View source for Log:The One With The Duck

{{ Log
| cast = [[CB_Alexander|CB]], [[Gisa_Cohen|Gisa]], [[Sid_Spokes|Sid]]
| summary = Gisa's pretty concerned by Sid's text messages. Things happen. 
| gamedate = 2017.06.25
| gamedatename = 
| subtitle = 
| location = [[MT07]] 
| categories = Changeling
| log = TXT From Sid To Gisa : Bubbe have you seen my phone? Is it with you?

TXT From Gisa To Sid : How are you texting me if you don't have your phone?

TXT From Gisa To Sid : How drunk ARE you?

TXT From Sid To Gisa :  I donut. There a graph?

TXT From Gisa To Sid : You have your phone, bubbuleh.

TXT From Gisa To Sid : You are using it to text me.

TXT From Sid To Gisa : found it

TXT From Sid To Gisa :  how are you? Everything is sooooo soft right here. It's neat

TXT From Gisa To Sid : I'm fine, sweetheart. Who's with you?

TXT From Sid To Gisa : Alone with a duck <picture of a juvanile week old duck picture sent>

TXT From Gisa To Sid : ... where did you get a duck?

TXT From Sid To Gisa :  I don't remember. Do I have to give him back?

TXT From Sid To Gisa :  or her.

TXT From Sid To Gisa :  I didn't flip the duck upside down. Seemed rude

TXT From Gisa To Sid : ... where is its mother?

TXT From Sid To Gisa :  before or after she bit me?

TXT From Gisa To Sid : ... did you kick the mother?

TXT From Sid To Gisa :  D:

TXT From Gisa To Sid : If you did I would be really quite angry with you.

TXT From Sid To Gisa : I would be quite angry with me

TXT From Gisa To Sid : So I am sure you did not.

TXT From Gisa To Sid : Good. Now where is the mother? 

TXT From Sid To Gisa :  she bites me again and doesn't even have the teeth why??

TXT From Sid To Gisa :  I'm leaving

TXT From Gisa To Sid : Sid, are you keeping the duckling?

TXT From Sid To Gisa : I climbed up to the top of the shed.

TXT From Gisa To Sid : ... with the duckling?

TXT From Sid To Gisa :  it's trying to follow me. I think it wants to learn how to fly or something.

Sid was at the Wayhouse. There was a kiddy pool that was a 5x8 inflatable half filled with water and one flip-flop floating in it. There was a Satyr in shorts and a bathrobe perched like a weathervain. The duckling was waddling around on teh ground and the mother duck was on the top of the shed at the other end with her wings out. Sid was hugging the weathervain trying to presumably still text Gisa. He speech was shit and that was being polite, "I didzit 'ready puncheded a deer. I don't awanna punch yoooo." He peered and texted snapping a pic.

"She's upset about you taking her duckling, Sid," Gisa calls up from the ground; she rounds the end of the wayhouse and calls up to the roof, propping her hands on her hips. "You are so ridiculous. Did the ducks go into the kiddie pool?"
 

Sid was hanging half off the shed roof trying not to engage the duck or sobriety too hard. "It landed on me. I was reading and iI landed the duck on me" The mother duck nipped at him and the Samsung was moved to defend, "Stop biting the phones, I don't want roaming chargeses!"
 
"Oh for goodness sake," Gisa sighs, trundling over to the end of the roof and reaching her hands up. "Just ... fall, please, Sid. I will catch you. We'll go inside and the duck mother will calm down in a little bit." She shakes her head a little bit. "You are so much trouble, Sidney."

Sid snorted like that was preposterous "How's the duckies learn to fly?" There was a few empty bottles strewn about and he protested, "Duck, gimme th' phone back. No. Bad duckie. Bad..." And he started to quack back to the duck. Oh god... they were arguing.

The duck flapped again and he reached out to shove it and somehow danced along the edge, landed on the garden fence and ran another four feet befre hitting the ground and stumbling another 4 feet to Gisa collapsing a hug around her. How the fuck does he do this?! He has drank reason right off the property.
 
This probably isn't the first time that Gisa has watched Sid do some sort of absurd stunt while drunk off his ass, and so she just cries, "Sidney!" because that doesn't stop her from freaking out that he might actually hurt himself his time. But in the end, he isn't hurt, and he's hugging her, and so the golem shakes her head and kisses his forehead. "You will be the death of me, Sidney. You will."
 
Sid was sobbing, "That duck is so meeeeeeeean!" Oh, he was hugging her, no, wait. He let go, perfectly composed, and then hopped half up to get to teh roof and grab his phone, and dropped back down with a wobble. "F'got my phone. Aaaaw the ''green drake'' duck cracked the case. How they do that?" he showed her. Well that bereavement was short lived
 
Pat pat pat. "You bothered her baby, Sidney, you didn't think she would not be upset by that, did you?" They're outside the house, and Gisa has a wet splotch on the shoulder of her t-shirt. She's looking rather puzzledly at Sid while a momma duck shepherds her duckling away from the two of them, off into the wilderness once more. "Well, probably it broke the case because ducks have very powerful beaks. Are you all right?" Apparently Sid just had some sort of run in with... a duck.
 
Sid looked up and tipped slightly to teh side before righting himself. "I'landedon me." GOd his speech was just shit. Fingers gestured like an explosion away from his horns, "Who throwsed their baby at someone?!" At the question of was he fine he flinched focusing really hard on Gisa and looking vaguely bewildered playing it off, "Ssssure why wouldn'tI be? He blinke at her and grinned ear to ear, "How are you? You're on my lawn." He stopped and took a step off of it and back onto the pavers. "It's sleeping"
 
A slightly beat-up black 1969 Ford Bronco pulls up into the drive of the Wayhouse, loud music playing inside it, but the windows are rolled up so it's not blasting everywhere. C.B. emerges from the vehicle with a cigarette in his lips, dressed today in a black t-shirt with a green army-style shirt over it, jeans and construction boots. Messenger bag is in the car, but he's holding a small black notebook and a pen as he gets out. He smirks when he sees who-all is assembled outside, moseying up to them. "Evening, creatures of the night."
 
A sort of helpless look passes across Gisa's face as Sid galivants about, apparently quite drunk. "You are telling me that the mama duck threw her duckling at you? Sidney Spokes, I find that very difficult to believe. Would I throw you at someone?" Look, they haven't gone all Wolverine Cannonball with the Steepscrambler yet. "I came to find you because your texts concerned me," Gisa sighs at her erstwhile sort of grandson. "Shalom, CB," she sighs. "How are you?"
 
Sid reached out and nudged the Golem off the lawn. He was SO enjoying his evening, "Suuuuup, Ceebee.?" he cleared his throat and tilted his head sideways to see him better, which if anyone understood the nature of Beast Kin? That could have a number of meanings. The phone rang again and he held a finger up to Gisa letting her know he was going to take teh call. "Y'ello... Sup brah? Where at? ... sounds great but pffft! Ain't no way in hell I can drive. No .... nooooo-uh. Naaaw sides my grandmother's here. Needs help texting. yeah she's worried about it. I'll call you back."
 
Sid went to Gisa and looked at CB looking... nervous of him? Gunshy would be a good word for the goat. He looked at Gisa and said nervously, "I'm gonna hit the bathroom real quick. Give me a um... a moment." To find it?
 
C.B. stands vaguely before Gisa, pulling casually on his cig as he squints off to look at Sid. "Can't you heal that or something?" It's a wry little question. One assumes Gisa would have done it by now if it were called for. He gives Sid a little forehead salute and then...watches him toddle off, all gunshy-like. "Huh. Do I smell or something?" He actually sniffs his pits. When you're a writer who locks himself in a smoke-filled den for many many hours at a time, B.O. is more than possible.
 
The golem watches the satyr skitter away toward the restroom, and she turns her ceramic lips in slightly. "When you were at my shop," Gisa explains, "You made a comparison and invoked an image which reminded Sidney of a way in which he was deeply hurt. Something about a 'fiery car crash.'" Her eyeflames slide to the side, toward CB. "We all have losses. Sidney has one there. And now... " She gently spreads her grey hands. "He isn't holding you responsible for setting him off, but he's afraid, I can tell, that he might start a fight with you. He does not wish to do so. So he is taking a moment." Ask an Elemental, get a serious answer.
 
Serious indeed. But also a mite puzzling to someone like C.B., an individual by sheer nature not only of personality but of Durance is always playing, poking, and prodding at words. "Did I? Jesus, I don't even remember that." His face twists up as he scratches his forehead with the cigarette hand. "That must be some serious 'Nam shit, as I like to call it." A hard drag is taken off the cig as he stares at the golem, brow deeply furrowed. "He really has to stop himself from starting a /fight/ with me now? Christ -- I mean, I never intended to hurt the guy, but that's a pretty special level of sensitivity...wish I could remember exactly what I said..." He flicks his forehead as though trying to extract the memory that way.
 
It takes Gisa some time to puzzle her way through the phrasing that CB uses. "Ah, yes. Vietnam." She rolls her shoulders, that tectonic sort of gesture that is one of the few ways that Gisa emotes. "Yes, that is not an incorrect way to look at how that affects my Sidney." She looks after Sid, though he's long disappeared, and then back at CB. "It is not about ''you.'' It is about how deep the wound is. Think of it as though he had a bullet hole in his side, and you accidentally stuck your finger in the hole of it. It is not about your gesture -- accidental as it was. It is about the pain he feels."
 
C.B. lets out a long sigh, an exhalation of smoke along with it. He stares up at the night sky for a few moments. "Yeah, I get it. I really have a knack for that sort of thing." Some ash is flicked onto the ground. "I once compared a certain show at the Electric Circus to falling through a hole in the ice and dying of hypothermia. Turned out that had actually happened to my girlfriend-at-the-time's little brother, and." He shrugs a shoulder, careworn blue-silver eyes moving back to Gisa. "You can imagine how that went."
 
"Do not, please, explain to him what I have explained to you. I do not want any ill will between the two of you, which is the only reason I spoke on it at all." Gisa's eyeflames stay fixed on CB, and she hasn't moved her feet since Sid left, just standing there patiently. "Yes, I can see how that would have not gone over well. Were you single shortly thereafter?" Gisa rolls her shoulders again. "You seem to exist with your feet permanently in your mouth. It is a wonder you can walk anywhere."
 
Sid was hanging behind in teh doorway and there was a class in his hand, hard to tell what was in it. He took a swig and his presence was announced to CB answering the question and perhaps maybe overhearing it, "Th'firrs'one was when I was almost seven." He was watching CB and there was nothing hateful in the Satyr's eyes. Apparenntly those small moments work wonders for the Dusk. The smile was as nostalgic as itwas bitter. "My dad... was an amazing driver. Berrer'n me even. Watched em flip... roll... burn. We were in Torino Italy. THAT" he held up a finger. "That wassa first one... Second? Second one I was in... Juz' graduated. 1984 Pontiac Firebird. TJ's. beautiful machine... 4 of us fuckin around. Got plowed by some asshole... t'be fair half was our fault... rolled... right the fuck over us." His eyes folloed CB catching him to see if he was catching that, maybe he had other reasons, that was less obvious. But he offerd up after taking another drink, "Watched TJ and Jase get crushed flat... Duane was in the back seat with me... Jase's seat was pushed all teh way back into him... hell ovva thing seein the body of your best friends being used to crush the other... Duanelos can move his left hand now but thats... pretty much about it. I spent 18 months getting my leg rebuilt. So yeah...Imma say... math's offa little bit. I dunno that the Freehold death pledge? Quite as bad as having a car roll cause in teh car? Dunno whos goin with you." He let out the breath slowly and there was... no hate in him. Regret? Yes. Whatever words there were seem to have been forgiven.
 
C.B. has to laugh. His slightly hoarse, papery laugh is a laugh all-too-comfortable with gallows' humor, except he's always on the damn gallows somehow. "And my feet are usually made of clay or have an Achilles' heel. Yes, I was single shortly thereafter." His shoulers are still shaking with laughter as he takes another drag. "Not the first time, won't be the last." But he blinks when Sid announces himself, and then! Telling a story! A long one! He continues to stand there, blinking, while Sid explains. His face is...well. C.B. tends to only wear a small handful of facial expressions. This one is wide-eyed, but with a furrowed brow, eyes getting squintier the longer Sid explains, like maybe it's somehow physically painful to hear all of this. When Sid's done, he kills the cigarette, snuffing it out on the bottom of his boot and placing it in his shirt pocket. "Well...shit, man." He shakes his head, looking more tired than anything else. "That's a helluva fucking thing. I -- " A hand is raised. Not to be taken, not anything other than a vague gesture. "Sorry if I stuck my finger in your wound." His hands drops to his side.
 
While Sid and CB are talking? Gisa lapses into silence. She's got burning eyes and a burning symbol on her forehead, but otherwise she might as well be a statue. One thing that Gisa doesn't get involved in? Is people sorting things out between themselves, when they're directly talking to each other.
 
Sid pressed his lips together and arched both of his eyebrows with a nod. "Well...''sheep'' man, indeed." Still couldn't swear for a damn. He finished what was in the glass and looked to CB thoughtfully and said "This like... old dead British bro-brah from like way back named Billy Blake, wrote this thing like, 'I was angry with my friend. I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe, I told it not my wrath did grow.' and it taught me two things... one this cat prolly never got laid saying doth e'rey 5 minntz, and two? Soemtimes to resolve the situation we must first...resolve ourselves." Drunk as shit but still philosophical apparently. In an almost Doc Holliday manner he swaggered over to CB and slung an arm around him. "I'm what we might call... 'unresolved'. But that? That ain't your problem, that one's mine." He nodded slowly and ptted that shoulder his hand was near and pointed to him, because he wanted him to knnow, "Had you known that first? I'd a be over that Mother Father table at'choo, but as it is? Ain't not malice you were meaning to bring. I don't break noses with those we break bread with." He looked to Gisa and gave her a nod that suggested to her naw, he was good. He was, doing, anywyas.
 
C.B. tolerates the arm. He doesn't sling one back, but he's cool with it. Some times just call for arm slinging. "We're all unresolved, my friend. It's the goddamn book of life that only ends one way, blah blah blah. Anyhow. You shouldn't pay attention to me." He keeps eye contact with Sid -- his eyes are guarded, yet seek to communicate at the same time. It's a strange contrast. "I run my mouth. I really do. Your bubbe just pointed out that I exist with my feet permanently in my mouth. What I'm saying is, this could happen again." He has to smirk. "So, just know for now, and in the future too, that if I want you to be insulted -- I'll make sure to do a damn fine job of letting you know it's on purpose. You know what else ol' Billy Blake said, the codger? 'Opposition is true Friendship.'" And with that, he offers a hand to Sid, eyebrows raising.
 
A gentle rumble of laughter from the golem as she watches the pair; it's that odd sound that is a bit like a handful of pebbles being rolled down a steel roof. She nods her head once, twice, in approval, her hands propped on her hips. "If we are resolved, we are no longer living," she agrees with CB easily enough. Her ''shin'' on her forehead glows orange, and then a brighter yellow, before fading to its usual ruddy orange again. "So now you two are drinking friends again? Shall we go and get ourselves a beer to celebrate this resolution?"
 
Sid unslung the arm and shook CB's hand. Hey the Kid's temper ran hot but he at least seemed to have enough awareness to know what his responsibilities were for that and not just blame others, evidently. He shrugged at the explanation. "Eh, well we talk. We fight. We learn. We're stronger for it. Really? Perfect reason to pay attention to ya. Sometimes the whole story is in the stuff that's omitted... still important." He looked from him to Gisa. Seee? He can make new friends by not punching them like his other friends. he looked back to CB and watched him curiously though his fingers pinched his eyes. Focus, Sid, focus. "One thing though... Why were you askin about Lucky? You don't owe him money do you?" He watched CB VERY curiously and went to drink from-well shit his glass was empty. He looked to his Grandmother and said "If it's a Stout? Yes. I ain't Lucky I can't do that IPA stuff. I prefer my things to have body and bite."
 
C.B. gives Gisa one of those wry little smirks of his and nods. "I don't turn down beer." Hands are shaken and C.B. returns his to his jean pockets. "Why was I asking about Lucky? You people need to use your ears a bit more. I met Maddox -- Maddox told me about him -- you guys mentioned him -- so I asked you about him. Done and done!" He lifts and drops his hands again, palms hitting denim. "Seriously, that's all there was to it. And I thought ''I'' was fucking paranoid. Jesus H. Christmastree." He flashes a rare grin here, showing those lovely slightly crooked, nicotine-stained teeth of his. "I'm not trying to sell Lucky off to the privateers or whatever the hell you assholes are thinking. I was just connecting names with names that's all."
}}