Tayne Peregrine (hunterperegrine) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2009-06-18 18:52:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | 2009-06-05 |
Dinner and a Vision
Who: Tayne and Chris
Where: Sunny's Diner
When: Early afternoon
After letting Annie get settled chatting with Kaye, Tayne was back to... counter duty. Whee. Only not so much. He missed the kitchen already, and kept hurrying back to see if they needed help, when he had a free minute. This time, they had, and he'd quickly put together a tuna melt and delivered it for pickup before getting back out to his actual station for the afternoon, scanning the counter to see if anyone new had shown up, or anyone he'd been serving so far needed anything.
It had tried to rain in the morning, but it hadn't really amounted to much of anything - much to Chris's disappointment. He loved a good storm. The sun wouldn't be shining for long, though. He could feel it in his bones. Tonight, it would rain.
He'd make certain to stay up late to enjoy it.
For now, it was his stomach that was the focus. He'd had cereal for breakfast, but he'd been out of fruit, so it hadn't really been enough - and that had happened six hours ago. Lunch was in order, and since he still hadn't explored much of Scarlet Oaks, he wandered until a local diner caught his attention. It didn't look fancy, but it also didn't look like a chain, so he went in, shed his knapsack and denim jacket, and sat down.
Dressed simply in jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt, he wasn't fancy, either, so he thought he fit well in his environment. No pretensions. Dragging one hand through his dark brown hair, he pulled a notebook from his knapsack with the other and then checked his pockets for a pen.
For his part, Tayne was very glad it wasn't raining. Water in bodies any larger than a shower or a pot made him nervous and edge, and he was already down enough for the day. He spotted a new someone settling at the counter, not someone he recognized nor someone who looked like they knew the place. A fairly good-looking someone, too. Just perfect.
Making his way over-- refilling someone's water glass along the way-- he gave a slightly lop-sided grin and said, "Welcome to Sunny's. Can I getcha something to drink while you decide what you want?"
A man Chris would say was somewhere in his mid-twenties approached, carrying a jug of water. He looked a little tense, but that might just have been because he's been on his feet for a while, or maybe he was like Chris before a bicycle race: anxious for something to happen.
"Thanks, yeah, some of that'd be fine, to start," he said, nodding at the water, his Texas accent evident without being overbearing. He'd worked on toning it down. "Y'all got any lunch specials?"
"Well, it would be fried chicken if I were actually being a cook today instead of a server," Tayne said with a little laugh, producing a glass from behind the counter and pouring him a glass of water. "But I've heard tell the cream of onion soup is pretty damn good today." That accent was definitely familiar, and pleasant on the ear; Tayne had gone to college for four years in Texas, and even he slipped into the speech patterns sometimes.
Chris raised one eyebrow. He noticed a touch of Texas about the way the man spoke, but didn't comment.
"What're you doin' out front if you're the cook? And I was kinda fixin' on havin' a sandwich, actually. I'm hungry."
So much for toning down the accent. When he was around others who echoed his vocal mannerisms, he tended to slip more easily into the slang. Losing his 'g's' was a sure sign.
"Though I could... always have soup and a sandwich. Suggestions?"
"We're a bit short-handed today," Tayne admitted with a sheepish smile. "And I'm only one of several cooks, so they're not missing me too bad back there. Kinda wish they were, I'm better at that than at this."
He set down the water pitcher and considered. "Can't go wrong with a sandwich, really. If you're hungry enough for both, I'd say go for it, the soup is worth it. We've got a great BTL-- not like that's hard to f-- to mess up--" Gotta correct the language for the customers. "--and a pretty good tuna melt."
Chris managed not to smirk when the man nearly cursed.
"Understood." He dropped his voice a little and said, as if in confidentiality, "And it's... okay. I've heard that word before." Then he leaned back in his chair and said, in a normal voice, "Guess I'm havin' a BLT and the onion soup. And a coffee."
Though he rolled his eyes, Tayne still grinned. "I'm sure you have. I'd still catch shit if a boss or co-worker heard me saying it. This is a family-friendly diner, you know." And there he went again, he'd said another one. At least it wasn't as bad as "fuck". "So all right, BLT and cream of onion soup. Anything more to drink, or you good with just water?"
Chris decided not to point out that the man had just used the 's' word as part of his explanation. It looked like he'd noticed it, anyway.
"Coffee," Chris repeated. "I need coffee. Please.." And he smiled a charming smile. "As soon as possible."
"Oh. Hell, you said that already." Tayne rubbed at his face in a playful attempt to wake himself up. "See? Told you I'm better at being a cook than a server, especially when I'm running on not enough sleep." And a hangover, and a fight with Johan, and yeah. He was apparently not running at optimum today. "BLT, cream of onion soup, and a coffee. That, I can get you. I'll be right back."
"You're doin' fine," Chris assured him, playing absently with the sugar bowl and salt and pepper. "And maybe more sleep would be good, sure. I know what it's like to need more zeeees."
He nodded at the order and said, "Thanks. And cream with that, please. I'll be right here."
"You got it." Tayne made a playful finger-gun at him, then headed back to get the order put in, coming back out a moment later with the coffee pot and a mug to pour for him. "Cream's in a bowl right-- here, let me...." He leaned over to grab the nearest bowl of little cream cartons and slide it closer.
He watched the finger-gun, knowing it for the friendly gesture it was and trying not to think about guns in general. As a Texan, according to the press, it was difficult not to think of guns.
"Thanks," he said, about the coffee and the cream, his nod of appreciation including all the services provided. "So, you've been south, have you?" He thought he'd ask about the accent now. There were other customers, but things didn't seem too pressing. It was something they had in common, perhaps. Chris wouldn't mind something familiar right now.
Quite honestly? It was more of a borderline-flirt than anything else, which was probably a bad idea, anyway, but Tayne wasn't really aware of it. As he finished pouring, he nodded. "Yup," he said, putting the coffee pot back on the warmer. "I went to school down there, for four years." He grinned sheepishly. "I guess the accent sticks, a little. It's easy to talk like a Texan."
"Really?" he said, adding two creams to his coffee, unrolling his paper napkin and retrieving a spoon. "What did you study there?"
Chris smiled again. "Even kids in high school in the major urban areas of Texas talk like their more rural cousins, and people who've moved in two years ago sound like they're natives. It's interestin'."
Language was interesting, at least, to Chris it was, and the other members of his family had a similar fascination. It was one of those 'Brammell things'.
"Well, it's an easy accent to fall into, right?" Tayne said with a grin. "And you know Texans, so very proud of being Texans, maybe it's a solid-- sol-- a togetherness thing. A patriotic thing, if you will." He leaned back against the counter behind the bar and folded his arms, staying a moment to chat since nobody else seemed to need him yet. "I studied physical education, actually. And a whole lot of sports and self-defense type courses. Got a minor in culinary arts, because they didn't have a major in it." And "culinary" was one weird word he would always, always know how to say, thank you very much.
"I guess it is," Chris replied, vaguely amused at the phrase 'you know Texans'. He assumed a mock frown. "And yeah, they're really a pain sometimes. I think 'solidarity' and 'patriotism' are part of it."
He quickly looked the man up and down. There was that tension again, even though he seemed relaxed. If he was really active, though, then that might explain it. He was like that himself, sometimes.
"Athletics and cooking, huh? Y'all doin' anythin' with the Phys Ed part?"
Tayne made a face at him. "You know I didn't mean that as an insult. I loved Texas." It was warm year-round. He liked warm. Besides, the people were fun.
"Anyway." Yes, he did use his physical education skills. Every time he went out on a hunt. But he couldn't exactly say that, after all. So he shook head head and said, "Naw, not into any phys ed around here. The high school wasn't hiring, I don't get on well with younger kids, and the college wanted a masters degree. I'm not good enough in school to get a masters. I like cooking, though, so this works for me."
"Yeah, I know. I jest couldn't resist. Gets me into all kinds of trouble." Chris nodded as the man explained his problems with finding somewhere who was hiring. "That's a shame. Still, if you keep it up, you'll be ready when the moment arrives."
That sounded... kind of an odd thing to say, but Chris didn't examine it.
"Sure. Nothin' wrong with cookin'. Should do more of it myself. Jest can't get into the habit."
It was an odd comment, but really, it was more ironic than anything else, and Tayne grinned at it and nodded. "When the moment comes," he agreed. "And I'm not gonna complain that you don't like to cook. Means you get good food you didn't have to make, we get more business, and I keep my job! Win-win situation."
He cocked his head curiously at Chris again, and asked, "So what do you do? Since you've just got a good chunk of my life story, and all."
Sometimes, words emerged from his mouth that he didn't completely understand. It just happened like that.
When the moment comes...
"True. Always good to support the local economy."
At the question, he said, "I'm a writer. Chris Brammell." And he offered his hand to shake.
"Writer, wow," Tayne said, sounding impressed. It wasn't a job he could imagine was easy to get by in, but it was one you had to love to get into. He took the hand, gave a good shake, then stepped back again to lean. Leaning helped the headache, oddly enough. "Nice to meet you, man. What do you write?"
The man had a firm handshake, which Chris appreciated, and Chris managed not to grip too tightly. He frequently misjudged his own strength.
Sitting back in his chair, he lifted his coffee cup. Ah, that question was always an interesting one to answer...
"I write fiction," he said, which was the truth, if a bit vague. "Historical fiction. I try to set my stories as close as I can to factual events. And... Do you have a name?"
"You know, that's the second time today I forgot to introduce myself?" Tayne commented with an amused and impatient face for himself. "Tayne. Tayne Peregrine. Weird name, I know, but that's not why I keep forgetting it, promise. Historical fiction, huh? Under your name, or a pen name?" He could always look it up somewhere.
"Is it? Interestin'. That you keep forgettin' and that name of your. What's it's origins?"
Chris sighed. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his writing - though he didn't know why he was drawn to that particular genre - so much as some people - especially men - didn't get it. He had been quite the draw at book signings, though. Men didn't usually write romances...
You can run, but you can't hide.
"Under 'Christopher Brammell'," he said, hoping his soup and BLT would be up soon.
"I'll have to look it up sometime," Tayne nodded. "The name, well, that's probably something right up your alley, being a writer and creative and all." He laughed, glancing at the counter: sandwich was there, but no soup yet. that required a little reheating and then respicing, plus you wanted to do the hot stuff last so it'd still be hot when it was delivered. "My mother made it up. It might have some kind of meaning in some other culture, but my mother was just exercising creative license. You should meet my brother. His name is worse."
I'm sure you will, Chris thought ruefully. Ah, well. As he was fond of saying: It was what it was.
"I've only sold two books, so whatever you find, it won't be very long." At least, he didn't think his mother had added much to the website she'd insisted on creating. It hadn't helped that his agent and his current editor had thought it a wonderful idea.
Too many damn pictures on it...
"Should I ask what your brother's name is? And did she make up your last name, too?" That would certainly be unusual.
"Well, not the last name, no," Tayne snickered. "That was my father's fault, as usual, though I think it's one reason she went all-out. She thought a fancy last name deserved a fancy first name. So I got Tayne, and my older brother got-- get this-- Torshael." Honestly, once he got to the point where he could beat up anyone who made fun of his name, he started to like it. He did feel kind of bad for Tor', though.
Chris just looked at him for a minute - maybe to see if the man was joking, maybe to see if he'd just been hallucinating the entire conversation.
"Sorry," he replied quietly. "His name is... what?"
Lord, try not to blame their mother and please watch over these two brothers...
Childhood rhymes presented themselves at the oddest times.
Laughing again at Chris's expression, Tayne repeated, "Torshael. Tor. Shale. I know how it sounds. I came out of the deal a little better than he did, I know. My sister came out best of all, since Dad got to name her. She's just Vanessa."
"You did better, I'd say, oh, yeah. Count your lucky stars on that one."
Chris smiled and asked, "So, how come your father got to name your sister? And 'Vanessa' is a pretty name. Not as... exotic as 'Tayne' or 'Torshael', but not as commonly seen as, say, Mary, or something."
"Mostly because Dad insisted," Tayne answered, remembering fondly. He could just barely remember when Vanessa was born, somewhere vaguely in his childhood. He'd called her "Ness" for years. "I think it was a combination of not wanting something weirder for a girl who couldn't beat the name-callers up, and thinking it was only fair that he got to pick one name for his children."
"Sure," Chris said. "Though she'd have two brothers who could beat people up for her, if she didn't feel so inclined to do it herself, that is."
He was all for empowerment.
"So, if you're not cookin' today, who is? Sunny?" he asked, remembering the name of the diner.
"Funnily enough, we don't have a Sunny working here," Tayne chuckled. "I think the name came from the previous owner, now it's Annie. No, Beth's covering my shift in the kitchen today. I'm running back every now and then to help out, when she needs me--" Or when he got too bored up here. "--but we seem to have it balanced okay. Speaking of the kitchen, though...." Chris's soup was up! Tayne headed over to grab both dishes and bring them back to the counter for him. "You need any condiments with that?" Ketchup was within reach, spaced evenly along the counter, but he'd have to bring over salt, pepper, or specialty mustards that didn't come on the BLT itself.
"Oh. I see." That covered just about everything. The arrival of lunch pushed the conversation to one side for the moment. Chris admired the way the food was presented, inhaled the combination or aromas, and picked up his spoon.
"No, I'm fine, thanks." He didn't need the ketchup or anything else. Not with his first bite, anyway. He liked to taste food how the cook thought it should be enjoyed, and would only add something if he thought it was lacking at all.
"This looks delicious. Thank you."
He took a sip of the soup, let it sit in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing and let his eyes drift closed.
"Oh, please tell Beth that's heaven..."
For a moment, Tayne was jealous-- that ought to be his compliment, not Beth's-- but he let it go a beat later. If wasn't her fault he was stuck out here, not back there, and she was a perfectly good cook, herself. "I'll pass it along," he said with a smile. And he would, since he knew how rarely cooks actually got the compliments. "Let me know if you need anything else, a'ight? I'll be back with your check when you've inhale s'more of that." He had a few more orders to take, it looked like, and some plates to remove down the counter a bit.
"Hmmm, yeah, I'll do that," Chris said and lifted the BLT with both hands. He took a bite - then pulled back and regarded it reverently. His expression, no doubt, clearly conveyed his happiness.
Maybe Beth is single, he thought idly, and focused on enjoying his food.
Yeah. Definitely jealous that he didn't get to get compliments on his cooking. On top of the hangover and the lingering frustration and fear over Johan. Right, then. This was just not his day. Tayne waved a bit, smiled tiredly, then headed off to handle the rest of his customers.
Chris consumed his lunch - oh, that was good - and asked for a refill on his coffee, almost forgetting he was going to do a bit of writing while he was here. He scribbled a few paragraphs in his notebook while lingering over his coffee, then decided he should probably be on his way. He had grocery shopping to do, after all.
He spotted Tayne and called out, "Can I have the check, please?"
Tayne headed back over, check at the ready, and set it down for him with another of those tired smiles. Being stuck out here and on his feet was wearing; how the hell did the actual servers do it all day? "I can ring you up at the register, whenever you're ready," he said.
"Sure," Chris said, and stood. He packed away his paper and pen, pulled his denim jacket from the back of the chair and picked up his knapsack. "I'm ready now."
Check in hand, he crossed to the register and set his pack down. He slid the jacket on and pulled out his wallet. Lunch was very reasonably priced. Chris offered the man a twenty.
Tayne rung him up. "Out of twenty... that's eight sixty-four change." He started counting out bills and coins, double-checking his math to make sure he wasn't miscounting or misadding. God, he hated arithmetic. Combining things in cooking was halfway instinctual, but counting money? He always managed to mess up. "There ya go." He offered the bills with change on top of them.
Chris watched him sort out the change, in no particular rush. He held out his hand to accept the change and their hands touched, just briefly.
And it happened again.
They'd shaken hands earlier and nothing had happened then, so why now?
Why now, dammit -
He was moving through the darkness, in what looked like the parking lot of a drive-in. He was moving fast, tracking something, hunting something. He was armed and ready and tired and just wanted to go home at this point. He reached the ticket booth, turned right - and felt the claws penetrate his chest. How had that happened? How did the creature get that far ahead -
The vision left him as quickly as it hit, and Chris was back in Sunny's Diner, with the man across from him looking at him with some concern.
That was Tayne, Chris realized, looking down at his change. God, I was Tayne... He slipped the money into a pocket and said, "Thanks", then picked up his knapsack and slung it over one shoulder.
Concern was definitely there. It wasn't often people totally blanked out like that in front of him. When they did-- well, to be honest, it was usually his sister. He knew that look, and the shaken look afterwards. At least poor Nessa didn't remember what she saw, afterwards. "Hold up a sec... you okay, there, man?"
Chris paused in turning away from the counter, hating the visions, wishing he didn't remember what he saw.
Not understanding why he saw them at all.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, then paused and met the man's eyes.
"Look, Tayne, this might be... outta left field, but..." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "If, um... If you go through a drive-in... no, when you go through a drive-in at... three in the mornin' or somethin' and there's... somethin' out there? when you get to the ticket booth..."
Chris licked his lips. God, the vision still had some hold on him. Vestigial memories of something that hadn't happened yet to someone else.
"Don't go right. It's there. Uh, if you do go right... be ready... Okay?"
He probably sounded like someone who needed to be locked in a rubber room.
Tayne blinked, slowly tilted his head one way as he considered with some worry what in the world Chris had just seen and what he must think of him now, then nodded. "Thanks." He grinned a small and understanding grin, leaned closer, and said more quietly, "My sister does the same thing." Kind of. "So don't worry about it. No judgment from me."
The concern was still present, but the man didn't look at him strangely. It seemed to even make some sort of sense to him.
Amazing.
Chris nodded. "Well... She does? Um, don't envy her, okay?" He sighed, managed a smile and added, "Jest... Y'all be careful, okay?"
"Even more careful than usual," Tayne assured him with another slow nod. If he was going to be stalking anything through a drive-in, especially. Given the full moon was the next night... yeah, it was entirely possible he would be. "I'll see you around, man. Take care of yourself."
Chris still felt a little out of it, but he nodded in return.
"Yeah, I'll do that."
Then he headed for the door and the temporary sunshine, looking forward to arrival of the rain even more. It always seemed to clear his head. He remembered he needed a few groceries, so a walk to the store was in order. He carefully put one foot in front of the other and didn't look back.