Garrison and Adrienne - Atlantis Fish and Chips

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

Garrison and Adrienne go out for lunch and discuss a myriad of subjects, including tattoos, Victorian fashion, and baseball (of course.)

It wasn't the fanciest restuarant in Salem Centre by a wide margin. Narrow and small, the waiting area held maybe two dozen people at most, with only a trio of two person tables against one wall and a built in counter at the window. The faded sign out front spelled out 'Atlantis Fish and Chips' in cracked blue and yellow paint, although the newer sign painted on the window had the same in a less delapitated fashion. The air was heavy with the smell of hot oil, and everything about the shop hinted at a relic of a bygone era, hanging on just enough to keep cranking out heavy, greasy meals to a few aged regulars.

It was a good example of how looks could be deceiving. Despite the faded paint, the kitchen equipment were all well, maintained, high quality appliances bought secondhand. The oil was fresh; not simply the accumilation of years of dumping new oil into old. The fish was fresh, and lined up with a sushi like percision in the glass-fronted prep cooler. A plastic garbage bin full of fresh cut fries waited near the fryer for dunking, pre-blanched and thick. Finally, the owner was not the expected embittered hashslinger on her last legs. Instead, it was a women in her early twenties, with full sleeve tattoos down both arms and hair cut short to show off heavily pierced ears and eyebrows.

Kane loved it. From the gothy alt-rock she blared to the handwrapped cones of perfectly fried halibit and chips, it was everything that the increasingly exburbian growth of chain restaurants and big box stories was not in Westchester.

Adrienne grinned and waved at the proprietress of the diner as she followed Kane in, calling out a greeting. When one was a vegetarian who also had a penchant for getting hungover and craving grease, a fish-and-chip shop was oftentimes one's saving grace. Even moreso when it wasn't one of those pretentious, overpriced nightmares that littered the affluent neighbourhoods of Boston. She hadn't been to Atlantis since returning to New York, since Garrison had first introduced her to the place while they were dating which meant she associated it with the rocky ground they'd been on until recently. "Am I buying today?" she asked Garrison with a smile.

"This is why your budget is always short at the end of the month, Adrienne." Kane said, raising an eyebrow at her. They had largely not seen each other since her email; just the occasional crossing of paths in the halls of the mansion and a few emails to check up on her. In part because Kane was concerned that trying so hard to be friends might put her under pressure that wasn't healthy for her, and in part because it settled his own jumbled feelings.

"Rich girl has to budget?" The girl snorted. "When did that happen?"

"Long story, Nancy-Ann. You'll have to short-change other people for a while."

"And fuck you too, Gary."

"Not that long," Adrienne shrugged good-naturedly. "I'm broke. The federal government froze all my assets. But," she added with a grin, "I quit smoking, and drinking. So I can afford to buy him lunch." She jerked a thumb in 'Gary's' direction.

"Can, sure. I don't know why you'd want to." Nancy-Ann turned back to the fryer, ignoring the rude gesture Kane made in response. There weren't a lot of people in the restaurant at the moment, so they ended up just leaning against the counter while she built their order.

"It's funny. A couple of weeks ago, some tourist couple complained about her tattoos to her grandfather. Old man rolled up his sleeves to show off his naked mermaids to them right there. Said 'Ink is in a Moore's blood'." Garrison shook his head. "Then he threw them out. She's just like the old man."

Adrienne laughed at the story as she watched their potatoes go into the fryer. "I've always wanted a tattoo," she mused. "Of course, now that I've finally come to terms with my modelling career being well and truly dead, and thus justified getting one, I'm broke," she grinned, rolling her eyes. "Isn't that always the way? I really like your tattoos, Nancy-Ann. Did you do the designs yourself?"

"That's what boyfriends are for." She said, while she focused on the order. Kane twirled a small wooden chip fork in his fingers.

"Don't tell me the new plan is to start adding a bunch of tattoos."

"Is that what they're for?" Adrienne answered with innocent incredulity, smirking. "I'll have to get me one of those so I can have a tattoo, then!" She turned to Garrison to answer his question. "Not a bunch. Just one. The Red Sox logo, right over my heart," she joked melodramatically, making a swoon. "Actually, I've always wanted a flower with some vines around my ankle."

"What is it with women and ankle tattoos? All the girls I know who got tattooed, at least two-thirds started off with getting something on the ankle." Kane said.

"I can't speak for womenkind as a whole, but I thought something that looked like a bracelet would look good. I thought the cool thing was back tattoos?" Adrienne added quizzically as she watched Nancy-Ann take the fries out of the fryer. "Tattoos are not a fashion trend I've followed all that closely, but I didn't think ankle was all that hot? Isn't it supposed to hurt a lot more than a tramp stamp as well? Not that pain is much of a deterrent to people wanting tattoos, I suppose," she shrugged. "How much did the beaver on your thigh hurt?"

"Healing factor. Thanks to it, I barely noticed. Plus, there's a lot more flesh on my hip than there is on an ankle." He shrugged, and leaned back against the counter. "It seems like the ankle is the starter tattoo for women, I've noticed. As if they don't like it, they can hide it and pretend it didn't happen. The lower back tattoo is a little more difficult to hide."

"I don't really get that," Adrienne mused as the fish were put on plates since Nancy-Ann knew they'd be eating there. "Aren't women more likely to be wearing sandals or skirts with dress shoes than they are to be going topless for others to see it? Plus, wouldn't you think that it would be easier on yourself to pretend it didn't happen if something was on your back where you couldn't see it, as opposed to your foot which, unless you're four-hundred pounds or something, you'd see every day?"

"I don't know. I think people don't really notice ankles that much. I know I don't go out of my way to ogle some girl's ankle when she's walking by." He picked up the plates as Nancy-Ann slid them over, and set them down at one of the small tables, before reaching back for the malt vinegar.

"Well, you're clearly not from the Victorian era, then, if you're not attracted to ankles." Adrienne slathered ketchup on her fries and stabbed a few with a fork. "Know how else I can tell? You're not wearing a pink puffy shirt. Also, you don't have consumption. As far as I know. But then again, you also have your healing factor, so maybe you did have consumption and you just didn't know it?"

"Healing factor takes care of diseases. Some take a bit longer than others, but ultimately, it cleans it out. So no exciting TB for me." Kane began to eat, methodically breaking up the fish. "Besides, if my history is right, the ankle of some girl's shoe was about the only thing that showed off her real shape."

"Because she'd be wearing six layers of petticoats," Adrienne nodded, speaking through a mouth full of fries.

"And that's sexy times, eh." The fish was perfect, as always, and he slathered more of the homemade tarter sauce on his. "Geez, Adrienne. Chew or something. This is not a race."

In response, Adrienne did the only thing a girl could do in that situation, and stuck her tongue out at him with her mouth full. "It's the snake part of my demeanor," she answered apologetically when she had swallowed enough to speak. "I like to try and chew my food whole every once and a while, just to make sure I still can." She sipped at her iced tea contemplatively. "Six petticoats is totally sexy times. Something about anticipation, or the metaphor of the gift being that much more satisfying after having to work so hard to unwrap it?"

"So you say. Frankly, I'd rather not need a detailed set of stages to go through just to get someone's dress off." He popped his last fry in his mouth. Despite his own comments, Kane ate quickly and in large volumes due to his mutation.

Adrienne was quiet until her fish was gone and she'd started in on the fries again. "I suppose that's why the cultural stereotype of bodice ripping got popular," she smirked. "Instead of carefully pulling the tape off the gift and folding the wrapping paper up to use again later, at the end of the day people would much rather just rip through it and play with what's inside."

"Or go on-line and order it using a credit card. That seems to be popular now."

"This is true," Adrienne nodded. She demolished the rest of her fries, polished off her iced tea, and threw three pieces of bubblegum into her mouth. After-meals was still the worst for cigarette cravings. "Do you think your Silent Assassin is going to send Drabek to the Evil Empire?"

"If the return is there, sure. But I don't think the Yankees will pony up the prospects that Anthopoulos will want. So, Bobby Valentine. Really? I mean, really?"

Adrienne made her 'I don't know' face and threw up her hands. "What can I say? I had to turn them down. I really wanted to manage, but my responsibilities lie with my eight students as I guide them through the minefield that is human history. So the Sox management tries to soldier on without me."

"I heard that Xavier asked for Buchholz when they came to him about letting you out of your contract."

"Well, thank Christ I turned them down! I'm worth way more to the school than a fourth-string reliever who can't locate his curve consistently. Boston would have been robbing Xavier. Plus, I'd be worried you'd smother Buchholz in his sleep if the two of you were under the same roof. Or would you only do that to Papelbon?"

"I think Papeldouche is the only one that I'd consider killing. Maybe Youklis. The rest of your pitching staff is going to an early fried chicken and biscuit enabled grave in any case."

"Papeldouche really is a douche now for going to Philadelphia," Adrienne pointed out. "And I've always thought Youklis stands to be smothered for his ridiculous batting stance. But your pitching staff's on the same road to Death-By-Fried-Chicken ours is, so don't pretend you guys have any sort of healthy-living high ground to stand on there. Jesse Litsch looks like the Kool-Aid man. 'Ohhh yeah,'" she grinned.

"You'd need three of Ricky to make one John Lackey. So don't even start." Kane pointed. "Besides, Jesse's from Florida. Dude can't help his genes."

"That's true, they do have a lot of swamp gators down in Florida, the gene pool has to be pretty corrupted. And hey, you would not need three Rickys to make one Lackey!" Adrienne scoffed indignantly. "There's maybe twenty pounds and two inches height difference between them. Don't go making up shit just to go out of your way to bash my team. If you want to bash Lackey, say he's slow to pitch, his strikeouts per nine innings rate is going down, walks are going up, and he seems to have lost the ability to throw not just curves but sliders and change-ups as well." She then looked around guiltily. "Wait. No. Actually, just go back to calling him fat, please."

"Fat and signed until, what, 2015 or something? You guys are going to have the only AAA pitcher making eight figures a year in baseball."

Adrienne knocked her forehead against the table and groaned. "Don't remind me. I was thinking of selling my box to contribute to buying out his contract to get him to retire, but now I can't even do that," she moaned with a wry smirk before popping up and grinning. "Losing my money was a blessing in disguise, clearly, because now I don't have to suffer watching him in person."

"That's one way to put things into perspective." He shook his head ruefully. "Baseball aside, you doing alright?"

"I think I am," she answered with a nod. She dug a plastic chip out of her jeans pocket and put it on the table in front of him. "I got this at NA the other day. To signify my fifteen years clean. They give out these chips that are supposed to act with psychological power over you to remind you what you've achieved and work like talismans to give you strength to keep striving towards another chip." From her other pocket she pulled out her silver lighter from Amanda, where she'd taped a sticky note on which she'd drawn the same logo as her fifteen year-chip and written a 'two weeks' in the middle in regards to her time without a cigarette. With the lighter in one hand she pulled on the chain to her silver St. Barbara medallion around her neck with the other. "Of course, I already had my own talismans, but the chip's nice too. Every little bit helps in the ongoing quest for personal growth," she mused with a smirk.

"So the living clean part's covered. And the money part... it's not as bad as it was when I was by myself in Boston. Being around everyone else... it's a lot easier being broke when you have friends. How fucking sappy is that, right?" she scoffed. "But it's true, as much as I hate to admit it."

"Good. Plus, I should point out, you're getting free rent and communal meals. You should be able to budget on your salary, rich girl." Kane said, and tossed down his napkin. "Thanks for lunch, Adrienne. I need to do some Christmas shopping, so I should get going."

She snorted at his mention of Christmas shopping. "You? Shopping? You mean they have a Jays Shop in New York now? Can you drop me at the dollar store on your way? I can take the bus back. The budgeting's a lot easier now that I've discovered one can buy almost everything one needs there. It's a magical place."

"You have become intensely weird, you know." He said as he nodded.