Farewell sweet earth and northern sky (tinuviel) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-01-25 11:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, leonard mccoy, luthien tinuviel |
It is. She’s a good girl. Her mother’s... a harpy.
Who: Lúthien and McCoy
When: After the cure
Where: a bar
What: a chat
Rating: PG
Status: Complete when posted
Lúthien walked into the bar, looking around in curiosity. She’d never been in an American tavern before and was interested in what it was like. If it was anything like TV, she expected big TVs with sports playing, and tough looking men playing billiards. She looked around and..pretty much saw what she expected!
Several heads turned to look at her. She had her hair down, and was wearing a blue dress and corset combo that seemed a bit out of place, but perfectly suiting her.
McCoy was in the bar, leaning against the counter, with a shot of whiskey and a beer in front of him. His eyes were up on the television above the bar, idly watching whatever sporting event was playing there. He didn’t know either of the teams, though, so it was only a passing interest. He turned along with the other heads that turned when the woman in the blue dress entered.
Smiling, the woman walked over to the bar, and took a seat. “I’d like whatever sort of brandy you’d recommend, please.” Her voice had a lyrical, exotic note to it, with either a French or Italian undertone.
“The Don Pedro is good.” McCoy said, giving a little smirk. “Depends on how much you want to spend.” He added, turning to look at her. She’d grabbed the attention of several of the bar’s patrons, McCoy included, though a lot of them were going back to their conversations and games.
“Thank you.” Her smile was brilliant, and she nodded at the bartender, presenting her ID. “The Don Pedro, if you will.”
The bartender brought the bottle over. He poured her a finger, neat, and then went off to serve another customer.
McCoy lifted his whiskey in a toast. “Cheers.”
“Cheers!” She picked up her drink and toasted McCoy, sipping it. From the expression on her face, it was indeed very good. Worth the extra expense.
McCoy smirked a little after swallowing down his whiskey. He wasn’t on call tonight or tomorrow, so he was out having a couple of drinks to celebrate the end of the Blue Flu epidemic. The hospital was slowly pulling itself back together, and they were going to have fewer patients after the quarantine than they had before it. He set the glass down on the counter.
“What brings you in here tonight? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Boredom, and I wanted to find a place to drink that I’ve never drank at before. And since the last place I had a drink that wasn’t in private was in Monte Carlo, I wanted to see a real American bar.” She brushed dark hair over her shoulder, and took another swallow of her brandy. She somehow managed to make it look elegant.
McCoy could tell she was well traveled. He gave a soft nod. “You’ve been all over, I take it?” He asked. He’d done his fair share of exploring. Would do more if he could get up on the ship.
“Not really. I was born there. I’ve been to France, and Italy, and once to Cairo, but this is my first time in the United States. My father is rather...” She swirled her glass. “Overprotective.”
McCoy nodded. “Understood.” He knew about overprotective fathers. He was one. “Where is he now?”
“Back home, probably plotting ways to terrify any suitors I might find out here.” She let out a little sigh. “This was mother’s idea. I think she tried to convince him that I’d get into less trouble.” Her smile turned positively impish.
“Suitors?” McCoy asked. He wasn’t sure about that word. It sounded like something from different century. “Your mother wants you to go out to bars, while your father wants to scare away any suitors you might find?” He asked, breaking into a little smirk.
“I don’t think she wants me in bars, but she wants me to be more rounded and knowing of the world. She wouldn’t approve much of this place.” She gestured around at the bar, then shrugged one of her shoulders. “I like it, myself.”
McCoy chuckled. “I think a lot of parents wouldn’t approve of this place.” He said then finished off his shot of whiskey. It wasn’t exactly the nicest bar in the Orange County, but they had good whiskey, good brandy, and good beer. “What do you think about this place?”
“It’s lovely. I’m fond of the atmosphere. It’s rather homey, don’t you think?” She wasn’t sure of the company yet, but was too polite to say anything. She did like McCoy. “I’m Lúthien, it’s a pleasure.”
McCoy glanced up and around the place, as if this was the first time he’d looked at the walls. “It has its charm,” he said, giving a little shrug, then turned to look at her again. “McCoy. Leonard McCoy.”
“I can’t place your dialect. It’s..interesting.” From the way that word rolled off her tongue, it wasn’t necessarily a bad sort of interesting. She didn’t seem to be hitting on him, but she was friendly.
“Probably because I’ve lived all over. Started in the south, but spend a good chunk of time in the North East.” McCoy said, giving a little nod as he started in on his beer. “So, I’m a transplant, too. Where are you from?” He asked, making conversation.
“Monaco. Monte Carlo primarily. My family is...” She waved a hand dismissively, as if none of that mattered. “My father chased off my boyfriend, and now I’m here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” McCoy said, frowning a little. “It’s always difficult when family and friends don’t get along.” He was showing his softer, more considerate side.
“Mostly my father thinking no one is good enough for me.” She sighed, softly. The romantic part of her thought that Beren was off on some grand quest to prove his worthiness.
The bastard could at least have called.
“Well, that’s the roles of fathers. I know no boy or man I’ve met so far, save possibly one, would ever be good enough for my daughter. And it’s a good thing he’s far too old for her.” McCoy said, smirking. He lifted his beer for another gulp.
“You’re a father, then? I suppose that must be a common thing, for daddy’s little girl.” Lúthien was mostly musing out loud. “Sometimes it is easy to be blinded by love, but even at a distance, Beren was a good man.”
“Yes.” McCoy agreed. “It’s very much a common thing. My daughter’s not quite to dating age, but I dread the day it comes up.” He said. “And your father still didn’t like him? Well, that’s understandable. I know a lot of good men. Still, not good enough for Joanna.”
“Well she is still a child, no? Wait until she is fifty, I’m sure there will be a suitable man then.” She gave him a playful grin. “And your wife? What does she think?”
“When’s he’s fifty she’ll be her own problem.” McCoy chuckled. “Until she leaves the house, she’s my responsibility. And until then... no boys.” He lifted his beer for a gulp. “Oh, she’s not my wife.” He said, pulling a face. “No, thank you. She lives on the East Coast. Joanna’s only here twice a year, unfortunately.”
"I'm twenty-two, and half a world away, and he still thinks I'm his responsibility." She winked at McCoy, playfully. "I see. I'm sorry. It must be very hard to see her that infrequently."
“Understood. We haven’t gotten there yet, I’m not ruling it out.” McCoy responded. “It is. She’s a good girl. Her mother’s... a harpy.”
“A harpy? That sounds a little harsh, but I’m not in your shoes.” Lúthien nodded her head. “Is there no way you can increase the frequency?”
“She’s got school. It’s a long way to travel for a weekend with dad.” He said, though he sounded a bit bitter about it. “Girls need to be with their mothers, so I don’t mind the agreement that we have now. Maybe I’ll ask for her to come spend Spring Break out with me this year.”
“As much as I disagree with my father, I could not imagine spending so little time with him.” It seemed sad to her, so she drank from her glass and fell silent. It really wasn’t her place to say anything more.
“It’s difficult.” McCoy nodded, agreeing. He drank in silence for a moment, thinking about how he could remedy the situation. Joanna was still young. He couldn’t imagine taking her away from her mother for much longer than a week at a time--over Christmas she was with him for longer than that--but he did want to see more of her. The bitch he was married to made sure his situation was difficult.
"Summer holiday, perhaps? Any sane mother would be glad to have their child out of their hair for an extra few weeks." Assuming the mother was sane.
“Yeah.” McCoy nodded again, thinking about it. “I’m going to work on it. Cheers.” He added, lifting the glass to clink against hers. “And thanks.”
“Cheers,” she replied, raising her glass again. “And you are welcome.”