Isobel Brandt \\ Persephone (praxidike) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-05-24 09:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | charon, persephone |
time for you to go back to the places you will be from
Who: Isobel & Carver.
What: Two wandering souls happen across the same place for a drink.
Where: A bar near Newport.
When: Backdated to May 12.
Her bag by her feet, Isobel smiled at the bartender as he dropped off her beer. Still in work clothes, she relished the opportunity to unwind after dealing with the continued onslaught of unpaid bills for her nursery. It was slow, uphill work, but day by day she was regaining control over Spring Growth. A few employees had to be let go, but she promised to keep them in the loop if positions opened again.
Tipping the open bottle into her mouth, heels hooked onto the foot rail, she chewed her lip as she thought about all the free time she had outside of work; normally, she would have gone straight home to get dinner started, but there was no rush, now. Hanni would need a walk, but she was considering doggie daycare for him so he wasn't cooped up inside all day. Once she had her nursery under control again, she would devote more time to getting the police to track down and apprehend Bryan. All in all, it seemed like a good plan, on paper. Ticking off the boxes, dealing with one problem at a time; she thought she'd feel happier, going home to an otherwise empty apartment, but it only underscored what she'd lost.
So now she was here, avoiding that feeling, drinking alone. She hadn't done this in awhile; glancing down the bar, she thought at trying to strike up a conversation with someone, but then rethought it. Most looked like they wanted to be left alone, and so she'd follow through with the unspoken request. Turning a little on her seat, she could see pool tables on the other side of the room. Her stomach grumbled, and the thought that she'd just finish her drink and head home ran through her mind, up until she saw Ray Carver walk through the front door. Isobel spun around on her seat, hoping she hadn't been seen, and immediately started planning out she'd get out of the bar with minimal risk of exposure.
Briefly, it seemed as though she had succeeded. He slid up to the bar, dragging a squeaking roller bag behind him, and dropped wearily on a stool three away from where she sat. A flash of dimples and half-raised hand summoned the bartender, who quickly filled a pint glass with the local seasonal beer and presented it to Carver with a faint, not-entirely-faked smile. Carver took a long drink before turning on his stool -- directly facing Isobel, his blue eyes sharp on her despite the distance between them.
“So, you’re an alcoholic too,” he said, a wicked smile suggesting his continuance of their previous meeting’s exchange of poison was merely a joke.
She couldn't stop her eyes from rolling toward the ceiling, as if silently reprimanding some deity for not saving her in time, raising her own beer as if in acknowledgement.
"Guilty as charged, clearly." Isobel held the bottle with her right hand, her lack of a ring emphatically clear even in the dim light of the bar. She finally turned a quarter of the way to face him, her eyes taking in his rumpled clothes and travel bag. Isobel wet her lips before speaking again, the bottle making a hollow sound as she pulled it away from her mouth. Since he was being cordial, she thought she'd at least give it a shot. "You been out of town long?"
He chuckled and shrugged, then took a long drink before answering, emptying the rest of his glass. “Few weeks. Longer than I meant to go. But shit happens. And then you gotta deal with it.” He waved down the bartender for another beer. Turning back to her, his gaze dropped down to her hand, and the obvious absence there; though he didn’t comment aloud.
Isobel's brows climbed her forehead, her head nodding in agreement that she was sure he couldn't begin to understand, and she waved at the bartender for another drink now that all of those memories were being drudged up to the surface. Leaving the near-empty bottle near her hands, plastered palm-down on the bartop, she settled onto an elbow as she looked back to Carver.
"Guess that means you missed all the 'shit happening' at the complex in the last month," she started, not sure she wanted to get into it; her mouth curled slightly into an unconscious frown. "Or did Obed catch you up to all of that already?"
Carver frowned slightly. He paused to thank the bartender as he was served a new beer. “Nah, we’ve had other shit to talk about, I guess. He’s seemed a bit pissed, lately, but I figured if it was something I should hear about he’d tell me.” Despite his mild words, Carver looked disconcerted.
"Oh?" The bartender delivered her second beer; she'd driven herself and knew she shouldn't be having more than her teetotaler self could handle, but Carver's reappearance brought with him everything she'd been trying to escape. Instead, she took a deep drink, turning her attention fully to the other man.
"I'm surprised there's anything he doesn't tell you, considering whatever you two were alluding to the other night." The memory still stung, which should have been forewarning enough to not pick another fight, but here she was. The liquor was making her bold and stupid.
Her words hit their target; Carver was visibly rankled, bristling for a moment like an irritated cat before he reigned his emotions back behind a tight smile. “Well, for some funny reason he seems to enjoy hiding you,” he said, tautly. “Might almost think he’s ashamed of you, or something. Before I moved in, as far as I knew you were the business deal that came with a few benefits on the side. Then surprise surprise, you’re actually the fiancee…”
That admission arched her brows in surprise. She knew Obed was the quiet type, but he'd seemed quite comfortable with Carver, to the point that she was almost jealous herself. All those times she'd kept pressing Obed to invite Carver over for dinner spun through her mind; had he actually ever asked?
"I've had a lot of drama going on; he might have felt like he was keeping things simple," she replied, wrapping both hands around her refreshed drink. "And everything that happened was rushed. More so than I wanted. Besides, not like you have anything to worry about now," she continued, flattening one hand in the air to underline the missing ring; then her hand returned to the bottle. "If you're curious, I'm the one who broke things off. With everything else going on..."
Isobel shrugged. "At least now you don't have to compete with me. Not that you did; he's probably more comfortable with you, anyway." She went quiet for a minute, until a nagging thought demanded to be voiced. "Has he always been so closed off? It's just like... He turns things off sometimes, tunes out." Maybe she was looking for reassurance that it wasn't just her, but the majority was simply curious and eager to pick at Carver's brain while she had it.
“Compete?” Carver snorted, raising his eyebrows and smirking before he took another drink of beer. “Anyway yeah. The boss has always played his cards close to his chest. It’s just how he is, I guess. Probably why we get along pretty well. I don’t pry, and neither does he, but we both spill when we need to and we’re honest with each other.” He frowned slightly, his glass halfway to his lips. “I think. Usually. He’s been a little more close-to-the-chest than usual. I figured it was you.” He glanced over at Isobel. He set his glass down without drinking. “Look -- I hope you don’t think -- I wasn’t out to fuck you over or anything. Just. His interests are my interests, you get me? And if he can’t look out for them right -- then it’s up to me…”
"I get it," she replied, downcast eyes suddenly very interested in her beer bottle. "I never meant to hurt him. You're protective of him, I get that, and everything about our relationship was weird. I was always worried about it, and he tried to get me to not worry about it, so I can imagine all of that set off a lot of red flags." She took a drink, leaning against the bar and letting the bottle dangle from her fingertips.
"Just for the record, I kept pushing him to invite you over for dinner. I wanted everything to be normal, that we could be in that relationship and he could still have his friends, too. He said you were being difficult about it, my words, not his -- was that true? Or did he never ask, hence the whole," the bottle in her hand moved in a circular pattern, implying all, "'he's hiding things from me' belief?"
“Hn.” A few more patrons drifted into the bar and headed for the bar. One seemed to be headed for the empty seats between Carver and Isobel; before the man could settle between them, Carver shifted to the stool next to Isobel. “Maybe he mentioned it once or twice before and I was busy. But no, I don’t remember him inviting me before I moved in. To be fair, I was busy sorting out some issues with his folks for a while before I moved, and trying to get that deal with the Hilton wrapped. So maybe he had reasons.” Carver mouthed the edge of his beer glass, pressing the cold glass against his lips as he thought. “I mean, he did say he was worried about me calling him on how quick it was all going.”
His reply was not quite the answer she'd expected; she wasn't entirely pleased with it, evidenced by her frown. Obed certainly had a way with words, to not be entirely pinned into the 'liar' category.
"He was very adamant that he didn't care about that, at least to my face," she said, leaning onto the counter with her elbows as she too switched positions after he moved over one seat. Of course, she realized that he was more likely saying that for her benefit, maybe in a lame attempt to calm her down regarding her own anxiety over their relationship. In the long run, her and Carver's conversation was making her feel better about her decision to hit pause on her and Obed's relationship. Clearly there were more things to work out.
"So," she tried, changing the subject away from it's current topic, "how does one properly drain the dishwater?"
Carver laughed, nearly snorting in his beer. He set his glass down, slightly farther from himself, as if to avoid unfortunate accidents. “According to Obed, no one properly drains the dishwater other than himself.” He chuckled. “What, he never gave you shit about the right way to do stuff?”
"No," she replied, laughing. "No he did not, but I imagine there's a very good reason why, at least in his mind. I think... Given the circumstances, I think he was a little nervous to seem controlling." Isobel took another drink, draining the second beer halfway.
"He does seem to like people who stand up to him, sort of. I'm guessing you won that argument?"
Carver laughed again, raising his glass a little. “Of course. Took a while though. But we’re both stubborn old fucks.” He drank off the rest of his beer and caught the bartender’s eye for another. “Works out all right. I think he trusts me because I’m willing to butt heads. He knows I’m not saying pretty things to just keep the boss happy. It’s funny.” He pushed the glass away from himself. “I would’ve figured you to be more of the same, no offense. Didn’t expect you to be the timid little flower. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’ve got teeth, somewhere under there--got the bite marks to prove it--but I thought you’d be, you know. More a tiger than a tiger lily. No offense.”
She shrugged, and finished her drink. "None taken. I can push when its needed; it's not easy, for me, but it's not impossible. Obed had built you up like a member of the family, a brother, so I was expecting someone more like him -- maybe another quiet, soft spoken introvert. Not... you know, you." Isobel waved vaguely at him, the alcohol in her belly making her uncaring if he found her offensive. "And then I get nervous so I get flustered and then... Well, you saw. I think I was so wrapped up in impressing you and making sure everything was OK for Obed that it was difficult to take a step back.
"Not that any of that matters now." Isobel waved her empty at the bartender, who quickly supplied her with another. The bar area was quickly growing crowded, and Isobel elbowed back a man who moved in too close to her.
“Look… I'm sorry it didn't work out. I really am. But I know the boss… if he thinks a thing is meant to be, he'll find a way to make it work. I'm not going to throw around bullshit about love and letting go…”. Carver smiled, more kindly than Isobel had seen before. “But I think you're doing the right thing. If you two judge this with a colder eye and still come back to it--well. I'm still going to be honest. But maybe my assessment won't be so harsh next time.”
Isobel half rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the side of her mouth. "Thanks, I'm glad I'd....we'd have your approval." The words came out sarcastic, but they were truthful. She didn't so much want an OK sticker from everyone in the immediate vicinity regarding her relationship with anyone, but knowing that Obed's best friend might actually like that Obed had found someone was reassuring in ways she couldn't explain. She shrugged, not putting much faith in it, and then she was elbowed back, another person trying to reach over her to get ahold of the bartender for a drink.
"You wanna go play pool, find some breathing room?" She asked, motioning with her hand wrapped around her beer bottle toward the other side of the bar.
Carver paused, genuinely contemplating it. Then he sighed. “I really have to get back and wrap some shit up. But--raincheck, no bullshit. Give me a date and we’ll play pool and trade shit about the boss.” He winked at her. He stood, putting money on the bar and gathering up his things. He pulled out a business card and handed it to her; she nodded, accepting it and pocketing the information. “I’ll see you around, maybe.”
Without waiting for her goodbye or comment, he headed out of the bar; through the window, she could see him hailing a cab. She watched him disappear into a slightly beat up red and white vehicle; sipping her beer and jostling the people on either side of her, she felt more eased than she would have expected at the end of the encounter.
Quickly, she finished her drink, paid for the lot, and headed home herself.