|Characters:||Dale Billie Tucker Luisa Dustin Adrienne Maximo Way|
|Summary:||Bonfire, booze, meat, and weed at the Aces and Eights' territory.|
|Disclaimers:||Language, Drug Use, Smoking, Alcohol Use|
There are a few vehicles already in the front, and the noise is all coming from the back. A large fire has been built up, plenty of seating around it for folks to settle in. The picnic tables have been covered with various cooked meats and other typical outdoor party food, with a grill being manned by Dale. It is more of a large, military-style metal box that could feed a small army in short order with a fire going under it, but he is managing it well. There are coolers filled with beer and liquor, and strings of lights dangle from the back of the gas station out to trees to make sure there is at least a little light everywhere.
Outside of the food and fire area there is a mud pit that has been roped off like a wrestling ring, a makeshift shooting range with some bows and a basket with some arrows in it, and several makeshift tents made out of tarps for people that can't seem to make it home on their own.
Bows? Arrows? That is not at all how Billie rolls, and judging by the strange expression on her face as she stands next to the basket of arrows she might be considering going against what is clearly the expected use of the range. No bows.
Nothing could go wrong.
Since the Fixers got an invite and Way hates to turn down a chance to work on diplomatic relations... the Gremlin shows up to the party. His mode of transportation is a mystery because he comes walking up from the parking lot out of the darkness, into the light. Slung over his shoulders as always is his trusty backpack and he is still wearing the welding goggles from earlier, forgotten as they rest on his head out of the way. For those who can see the mein of the Lost, YES he is a trash panda, NO don't mention it. Or do! He is surrounded by a shimmer of heat, like the waves coming off an asphalt road in the hottest days of summer when it reaches 105 degrees. When he rolls in, Wayfarer gives a wave and calls out, "Fixers representing!"
Adrienne is wielding the Suzuki Hayabusa because Maximo is an absolute madman and let the Rahu pilot the motorcycle for some reason. She had been racing a high speeds, refusing to wear a helmet, and rocketing through the city at high speeds until she got off on the highway.
She skids to a stop when it's finally time to stop, grinning like a fool at the speed limit violations she'd committed. Wearing a fitted white t-shirt that says 'Hakuna Matata' on the front in plain, bleak black script and a pair of short, cut-off denim shorts with a pair of low-top white Converse All-stars that appear to be brand new contrary to her usually ratty appearance. "Alright, chin up -- best foot forward, remember not to lick anyone," Adrienne teases the shit out of the much more socially capable Maximo as she heads into the party.
The back of one of the trucks is filled to the edge with styrofoam boxes and a huge, Costco-sized cooler. Tucker hefts the cooler onto his shoulder and grabs the nylon rope of a handle on one of the boxes. Both are brought over to the grill and set down. If the styrofoam box had a label, it would surely be 'assorted meat' because it's filled to the brim with burgers and brats and whatever else.
He spots the girl on the 'busa and nods to her and Maximo. Checking his vantage point up and down the road leading to the gas station and grabbing another box. As is his style this one has a black garbage bag of weed in it. This, he sits next to the beer cooler and he nods with a wink to Dale.
The Witch is sitting over by the fire, head down, beer propped up against the cut of log serving as her stool. Wardrobe is her usual, 'band tee-shirt and past-worn-out jeans'; tonight it's Nine Inch Nails, a green 'spiral' logo and NIN in white on the front, the back a list of tour dates so cracked and faded as to be illegible. When Way calls out his arrival she actually turns; Fixers? Really? Raised brows lower quickly when she spots the source. "Makes sense," she murmurs. "He would be the one crazy enough to show after what happened." It's judgemental, yes... but not necessarily negative.
The low rumbling of that luxurious sedan can be heard as it pulls up next to the gas station, matte black color of the Cadillac XTS blending in nicely under the cover of night, and out comes Dustin. He's dressed in a beige-colored shirt with the logo of an uzi emblazoned on his left chest, black cargo pants, and a pair of checkered Vans as footwear, while his hair is adorned with black cap flaunting a golden fleur-de-lis symbol on it, showing his support for the local New Orleans Saints football team. He saunters his way into the party with a g-limp, dragging himself over with this swagger that exudes confidence, and a nasty expression that often invites fear or conflict. A spliff of weed dangles from his mouth.
"Yeah, sure. Why not?" Maximo asked Adrienne when she said she was driving. So what you have then is a near six and a half foot tall man riding precariously on the back of his own bike(that he can't ride worth a damn anyway) as that mad Meninna rips and tears down the streets. No headgear for him, just long black hair whipping in the wind behind him like a Paul Redken commercial spot.
He almost dies only once, he's sure.
Feet on solid ground finally, Maximo takes those keys back and marches along with Adrienne. Jeans and a Flash t-shirt. Flip flops. Yeah, while riding. Maniac. "Right. Lick only one. Excellent. Right. Yes." Pupils wide like dinner plates, Maximo is drawn to the soft glow of string lighting like a hallucinating moth. Chin lifts in a sharp upnod as he catches a wave thrown his way.
For Dale's part he is dressed up more than usual. He has on a pair of camo cargo shorts, that may or may not have been pants at one point judging by the frayed, hemless bottoms of the legs, and a pair of tan work boots beneath. He isn't wearing a shirt, but instead has an apron on that covers the front of him. It has seen better days, with a few stitched up holes marring the otherwise classy image of a woman in a bikini that is interposed on the front, designed to look like his body if her were much smaller in stature, and in fact a woman. The beard makes it a hard sell.
He is flipping meat and adding sauce, throwing finished pieces on plates, and lining them up to take to the table as the others begin to arrive. He lets the tongs he is holding drape over a part of the makeshift grill, and claps Tucker on the back as he brings in more supplies. He heads over to the side of the gas station that is the easiest to get around to the back from and holds his hands out in a welcoming gesture, "Evening friends, acquaintances, assholes, and potential allies. Help yourselves to some food, drink, and whatever other pleasures you dare for and make yourselves at home. I only ask the structure remains intact." he says, motioning to the gas station itself. He offers greetings to those he knows already, and then to the ones he doesn't he offers a nod, "Name's Dale, welcome to the territory of the Aces and Eights. Hope you have a great time tonight."
"Luisa...you think I could get a bullseye?" Billie calls over towards the judgy one by the fire. Whatever the answer might be, though, she doesn't take any shot. With a bow or otherwise. Instead she twists around to look at the ones that are arriving, eyes scanning them each in turn before she shoves her hands into her pockets to hunt for something, coming out a moment later with a pack of cigarettes.
As he meanders over toward the location of the food and that still in progress of cooking, Wayfarer catches the greeting from their host and snickers a little. "I could probably fit into all of those categories." he remarks looking up at Dale to give him a big grin from ear to ear; almost literally. "Thanks, man. Sorry the others couldn't make it. I think they were all washing each others hair or painting fingernails...something like that." the Gremlin says, then veers off toward Luisa where he finds a log next to hers to sit on. "I like it." he tells her, nodding his head in approval. "Clothes. Good look on you." Way explains to the Witch, casting her a smirk. Then his attention goes to Billie and the bow.
Adrienne is in pretty good spirits, spotting the Alpha of her pack and throwing a hand up at Dustin. "Dukes!" Her pupils are pretty fucking huge too; her cheeks are a little flushed on top of that, but she's upright and smiling and seems to have filled the chip on her shoulder for a little while. "Hi Dale, I wont blow up your stuff. I'm Adrienne from Killer Instinct, nice to meet you. Thanks for all of the meat and beer," And she does in fact take a beer and lift it before drawing away -- not apparently ready to eat yet, there are so many new faces that it's almost overwhelming.
Tucker is pulling the last of the boxes off the end of the tailgate of his shitty old truck. He's wearing jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He's got a blunt in his mouth, keeping the cherry going a little at a time as he just watches the others arrive. When various introductions have been made, he walks over to Billie and makes a face at the cigarettes. "That shit'll kill you, you know."
"Billie, you know that's a stupid fucking question." the Aces' resident little black rain cloud calls back, shaking her head in (for once mock) disgust. "Or wait -- am I supposed to help you play them? Is there going to be money on this later? Blew it already." A little smirk of her own, there. Then Way's sitting next to her. That's a thing that's happening. "I mean, didn't ask, and awkward, but thanks I guess." She picks up the beer at her side, takes a good swig, and stares the raccoon down. "Sorry. About before. I was... pretty worked up." This is not an invitation.
The call of 'Dukes' draws Luisa's attention away, if briefly; she swivels atop the log, giving the swaggering gangster a little up-nod of recognition and greeting, then when Adrienne introduces herself, another that way. Tucker's lecture, even if it isn't directed at her and probably only half serious, earns him little more than a shrug. "Can we even get cancer? Is that I thing?" she muses aloud a long moment later, directed at no one in particular. Life of the party.
Dustin ambles his way into the party while toking on his spliff, eyes gazing at each person present underneath the brim of his hat. He finds his Rahu packmate greeting him with... joy? What the hell is up with this woman now? "Adri, I've been looking around for you. Where've you been? ... You OK there?" The blonde Meninna usually puts up a grumpy and unapproachable demeanor, yet here she is feeling all bright and cheery and rosy, which does seem to bother her Alpha. But then he notices those dilated pupils, wide and almost overwhelming the brilliant emerald green around them. He croons curiously, but is otherwise ignoring the fact, his attention set on Dale and the rows of food served in front of him.
He catches a that nod being offered to him by Luisa, the Iminir giving her a sidelong glance then before he salutes, a quick flick of his two fingers over his temple. The swamp witch is always a welcome sight to him. Overall, Dustin looks to be enjoying the presence of all familiar and unfamiliar faces surrounding him, but he's also mostly keeping it to himself for now.
From his pocket, Maximo draws out a battered but intact cigar tube. Tapping it against his thigh as he wanders onto the festivities grounds. The turf of a pack, no less. Which is why he makes a line straight foooooor... he's pointing that cigar tube until Dale makes his welcome announcement. "That's the one. Be back in a minute, Adrienne." Maximo says with a contented, easy smile. Bright and sunny. He turns on heel to point at Dustin, walking backward and not hitting anyone yet. "Heeeey! Dukes! Heard all about you! Beer?!" He asks then just decides the answer is yes.
Straight to Dale he goes. Like some kind of majestic, drug fueled creature not meant for an easily breakable world. "Hey. Maximo Masson. No pack but here's this." He says, offering that cigar tube before spotting the coolers. "Aahhhh, there we go. Love the open invite, beautiful drive up. Beer too?"
Dale chuckles at the trash-pands, "Yeah I imagine you could. Good to see you again." He offers an almost smile to Adrienne, "Mi casa es su casa." in a terrible accent, but still managing to make the gist of it come out. Maximo gets his attention as he heads straight for him, and with the look in his eyes Dale is wondering if the direction from Adrienne to not lick anyone was actually serious. Dale reaches out to take the offered tube, looking down at it a moment. He looks back up at Maximo from the tops of his eyes, and there is a nod of his head as he holds the tube up for emphasis, "Much obliged." He nods towards the coolers, "Yeah, help yourself. Glad you could make it Maximo."
With the greetings finished he turns to head back to the grill before the meat starts to burn, calling back over his shoulder to add into the discussion his pack-mates are having, "She can't help it Tucker. Needs something in her mouth." he offers, winking at Billie as he grabs the tongs back from the grill, "Most of us don't get old enough to worry about cancer." he offers to Luisa, adding a bit of rain to her cloud too. With that he is back to stocking plates with food again, making sure there is enough for anybody that might happen by.
"Oh hell, I almost forgot..." Way mutters, pulling off his backpack to go digging around in it. He comes up with a seriously ornate long Churchwarden pipe with the carving of a wolf on one side and the full moon on the other. It is made out of gorgeous cherry wood. He hands it over to Luisa, "This is from Fixers to Aces. Mack and I made it." Then he comes up with a baggy of some wicked smelly weed to go with it. "This is also from us, Ramsey grew it." The Wizened casts a smile at her and motions to Dale and the other Aces, "Its for all of you...to pass around and stuff." After that part is over, Wayfarer nods at Luisa and mmmhmms, "I know. I get it. Everybody was tense. Our butts were puckered so tight if anybody could squeeze out a fart it would only be heard by canines." A shrug is offered and he goes on, "I think we all just need to learn how to better communicate. So I say nothing to forgive. Cool?"
"Would I try and hustle them?" Billie throws back in Luisa's direction before she tucks a slightly bent cigarette into her mouth, attention settling on Tucker. There's a long, drawn out moment where she just stares at him, the filter caught between her front teeth as she digs out the lighter and lights the cigarette, then she tucks the lighter away before she nods, "Right. What he said." Then she pulls the cigarette from her mouth before she leans in towards Tucker, lowering her voice, "I'm going to shave his head for that crack. Want to help?"
Then she straightens up, lifting the hand holding the cigarette to offer a wave towards everyone, "Hello."
"Here's hoping. I don't think this ugly mug is going to age well." Tucker juts out his chin and strokes his beard. The wild eyed Rahu looks over to Adrienne talking to Dukes and smirks. For now though, he doesn't make any attempt to go talk to anyone, he just hangs by Billie for the moment. "You know I'm down. But you know he can probably pull off the bald look." He shoots a glance at Dale while talking to her, "An eyebrow though. Just one. He'll have to make the choice of living with just one or shaving the other one off himself. We may or may not have done that to someone in basic."
So perhaps the Rahu with the crippling case of social anxiety has a little augmenting in the emotion department. If Adrienne can tell that Dustin is concerned because she's cheerful and not brooding in the corner trying to pet the cats, she doesn't show it. Adrienne waves two fingers against her brow at Luisa, "Ma'am," she gives a mock-deadpan greeting, and watches Maximo flit away like some sort of six and a half foot booze fairy. "Party Cahalith activate."
Adrienne looks over at Way the Wizened. She sniffs the air, nose twitching as she catches the skunk of it in the air. Her attention is drawn to Billie and she clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, thoughtful. "I feel like I'm gonna be paste from the jaws of some hulking terror of the night way before I have to smoke weed out of my tracheotomy hole but I'm not a doctor."
Luisa takes the pipe with something approaching reverence -- it's an impressive piece, to be sure -- but holds it like one might a tea cup who's never had tea. Gingerly, a bit awkwardly. "Um. Thanks. It's very... ornate. And well made." She doesn't seem more excited about the weed, but certainly more comfortable. Luisa's clearly more of a roll-her-own-blunt type of girl. The pipe and baggie are tucked in the empty cup-holder of a nearby folding camping chair; no need for more 'security', who would be stupid enough to steal from this crowd? Looking back to Way she adds, "...and I appreciate that. Realize I didn't make the best first impression." A little liquid sort of shrug works through her shoulders. "At the same time, not an inaccurate one." She snickers softly at the talk of death, offering a low-spoken "Fuck that, I'm gonna live forever." to the night at large, followed by, "Mostly out of spite."
Maximo gets this blank stare from the shorter Dustin as he stares up, nostrils blaring noisily into a snort. Dustin takes a long drag of his blunt and flicks his chin up to him lazily. "Yeah, sure thing, man. Can't say the same 'bout you but, a beer would be appreciated," he tells him in response. Meanwhile, Dustin is giving his packmate all sorts of weird stares, his nose scrunching up and forehead wrinkled, though those features are probably shadowed underneath his cap. He regards the Full Moon once more and nudges her with an elbow. "C'mere, there's someone I need to introduce you to."
His attention lands on Luisa as he approaches, and should Adrienne tag along, he presents her to the Witch. "Luisa, Adrienne. Adrienne, Luisa. She's the newest fighter in the pack," Dustin flashes her a quick grin, wolfish, with teeth that are too sharp to be human. "Planning on bringing her along the next time we go hunting."
Dale doesn't seem to hear the plotting, or maybe he does and just doesn't react, instead grabbing a beer from Maximo as he heads about handing them out to folks. He cracks it open and takes a long pull from it, letting out a sigh of contentment as he leans down to spread out the wood under the grill, bringing the fire low to take the heat down a notch. He steps away from it then, letting it rest till it's needed again, "If anyone's feeling frisky the ring is open. Clothing optional and if you want to keep it there is a hose to clean the mud off over there." he says, motioning to the back door of the gas station where a brand new green garden hose has been attached to a spigot.
He grabs a half chicken that was cooked up, no plate, and heads over to settle in by the fire with it. Choice of seat is a captain's chair that looks like it was ripped out of a junk car, and he puts his feet out in front of him to let the heat soak into his boots as he digs in.
"We could shave one, then tattoo it on." Billie suggests thoughtfully, taking another drag from the cigarette before she flicks the ashes out onto the ground, "I'm free tonight....I bet if we wait until he passes out, we could do it tonight. We'll steal someone's razor."
"It's not a fuckin baby. You don't have to hold its head." the Gremlin says to Luisa with a smirk at how she holds the pipe. But he shrugs it off since it now belongs to them. Really she can hold it however the hell she wants. "I wanted to make you guys a turbo grill after we were over last time. I mean one with a conveyor belt and feeder slots and it gets up to like a thousand degrees, so by the time it goes through in fifteen seconds it's done and shooting out the other side like a slow pitch softball." Wayfarer tells her with a smirk. "They disagreed, so we came up with this. I think it was a good compromise." Way declares.
He glances up at the girl who approached them. Waving at Adrienne, he states, "Hey there. I'm Wayfarer, but if you are like everybody else and can't be bothered with the last two syllables just call me Way. It works. I'm with Fixers. We are more of uhhhhh Mackley." He glances around and laughs lightly, "Feeling Frisky? I don't even want to know...I mean is that a fighting thing orrrr...." He casts a side glance at Luisa and notes, "I bet you could have eaten me in one bite. You pretty tough or just pretty?" Time for the slick moves tonight!
"Maximo and I go back, he's good people," Adrienne informs Dustin quietly, murmuring that to him with a sidelong glance. She does tag along, and she does see his weird stares and forehead scrunches. The Rahu is empathetically bankrupt at that level so Dustin's expression just throws her off and confuses her just a bit, enough that she doesn't say anything about it.
"Hey Luisa," Adrienne says to the woman babying the pipe before she peers at Way. "Hi, Way. The Fixers throw a good party." Adrienne glances back over at Dustin and Luisa, finally taking a drink of the beer she'd been holding for a bit.
If she's bothered by Way's critique of her pipe-cradling technique, the Witch doesn't let on. Then the topic shifts -- "Turbo grill." Luisa echoes, listening to the description that follows in the manner of one not entirely sure they're hearing right, or at very least not believing what they're hearing fully. Visions of meat hurled at meteoric speed. Sure. OK. She appears to still be processing as Way offers his introductions to Adrienne and Dukes, but snaps out of it in time to respond. "Yeah? Good, good. We're going to need a few when we go back out, coordinate a bit." The Rahu is offered a thin-lipped smile, a little forced but genuine. Hey, she's trying. "Good to meet you, Adrienne." Her attention then shifts back to Way as he discusses his hypothetical death in her jaws. "If I wanted to." she agrees. "Not as tough as some, but enough." Probably not the desired response.
With a more personal welcome to the territory, Maximo made himself at home with the ease of a man -born- to celebrate. It's an easy, casual grace in his weaving around people here and there. A momentary pause to just look at Way... just... Maximo blinks, clears his throat and gives a nod of acceptance more for himself than anything else. Yup. He's seeing that. Centered once more, he does actually pass around a few drinks. Tucker gets one. He looked like he needed one. He got two after Max considered it a moment. Dale. Billie. He stopped for a while to just admire the gathering. A contented, self satisfied look on his face that just says: "Not a bad day."
With three beers in hand, he returned to hand one off to Adrienne. "Not bad, not bad. You said party, I didn't know what to expect."
Then he gets to Dustin. Beer offered out, Maximo leans ever so slightly closer. "Here. Your Rahu and I used to run the same circles back a while ago. Good eye for talent on you." He says before offering Louisa the last beer in his hands. "Still cold."
Dustin departs to fetch the beer from Maximo, returning once he's got the thing popped off and properly swigging on it. He's on a path to get stupid drunk tonight apparently, and he may have to call some friends over to drive his ass home if he can make that happen. Half of the beer in his hand is already half-drunk, and a few more gulps should see the whole thing completely drained. He washes the taste of beer with a toke of his weed, bobbing his head in affirmation to the Witch. "Figured we're gonna need as many people as we can round up. Plus, I'm here to show off how my own pack rolls, yeah?" He clicks his tongue at that, turning his focus to Maximo with a nod. "She and I have actually known each other since we were kids. Never thought she'd grow up to be a fucking Rahu, but oh well."<tab> The served food does draw his attention again, and he pats Adrienne lightly on her shoulder, "You girls chit-chatter, I need to grab some fucking food," before he limps away. He passes by Way and snaps his fingers at him. "Great pick-up line, by the way. I'm stealing that one for surely," and storms off to the rows of served food.
Tucker sticks the second beer in his pocket and tips the one in his hand to Maximo. For the time being, Tucker meanders over to the grill, grabs a steak out of a box and tosses it on a burner that he turns on high. He lets it sit for a minute on each side and scoops it onto a paper plate.
The beer is passed on, and then Billie puts out her cigarette before she moves to dispose of the butt in a trash receptacle. Then she moves to go find herself something to eat as well.
Dale is eating like he is still in the military, chicking disappearing down to the bone about as quick as he can rip pieces off from it. Each bone is discarded into the fire, the scent of the bones charing lingering in the area even as they crack and pop from the heat. He wipes his hands off on the apron, then takes the thing off, draping it over the back of his seat as he leans back with the beer. He spies Dustin heading towards the table, "You don't see something that catches your fancy let me know and I'll whip it up for ya. We got plenty in the coolers yet." He looks at Billie as she heads that way too, and motions to one of the side serving areas next to the grill. There are two plates, one upside down on top of the other to protect whatever is inside, "Made you your favorite." He downs the rest of his beer, setting the empty bottle down beside his chair.
"God I hope you're not trying to show how your pack rolls with only me as a representative," Adrienne says to Dustin with mock condolences in her voice, making a little yikes face. Self-deprecating humor is probably an alien language to the Iminir but she's grinning anyway. When Dustin says he never thought she'd be a Rahu, she just snorts because she can't remember being much else these days. Amused, she looks over at the herd of folks moving to the food -- her arms are folded over her chest, beer in hand. Just observing for the most part at this point.
For all those people staring at him, the Gremlin takes it all in stride, giving up waves when he notices. His attention lingers on Adrienne a while, studying her pretty intently, but his real conversation is with Luisa right now. So Wayfarer smirks at her answer and nods just once. "Right. Of course. Thing is...I'm just not a brawler, right? I mean, imagine me trying to fight anything but a lawn gnome?" he comments as he begins digging through his backpack again, ending up with a bottle of Genlivet Winchester 50 year old Scotch. "Ah, I wondered where this went." the Lost says with a chuckle to himself. He grabs a plastic party cup from nearby and pours himself a few fingers. "I am...a strategist. A planner. And I'm pretty handy at making things to boom and breaking shit." he says to Luisa as he sniffs the Scotch then sips it. "Oh damn...oh damn." Then he continues to say, "Still, I think some time it would be fun to see if you can get your....well teeth? Paws? Hands? on me for exercise...for learning."
The remark from Dustin gets a grin and Way replies, "You can use it, but I want royalties..."
Nodding along at first, the topic eventually gets back around to fighting... "Sparring? God, you're the last I thought I'd hear that from." Luisa says, sounding maybe a little disappointed. "They're always trying to get me to do that shit." She jerks a thumb over her shoulder toward Dale and Tucker, respectively. "Truth is if you want a real challenge they're the ones to go to." Another odd little shrug. Her usual spirit accompaniment might be absent tonight -- too many other Wolves around for comfort -- but there's still something a little off about Luisa. A preoccupation she just can't shift; a much less cutesy, more distressing 'Luna Lovegood' situation. Her 'nargles' do a damn sight more than steal shoes. "I'm more the one to come to if you want to practice warding off curses."
Almost beer free, Maximo watches Dustin drain back the bottle with a nod of approval. Not that it was needed. He lifts his own beer, luckily on hand since Billie abstained, swigs back a good portion and clears his throat. "No shit? I'm going to need terribly embarrassing stories. You know that, right?" A conspiratorial smile then, Maximo simply shrugs. "Eh, who can ever call that right? I would have absolutely guessed I'd have been an Elodoth." A tragic sigh, Max shakes his head and reaches into his pocket for a pack of smokes as Dustin makes for the food. "Quality over quantity, right?" He asks Adrienne before internally SWEARING he just heard Way say something about murdering a lawn ornament.
"Ah. Right then. Here it is. That moment he talked about." Max nods decisively, trip wearing thin but still quite positive that was the moment he realized that this city was not like any other in the state. That's when he looks to Adrienne. "Be right back. That one looks like he needs my life affirming advice." He sniffs, swirling his beer in the bottle for a moment and starts off toward Tucker once more. "Hey. Cherry Pit. That was you, right?"
When Dale points out he made her a plate there is a slight salute before Billie grabs up the set of plates, tucking the top one under the bottom one before she heads off to find herself a place to sit and wolf down the food. No pun intended.
Again, that swaggering limp is still present when he makes a bee line for the table of food, hungry eyes sweeping through the entire buffet. He lets his spliff hang from an ear and holds his beer bottle by its neck, still insisting on draining his beer down which he actually does once he gets there, belching to the side. He sets the empty bottle down on the table and picks out a meaty burger, flicking his chin up to Dale. "I reckon all of this should be more than enough, wey," he gestures a hand over the plates of meal."... but I'll let ya know anyway." Dustin grins, tossing Billie there a quick nod of his head as well, "What's up?" and goes to fuck off with the burger in hand, stomping away to fetch another bottle of beer.
Tucker looks up from cleaning the last shreds of meat from the bone, "Yeah. Been a minute since I've gotten the chance to just fight for fun. Rather than hunt or kill or any of that." He looks past Max at Adrienne and then back. The second beer is retrieved from his pocket. "Had to cut my teeth pretty young though, group up in the system and I wasn't the biggest or the oldest most of the time. They learned though." He wipes his face with the back of his hand.
Dale finally pulls the cigar tube back out of his pocket now that food and hosting is taken care of. He takes off the top and lets the contents out into his hand, bringing it up to his nose. He drags it slowly under, breathing in the aroma of it. The tube is put back in his pocket, and he stands up to head over to the coolers. He pops one open and grabs a less expensive bottle of scotch than what Way has, pouring some into a cup and taking the bottle and the cup back to his seat. He grabs a sliver of wood and holds it out to the fire till it catches, and then uses it to light the cigar with a deep breath in. He lets the smoke back out easily, curling up and around his beard and face as he leans back with a smile. Not one of his usual half smiles or almost smiles, but a true moment of joy. His eyes are closed and he takes a drink from his cup, the tobacco mingling with the peat of the Scotch. "Fuck it has been a long time."
Yes, he really did just hear a comment from the Gremling about murderizing a lawn ornament. Taken out of context it seems very strange. It is strange. His gaze sweeps across at Dale and Tucker a moment when the Witch mentions them. Watching each of them in turn, he smiles a little. "Okay...I get it. It's cool. I'd be scared of me too...if I wasn't me." Wayfarer teases with a side glance at her and a bright smile. He is still watching Dale when the Uratha pours himself some Scotch and it causes the Wizened to smile more. "Hey, heads up!" he calls out to Dale, tossing the STUPID expensive bottle at him as if it were a can of Coke Zero or something. "Have some." he offers, cause hell, he can pull that shit out of NOWHERE! Perks of being a crazy and strange being from Arcadia. "Still, I think our packs CAN work well together if we can chill and communicate." he shoots back at Luisa, but it is said to the general crowd.
Adrienne furrows her eyebrow, tilting her head back to peer at Tucker for a prolonged bit as he mentions not having fought for fun. She'd watched Way right back when he peered at her for a bit; she doesn't seem to care too much about being studied, though. She grunts at something and stands up, heading over toward the veritable cornucopia of meat. She grabs four ribs in a paper towel and sticks a fifth in her mouth, clearly intent on devouring them. "I like how fucking stereotypical we are.. like nobody here is mourning the lack of one of those vegetable platters." She gnaws at the end of the rib.
"Hard dicks and helicopters." Billie replies to Dustin, pausing in her consumption of food to look upwards at Dustin, then she picks up a piece of chicken to shove it into her mouth, then she points a finger at herself, "Billie. Who're you?"
"Know your audience," Luisa shoots back toward Adrienne, accompanied by a little grin. Almost playful. She then turns back to Way, offering a low-spoken, "I don't disagree." in response. The last dredges of her beer and drained, the empty left wedged in the gravel nearby. It's not long before she's rising from the log that'd served as her seat. Not headed for the food, though. No, she just kind of... wanders off into the surrounding gloom without so much as a word of farewell to anyone. Dale gets an odd little half-hearted wave-thing as she passes, signaling at least that this is intentional and not some kind of fugue state. Having one of her 'moments', then.
Dustin can't seem to find any of those bottle openers or church keys laying around, or he just can't be bothered to walk around the place for one, because soon enough he's gonna be biting the lid off with his molars. The good old 'manly' way, of course! That spliff on his earlobe seems to be overlooked for now as he just mindlessly munches on that burger and drinks from his beer. He walks past Adrienne when she utters those words. "Nobody's got time to be no fucking vegan when you spend most of your time biting people's heads off, human or otherwise," he remarks with a mouthful of bread and meat. Dustin flickers his eyes over to Billie, and hoists his bottle up slightly for her. "Amen to that, and I'm Dukes."
Dale opens his eyes at the shout from Way and manages to just barely grab the bottle. It isn't even so much of a grab as it is his arms kind of guide it down till it is sitting in his lap instead of on the ground. He looks down at it, and then back to the little guy out of the corner of his eye, "Shit like this goes a long way to making friends with me." he says with a slight grin. He quickly finishes the 8 year old Scotch in his glass, and pulls the cork on the much better bottle. He inhales, shaking his head as he pours it into his cup, "You two can come around whenever you want." he says, motioning to both Way and Maximo. The Rahu is in hog heaven right now with almost all the best vices one could want.
He looks at Adrienne, "Yeah, I stopped bothering with them. All it does is make you shit more anyways. If that's all I get it better taste damned good." He shrugs a little, a slight curve to his lips as if he is satisfied with his own joke, "I can probably scrounge up some cattails out there for you if you need some fiber. Throw them on the grill at least they won't feel like lugey when you swallow." He gives Luisa a look as she walks by, but he doesn't say anything either. She knows what the look means and that's enough.
The Rahu waggles her rib and then points at herself with a mouthful of meat while looking at Luisa as if to indicate that she's the audience. "How is eating a celery stick being vegan?" Adrienne asks Dustin with a snort and a sidelong glance, watching the Alpha walk past. Adrienne is stripping the meat from the rib in her hand meticulously, not missing many details. "Nah, I eat salad on my own time like a civilized person; making other people do that at parties is both sadistic and rude." Adrienne informs Dale this solemnly, tossing a rib bone smoothly into a trash receptacle. "I am not pro-veggie platter."
Making a line straight for Tucker, Max with all his good intentions of giving weird, narcotic powered prophecies or some such nonsense, comes within earshot. Brows furrow and he tuuuuuurns ever so slightly in his path. "That's some heavy shit there." He says while nodding slow, bottom lip pouted in deep consideration of the tale of a hard youth. He can't really relate. Lifting his beer for a drink, an eyebrow lurches upward. Dark brown eyes swiveling this way and that. Lights seeming less bright. The breeze less... just less everything. Damn it all, sobriety is trying to return.
"But that ranch dip bowl in the middle? You know, the one everybody double dips in? There's a real sense of community there." Maximo, drifting to a trash can, drops the bottle in before making some space and lighting up one of his cheap cigarillos. The open invite from Dale, however, gets a wave of the hand and appreciative upnod. "Better watch it with that. I'll take you up on it if you're not careful."
Watching Dale ease the bottle down, there isn't even a look of concern on Way's features. It's more like amusement. Will he catch it? Oh the catch is good! It could have only been better if he had juggled it. "Hey, man, if you need something found...just ask. I have an uhhh knack for coming up with about anything." he tells the host with a broad grin. He watches Luisa leave, giving a wave when she disappears and grins a bit. Now his attention wanders a little, "If it goes on pizza, I'll eat it. Veggie, meat, protoplasm...whatever." He chuckles at Adrienne and says, "You all should be eating nothing but fatty, high protein, high calorie meat. Veggies won't keep you going like meat will. Heart meat is best meat. So I heard somewhere. I think it fits right?"
Beers finished and bones licked clean, Tucker gives Dale a little nod. To the rest of the group he says, "There's a literal trash bag of weed, right there." He points with his whole arm. "I'm a little disappointed that no one has dipped in. Anyway, I have to see a man about a horse. Have a good night."
"Nice to meet you, Dukes." Billie finishes off the plate, then she sets it down before wiping her hands off on her jeans, "Nothing wrong with a vegetable." She points out, then she gets to her feet, "Now...I'm going to go use that shooting range, no one mind the bangs."
"You eat salad AND celery sticks? Jesus, I knew you were the depressing type, but I never thought you'd be /THAT/ sad, you know?" Dustin hip-checks his Rahu packmate. "A civilized person? Yeah, that's about the last thing I'd ever describe you as." He rips out another loud belch, chomping another huge bite on his burger afterwards with this shit-eating grin. He tosses another nod at Billie while still in the process of digesting the food in his mouth. "Nice meetin you, too," he replies, eyes darting to watch as people start to make their leave. Dustin shrugs, as that just means more food and alcohol for himself.
"Ehhhh, don't want to disappoint violent marijuana farmers. That's definitely bad luck. Bad manners at worst." Maximo catches himself muttering under a smokey breath, squinting a little at that trash bag full of questionable flower. Could be a trap. Could be coming down and paranoid. So he naturally gravitates toward the bag Tucker just left there. Stopping beside it, he takes a drag off his cigarillo. Hooks a finger at the bag and opens it a little to look inside. "Motherfucker wasn't kidding. Was that Willie Nelson's son? The fuck just happened here?" Dale is reading the bottle of Scotch as Tucker heads out too, and he gives his brother a nod, "See you tomorrow." is offered as he goes back to reading. In the firelight with smoke in his eyes it isn't the easiest thing in the world, but he is appreciating it anyways. He takes a drink from it and just rumbles out a sigh of appreciation. "Well wherever the Hell you found this it is damned welcome." He sets the bottle down in front of the other beside him, and pulls on the cigar some more, leaning forward to rest on his knees. He chuckles as Max talks about the ranch bowl, "Almost as bad as that urge to sniff each others' asses when you go for a run. Nothing is sacred in a pack." He is shaking his head again, looking down into the fire with a contented gaze. He hears Billie talk about the range, and he actually stands up too, "Hell yes. Leave it to you to motivate me to get off my lazy ass and do something instead of sitting there getting fat. What's the wager?" he asks, knowing damned well he is gonna lose no matter what it is and that fact doesn't stop him. Cigar in one hand and red solo cup of too-expensive-for-this-container Scotch in the other and he is headed for the range also. He looks back over at Max, "Might as well have been. Shit, back in the day you could smell us coming a mile away." There is another grin, memories of good times coming back, "He will be upset if that bag isn't mostly empty by tomorrow." he says, motioning to the black garbage bag of it that was left behind.