milliways_bar | Not enough coffee in the WORLD

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Not enough coffee in the WORLD

[OOM: Previously on Awkward Conversation Playhouse, Johnny Hooker and Butch Cassidy get very drunk and have a long chat about how there is totally no elephant in the room no sir nohow, over the course of which Butch outs himself as a bi-romantic asexual and Johnny, poor kid, doesn't quite get it. Awkward.]

Johnny'd taken Butch's harmonica but left him a note, which he has in his pocket as he makes his way up to the bar this morning. He probably won't see him again, which is a shame because he was his best friend here, but on the other hand it's probably healthier for both their livers...

Yeah. He takes a seat at the bar and orders himself some strong coffee. He hasn't been this hungover in a long time, but all things considered he's not in a bad mood. Even though he probably should be.

[open until forever]

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Kate's happy to see him. Things out in Texas are moving along nicely now, and she's just about ready to need him.

"Howdy, Mr. Cassidy."

Her voice couldn't be described as anything less than cheerful as she slides up beside him, smile as bright as the sun. It's a rare thing for the cowgirl, who has no idea her sunny disposition might rattle a hungover brain.

"Mornin', Miss Barlow," he says quietly, managing a smile.

Talking kinda hurts, though. And let's not even think about thinking.

He takes a sip of his coffee, rubs his temples, and briefly contemplates breakfast.

"You're looking... really happy."

"An' you're lookin' kinda peaked."

She immediately reaches out, pressing the backs of her fingers under his chin to check for fever.

"Are you all right, sugar?"

"I'm fine," he says, "I just... had a bit of a rough night, that's all."

And a bit of an understatement.

"I'll be fine, it'll pass. Know any good hangover cures?"

The coffee? Not helping much.

She doesn't look convinced.

"Eggs?"

She should know some hangover cures, but during the time she was drinking near about every night she always figured she deserved the pain the next day.

"Are y'sure, sweetheart? What happened last night?"

"I should probably eat something," he agrees, and after a moment's thought orders himself an omelet. And more coffee.

"I, uh... I had a friend over who was in a bad mood and didn't want to talk about it, and it turns out that if that happens, and you try to match 'em at drinks until they get loosened up enough to talk? You should make sure your friend's not a better drinker than you."

"Oh, Butch."

Yeah, the look on her face isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

She hops on the stool next to him, and makes sure he has toast and butter with that omelet.

"Your head ringin' like the inside of a church bell?"

"And then some," he says, and takes another sip of coffee.

It seems to be helping a little. Or maybe he's more awake, or maybe the bar's just gotten quieter.

Johnny'd had a head start on him in the drinking, and hadn't eaten dinner, and still--

Maybe that's just how they grow 'em in Chicago.

"Yeah, I know the feelin'."

She keeps herself turned so she's facing him. She doesn't want to unnerve him, sitting here watching him eat. But she's interested in listening to him if it'll help.

"So what happened with your friend? He ever talk?"

"He, uh... sorta, I think? Things got pretty hazy there."

Hazy and awkward.

Mostly awkward.

"Well, we did talk. But I don't know that he ever said what was really bothering him. We got into some other things, though."

Really awkward.

He takes a bite of omelet.

"Is this the fella from Chicago?"

"Johnny, yeah. We were supposed to have our poker game, but he was being all... just like Sundance, back home. Weirdest thing. I know a lot of moody fellas."

Who look alike, apparently.

She smirks crookedly.

"Could be 'cuz you're such a nice man, Butch, they're drawn t'you."

She gently pokes his arm.

He can't help but give a rueful chuckle at that.

"Yeah, it sure looks that way."

Oh, coffee. Oh, omelet. What is food for if not filling awkward moments in conversations?

She purses her lips, reaching out to rub his arm.

"You two were thicker'n thieves. I'm sure you'll work it out."

"I don't know," he says. "I mean, I hope so--I don't have any problems with him, I may not like what he does but he's a good guy. He left a note though, and I don't think he's coming back."

He's not mad about the harmonica; he's more than welcome to that if it makes him happy.

"What?"

Whatever barricades she was using to keep her expression in check come down, the full weight of her concern shining through.

"What kinda note?"

He takes the note out of his pocket and offers it over. It's a lot easier than making up an excuse.

In Johnny's clumsy overgrown-schoolboy handwriting it says:

I'm sorry things got so weird, and I know you'll find your somebody someday.

If I don't see you again I want you to know you're a good friend.

-J

Kate reads it over twice.

"Well, I — "

Her brow furrows in consternation.

"Has he taken a shinin' t'you? A romantic shinin'?"

"...he didn't come right out and say it," Butch says quietly, "but yeah, I think so. He, uh..."

He's not sure how much to say. He's very conflicted about the whole thing, and issues back home, and just... everything.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

She's still not sure what to say when things like this come up.

"You don't feel the same?"

"No. I mean, he's a great guy, and--"

Maybe a little too much like Sundance, which just makes things incredibly awkward, especially given the unspoken situation back home. But a pretty good kisser, he'll give him that much.

Why can't life ever just be normal? This is probably why he stays out of cities.

"He didn't have to leave, though."

"Maybe it's jus' what his heart needed."

Her voice is quiet.

She's got her own problems in the romance department spinning around her head. She wonders why love can't always be mutual, and friendships simple. The heart is treacherous; who can know it?

"Perhaps he'll be back after he's had a li'l time. S'better t'be friends than nothin' at all, right?"

"I think he's confused," Butch says. "He never knew his pa, and there was some fella took him in and treated him like one of his own kids, but that fella got killed and Johnny's... I think he's lost. I think he doesn't know what he wants."

"An' you're a strong male role model."

She nods carefully.

"Hell, everybody's probably fallen in love with you at some point."

She breathes a soft laugh, dipping her chin shyly.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," he says. "I'm just friendly--friendly and harmless. Do you know, back when I worked ranches I used to take lots of girls to dances? Their folks never had to worry. I'm a perfect gentleman."

He continues eating. It seems to be helping.

"Girls like that."

Well, some girls do. Gentlemen seem to be a dying breed.

"Anyhow, things'll seem better once the hangover goes away."

"I hope so," he says. "And I hope he comes back--who am I supposed to play cards with if he doesn't? I always lose, and it takes a good friend to make you comfortable with losing all the time."

"I play cards."

She smiles shyly.

"I ain't sayin' I'm a cardsharp of any sort, but I've won a hand or two."

"You'd probably beat me," he says. "Most people do. And losing doesn't bother me at all--it's just some folks, when they win, they gloat. And that's bad sportsmanship."

Sundance doesn't gloat when he wins. It's just a running joke with them.

"Now, Butch Cassidy, I know y'don't hafta be reminded that I'm a lady."

She winks.

"All right, I s'pose I've tooted my own horn a time or two. But I don't make a habit of it, an' I wouldn't do it t'you."

"There's also the matter of what we'd play for," he says. "Me and Johnny, we'd just play for who would buy the next round of drinks, but the way things went I think I probably owe him drinks for the rest of his life. And that much drinking's... not really a good idea."

As his hangover would indicate.

She grimaces sympathetically.

"Well, we could wager different stable chores. I make a mean batch of spiced peaches, if y'have anythin' t'trade. Or, we could play over supper an' bet for who buys."

"Whatever it is, you'd best make sure it's something you don't mind winning a lot of," he says. "I don't really have much to offer in trade--most of the things I can do, you can do too, and probably better. All I got to offer's hard work, and company that's not too unpleasant."

"Dinner it is, then. The more Butch Cassidy there is in my life, the better."

She gives him a winning smile, her earlier exuberance returning — albeit quieter.

"Speakin' of, I think it ain't gonna be too much longer now 'fore I'm ready for you out in Texas. How much notice y'need?"

He chuckles.

"The only obligation I got around here's working in the stables, so... if you can find someone to cover my work for me, I can do with a day's notice. Maybe less, if you catch me when I'm well-rested."

She smiles.

"An' not hungover?"

She's teasing gently. She's in too fine a mood to henpeck, but she is worried. It comes out in soft smirks and caring eyes.

"Well, I got us fixed up with some animals, like y'said. Could be I'll need you t'teach me your tricks. Either out there, or out back here."

"Normally I don't drink that much," he says. "Just poker nights, and... well, keeping friends company."

This'll probably be the last time for a good long while. He means it.

"Either way works fine for me. Like I said, I don't really have much to do, so whenever you're free."

"Are you givin' me permission t'come steal you away whenever I fancy it?"

She shoots him a wicked smirk.

"'Cuz that's an awful lot of temptation, Butch Cassidy."

"...well, sure," he says with a quiet chuckle. "But I trust you to use that power responsibly--I'm sure you'll still let me get my work done in the stables, and eat and sleep now and then. Other than that, I am at your command."

She laughs, tempering her already soft voice so the sound doesn't rattle him.

"I'll try t'employ my discretion, an' resist temptation. I'll at least let y'rest up today."

She orders a fresh glass of tepid water from the Miss, and nudges it closer to him.

"Adventure an' darin' do can wait 'til tomorrow."

"I won't be doing this again," he says, taking the glass of water. "So by tomorrow I should be fine, you've got my word on that."

There's not much for him to do today anyway, though once his head clears he may go for a walk outside or maybe a swim, if the weather's nice enough. Just fresh air and relaxation.

"Good. See to it y'are."

It's less a demand, and more a softly-spoken concern. Kate doesn't like seeing him so wrought up.

And if he's looking, there's something of a promise in her eyes as well. If that walk or swim don't work out, she'll be here to help.

However she can.

"Yes, ma'am," he says with a bit of a tired grin, doing his best to be reassuring.

He's not about to disobey an instruction given to him by Miss Barlow, of all people, and anyway he doesn't want her to worry. She's got a lot more on her plate than he does, and he's been through worse than this before. He'll be fine.

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Not enough coffee in the WORLD

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