A boy named Sous

"Oh Priestly."

Jen's voice seemed to come out of nowhere, startling Priestly hard enough that he nearly dropped his frying pan. He spun in place, flicking out one of his earbuds (Greek punk rock, because the internet was awesome), still holding the pan filled with frying potato, onion and pepper, and flashed Jen what he hoped was a reassuring grin. "Heeeeeeeeeey. Did I wake you?"

"Are you kidding? This is the fifth night in a row." Jen leaned against the door jam, arms folded sleepily over her faded t-shirt. "I didn't bother going to sleep."

( In which Jen continues to prove herself to be better at figuring Priestly out than Priestly is )

[ooc: establishy, lala, PRIESTLY'S GONNA BE A TOWNIE, OMG.]

The portal had dropped Priestly off without any detours or layovers, for once, and he couldn't decide if he was pleased or disappointed. While it was definitely a good idea to get the hell out of Fandom -- now that he was pretty sure the people who needed confirmation of him not being dead had all gotten it -- that didn't mean he really quite wanted to deal with being home just yet.

He was seriously tempted to just go find some place to hide. But if Tish and the others found out that he'd come back and hadn't come immediately to find them, they'd be even more pissed than they probably already were. He was going to have to man up and face the music.

He just hadn't expected them all to still be there at this hour, that was all.

( In which there is music facing and also hugging )

[ooc: MWAHAHAHA. Establishy.]

It was a slow day at the sandwich shop, which was probably for the best, since Priestly was too jazzed for Dinah coming to town for Spring Break to really concentrate on cooking anything. Instead, he was perched on the counter, doing one of his absolute favorite things: regaling Piper and Jen with his conspiracy theories.

"I'm just saying," he said. "Cobain wasn't trying to leave this world. He was just trying to leave Courtney."

Jen nodded. "I'll buy it." Priestly grinned at her. They'd for the most part made up after the whole ditching Fuzzy thing. Priestly understood, after all. He just wished he didn't have to.

Tish came in, slipping her sunglasses up on her head and not really looking at any of them, and Priestly's smile vanished.

( Cut for vaguely implied domestic violence )

And like that, by unspoken agreement, they let it pass.

For now, anyway.

[ooc: establishy, scene riffed straight from canon, as I enter into the final stretch of my catch-up!]

"I don't know, man," Priestly was saying. "I just really have the urge to watch a whole bunch of reality TV."

"What, like The Bachelor?" Tish asked.

"Mythbusters," Jen guessed.

"I like Food Network," said Piper. When they all looked at her, she shrugged. "What? I like to cook."

Priestly shook himself. "Man, that will never stop being weird." He grinned. "You know, we should totally do our own reality show. Like The Real World or Big Brother only with subs --"

He was cut off by the bell over the door. Two polo shirted, schwoopy haired preppy looking dudes walked in, paused in the doorway, and lifted their sunglasses.

"Oh look," Priestly muttered. ( "Synchronized douchebags." )

[ooc: second half ripped right out of canon. Open for SP phone calls and the like.]

Priestly blinked.

He was standing in the middle of the road in Hong Kong, surrounded by rather a lot of locals all jostling at him and yelling for him to get his stupid, American ass out of the way, staring out at . . . the rest of Hong Kong.

He had his phone clenched in his fist, with a fuzzy, crappy picture of what looked like a giant dust cloud straight out of the Dust Bowl. As he stood there, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Dude," said Jen. "Why'd you hang up on me?"

"Jen!" Priestly pumped his free hand in the air, turning to head back towards the bar he'd been hanging out in. "You exist!"

"Well, yes --"

"And Tish? Trucker? Zo? Mr. Julius? My mom?"

"They . . . all exist, too?"

And now the locals were yelling at Priestly to stop running down the street, yelling, and waving his hand in the air while talking on the phone.

Priestly wasn't in much of a mood to listen to them, though.

[ooc: Yay, he's back! Open for phone calls and things, with some slow play likely.]

"Let the people rejoice!" Priestly slammed into the sub shop with his usual fanfare. "I have arrived!"

Tish threw an apron at his head.

"So, are you just, like, late every day?"

Priestly considered this. "Not every day."

Jen smiled. "Sometimes he's super-late."

"Only when class runs long." Priestly tossed his bag into the back room and turned to the grill, rubbing his hands together. "Okay, special today: foie gras on whole wheat!"

The verdict on that one was a unanimous "No."

"Steak tartare?" He looked around for some support. "Ratatouille." Jen made faces at him. "Come on, French provincial subs by the inch! It'd be the new wave of portable gastronomy!"

"New wave," said Tish, "should stick to music."

Priestly gasped and pressed a hand to his chest. "You wound me, Tish. Right here."

She flicked a dish towel at him. "I can't believe people let you near a stove."

"On a daily basis." Priestly grinned. "Well, except with the steak tartare."

And thus began another beautiful day at the Beach City Grill.

[ooc: open for phone calls]