekday afternoons, but Vegas always seemed to go against the grain with these sort of things. It made sense, really; no one wanted to be outside in the bare heat of the day, so the market only came to life as the sun began its daily descent.
It made him nostalgic, in a way, remembering the nighttime markets of centuries ago where he’d spend time watching in amusement as some stupid person signed their life away without realizing it or got too caught up in the revelry to ever really stop. He’d seen more than one unwary child spirited away with the promise of a pomegranate or a taste of a greengage. Someone, he thought, might even have written about such a thing once -- he had spent so many of his day around artists and writers and musicians, it was hard to keep track.
This market, though, was for the modern crowd. Organic produce. Home-brewed kombucha. Hand-milled soaps. Everything from milk to mittens made from hemp. Tiernan had no need for any of that mess; he was in it strictly for the fruit-and-cream popsicles.
He’d had a fudgsicle already and was working his way through an orange cream, still eyeballing the milk and cookies variety on the menu board.
A blonde girl stood in the short line, scouring the menu board for a flavor of popsicle. A pair of flat-top sunglasses obscured her features, making the most prominent thing about her face the contrast between her lipstick and skin. In a pair of ragged cut-offs and an oversize tank with a knotted waist, she made her way forward to lean against the metal framework of the stand, going for a mild flirt with the attendant for shits and giggles, then yelped and snatched her arm back. “Ow! That shit’s hot!”
“Well. Yeah.” The attendant pointed at the afternoon sun.
“Right.” Maddy nodded. She rubbed her wounded flesh and pointed at the menu board. “I was wondering... Mango cham-oy. Sham-mwah. Sham-how do you pronounce it, and also, what the fuck is it?” Her voice was delicate and had the lilt of a cultured person, one that didn’t match her colorful choice of wording. She popped her sunglasses on her head and squinted at the Joy Pop employee. A woman with a small daughter made a noise of annoyance behind her.
“It’s different, but it’s good,” Tiernan called to the blonde at the head of the line. He was a people-watcher by nature, and couldn’t help but pipe up from time to time, forgetting that he wasn’t really a part of the conversation, just a voyeur with a mouth too big to snap shut. “You like Mexican candy? Tamarind and that? Then you’d like it. Not for everybody, though.”
It wasn’t really to his personal tastes. He didn’t care for much in the way of spice in his sweets, save the occasional cinnamon or cardamom, maybe some nutmeg if he was feeling festive. Just the thought of it was making him rethink his decision to skip the spiced apple cider this week; he might just change his mind.
“Tell you what,” Tiernan said, nodding at the cart’s attendant and feeling suddenly generous. “Why don’t you give her one on my tab? That way if she doesn’t like it, no harm done.”
He’d spend much of the afternoon depleting the cart’s limitless resources; they always kept his credit card in an open tab on the little whatsit they kept on an iPad to take card payments. Tiernan didn’t care much for technology on the whole, but he would grudgingly admit that such a thing could be useful, particularly in situations like these.
Maddy’s head snapped towards him when he started to talk, mouth parting on a note of objection that was mollified when he offered to pay. “Well, look at you! Mr. Charitable.” Maddy smiled at the man by the water fountain. He had a kind of car salesman face, she decided. Cute, but with a vibe like he was up to something. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was interesting. She turned a dazzling smile on the guy in the Joy Pop shirt, who handed over a frozen treat with a wad of napkins. A small tip was tucked into the canister and she nibbled at the corner of the popsicle as she meandered towards her benefactor, a couple of local honey stix in her hip pocket crinkling. She negotiated the ice cream onto her tongue to save her teeth from the jolt of cold.
“You killed my racket,” she whispered once she was close. “I was going to tell him I hate it, then talk him into giving me a free one.”
“Hey now, you don’t fuck around with Joy Pop,” Tiernan told her through a mouthful of orange cream pop. He swallowed and scrubbed at his mouth with a wrinkled paper napkin, shaking his head. “That’s like painting a mustache on the Mona Lisa. Not that she didn’t have one, of course, but you don’t add in those kind of details on high end portraiture.”
He grinned at the girl. Besmirching the sacred name of Joy Pop aside, he had a good deal of affection for anyone who could weasel their way into a freebie, especially when that freebie was made with high quality full-fat cream.
“Name’s Tiernan,” he offered cheerfully.
“Maddy,” she told him, rescuing a drip before it ran down her arm. With the temp hovering in the high eighties, one had to eat fast. After another bite, she smacked her lips and studied her popsicle, the way one might observe a smoking test tube in a lab. It was orange and red, an odd concoction of mangoes, chiles, and apricots. The chili lime salt was like a kick in the face. “You were right, this is funky. I’m not sure I like it, but I also can’t stop eating it.” She looked at Tiernan. “That’s a dopamine response.” Maddy popped her glasses back onto her face.
“Some people dig the clash of flavors,” Tiernan said with an easy shrug. “Me, I’m strictly in it for the sweet stuff. No chili powder in my chocolate, thanks.”
He finished the last of the orange cream and tossed the stick and napkin into a nearby trash can before turning his attention back to the cart attendant. “Hey Ben, hit me!” he called, and the young man reached into the cart without looking and tossed another packaged popsicle his way. Tearing it open, Tiernan smiled: milk and cookies. “Read my mind, man!”
Turning back to Maddy, he eyed her quizzically for a moment before saying, “So, okay, what’s your deal, kid? You’re interesting.”
“What do you mean, what’s my deal?” Maddy lifted her shoulders, giving the guy a down-and-up perusal. What was his deal? “Also who are you calling kid? I’m twenty-nine. This right here?” She made a circle around her youthful face with an index finger. “That’s the power of clean living.” The blonde gave him a winsome smile and leaned away on one foot to toss the remainder of her popsicle in the same receptacle. The stick pinged off the inside of the metal can.
When she stood upright again, she kept her eyes locked on Tiernan’s, but internally the gears began to turn.
“Not even thirty?” Tiernan responded, clicking his tongue in a teasing manner. “That’s a baby... that’s… that’s an egg.” He chuckled and bit into his new popsicle, groaning in pleasure at the immediate hit of sweetened cream against his tongue.
“Jesus, this is good. Too many of these and I won’t be standing up straight,” he said, the rush of sugar and lactose going straight to his bloodstream. Tiernan squinted in the afternoon sunlight and regarded his popsicle-break companion curiously. “So, Maddy,” he corrected, “What brings you to fabulous Las Vegas on a Wednesday afternoon?”
“The usual,” she said. “Craps tables, complimentary booze, hot chicks on poles.” Maddy smiled and nudged his arm. “I happen to be domiciled here and I like food. Why, do I look like a tourist?” As she watched him with the cookies and cream, it hit her that she’d never seen anybody that excited about a popsicle who wasn’t five years old. Kind of an unusual look on an adult, male-presenting person, not that she was complaining. She could get that way about a street vendor hot dog with loads of mustard and relish. That, plus the free dessert, was endearing enough that Maddy resisted the urge to do something crazy, like make the popsicle stick vanish. It would be funny, though.
“People who are native to this place got a look about them,” Tiernan told her, pausing a moment to lick at a drop of melted cream that had slid down his thumb. “Bored. Dusty. The aura of the place, it does nothin’ for’em anymore. You, though? You got the spark.”
Tiernan was in a habit of mentally categorizing other beings as he met them. Too many were boring, vapid vampires or workaday humans, nothing about them crying out for attention, nothing to say ’I’m here. Look at me. I’m special. I’m important’. It was really a pity, he thought, because there was that potential in just about everyone, if they just had the gumption to tap into it. This one, though; he could look at her and see that she knew her worth.
“See, Mads, this is a special kinda town. Takes a special kinda person to recognize it. The fact that you’d even find the finest damn popsicle stand in the whole damn place makes it pretty clear that you found your way here with a purpose, wouldn’t you say?”
Maddy’s mouth dropped open, an elongated ‘O’ of astonishment coupling with the wide, blue eyes behind her shades. She crossed her arms. “Okay, dude. You are freaking me out! How’d you know my nickname?” Her eyes danced with good humor. “Oh my god... Are you a street magician? I am a magnet for this kind of thing,” she said, placing her palm to her chest. “You should see what happens to me at a hibachi grill. But I have to warn you, Tiernan, if you start writing my grandma’s name on your arm with ash, I got something that will beat the brakes off you.”
Tiernan snorted. “You think you’re the first ‘Maddy’ I’ve ever encountered?” he told her with a laugh. “Maddies, Madeleines, Madges, Madonnas… most of’em drop back to ‘Mads’ now and again. Sorry if it disturbed you.”
He snickered at the thought of being a street magician; it was a role he played once or twice before, in ages past, when such things were cause for marvel and wouldn’t necessarily consign him to the hangman’s noose.
“Not a magician,” Tiernan admitted, and held up his now bare popsicle stick. He let it drop through his curled fingers, landing in his opposite palm outstretched beneath it, but the cheap wooden stick was no longer flat as it landed. Instead, it was curled into a delicate twist. “But maybe I could try it out, eh?”
“Ooh la la…” Maddy hooked her sunglasses onto the neckline of her shirt and took the curled popsicle stick from his palm, wondering how he’d done it. She held it up for visual inspection, focusing her gaze on the wooden coil and then the man behind it. “That’s some trick. I’m calling you next time I’ve got a zucchini to spiralize.” Maddy turned the end of the little post between her thumb and forefinger.
“Wanna see mine?” Maddy’s eyebrow pitched higher. “Now you see it.” The blonde passed a hand between Tiernan and the stick, then waggled her fingers away with a flourish. “Now you don’t.” She raised her empty palms in the air.
Tiernan watched her curiously, trying to track the movement of the popsicle stick and Maddy’s hands, but he lost it in the blink of an eye. He laughed and clapped his hands together once in pure delight; he loved it when someone could get one over on him.
“Maddy, Maddy, that is fantastic!” he declared, and reached out to pat her once on the shoulder. With just a tap, he sent a small wave of good will; she’d be finding herself on the right side of the lucky coin for the rest of the day. “So, spill it. Secretly the next David Copperfield?”
She glowed under the attention. “Mm.” She wrinkled her nose and gave him a shrug. “Copperfield’s a master of misdirection. I’m more of a literal gal.”
“Hey!” Not far from them, Ben fished the twirl of popsicle stick out of his tip jar and waved it at a customer’s retreating back in an accusatory manner. “Some tip!”
Maddy turned to watch the show with a smile. “Don’t worry,” she chirped, squinting into the afternoon sun. “His money’s safe as houses. After all… you don’t fuck with Joy Pop.” The callback allowed her to cut her eyes in Tiernan’s direction. What was his deal? Happy-go-lucky dessert connoisseur with a magic hand, just hanging out in the park? She didn’t hide her scrutiny of him.
Tiernan crossed his arms over his chest with a grin. “Not giving anything away?” he asked cheerfully. “Good. That’s good. Play it close to the vest, I like it. Keep people guessing. Even me.”
Unable to resist showing off, he pulled a remaining paper napkin from his pocket and crumpled it into a ball, holding it out in one flattened palm. “But remember, everybody’s got their own kinda spark, so don’t underestimate’em.” He straightened his opposite hand and lowered it to flatten the crumpled napkin in his palm. When he lifted it again, the napkin was folded into a delicate flower with a long twisted stem; he reached out and tucked it behind Maddy’s ear.
“Vegas, right?” he chuckled.
Maddy’s eyes danced as the flower went into place. “Oh....” She clasped her hands by her cheek, a modern-day take on a princess complete with smile and an elevated heel. “You’re a charmer. You would kill at children’s parties. And possibly bachelorette parties,” she amended. “Take off your shirt and you’ve got a real show.” Her humor was authentic. She left the paper flower in her hair. Each time she moved or the wind blew, she could hear it crinkling in a pleasant way.
She couldn’t say whether Tiernan was a street performer or a witch. So far, it seemed that the city was filled with both kinds of magic. If she had to guess, her money was on the former. Witches could be kind uptight and defensive about the craft. This, she figured out after asking one of them if a Swiffer worked or if she rode around on a traditional, wooden broomstick.
Tiernan gave an exaggerated shudder. “Kids? Jesus, no,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “Little walking germ factories. Plus I don’t like having to watch my fucking mouth.” He laughed then, as a harried mother with four grubby little boys tutted at him from where she stood in the Joy Pop line; case in point, he thought.
“Plus,” he added, pulling a face at the woman, who sniffed and looked away, “They wouldn’t like the kind of fees I can charge.”
“That sounds ominous.” Maddy noticed he hadn’t described it as ‘how much’ but in terms of a ‘kind’. She pulled up alongside him to watch the family. The sheer quantity of offspring was astounding. Maddy squinted through her shades. “She reminds me of the neighbor who looked after me when I was a kid. My parents were busy writing papers for academic journals no one reads. Unless they’re sourcing material for their own papers no one will read. Academia is one big circle-jerk.”
She shoved her hands in her front pockets. “She’s got one less kid, though.” The youngest boy was staring. Maddy wiggled her fingers at him. “I like kids. I dig the chaos.”
“I’d like’em more if they weren’t always sticky,” Tiernan replied. The youngest of the four was holding his newly received popsicle by the wrong end -- not the stick. “Gotta feel for the lady, though. Four boys, that’s gotta be a bitch.”
He thought briefly of days when large families were more the norm, and wondered if he would ever see that again, outside of some exploitive reality series on basic cable. They seemed happier, he thought; older kids helped the parents look after the younger ones, and the hard work of their days seemed to bring them closer. Kids now, he thought, were too grabby. Buy me this, get me that; he could own half the pre-teens in the city just by offering them an upgrade for their phones.
But then, he thought, maybe he was just getting old. There were just as many who would have signed their life away for the taste of a ripe peach or a clean linen shirt in the day.
“Can you imagine, in five years? That poor woman’s house is going to reek of body odor and Axe body spray.”
It was a scent she knew well. “Better than four girls on their periods,” Maddy countered. The whining, the tears, the hysterical cries of ‘I hate you!’ and a percussive sequence of slamming doors. “I got enough of that in college. How many times can I say it? It’s not stealing if your boyfriend makes the first move.” She shook her head, still watching the exploits of the boy with the popsicle.
“Look-look, he’s gonna wipe his hand down his shir-- there it is.” Maddy laughed. “That part will never change. It’ll just be Dorito dust on one of his pant legs.” She watched Ben the Joy Pop employee hand the woman a wad of extra napkins, which would only break apart and stick to the little boy’s face. It was a fruitless endeavor. His mother was better off grabbing a garden hose and spraying the kid down. Maddy felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She took it out and checked the notification. “Groan. Looks like I’m gonna have to work tonight after all,” she said.
“Lucky you,” Tiernan drawled sarcastically, and slung an arm over her shoulders. “See, Mads, this is why you gotta freelance. Make money, make your own hours, have a standing date with the Joy Pop cart on a Wednesday afternoon without worrying. It’s a dream.”
Realizing he had crossed a 21st century line, he quickly pulled his arm away; it was so difficult to remember what was and wasn’t acceptable anymore. Tiernan had no issue with women having more agency these days -- the shit he had seen them go through in the past would make just about anyone a feminist, he was sure of it -- but he was in a good mood and that always made him reach out a little more than he should. He shoved his hands in his pockets and bounced on his heels.
“Think of all the people watching you could do with a little more free time.”
Maddy hadn’t flinched when he put his arm around her. She wasn’t the type to mind when it came to body contact, even with strangers. “You’re probably right. Except if I was my own boss, I’d reward myself nap breaks all the time. I’d never get anything done. Well. This headdress isn’t going to make itself. I better jet.” She socked Tiernan on the shoulder. “Cool meeting you. Thanks for the popsicle.”
“Nice meeting you, Maddy,” Tiernan replied, and gave her his most charming grin. “You have a good day now! And if you ever need someone to take a photo for ya, give me a ring!”
She’d find one of his business cards in her pocket if she looked.