So, interesting story: when Allen comes over, Gisa isn't actually in the store! She's sitting out in the small backyard, outside the shop, in a small, well, booth. Wooden walls, bamboo 'roof' through which one can see the stars now that it's getting dark. When he contacted her, Gisa did say to come out back. Gisa's got a cot inside the sukkah, so apparently she, at least, has been sleeping there. And now she's drinking wine and reading, sitting in one of the comfy outdoor chairs which have been placed inside the temproary shelter. Welcome to Sukkot, Allen!
The ogre exits the bookstore and sees the structure (he'd call it a shed, but he doesn't know any better). He pauses for a moment, perhaps admiring it for its simple, elegant utility, and then tentatively enters. The leathers are duller than they were in the Hedge; in place of the four-point harness and hammer, though, he carries a camping backpack likely picked up from an Army/Navy store.
He greets the Golem with a wave. "Hi. I, um. Yeah. Hi."
Alonso is looking rather more swart than usual, and swart wasn't something he had in short supply to begin with. He's lounging in an adorondak chair, sipping at a tall glass of something that has the color of old tree sap. (And a but of the smell!) He's got a kindle in hand, and is apparently sharing the Sukot vibe with Gisa. He's dressed casually in a pair of jeans and an orange t-shirt with red lettering that reads 'VISCA CATALUNYA LLIURE'. Of course, he's also wearing sunglasses. At night. So who knows what's up with that guy. He peers over their rims at Allen when he greets Gisa, tossing him a chin up of greeting, but staying quiet otherwise.
It's not even really sturdy enough to be a shed, not really. But it is comfy-looking, relatively so, and it's been nice out lately. "Do come in," Gisa offers with a mild little smile toward the Ogre, rising to her feet. "Would you like something to eat? I have cheesecake, which I brought out a bit ago; it's been in the cooler. There's also beer and water to drink. Please be welcome, friend." There are other chairs in here, after all!
When has Allen ever turned down food? Never, that's when. "That sounds, uh, I mean, sure, okay," Allen answers in his usual stumbling way. "Thank you," he adds somewhat belatedly, looking at Alonso, though it now seems to occur to him that this might seem confusing. "Do you, I mean, I can, I'll serve myself, right?" He doesn't sit yet, in case he needs to beeline to the cheesecake and beer.
"I have Ratafia, too. If you enjoy being drunk." Alonso waggles his glass in indication, implying there's more of the drink around if one's wanting a go. He remains seated while Gisa plays hostess. He's now the hebe in this particular hood, so no need to get up and be about them mitzvot, nope.
"Do you need to serve yourself?" Gisa laughs gently at that, not at Allen, no, but amused all the same. "No, my friend, you do not need to serve yourself in my sukkah. You are my guest, and I will treat you as such. Please, be seated. What can I do for you this evening?" She opens the cooler by her chair, takes out about three-quarters of a cheesecake from the cooler, and cuts two regular-sized slices, leaving half a cheesecake. This half of a cheesecake, along with a fork, is passed over to Allen, along with a beer that Gisa twists open with one of her ceramic hands. "What can we do for you this evening?"
"Oh," says Allen simply, taking the cheesecake and beer and sitting down in a free chair. He seems genuinely surprised and pleased. "Thank you," he says again, looking from Gisa to Alonso and back. "This is really... nice." He sits quietly for a moment, just... drinking in... the atmosphere? His emotions? Do Stonebones feel through that armor?
A question for another time. Down to business.
"I... Um." He looks down at the cake. "I never had a birthday cake," he mentions offhand.
"Is it your birthday, comrade?" Alonso wonders this of Allen with eyebrows that rise over the rim of his overlarge sunglasses. He rattles the ice in his glass before taking another gulp of his so-called ratafia, smacking his lips once that's done. Tasty. He gives Gisa a sidelong look at this point, though much of his expression is concealed behind those sunglasses of his.
A frown crosses Gisa's face, briefly. "Is it your birthday? Or was that simply an observation on feeling unappreciated in prior lifetimes? If I know when your birthday is now, then I can be certain you are not without a cake again." She takes up her fork and takes a small bite of the cheesecake, savoring it.
"No, my birthday is in April," replies Allen softly, looking at the cake for a moment longer. "I... I just... I don't think Aunti... uh, we ever celebrated it." He looks up at the last. "There was always.... I mean, I guess..." After a moment of awkwardness (at least on Allen's end), he stabs the cake with the fork and shovels a ogre-sized forkful into his mouth. Almost as though he has decided he doesn't want talk about that. Even though he... brought it up? Details.
"I never really had one, either. I was the son of a farmer, you know? Before the war. My father, he was a good communist. Raised me properly. When the war started, there was no room for luxuries. Then I was Lost, and flitting from one war to the next. One revolution to the next. Birthdays are not about cake, you know. They are about the celebration of having survived to see another year. If you desire cake, of coure, we can have cake. Come April. But I would not trade all the birthday cakes I missed for a single bullet that missed my head. It is important to have one's priorities in order, eh?" Alonso toasts Allen with his glass. Perhaps as an excuse to drink more. Which he promptly does.
"We celebrated, but not with cakes, not really. The kibbutz -- though we were not an official one, that was what we were -- was always glad for any reason to celebrate. And being observant Jews, we always did." Gisa goes quiet for a moment, and then nods when Alonso speaks. "Is ... that what you needed to talk to us about? Reasons to celebrate?"
It might be! Gisa celebrates things all the time!
Why the hell is Allen here? Aside from eating cheesecake, of course, which he couldn't possibly know was going to be offered to him.
He swallows his latest mouthful and almost angrily stabs at the cake again. "I never had a family," he... continues? Answers? Is it the cake's fault? In goes another mouthful of cheesecake; Allen is making quick work of his "piece," it seems. "I mean," he corrects around chews, flecks of cake and crust spitting out occasionally with his words, "I did, but they weren't my parents, and then... Well, whatever," here he swallows, "I never really had a family and I know that we," he indicates the enclosure in a general way, "we make our own family or whatever and I think I want to make my own family, too, or be a part of one and this cake is really good, thanks again, you're really nice both of you." Another forkful of cake goes in his mouth, silencing him.
"We only have each other, that is so." That is all Alonso can really think to say on the tail of what Allen says. He's not that great of a people person when it comes to long rambly discussions that circumvent discussions of feelings. Mostly, he looks to Gisa for a suggestion of how to field this particular curve ball. His shoulders shrug just slightly and he lifts his glass for a longer, more pronounced gulp.
A long pause from Gisa, as though she's trying to follow all of that. "I think I understand what you are saying," Gisa offers very gently. "We are the family that we find for ourselves, it is true. Especially after Arcadia." She pauses, taking another bite of her cheesecake; then, she continues, "Are you asking about becoming part of our family? About the commune, the motley, or both?"
"Yes," answers Allen, then seems to realize that his answer might not be an answer that makes sense. "I want... to join the motley. Your motley?" He shakes his head, knowing that something about that isn't right, necessarily, but continues on anyway. "The motley you're in. I also want to stop staying at the Wayhouse, so I guess I want to see about the commune, too." He pauses here, apparently mulling over what that would be like.
"Not a decision to be undertaken lightly, Allen. You must understand. Two of us are literal revolutionary communists. Gisa, here, she is an observant Jew and a socialist in her own right. Iris is none of these things, but gets in plenty of trouble in her own right. We are outsiders and rabble rousers. We run in the direction of trouble when it's fractious, and cause friction when it's calm. So. Yes. While becoming a part of this family would absolutely mean taking on our best qualities, it would also mean taking on our troubles, too. Don't let the brochure fool you, you know?" Alonso sets his drink down and folds his hands over his stomach. "Assuming all of that doesn't trouble you, you have my vote."
When Alonso speaks up? Gisa goes quiet. They work in concert, these two, and very well.
"I'm not a trouble maker," Allen says flatly, "and I'm not sure I'm a revolutionary or a communist. But I can help get us out of the trouble we get in."
Us. We. So there it is.
"I can help make things. Build things. Repair things. I can set things up after they get knocked down." He takes a long draft of beer, wiping his mouth with the back of the hand holding the cake fork. "And it sure seems like you knock things down a lot." Jokes? Jokes!
"It is true. I fight every Bourge I see from Bourgeois A to Bourgeoisie." Alonso says this with a straight face, which he manages to hold for a full three seconds before cracking something akin to a grin. "Less so, here in the United States. There is no revolutionary will here. The Proletariat are disorganized, and divided by Identity Politics. With no organized labor to speak of. The best I can do here is raise class consciousness. It's been a nice vacation from south and central america. Nicer temperatures. Fewer CIA backed right wing death squads." Alonso reaches for his drink again, considers it, then takes a quick gulp. "I think you will discover you bleed red once you are cut, my friend. It is hard to shake off your awareness of the system once you are aware of its contradictions. But I can radicalize you over a different cheesecake and drink. There is no particular rush. Have you met Iris and Pilar? Properly?"
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