Adopting Gar
Jan. 23rd, 2022 10:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsKane tries to return to his rooms following Adrienne's departure and it doesn't go well.
“Well, here I am.” Kane said to himself, standing on the threshold of the rooms he shared with Adrienne. Or had shared with Adrienne. She was gone. And with her usual efficiency, she’d emptied their suite of her possessions and the cat. He couldn’t blame her. After all, it had been his decision.
He walked around for a bit, aimless. It had been months since he’d been here and yet, everything was neatly tucked away and organised. Even the Moosehead had been recently dusted. He sat down on the couch and plucked his acoustic guitar from the stand. Garrison wasn’t the first to admit he was a pretty mediocre musician, but that’s only because plenty of others would jump in before he could say anything to confirm it. But he could get away with the firepit singalong. He played a few chords and paused, his fingers freezing on the strings as tears came to him.
“Gar?” Amanda’s voice was soft and a little hesitant, not wanting to intrude on a very private grief. “Can I come in?”
“She kept it tuned.” He said quietly, pulling himself together. “Every reason to think I was dead, and she refused to believe it so fundamentally that she made sure my goddamn guitar stayed tuned.”
Amanda’s boots scuffed across the floor and the couch dipped a little as she sat next to him. “That’s Adri,” she replied. “Practical as fuck, but still optimistic, even if she can’t say so to anyone.”
“You know she told me that she’d support me doing anything but this, and go with me to anywhere but here.” Kane said, an impossible heaviness behind his words. “And I said no.”
“I think I know.” Her reply was quiet. “But Gar, what do you want? Don’t you think you’ve earned it?”
“What do I want? I want to think I’ve done enough, and that I can walk away with her to spend the next forty years on a tropical beach somewhere. Drinking fruity rum cocktails with a rainforest of garnishes on top before screwing her senseless every night. That’s what I want. But I made an oath to this place. And if I did that, the second something happened I could have stopped, or worse, someone got hurt that I might have been able to protect, it would ultimately destroy who I am. So I am fucking trapped it seems.”
Amanda searched her mind for something comforting to say, and came up empty. What the fuck could you say in this situation? “So, when does the Air Supply start?” She said instead, nudging him gently with her shoulder to show she didn’t mean it in an awful way.
“You and Pete never got it. Air Supply were insightful pop troubadours from a difficult age. We could have all died in a nuclear Holocaust at any moment and yet, it was Air Supply that kept us sane.”
“That’s because Pete and I have taste.” She matched his tone, relieved that he’d received her bad joke in the spirit it had been meant. “But you know I can’t leave you here listening to ‘All Outta Love’ all night.”
“Yeah, but ‘The Buzzcocks’ are a joyful contribution to the world.”
“Oh, you did not go there. I know you’re traumatised and all, but you don’t go after the ‘Cocks.”
“I generally leave them for you. I know you’re the big collector.”
She snorted. “More like the retired champ - there’s plenty of competition for that title these days.” She stood up, holding her hand out for Garrison to take. “But I was serious about not leaving you down here alone. You’re coming back to me and Angie’s place.”
“Dear Penthouse.” Kane said, but he took her hand. “I’ll be fine, you know. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“No, you don’t,” and she squeezed his hand. “But you need a friend.”
“Fair enough.” He said, manfully hiding the fact that he desperately needed someone who didn’t think he was the villain for everything. “Let’s- I’ll grab- oh, fuck it, let’s go.”
“If you need something, we can grab it later. C’mon.” She didn’t quite drag him down the hall to the suite she shared with Marie-Ange, but there was an element of her acting as a tugboat to the much taller man. “Angie’ll be home in a bit… You can take my old room - I cleared the books off the bed already.”
“Have you talked to MA about this? She might have a different opinion about this.”
“She’ll be fine.” It was said with utter certainty as she bustled around the suite. “You want a drink? I’ve got…” Her voice was muffled as she peered into the fridge’s depths. “Beer? Or tea? I can make you tea?”
“Beer is good. Tea is colonising or something. I don’t really know, but it gives me an excuse to day drink.”
“If we’re going there, I’m colonisation central. English and all. Sort of.” She pulled a couple of bottles from the fridge and came back, waving him towards the gathering of couch and two easy chairs in the central space. “Considering what Germany got up to in Africa, I’m fucked either way.”
“Yeah, but Germany started 200 years late, so they colonised three barren beaches and a desert and goose-stepped home to applause.” Kane took a long pull from his beer.
“Eh, Europeans love a good beach.” Amanda looked up at the rattle of keys at the door. “Angie’s home,” she said a bit redundantly, but with what could only be described as a sappy smile on her face.
"Angie has groceries and Korean fried chicken." Marie-Ange opened the door with a patterned fabric grocery bag in one hand and another two that she'd clearly set down at her feet to open the door. She picked up the bag, and behind her a strange little imaged creature carrying two plastic bags followed. "Can you help me unpack bags? I set up delivery for everything not from the butcher or produce counter." It was so domestic it was almost easy to miss her quick assessing look at Garrison.
Amanda came forward and picked up the bags on the floor, before leaning over and kissing Marie-Ange on the cheek. "Hey, love," she said warmly. "Wow, you bought up the whole place, didn't you?" She headed towards the kitchenette to start unpacking. "Gar, you can cook, right?"
"Yeah. I mean, if you want something out of Le Bernardin, I'm not your man, but I can fix a reasonable enough dinner that doesn't involve any boxes that say 'instant' on them anywhere."
"You said stock up, I stocked up." Marie-Ange picked up the bags of carry-out that the little creature had and dismissed the thing into a little puff of cool steam. "But I did get instant ramen if Garrison wants to lie on the floor and watch me do terrible things to noodles." She set the bags on the table and started unpacking a few cardboard containers of Korean fried chicken. "I got spicy and not spicy and Amanda spicy, and rice and quick pickles too, because I have been hungry all day."
"It's OK. If I'm hiding out here for a little bit, I can pitch in with the kitchen... stuff." He sipped from his beer, letting them organize themselves. "You need... help? I just realized how dumb that sounded."
“We’ve got it,” Amanda replied, poking her head out of the fridge where she was putting away the veggies and other sundry groceries. “So you’re off the hook tonight. Tomorrow, tho’… if you don’t want to live on take out and English fry ups, you might want to stretch those cooking muscles.”
"Sure. I don't..." He paused and seemed to draw into himself for a moment. "I'll take care of it. I might just get some sleep though, if that's alright."
"Food first, yes? You have one of those metabolisms and I have seventy dollars of Korean chicken." Marie-Ange said, as she handed off packets neatly wrapped in butcher's paper to Amanda. "Plus then that gives me time to double check if I actually put towels in the other bathroom, panic, find the spare towels, and pretend they were there all along." As often as Amanda's old room was used to house drop-in visitors, the odds of clean towels were good, but not a certainty.
"If there's enough paper napkins in the bag, I can make do," he said, just to earn the look of disgust and the eye roll from Marie-Ange at the comment. He might have argued, but his system was running low, and he quickly unwrapped the large breaded filet and took a bite.
Amanda opened her mouth to make a saucy comment, but remembered Garrison’s sudden change in demeanor and held her tongue. However much he might seem like his old self, he’d been through unimaginable hell with Olivier. Best not to push him too hard. Instead, she plopped herself into the big armchair and began unwrapping her food.
Just to make a point, Marie-Ange did disappear into the spare bathroom, and then popped back out a moment later. "Towels, washcloth, a loofah shaped like a koala and two oranges. Which I am told is a very important meme with the youths. I did not put them there, I do not know. I think you are meant to eat an orange in the shower." She spread her hands in a gesture of "what can you do". "Besides food, what else do we need for the care and keeping of a Garrison Kane?"
"I'll be alright. I'm a big tough girl. I can tie my own sandals and everything." Kane said dryly after swallowing a large bite of chicken. "Seriously though, I appreciate a place to hide out for a couple of days. I have to face the music eventually but... I'm just so fucking tired right now..." He paused, throat twitching. "Just a couple of days. I'll be fine after."
"So sandals, with the ribbons. I think I can get ribbons with maple leaves on them." Marie-Ange pretended to write a note in an imaginary notebook. "You can be here as long as you need. Get rest, eat snacks, cook us food that is not ramen or beans on toast. If you drink the last of the tea, leave a post-it note."
“And since there’s two bathrooms, you can leave the seat up as much as you like in yours,” Amanda chimed in, muffled by a mouthful of chicken. “But seriously, what Angie said. As long as you need - or as long as you want.”
“Well, here I am.” Kane said to himself, standing on the threshold of the rooms he shared with Adrienne. Or had shared with Adrienne. She was gone. And with her usual efficiency, she’d emptied their suite of her possessions and the cat. He couldn’t blame her. After all, it had been his decision.
He walked around for a bit, aimless. It had been months since he’d been here and yet, everything was neatly tucked away and organised. Even the Moosehead had been recently dusted. He sat down on the couch and plucked his acoustic guitar from the stand. Garrison wasn’t the first to admit he was a pretty mediocre musician, but that’s only because plenty of others would jump in before he could say anything to confirm it. But he could get away with the firepit singalong. He played a few chords and paused, his fingers freezing on the strings as tears came to him.
“Gar?” Amanda’s voice was soft and a little hesitant, not wanting to intrude on a very private grief. “Can I come in?”
“She kept it tuned.” He said quietly, pulling himself together. “Every reason to think I was dead, and she refused to believe it so fundamentally that she made sure my goddamn guitar stayed tuned.”
Amanda’s boots scuffed across the floor and the couch dipped a little as she sat next to him. “That’s Adri,” she replied. “Practical as fuck, but still optimistic, even if she can’t say so to anyone.”
“You know she told me that she’d support me doing anything but this, and go with me to anywhere but here.” Kane said, an impossible heaviness behind his words. “And I said no.”
“I think I know.” Her reply was quiet. “But Gar, what do you want? Don’t you think you’ve earned it?”
“What do I want? I want to think I’ve done enough, and that I can walk away with her to spend the next forty years on a tropical beach somewhere. Drinking fruity rum cocktails with a rainforest of garnishes on top before screwing her senseless every night. That’s what I want. But I made an oath to this place. And if I did that, the second something happened I could have stopped, or worse, someone got hurt that I might have been able to protect, it would ultimately destroy who I am. So I am fucking trapped it seems.”
Amanda searched her mind for something comforting to say, and came up empty. What the fuck could you say in this situation? “So, when does the Air Supply start?” She said instead, nudging him gently with her shoulder to show she didn’t mean it in an awful way.
“You and Pete never got it. Air Supply were insightful pop troubadours from a difficult age. We could have all died in a nuclear Holocaust at any moment and yet, it was Air Supply that kept us sane.”
“That’s because Pete and I have taste.” She matched his tone, relieved that he’d received her bad joke in the spirit it had been meant. “But you know I can’t leave you here listening to ‘All Outta Love’ all night.”
“Yeah, but ‘The Buzzcocks’ are a joyful contribution to the world.”
“Oh, you did not go there. I know you’re traumatised and all, but you don’t go after the ‘Cocks.”
“I generally leave them for you. I know you’re the big collector.”
She snorted. “More like the retired champ - there’s plenty of competition for that title these days.” She stood up, holding her hand out for Garrison to take. “But I was serious about not leaving you down here alone. You’re coming back to me and Angie’s place.”
“Dear Penthouse.” Kane said, but he took her hand. “I’ll be fine, you know. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“No, you don’t,” and she squeezed his hand. “But you need a friend.”
“Fair enough.” He said, manfully hiding the fact that he desperately needed someone who didn’t think he was the villain for everything. “Let’s- I’ll grab- oh, fuck it, let’s go.”
“If you need something, we can grab it later. C’mon.” She didn’t quite drag him down the hall to the suite she shared with Marie-Ange, but there was an element of her acting as a tugboat to the much taller man. “Angie’ll be home in a bit… You can take my old room - I cleared the books off the bed already.”
“Have you talked to MA about this? She might have a different opinion about this.”
“She’ll be fine.” It was said with utter certainty as she bustled around the suite. “You want a drink? I’ve got…” Her voice was muffled as she peered into the fridge’s depths. “Beer? Or tea? I can make you tea?”
“Beer is good. Tea is colonising or something. I don’t really know, but it gives me an excuse to day drink.”
“If we’re going there, I’m colonisation central. English and all. Sort of.” She pulled a couple of bottles from the fridge and came back, waving him towards the gathering of couch and two easy chairs in the central space. “Considering what Germany got up to in Africa, I’m fucked either way.”
“Yeah, but Germany started 200 years late, so they colonised three barren beaches and a desert and goose-stepped home to applause.” Kane took a long pull from his beer.
“Eh, Europeans love a good beach.” Amanda looked up at the rattle of keys at the door. “Angie’s home,” she said a bit redundantly, but with what could only be described as a sappy smile on her face.
"Angie has groceries and Korean fried chicken." Marie-Ange opened the door with a patterned fabric grocery bag in one hand and another two that she'd clearly set down at her feet to open the door. She picked up the bag, and behind her a strange little imaged creature carrying two plastic bags followed. "Can you help me unpack bags? I set up delivery for everything not from the butcher or produce counter." It was so domestic it was almost easy to miss her quick assessing look at Garrison.
Amanda came forward and picked up the bags on the floor, before leaning over and kissing Marie-Ange on the cheek. "Hey, love," she said warmly. "Wow, you bought up the whole place, didn't you?" She headed towards the kitchenette to start unpacking. "Gar, you can cook, right?"
"Yeah. I mean, if you want something out of Le Bernardin, I'm not your man, but I can fix a reasonable enough dinner that doesn't involve any boxes that say 'instant' on them anywhere."
"You said stock up, I stocked up." Marie-Ange picked up the bags of carry-out that the little creature had and dismissed the thing into a little puff of cool steam. "But I did get instant ramen if Garrison wants to lie on the floor and watch me do terrible things to noodles." She set the bags on the table and started unpacking a few cardboard containers of Korean fried chicken. "I got spicy and not spicy and Amanda spicy, and rice and quick pickles too, because I have been hungry all day."
"It's OK. If I'm hiding out here for a little bit, I can pitch in with the kitchen... stuff." He sipped from his beer, letting them organize themselves. "You need... help? I just realized how dumb that sounded."
“We’ve got it,” Amanda replied, poking her head out of the fridge where she was putting away the veggies and other sundry groceries. “So you’re off the hook tonight. Tomorrow, tho’… if you don’t want to live on take out and English fry ups, you might want to stretch those cooking muscles.”
"Sure. I don't..." He paused and seemed to draw into himself for a moment. "I'll take care of it. I might just get some sleep though, if that's alright."
"Food first, yes? You have one of those metabolisms and I have seventy dollars of Korean chicken." Marie-Ange said, as she handed off packets neatly wrapped in butcher's paper to Amanda. "Plus then that gives me time to double check if I actually put towels in the other bathroom, panic, find the spare towels, and pretend they were there all along." As often as Amanda's old room was used to house drop-in visitors, the odds of clean towels were good, but not a certainty.
"If there's enough paper napkins in the bag, I can make do," he said, just to earn the look of disgust and the eye roll from Marie-Ange at the comment. He might have argued, but his system was running low, and he quickly unwrapped the large breaded filet and took a bite.
Amanda opened her mouth to make a saucy comment, but remembered Garrison’s sudden change in demeanor and held her tongue. However much he might seem like his old self, he’d been through unimaginable hell with Olivier. Best not to push him too hard. Instead, she plopped herself into the big armchair and began unwrapping her food.
Just to make a point, Marie-Ange did disappear into the spare bathroom, and then popped back out a moment later. "Towels, washcloth, a loofah shaped like a koala and two oranges. Which I am told is a very important meme with the youths. I did not put them there, I do not know. I think you are meant to eat an orange in the shower." She spread her hands in a gesture of "what can you do". "Besides food, what else do we need for the care and keeping of a Garrison Kane?"
"I'll be alright. I'm a big tough girl. I can tie my own sandals and everything." Kane said dryly after swallowing a large bite of chicken. "Seriously though, I appreciate a place to hide out for a couple of days. I have to face the music eventually but... I'm just so fucking tired right now..." He paused, throat twitching. "Just a couple of days. I'll be fine after."
"So sandals, with the ribbons. I think I can get ribbons with maple leaves on them." Marie-Ange pretended to write a note in an imaginary notebook. "You can be here as long as you need. Get rest, eat snacks, cook us food that is not ramen or beans on toast. If you drink the last of the tea, leave a post-it note."
“And since there’s two bathrooms, you can leave the seat up as much as you like in yours,” Amanda chimed in, muffled by a mouthful of chicken. “But seriously, what Angie said. As long as you need - or as long as you want.”
