The Old Fashioned Is Commonly Held To Have Been Invented In 1880

[crushed_pearls]

Who: Erin Peters and YOU
What: Settling in, dealing with things, making friends
When: Late March
Where: Oak & Iron, the woods, around
Warnings: Discussion of death & the ethics of suicide, trauma, whatever you bring with you




Gallery Style | Oak & Iron

Oak & Iron undergoes a few renovations, just a couple days' worth, to expand the bar area and add labels in Braille (thanks Gerry). When they're done, Pumpkin Hollow has a new bartender, a winged lass in a blindfold wreathed in the scents of sex and gunpowder. She quickly picks up a reputation for almost prescient service; good suggestions for drinks, never leaving a glass empty long, and a firm hand for when you're cut off. Though every now and again there's an odd dance where someone isn't cut off and instead drinks enough to, not to put too fine a point on it, fucking die - except they don't die, and instead just get normal drunk.

A rather extensive cocktail menu manifests too (thanks Magne, with your working eyes). It's cut up into various flavors, with the ingredients clearly laid out (thanks Max Maximum, with your knowledge of food allergies), but at the tail end of the menu is a change in theme; two sections labeled by nation instead of flavor. The countries in question are Gallery, and Japan.

Gangster Style | The Woods

Here's the needle Erin has to thread: she can't overload herself socially, but she also can't listen to the urge to isolate. So one day she goes out into the woods just at the edge of town and digs a pair of graves in the soft soil, leaving the dirt in a huge pile off to the side. You might find her out here, just laying in one, trying to listen to the sounds of the forest, but if she knows you, well, you might have been invited. "Six feet deep, best rest you'll get."

Tourist Style | Wildcard

Come get your bird lady.

Comments

[crushed_pearls]

"I'm planning on getting through it, as is tradition, by sleeping my way through half the town and any of my friends that seem interested." Erin flashes a wan grin; she knows what she's like. "There might be some drinking of my own too."

[abhorrently]

A tiny lift of the glass in Erin's direction again - she respects and endorses this course of action. She's already been making moves of her own, there's not an ounce of judgement in her body.

"There's some joke about sowing wild oats and putting down roots and spring in that, but I'm no bard with a wit to make it."

[crushed_pearls]

"You do realize you're very much on the list of people I'm interested in, yeah?"

[abhorrently]

"Have I ever given you the impression I'm not interested in return?"

Siiiip.

"That said, I've got enough sense to wait until you're not working."

[maximumcake]

Max pops his head back in for just one second, he's still working on the ingredients but he's been listening in, apparently.

"You know I'll cover for you if some kind of 'emergency' comes up." Best wingman award goes to...this dork.

[crushed_pearls]

"Max I'm working! And not about to bang a drunk lass!"

The lady who doth protest too much award goes to...

[maximumcake]

"I'm just sayin'..." and he's gone again.

[abhorrently]

Max, you are a pearl among men.

"So, if I forewent my promised death by cocktail..."

Just asking. Like she said, Erin's working, and Fever knows when to lay off.

[crushed_pearls]

"Oh we're locked in now," Erin teases, leaning in with a coy smile. "But if you're not spoken for tomorrow night, drop by my place. Dinner, chat, separate bedrooms...if you want to keep them separate anyway."

Can't just exclude Daisy off the jump.

[abhorrently]

Max is spared from having to cover, then.

"Give me the address and a good time, and then you can consider me spoken for."

The separate bedrooms will be a question she'll save for dinner tomorrow, if it doesn't become apparent.

[crushed_pearls]

"Living with Daisy not too far from the bar." Erin gives directions the author won't narrate because he's not opening the map on this damn phone. "Call it around six, six thirty? Figure worst case is I crash with Daisy, save you a bad walk home."

[abhorrently]

"Are you going to tell your wife I'm coming over, or am I a surprise?"

She has no idea what the worst case would be, and has no inclination to find out.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin wheezes and needs A Minute Here, but when she recovers she takes her sending stone from her pocket and waggles it. Shall she call now?

[abhorrently]

Oh, no, Erin. That call needs to be your own entirely, in both senses of the word. Fever just takes a drink and leans back, recusing herself from the decision.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin leans back against the shelves behind the bar and decides that she hasn't subjected Daisy to enough no-context bullshit lately.

So what Daisy gets is this:

"Dinner with a sexy homewrecker tomorrow, love?"

[hadnoright]

A solid few seconds go by without an actual response, though the mumbled 'what the fuck, Erin—?' might be audible despite her best efforts, before there's a sigh and:

"—Fever. Right?"

[crushed_pearls]

"Got it in one. Tonight's no good, I'm working, so...?"

[hadnoright]

"If you were making that joke about anyone else I'd've had a lot more questions." Snorts. "Yeah. Alright. Sure."

[crushed_pearls]

"Best wife ever, see ya after work."

And back forward to the bar, grinning like a fox.

[abhorrently]

Fever is desperately trying to not laugh, but it's clear in her voice.

"She has good intuition."

What does one bring to a dinner like this apart from themselves...

[crushed_pearls]

"Don't expect miracles from my cooking," Erin warns, grinning warmly herself. "If you want something special you'll need to bring it yourself. Me, I'm gonna see if I can shake Mister Sims down for some good tea."

[abhorrently]

"I'm nothing spectacular in the kitchen, but I'm sure I can figure out a decent side and a suitable bottle of wine. Tell Daisy this time we're not repeating the flaming glasses - she'll understand."

If only because you can only flirt with a woman that way once before it loses its charm.

[maximumcake]

"Flaming glasses?" Max says as he arrives back at the bar with a big tray of sauced fruits some bread and butter and all the other miscellaneous ingredients they need to multiply Fever's vision by four.

"I didn't hear that story. Now I wanna know."

There's laughter evident in his voice. He's been listening and cracking up to all of this. Like, yes, Erin and Daisy are both basically family to him but that just means he loves hearing they are having a good time even more.

[abhorrently]

"It's not as out there as the term would imply, but after the Village, when I was sulking about things, I ran into Daisy and we got to talking. Found a drink from where I came from - fireswill is the name, from the spices and the strength, and between her strength and my magic, we decided to see if she could drink literal fire. Just to say she did, if she could."

In truth, born from another of Those Fucking Weeks, but that would just make her sound depressing.

"Turns out, she can. And she's beautiful when she does. But I don't think she'd be inclined to make it her party trick."

[maximumcake]

Normal people might hear this story and be horrified, but Max just laughs. "Yeah, that sounds like the Daisy I know and love. You know I'm going to have to tease her from now on by calling her 'hot lips' right?" He winks. He might be able to say it once, just once, and live.

"I'm so glad she's making more friends. And you too. I propose a toast to that!"