Adrienne/Garrison: Birthday Girl
Mar. 31st, 2017 03:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_dominion posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsBackdated: Garrison and Adrienne are enjoying her birthday at spring training, watching the Red Sox this year.
"Did you know the tenth most popular tourist destination in Fort Myers is the Fleamasters Fleamarket?" Garrison looked up from his guide brochure as they funneled through the gates into JetBlue Park. They had started alternating parks for Spring Training and this year was for Adrienne's Red Sox. He also passed control of the accommodations to her, which resulted in a five star with ocean views and an on-suite bar that's stock was worth more than Kane's salary. "I think that might be peak Florida."
"I did not know that," Adrienne admitted, sliding her sunglasses down her nose as she turned from the ball field to Garrison. "We should definitely go there. I have a powerful need for some antique book-ends. Or a doorknob. Or a door knocker. Maybe a letter opener." She turned back to the game when she heard the crack of ball-hitting-bat. "I did know, however, that Edison and Henry Ford have winter houses next door to one another here. We should go sometime. Poke around." She waggled her fingers at him.
"I was about to ask if you're sure you wanted to bring your hot little hands into a flea market? There could be literally anything waiting to be accidentally read; war scenes, murders, people playing the accordion..." The long fall ball died at the right field wall. Kane shook his head. In Fenway South, you wanted to pull the ball and slap it off the imitation Green Monster.
"Well, my control's pretty good now," she reminded him. "I can be sure to avoid anything that looks like it might show me someone playing the accordion. And if I did happen to see a murder, it could be a cold case for you to solve. Maybe something that stumped the nation at the time. You could get onto Huffington Post with your plucky story about bringing justice to a decades-old crime and become an internet celebrity."
"That's what I need; a dozen Breitbart articles about the 'corrupt FBI's immigrant mutant enforcer'." A fastball earned a swing, even as it bounced away from the catcher. "I prefer my role as your anonymous arm candy, and the salacious rumours about being shared around the Frost sisters."
"Yeah, that rumor's my favourite." It was the most ridiculous thing she'd heard in a long time. As if Adrienne had ever shared anything in her life. "Let's stick with that." She rolled her eyes at the catcher's flub and waved her phone at Garrison. A champion multitasker, she was adjusting her fantasy team while watching the game and thinking about the flea market and the vacation home museums. "Hey, I need help at third base for the first matchup since Beltre's listed as questionable. You only have one three-bee and I don't want to risk trying to trade with strangers since time's getting short, so can you recommend a free agent?"
"You would not believe the envious looks I get at all of those functions you drag me too. Men and women." He said. The pitcher was tamping down dirt on the mound, another remind of the Sox tendency to waste time. "As much as I hate to admit, Sandoval's looked pretty good this spring. Shaw and Moncado were traded and with their fetish for playing Holt all over the diamond, he should get most of the starts at third. At least for April."
Because she knew how much looking at these particular stats annoyed him, Adrienne frowned and said "he only has an own percentage of 48 and start percentage of 27. If other people don't like him, I don't know if I should get him. Castellanos has an 82/68."
"As does Travis Shaw, but that's kind of the fun of it. Especially at the bottom of your league... making that hunch."
"Ew, no way I'm picking up Brewers," Adrienne responded, wrinkling her nose. "One of the only team that's gonna suck more than your Jays this year."
"At least my team lasted more than three games against Cleveland and more than one against Texas..." Dangerous words in this park.
Adrienne scanned her peripheral vision for eavesdroppers who might take offense to Garrison's comment, but the crowds were relatively sparse today. The game was halfway over, and a large contingent of fans had left when the major league players had been subbed out. Still, she felt the need to say, loudly, "oh, I'm sorry, how many World Series' have your team won compared to the Sox? And how long has it been for your Blue Jays in comparison?"
"Not even close to the drought that your podunk team went through, Adri." He grinned at her. "How is Bill Buckner these days?"
"Hey, you know the rules. No sex for a week for mentioning Bill Buckner."
"Damnit. Wait, what if I just wear the Red Sox cap?"
Adrienne frowned in thought and contemplated this offer. "Well... okay. As long as it's not going on your head."
"So it's going to be one of those kind of nights. I better limber up." There was a crack and a smattering of cheers as a long fly ball was caught on the warning track for the final out. "Or we could make it one of those kinds of afternoons. Unless your heart was set on the fleamarket?"
"Maybe we can find something at the flea market we can have sex on? Like a Louis XV escritoire? Or a Regency side table? It is my birthday, after all."
"Sure, although based on the shots of the fleamarket, I think it's more likely going to be a Sears ottoman that is available."
"Like the one in our suite? We'll have that thing broken in less than five minutes."
"Did you know the tenth most popular tourist destination in Fort Myers is the Fleamasters Fleamarket?" Garrison looked up from his guide brochure as they funneled through the gates into JetBlue Park. They had started alternating parks for Spring Training and this year was for Adrienne's Red Sox. He also passed control of the accommodations to her, which resulted in a five star with ocean views and an on-suite bar that's stock was worth more than Kane's salary. "I think that might be peak Florida."
"I did not know that," Adrienne admitted, sliding her sunglasses down her nose as she turned from the ball field to Garrison. "We should definitely go there. I have a powerful need for some antique book-ends. Or a doorknob. Or a door knocker. Maybe a letter opener." She turned back to the game when she heard the crack of ball-hitting-bat. "I did know, however, that Edison and Henry Ford have winter houses next door to one another here. We should go sometime. Poke around." She waggled her fingers at him.
"I was about to ask if you're sure you wanted to bring your hot little hands into a flea market? There could be literally anything waiting to be accidentally read; war scenes, murders, people playing the accordion..." The long fall ball died at the right field wall. Kane shook his head. In Fenway South, you wanted to pull the ball and slap it off the imitation Green Monster.
"Well, my control's pretty good now," she reminded him. "I can be sure to avoid anything that looks like it might show me someone playing the accordion. And if I did happen to see a murder, it could be a cold case for you to solve. Maybe something that stumped the nation at the time. You could get onto Huffington Post with your plucky story about bringing justice to a decades-old crime and become an internet celebrity."
"That's what I need; a dozen Breitbart articles about the 'corrupt FBI's immigrant mutant enforcer'." A fastball earned a swing, even as it bounced away from the catcher. "I prefer my role as your anonymous arm candy, and the salacious rumours about being shared around the Frost sisters."
"Yeah, that rumor's my favourite." It was the most ridiculous thing she'd heard in a long time. As if Adrienne had ever shared anything in her life. "Let's stick with that." She rolled her eyes at the catcher's flub and waved her phone at Garrison. A champion multitasker, she was adjusting her fantasy team while watching the game and thinking about the flea market and the vacation home museums. "Hey, I need help at third base for the first matchup since Beltre's listed as questionable. You only have one three-bee and I don't want to risk trying to trade with strangers since time's getting short, so can you recommend a free agent?"
"You would not believe the envious looks I get at all of those functions you drag me too. Men and women." He said. The pitcher was tamping down dirt on the mound, another remind of the Sox tendency to waste time. "As much as I hate to admit, Sandoval's looked pretty good this spring. Shaw and Moncado were traded and with their fetish for playing Holt all over the diamond, he should get most of the starts at third. At least for April."
Because she knew how much looking at these particular stats annoyed him, Adrienne frowned and said "he only has an own percentage of 48 and start percentage of 27. If other people don't like him, I don't know if I should get him. Castellanos has an 82/68."
"As does Travis Shaw, but that's kind of the fun of it. Especially at the bottom of your league... making that hunch."
"Ew, no way I'm picking up Brewers," Adrienne responded, wrinkling her nose. "One of the only team that's gonna suck more than your Jays this year."
"At least my team lasted more than three games against Cleveland and more than one against Texas..." Dangerous words in this park.
Adrienne scanned her peripheral vision for eavesdroppers who might take offense to Garrison's comment, but the crowds were relatively sparse today. The game was halfway over, and a large contingent of fans had left when the major league players had been subbed out. Still, she felt the need to say, loudly, "oh, I'm sorry, how many World Series' have your team won compared to the Sox? And how long has it been for your Blue Jays in comparison?"
"Not even close to the drought that your podunk team went through, Adri." He grinned at her. "How is Bill Buckner these days?"
"Hey, you know the rules. No sex for a week for mentioning Bill Buckner."
"Damnit. Wait, what if I just wear the Red Sox cap?"
Adrienne frowned in thought and contemplated this offer. "Well... okay. As long as it's not going on your head."
"So it's going to be one of those kind of nights. I better limber up." There was a crack and a smattering of cheers as a long fly ball was caught on the warning track for the final out. "Or we could make it one of those kinds of afternoons. Unless your heart was set on the fleamarket?"
"Maybe we can find something at the flea market we can have sex on? Like a Louis XV escritoire? Or a Regency side table? It is my birthday, after all."
"Sure, although based on the shots of the fleamarket, I think it's more likely going to be a Sears ottoman that is available."
"Like the one in our suite? We'll have that thing broken in less than five minutes."
