After the end of the day, after the shop closes down, Gisa brings dinner down to the back room. Sometimes they eat alone, together, on the roof above the back room, and sometimes she likes to have enough food to feed a passing army ready just in case Jon or someone like him shows up to eat her out of house and home. (A fate she happily engages.) Today there's brisket and noodles, a spinach salad and homemade rugelach. She asked Alonso to mind the shop while she went out to check on Luna and run her errands, but the brisket is done, the egg noodles are ready, and she's put out the orange plates and their matching silverware. And now, she carves the brisket and waits for her dinner company to arrive.
As usual, the shop is slow. And it's Monday. Alonso probably caught up on his telenovellas, frankly. He trundles into the back room from the front, removes his hat and his head scarf, and deposits himself down in a chair at the table with a gusty sigh. Having come direct from 'work' to 'rest', he's not in any particular rush to move directly to 'eat'. Instead, he offers Gisa a tight smile and a dip of the head. "Hello, my dear. I could use a beer, or a glass of wine, or what have you if there are any to be had. It's been a long day." The slow ones are often the longest days, truthfully.
"There's beer and wine. I picked up beer while I was out. They had a lot of new summer shandys and the like so I thought it might be nice. Also there is a new red, semi-dry. Because I guess not everyone likes sweet wines," answers Gisa easily. Finishing setting the table, she circles it, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of his head. "Thank you for watching the shop for me today. I know Mondays are often quite boring. I appreciated it very much. I was able to look in on Lulu, and check in at Iron Church. Rorschach isn't well." One hand pets the top of his head after the kiss, an easy gesture.
"Is he not?" Alonso is genuinely surprised to hear this. He is, after all, full of vim and vigor himself. "Well, we ought to go and look after him. Get him brought before the healers from Spring, or otherwise stuff him full of whatever hedgefruit is the remedy. Is it from his injuries, or from the venom of the creatures?" Alonso hops back to his feet to seek out the beer. He has fallen victim to the peculiar American desire that it be cold when consumed. Still prefers his wine room temperature, however. Upon his return, he reclaims his seat and kicks up his feet onto another chair, boots and all. Trying to relax a little.
She pets his hair before he steps away, and then moves to sit down in a chair next to him after snagging the bottle of wine. Opening it for herself, she pours herself half a glass and settles. "No, no. Mentally. He is mentally unwell. When I saw him earlier today, he had -- he had straight pins stuck through the skin at his wrist. He said it helped to anchor him, and asked how he knew we were not just hallucinations." She takes a deep breath. "He lives with Damion, or I would be more worried about leaving him. And he is engaged to Zillah, who I have never really spoken to, though I have seen her with him several times. He says she is good for him, and Damion says so as well. But he has people with him." A pause. "He has promised to speak with Bishop Nathania Winters, but the Bishop has been busy of late. So. We must keep an especial eye on him until then."
"Ah." Alonso frowns at this news as he cracks his beer and tilts it back for a sip. His frown endures the beer, which is how you can tell it's truly troubling him. "I am not one to speak ill of another's coping mechanisms, but it does seem a bit excessive. Straight pins. That said, I can't watch a man who enjoys being hidden. I suppose the best we can do is invite he and Zillah over on frequent occasions. Monitor his progress, good or bad." Another sip of the beer is taken, then his shoulders lift and fall. "It is not as though he and I are on 'drop in out of the blue' terms. That is you and he. So. I leave that to you."
A small nod of agreement. "He knows he's welcome here. I hope he will come by more frequently. He's Dielle's mentor -- so I worry about him for himself, yes, but also I worry about him for her sake as well." Gisa opens the pan in which she made the brisket, and starts carving it and dishing it out. He does need to eat, and she's hungry, too. "It isn't the straight pins in and of itself. He says he was diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic before he was Taken. So when I see that, and him literally questioning whether or not I and Damion are real, that is a worry." Brisket, salad, noodles. She pauses to say the blessing, then continues on, picking up her fork. "Lulu is healed, in better news. She worries about her dreams, but she is healed."
It's dinnertime at the bookstore, as defined by 'about half an hour after the bookstore closes,' one of those open-invite things for Dawns. As long as Gisa is in the back room with food, folks are welcome to drop in and eat it. Tonight the meat plates are out again, with brisket and egg noodles and spinach salad. There are beers (summer shandies) and red wine. Surely Dielle's sweet tea is in the fridge, and Gisa is already eating, while Alonso drinks a beer. "I took her some of the matzoh ball soup I made, with the mini matzoh balls so it would fit in the thermos. But she is well enough."
Dielle comes downstairs with Jon. Jon's carrying the aforementioned sweet tea, while DL carries the plate of rugelach. "So, what IS rugelach, anyway, Gisa?" she asks, as she sniffs at it hungrily. Trust her to focus in on the sugar. She's good at that. She's also wearing an honest-to-god dress over leggings, with the inevitable cowboy boots and pants, because she felt like dressing up.
Jon had a cooler. Loaded. For him it was nothing to carry being built like abrick shithouse and was happy to do it to lessen the burden of others. Also so he can tell people that was his lunchbox, what'd your mom pack for you? Because that joke amused him even if he didn't show it. "Dielle, There's a signifigant different between David Hasselhoff and Aquaman. Baywatch wasn't a DC comics comedy." He got to the bottom of the stairs and murmured, "Suuuup peeps."
"My God, what an affliction," Alonso laments quietly, his head shaking at whatever it was Gisa had shared with him. "Still, good that Lulu is well. And I suppose good that we now know what it is we must be watchful for. The poor fellow." Alonso finishes off his first beer of the night and sets the empty onto the table. He's up in short order, sans hat and head scarf, ambling back to fetch another beer. Cold and wet seems to be his preference of the evening. Long day at the office, apparently. "You are a good friend, Gisa Cohen. You see things even I missed, and I do not miss much."
"It is like a crescent roll, only better. Sometimes they have sour cream fillings, sometimes they do not. I made these without any dairy filling so I could eat them after the meal. This is hazelnut rugelach, with raisins," explains Gisa, rising from her seat when the others come in. "You look nice today, Dielle. It is a pretty dress. Is it a holiday?" It's not like she can keep track of goyische holidays any more than they can keep track of Jewish ones. "Hey, Jon. Come, sit. The table is set, I started cutting the brisket. We were speaking of Lulu, who is well, and Rorschach, who is not, but will be better." Her eyeflames flicker once, twice. "I do not ever understand what you two are saying," she admits to Jon, and then turns her attention back to Alonso. "That is why I tell you. So you can help me watch after those that need watching after." His compliment has her shin glowing brighter, yellow almost white, and the ambient heat around her increases briefly.
Dielle says, "That's ok. I don't know what Jon's talkin' about, either. Who's David Hasslehoff? Or Aquaman, for that matter." She puts the plate where it goes, and she glances at Jon, then back at Gisa. "You do know that it's a dangerous thing, askin' Jon what holiday it is, right? I swear, he's got the entire calendar memorized! But I just felt like wearin' a dress because it's spring and I want to encourage the warm weather sprites. Hey, Alonso! How y'all doin'?"
Dielle adds, as she sits, "So, Rorschach's sick? I know it ain't somethin' he ate. Do I gotta go find him and kick him into seein' someone? I'll do it! Even if it means my foot falls off afterwards!"
Jon paused and looked to Dielle and set the cooler down. "Hey I like making up holidays. Remember that time I convinced everyone that it was Gravity conservation day and got almost a dozen people to move heavy things to a lower shelf so we don't waste so much of it?" Oh he was please dwith himself for that one which manifested in his usual stoic expression arching one eyebrow. "Checked up with Lulu. She's gonna be alright I think. Gonna swing in on her on the way home tomorrow to to see this sis still teh case. This a personal thing or something hitting the Harvestmen?" Singular vs. widespread was always a good thing to know.
"I believe it is specific to Rorschach. Gisa assures me she has this matter well in hand, and I trust her. So." Alonso cracks open his new beer and sinks back down into his seat again, toasting both Dielle and Jon with it. "I am well, Dielle, thank you for asking. Slow day, a start to what will likely be a slow week, I imagine. Although tomorrow I am due to go out with the Custodians in my first official... custodial. Thing." Alonso waggles his empty hand back and forth, a gesture of uncertainty. "So perhaps that might be moderately interesting. I was promised intrigues."
"He promised me he would go and see Bishop Winters, and he will." Gisa lets the matter rest there, as that information should probably cover the whole of it. "The dress looks very good, Dielle. You do not require my approval, but I approve." She starts dishing out sliced brisket to their guests. "That sounds like it was very funny, Jon." She puts neat slices of brisket on plates, settles back to wait for everyone else to get settled before eating again. "Lulu is well, from when I saw her earlier today." Her gaze flickers to Alonso. "Yes, I am looking forward to this also. I have not been out with the Custodians yet."
Dielle nods and says, "I didn't know he was having problems. But I haven't been sleeping much and that's when he tells me most stuff, it's just easier. I'm his apprentice. But he's been busy." She glances at Jon, and grins at him. "Not to mention the time when you got me with "National Letter Agency Appreciation Day" and I almost drove four hours to give the FBI some cupcakes."
Jon looked from Gisa and then to Dielle and told her on the matter of the Bugman, "Bishop? Shiiiit. Dee, be careful til he do, yeah?" Stubborn Jotun was stubborn. Sure, he was down for helping people, but there was overhelping which came from Unicorns who gave shits about things sometimes. There was a hint of a smile to Gisa and a singular chuckle taht followed, "Heh. Yeah. That was a good one. I'm... depating giving up my spot in teh freehold and changing vocations honestly. I'm glad custodians are working out for you both. I'm sure you'll bring a broad range of new perspectives that we'll all benefit from."
"I realized it when he was telling me about his engagement -- and mazel tov to him -- but today was ... stressful. You may wish to look in on him," Gisa suggests to Dielle. She pauses, taking a few moments to puzzle out what 'national letter agency appreciation day' MEANS in English, trying out several permutations of the words in that order so she can figure out exactly what the heck the joke even is. Eventually, a small chuff, almost amusement. "Giving up your spot in the Freehold? How do you mean? And we will try."
Dielle nods. "I'm planning on it. I'd...like to keep him around for a good, long while." She looks at Jon. "Vocations? Really?" She sounds confused.
Jon shook his head and furrowed his brow and shook his head, "Just exhausted trying to work my ass off at my fucking vocation and people jsut go 'Oh, well just graba Spring.' it's bullshit. And I'm tired of being passive aggressivly made to feel that those of us who don't bow to Spring get treated like second class citizens like 'oh. and you'." He took a deep breatha nd let the tension go. "I started to become a doctor to get away from that so maybe, I dunno, I'll make a better Waykeeper. Besides seems like we need one taht knows how privacy and shit works. Couldn't hurt. I just... I'm tired of feeling shitty baout trying so hard."
The other Elemental gives Jon a long, serious look. "If I have ever made you feel like you were less wanted or lesser than a Spring, please forgive me. I apologize. It is never my intention. I think for some of us it is a reflex, but it ought not to be. Especially when things like healing fruit, and traditional healing, are outside of the purview of Spring." Gisa raises her shoulders slowly and drops them again. "You do not have to stop doing one to be the other, you know. I mean, I know that you do know that, but you do not need to -- just. Do what makes you feel better, but if I can help you to make a positive change in the way people treat non-Spring healers and doctors, now that I know it is a problem, I will try?"
Dielle just reaches over and pats Jon's hand, lightly. It's nothing she hasn't heard before. "Well, to tell you the truth, Jon, I think you'll make more of a difference in the Wayfarers. Most of your ideas ain't so much about healin' people's bodies as much as their minds or souls. Like with the G.E.D. program, or that group you used to have for helpin' people with their PTSD after they just got back. Healin' people's bodies is all well and good, but you're about more than that." She nods at Gisa, with a smile/grimace, and says, "You never do anything the easy way, darlin'. Why should this be any different? But you should advertise as an Oneirophysician, since you /are/ one and people don't know it because you don't say."
Gisa proves the point by raising her eyebrows and asking, "Jon is an Oneirophysician?"
Jon looked into his beer and nodded slowly and admitted to Gisa, "Just a parade of things. Trust me, ain't nothin new. But... yeah I am. First thing I started studying since the time I fought the pigeon lady. Long...story. But I don't talk about me. They said post a thing. I do. But 'just let Spring flippantly fuck with shit and fix it' like someone's body is some toy? I don't get that. How DO YOU fix what you don't bother to understand? It's like a walking malpractice suit. It's not caring for their patient it's just wishing the problem would go away. I just... I dunno."
Jon looked into his beer and nodded slowly and admitted to Gisa, "Just a parade of things. Trust me, ain't nothin new. But... yeah I am. First thing I started studying since the time I fought the pigeon lady. Long...story. But I don't talk about me. They said post a thing. I do. But 'just let Spring flippantly fuck with shit and fix it' like someone's body is some toy? I don't get that. How DO YOU fix what you don't bother to understand? It's like a walking malpractice suit. It's not caring for their patient it's just wishing the problem would go away. I just... I dunno." (repose)
The golem looks down at her hands, then back up at Jon. "I know a little of that contract," she confesses. "It can be helpful, if someone is injured, or if I need to walk a long way." She clears her throat. "I do understand why you are upset. And I think that your -- your Dielle has the right of it. You are about more than just healing. But you can stay one place and also be another. You would make a good Wayfarer." Gisa tucks into her food, adding after a few bites, "You can be good at whatever you choose, though, I am certain."
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