Montgomery Scott is a miracle worker (warp_speed) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-04-24 13:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, gaila, montgomery scott |
I've never spit in a sandwich in my life.
Who: Gaila, Scotty
What: Day two of disagreeingness + lack of conflict resolution. Tis a stalemate! Oh, and sammichs.
Where: Mad Monty's
When: Umm belated posting this blip! Couple of days ago, same day that Tyra showed up.
Rating PG
Status: complete
Gaila had escaped at some point early in the morning, so never got to meet Tyra. She shuffled in, sheepishly.
Someone is welding. Goggles on. Mp3 player tucked in a pocket and earbuds in, so he's not noticing too much, other than his usual incredibly busy with projects building noises. If he knew better, he wouldn't be listening to incredibly loud music, with the hangover headache he was nursing that day. Luckily though, most of the day was blown and his hangover was on the downswing.
She paused, watching him for a moment, then tried to sneak around and make it to the stairs, so she could shower, freshen up, and have some much needed coffee.
It was Scotty. Working on a project. He's pretty much utterly immersed in the whole thing, thinking while he's working, and can't hear a thing because he was sure he wasn't going to be interrupted after that crazy woman driver had taken off with that poor vehicle, that he felt very sorry for. He did stop welding for a moment, but didn't seem to notice anything, and after a quick check, started right back up again!
Phew. She made it up the stairs and quickly showered, then dropped some eyedrops in her eyes and flopped onto the couch in only an open bathrobe, legs kicked up onto the coffee table.
And someone Scottish is totally losing track of time again. At some point, though, his stomach was going to do that 'hey, food is good?' thing and he'll have to appease it by throwing a sandwich down there. It might be a wee while until he reaches that point though!
Doo dee doo! Building an engine that doesn't have a fuel source yet! He'll just modify what he's got, to suit whatever they're using, later. Somehow or other, in his mind, he was 100% sure that this would work.
Eventually a wee while passed, while Scotty worked and Gaila flopped and eventually stomachs got way, way too demanding!
Stupid annoying stomachs, with their demandingness! Fine then! Ruin enterprising inventiveness and scientificness with your piddly need for foods!
Scotty's tummy went GRAWRR and owner of said tummy decided it was break time. He told himself he could perfectly well work into the wee hours of the morning, happily undaunted, with enough coffee to fuel him, but food? Kind of a necessity. So he put things away, took his goggles and gloves off, no more musics, and he went trudging slowly up the stairs. Upstairs where - upon entering - he spied a certain green lass on his couch. She gets a grunted hello and the wave of one hand, like he was passing through as inoffensively as possible. In fact, see? He pointed at the fridge like that is a huge hint, that he's going to dig into that for foods. Yes.
A green lass with all her goods exposed to him and the world. She waggled her fingers at him, a little sheepishly, "Hey..." She got up off the couch, "Let me help you with that, so you can get back to work."
Well, by now, he was used to that, though it was a very nice sight? He's not going to debate that.
"I think I've got this. Ye dinnae need tae trouble yerself over it, I can make a sandwich." And, to try to break the ice a little bit, he added, "I dinnae want ye tae spit in it."
She gave him a dry look, "I've never spit in a sandwich in my life. You insult my waitresstude!"
"Isnae that what got us here in the first place?" he asked, in a light an airy manner, like he was unaffected. Plop goes the lunch meat that is not marked with Porthos' name onto the counter, followed by cheese, condiments, additives and way too much stuff to ever belong on a sandwich. It was a wonder he didn't have fried haggis to slap on there. "It's not my fault ye were not a good waitress, ye know."
Porthos sat under the table, the better to catch any droppings. Gaila bristled and stormed over, "Move over, I'm making that."
"Nae, step aff! I've got this! Yer goin' tae put the branston pickle on the wrong side!" He already started leaning in the away motion, while shielding the laid out components with his arms, like they were his edible babies. Sandwich construction is srs bsns!
She thwapped him in the arm, "Bitch make me a sammich too then!"
"Stop hitting me, bloody hell, fine. I'll make you a sandwich." And there he went, proper sandwich construction 101. It is a complicated affair involving which side of the sandwich the cheese is layered on, which side the red relish type stuff goes on, the proper amount of condiments, how to get everything precisely to the edges of the bread, how many slices of lunch meat are placed down, so on and so forth.
It was all a little ridiculous in Gaila's opinion. As long as the there was something between each slice of meat (usually a layer of cheese)she was happy (except when at the bar, when she followed a specific sandwich recipe). It usually went bread>condiments>cheese>meat>cheese>meat>c
They probably would have to agree to disagree. Or in this case, Gaila let him do his thing - she was less picky than he was, and it met her layered guidelines. So she was happy.
That didn't stop her from poking him, "More of that. No no, less!"
It was definitely layered. In fact, if it were a building, it would be a high rise. With each poke though, he glowered a little bit. "Dinnae be pushy, I've got it! That's the perfect amount an' if ye put more on that side, it'd be soggy and not mesh because of the cheese layer! GET AFF! Stop poking! It hurts. Ouch! Stoppit."
Gaila laughed, then squirted a wee bit extra mustard on one side!
"Fine, enjoy it when it gets smudgy," Scotty said like he was the expert, smushing his sandwich down and cutting it in two with a knife. "Because it will."
"It'll be in my stomach by then," She retorted, grabbing hers and retreating back to the couch with it. "So it doesn't matter."
"Fine then, but by the time you get tae the last bite, it'll disintegrate." Scotty did not sit down, he simply stood by the wee kitchen counter and ate while standing. So there!
Gaila found herself less hungry than she'd displayed, but made the effort to eat it down before it could prove Scotty right.
He noticed. In fact, he pointed at her, like ah-ha! "Yer just eating it like that, tae prove me wrong about the extra mustard! Ye didnae take the consistency of the bread intae account, it cannae soak up that much mustard without bein' compromised."
He knows. He's practically a sammich master. In all their food-based shapes, forms, and varieties.
"Ye cannae even eat it normally, because ye always have a need tae make it seem like yer right," he finished. Bite. Chew. Mmm sammich.
"Sometimes, Scotty, I want to be compromised." She giggled.
Gaila was in a better mood in general. At least than earlier!
He can't respond, he's too busy chewing, but he did give her a funny looking at. Like maybe HE hadn't forgotten, nope!
Gaila smiled cheerfully at him. Maybe she'd forgotten! Then she burped, unladylike, and picked up the remote to go through the tv stations!
That was pretty. Gaila. So ladylike. Scotty gave her a funny staring at and then shrugged a shoulder, like he wasn't too terribly offended at all. He was wondering how she could forget a blow out like that, though, which was worrying. But he was trying his damndest to keep that to himself and simply finish his sandwich.
She hadn't forgotten, merely deciding that discretion was the better part of valor and it was best to leave fights in the past. A night (and then a day) of going out and partying had helped.
For him, that kind of meant dropping the ball and having no resolution, and his night out without her hadn't been all that fun, though it wasn't horrible either. The music was okay after all, even though he wasn't into dancing at all, it was still pretty pretty good.
Gaila's night out hadn't improved until she'd come home and napped it off and then went right back out. She'd danced, drank some more, and in general relaxed herself until her temper and her anxiety had melted away.
Well, that's lovely. He was imagining she was just conveniently forgetting about it, so had deduced that if she was going to do that, and ignore the situation which occured last night? He was just going to ignore everything else but work. Because he'd been cranky all day. And he could go right back to being cranky, after he finished off his sandwich. Welcome to day 2.
Sandwich gone? Good. He grabbed a bottle of water and down the steps he went, looking vastly unenthused.
Gaila peered over the back of the couch, frowning, "What's your problem? I'm sorry I got in late, okay?"
"Come in whenever ye feel like it! I'm not yer bloody boss," he called back before he hit the last step, and back to work he went. Goggles on, music playing, cutting pieces, and welding like a madman according to his plans and outlines.
Eyedarting, Gaila sunk back into the cushions of the couch and hugged a throw pillow to herself.