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lovemykiltIt was a beautiful day in Santa Cruz -- not that there were many days that weren't beautiful, around here. It got to be pretty redundant after awhile, really.
In Priestly's opinion, it might as well be freezing cold and sleeting out. He stood at the grill in the sub shop, stabbing sausages, steak strips, and bacon with the edge of his spatula, letting most of them cook so far past done they might as well be charcoal briquettes. When Jen had to do a refund on the third breakfast sandwich, she finally couldn't just pretend Priestly was just having a bad day, anymore. She pulled Trucker aside for a whispered conversation, then held back as Trucker walked up, grabbed Priestly by the back of his t-shirt the way a mother cat grabbed her kittens by the scruff of the neck, and proceeded to pull him away from the grill and into the back room.
"Okay, Priestly, what's up?"
Priestly fidgeted. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're ruining my Sunday brunch here, man. And you don't ruin sandwiches."
Priestly fidgeted more, paced once back and forth across the room, then finally dug his cell phone out of his pocket and tossed it to Trucker. "I can't get a hold of Dinah. Haven't been able to all weekend."
Trucker caught the phone and gave it a considering look. "Maybe she got caught up in something?"
"It doesn't even ring. I just keep getting messages that her number's out of service." Priestly rubbed the back of his neck and started pacing again. "I mean, you saw my graduation. Stuff happens in Fandom. Like, bad stuff. And Dinah -- Dinah's the kind of girl who's, like, right in the middle of it and I can't get through to her or anyone else and I just. . . ." He trailed off, fingers now fisted in his mohawk, shoulders up around his ears. He stayed that way for a long moment, feeling Trucker's eyes stabbing at him like little judgy lasers -- and Trucker was not a judgy guy.
"You want to go back and check on her," Trucker said finally.
Priestly groaned. "Portalocity isn't even listing Fandom as a destination, right now." Trucker blinked and frowned, and Priestly waved it off. "I just -- I'm sorry. I thought maybe cooking would be a good distraction, but I --"
Trucker held up a hand. "It's alright, Priestly. You're worried about your friends. Just . . . stop with the Cajun style sandwiches?"
Priestly grimaced. "Sorry," he said again. "I -- I'm just gonna go, if that's okay. I'll come back, I just --"
Trucker nodded, tossing Priestly's phone back to him. "Do what you need to do. Jen and I can handle this place without you for the day."
"Thanks, man." Priestly smiled vaguely, then made a beeline for the back door.
Maybe Zo would have an idea. She seemed like the spooky, vibe-getting type.
[ooc: NFI, but the boy couldn't be totally oblivious to the BDE, right?]
In Priestly's opinion, it might as well be freezing cold and sleeting out. He stood at the grill in the sub shop, stabbing sausages, steak strips, and bacon with the edge of his spatula, letting most of them cook so far past done they might as well be charcoal briquettes. When Jen had to do a refund on the third breakfast sandwich, she finally couldn't just pretend Priestly was just having a bad day, anymore. She pulled Trucker aside for a whispered conversation, then held back as Trucker walked up, grabbed Priestly by the back of his t-shirt the way a mother cat grabbed her kittens by the scruff of the neck, and proceeded to pull him away from the grill and into the back room.
"Okay, Priestly, what's up?"
Priestly fidgeted. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're ruining my Sunday brunch here, man. And you don't ruin sandwiches."
Priestly fidgeted more, paced once back and forth across the room, then finally dug his cell phone out of his pocket and tossed it to Trucker. "I can't get a hold of Dinah. Haven't been able to all weekend."
Trucker caught the phone and gave it a considering look. "Maybe she got caught up in something?"
"It doesn't even ring. I just keep getting messages that her number's out of service." Priestly rubbed the back of his neck and started pacing again. "I mean, you saw my graduation. Stuff happens in Fandom. Like, bad stuff. And Dinah -- Dinah's the kind of girl who's, like, right in the middle of it and I can't get through to her or anyone else and I just. . . ." He trailed off, fingers now fisted in his mohawk, shoulders up around his ears. He stayed that way for a long moment, feeling Trucker's eyes stabbing at him like little judgy lasers -- and Trucker was not a judgy guy.
"You want to go back and check on her," Trucker said finally.
Priestly groaned. "Portalocity isn't even listing Fandom as a destination, right now." Trucker blinked and frowned, and Priestly waved it off. "I just -- I'm sorry. I thought maybe cooking would be a good distraction, but I --"
Trucker held up a hand. "It's alright, Priestly. You're worried about your friends. Just . . . stop with the Cajun style sandwiches?"
Priestly grimaced. "Sorry," he said again. "I -- I'm just gonna go, if that's okay. I'll come back, I just --"
Trucker nodded, tossing Priestly's phone back to him. "Do what you need to do. Jen and I can handle this place without you for the day."
"Thanks, man." Priestly smiled vaguely, then made a beeline for the back door.
Maybe Zo would have an idea. She seemed like the spooky, vibe-getting type.
[ooc: NFI, but the boy couldn't be totally oblivious to the BDE, right?]
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8/8/10 16:40 (UTC)