Garrison & Jean:
Sep. 4th, 2023 09:27 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_logsJean joins Kane at his station at the boring grill.
"Are you the grill master?" Jean said, peering up at Garrison from her sunhat. The area was brimming with people, and lively music played in the background.
"I am Vinz, Vinz Clortho, Keymaster of Gozer. Volguus Zildrohar, Lord of the Sebouillia. Are you the Gatekeeper?" Kane said, straight faced as he flipped a line of chicken legs along the one side of the grill. He wasn't sure who had left the 'CANADAD' apron hanging on his doorknob, but he was rolling with it.
"Hey, he pulls the wagon," Jean said, thumbing toward the wolf padding his way around the party. "I make the deals."
She smirked. "Can I have a chicken leg, Canadad?"
"Well, you were a good girl and got the Ghostbusters references so yes. But they need a few more minutes before they're done." Kane joked, turning to add a line of the sausages to the other side. "No bikini this time? Not planning on a swim?"
"Not if I can help it," Jean said, surveying the crowd. "There are far too many options for chaos with that many teenage boys and cat people."
She smiled. "Been awhile since the mansion's been this...loud."
"Audio or telepathic as well. I heard that the younger the mind, the louder it tends to be." He took a sip from his beer can. "Hey, you want a drink?"
"Absolutely," Jean said, then mused. "Is it all Moosehead or will I be ostracized from the proximity of the grill for wanting a different choice?"
"I have some cider and some of those seltzer Gin Smash things. Can I smash you a gin, madam?"
Jean tilted her head. "My first love is always cider...and wine...but I will admit, you have piqued my curiosity. You may smash away, gin-tleman," she said with a smirk.
"Ouch, that was bad for... everyone." He smirked, kicking open the cooler at his feet and coming up with a couple of cans. "Original citrus or cranberry?"
"Can't help it. The Canadad apron has some sort of strange, otherworldly influence that just brings out the puns and makes me want to wear tennis shoes and high socks," Jean said with a light grin, then pointed to the citrus can. "That one."
"High socks and tennis shoes? There's some kind of kink involved in that. Is it just high socks and tennis shoes because..." He cracked the can and poured it into a tall glass that he filled with ice from the cooler. "...ok, I now support that."
Jean rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you do," she said with a faint smirk. "Something you and Warren have in common."
"I will not be equated with the Horny Seagull, thank you." He passed over the glass to her. "I like it because I like attractive women being out there and you are a very attractive woman. But I don't expect or demand. I just apparently cook them chicken."
The comparison of Warren to a Horny Seagull made Jean nearly choke on the drink she had just taken a sip of, the choking ending in a chortle. "And make dirty jokes," she said. They'd done this song and dance before. She'd gotten used to the beat.
"Well, I should let you get back to your chicken."
"Or, you know, you could keep me company." Kane shrugged. "I'm not very interesting but I do have all the booze."
Silent for a moment, Jean studied him. "That is true," she said. "About the booze, but not about the lack of being interesting. I'm sure you've got a bunch of FBI stories. What's the weirdest one?"
"He calls himself The Scourge. I know, right?" Kane said, as she joined him at the grill, telling the story as he continued putting out a steady stream of food.
"Are you the grill master?" Jean said, peering up at Garrison from her sunhat. The area was brimming with people, and lively music played in the background.
"I am Vinz, Vinz Clortho, Keymaster of Gozer. Volguus Zildrohar, Lord of the Sebouillia. Are you the Gatekeeper?" Kane said, straight faced as he flipped a line of chicken legs along the one side of the grill. He wasn't sure who had left the 'CANADAD' apron hanging on his doorknob, but he was rolling with it.
"Hey, he pulls the wagon," Jean said, thumbing toward the wolf padding his way around the party. "I make the deals."
She smirked. "Can I have a chicken leg, Canadad?"
"Well, you were a good girl and got the Ghostbusters references so yes. But they need a few more minutes before they're done." Kane joked, turning to add a line of the sausages to the other side. "No bikini this time? Not planning on a swim?"
"Not if I can help it," Jean said, surveying the crowd. "There are far too many options for chaos with that many teenage boys and cat people."
She smiled. "Been awhile since the mansion's been this...loud."
"Audio or telepathic as well. I heard that the younger the mind, the louder it tends to be." He took a sip from his beer can. "Hey, you want a drink?"
"Absolutely," Jean said, then mused. "Is it all Moosehead or will I be ostracized from the proximity of the grill for wanting a different choice?"
"I have some cider and some of those seltzer Gin Smash things. Can I smash you a gin, madam?"
Jean tilted her head. "My first love is always cider...and wine...but I will admit, you have piqued my curiosity. You may smash away, gin-tleman," she said with a smirk.
"Ouch, that was bad for... everyone." He smirked, kicking open the cooler at his feet and coming up with a couple of cans. "Original citrus or cranberry?"
"Can't help it. The Canadad apron has some sort of strange, otherworldly influence that just brings out the puns and makes me want to wear tennis shoes and high socks," Jean said with a light grin, then pointed to the citrus can. "That one."
"High socks and tennis shoes? There's some kind of kink involved in that. Is it just high socks and tennis shoes because..." He cracked the can and poured it into a tall glass that he filled with ice from the cooler. "...ok, I now support that."
Jean rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you do," she said with a faint smirk. "Something you and Warren have in common."
"I will not be equated with the Horny Seagull, thank you." He passed over the glass to her. "I like it because I like attractive women being out there and you are a very attractive woman. But I don't expect or demand. I just apparently cook them chicken."
The comparison of Warren to a Horny Seagull made Jean nearly choke on the drink she had just taken a sip of, the choking ending in a chortle. "And make dirty jokes," she said. They'd done this song and dance before. She'd gotten used to the beat.
"Well, I should let you get back to your chicken."
"Or, you know, you could keep me company." Kane shrugged. "I'm not very interesting but I do have all the booze."
Silent for a moment, Jean studied him. "That is true," she said. "About the booze, but not about the lack of being interesting. I'm sure you've got a bunch of FBI stories. What's the weirdest one?"
"He calls himself The Scourge. I know, right?" Kane said, as she joined him at the grill, telling the story as he continued putting out a steady stream of food.
