Jan 23 08:12:49 108 PA - Awkward First Meeting
From Chronicles
Jan 23 08:12:49 108 PA.
THE NUT AND BOLT
The bitter cold rain outside has driven many tech-heads inside and Caliopa has been persuaded to join some of them, sitting on the edge of a group with a beer in her hand. She is quieter than the rowdy bunch, adding only the briefest of comments to the conversation, blushing freely at some of the jokes. The group don't manage to overpower the techno-rock band on the stage but they do make a good effort.
The bitter cold rain outside may have driven many tech-head inside, but as the older adventurer dips his head in through the door, he's wearing a contented smile, and only the minimal snow gear that materialized now with the cold, but with the actual white falling snow of a Missouri winter. Of course, he isn't usually seen in this place, so perhaps he has a reason. Or, he's just thirsty. Very few people to expect to see here, as far as he knows. In fact, only one man... and he doesn't appear to be here. Gabriel manages to make his way toward the counter, bobbing and weaving gently to avoid impacting other bodies.
Caliopa is at the counter, sitting at the edge of the rowdy group. She gives him a quick smile, a warm one that seems to come easily to her as she reaches for her beer. The movement would have been fine, had another tech-head not stepped back into her, jolting her and making her hand knock the bottle over instead. The look of irritation sent over her shoulder at him isn't even noticed.
The jostling up by the counter is just enough for Gabriel to notice the woman he'd just briefly met - only a sentence or two - the other day at Moe's. What a dive that place is. Apparently having no better place to momentarily call home, he manages to land next to her on the counter with a jovial laugh. "Miss Cali, how're you doing? What're you doing in a place like this?" He asks this with a finger in his right ear as his left hand fishes for earplugs through any one of the number of small pockets on his overcoat.
"I'm sorry 'bout that." Caliopa is mopping up her beer, talking rapidly, apologetically before she looks up at her name being used. A moment's puzzlement before the sunny smile emerges once more. "You're that friend of ... I'm doin' alright. Ain't unusual to drink here, since all them that work at AIM tend to come here. It ain't so bad." The rapid babble holds a touch of nervousness as she offers the dripping cloth and empty bottle to the bar staff with an apologetic look.
The older man nods with a smile, then turns to the barkeep, or whatever she prefers to be called in this kind of place. "Gimme a soda! What?" is yelled as his earplugs finally snug themselves in. "Fuck, I don't care, as long as it fizzes and isn't alcoholic. What?? Fine, yes, I'm a pussy, just give me a bottle of something like that!" A bottle of something like that slides across the counter, and he clinks some credits across. "Thanks!" Gabriel knocks the bottle cap expertly off with a quick whack on the edge of the counter. "Yes, Miss Vixen! Place is kind of noisy, huh?" Wink.
Caliopa adds her order to his, gaining a bottle of local beer in exchange for her credits. "You don't drink none?" Her accent is a soft drawl, and she glances towards the earplugs, wincing slightly at the volume of his conversation. "Ain't that bad, when you reckon we all got loud happenin's all day here and there. Ain't no need to call me miss nothin'." She hesitates, her cheeks colouring lightly.
The Kentuckian bobs his head rather bashfully. "Well, Miss Cali, unless it offends you, I'll keep calling you miss. Just the right thing to do for young unmarried women, y'know?" Gabriel smiles warmly. "I know that I should be living here and now, but I still have the way that I was brought up and spent my life in my heart and soul, right?" His own accent, or drawl, is quite thick, and perhaps not many people would even identify it as a drawl - more of a speech impediment.
"I ain't precisely unmarried. Livin' with Alistair 'n' all." She hesitates, holding a comment back before she reaches for her beer, taking a swig slowly. "Reckon we all has the way we were brought up, 'n' it can be real hard to shift. You expectin' me to call you mister?" The look at him is direct, her words blunt enough, the light throwing relief on the oily smudges on her face.
"No, no. I don't expect anything of anyone else. Well, that's not quite right when I word it that way, I guess. I just mean that as long as people aren't harming other people, that's their business." The older Gabriel nods with a small smile as if that helps to punctuate his point. "Nobody's called me 'mister' since September, and it hasn't bothered me. But y'know, if my girls were here, I guess that yeah, I'd expect them to be called 'miss.' But again, that's for another person, not me." His face dips away, embarrassed, before returning. "Sorry, I go on sometimes. Barely even know you. Never heard of an 'Alistair.' Or 'AIM.'"
Caliopa's smile comes easily enough as she leans back against the bar, resting her bottle in her lap. "You got kids?" The question is soft enough, her brown eyes resting on his face, and she adds information. "Alistair is my fella. Been together a piece now, here and there. AIM is the place most of this lot work in. Right outside of my garage." She takes a swig of the bottle, closing her eyes, the lashes brushing against her cheeks.
There's a significant nod of the man's head as Gabriel's face lights up. "Yes, yes I do! A whole family." He fishes around into one of his chest pockets which reveals what seem to be small mementos. Little pieces of probably nothing that would mean anything to anyone else. He does bring out a picture though, of himself in a nice suit, a somewhat younger woman of similar Slavic ethnicity, also in a nice piece of very old-fashioned clothing, surrounded by... twenty-four girls, ranging from around eight to about twenty. Four of the elder girls are holding children, and are flanked by young men. He goes about pointing to and naming each one, ending with the woman next to him. "Natasha, she came through with me and the rest of us on the Montana." His face then droops significantly. "Something that looked like a lizard, was taking slaves, shot her in the back just as we reached the treeline. Died in my arms only a few feet from safety. She's buried with me." Perhaps an odd thing to say.
Caliopa looks at the picture, her eyes warm, with a touch of something sad in her face before she smiles brightly. Then the smile fades at his story and she nods slowly, hesitating before she reaches out to pat him lightly on the shoulder. "I'm real sorry. Reckon it is real hard to lose a kid." There is a true level of understanding in her voice and she abruptly changes the topic. "The Montana?" She questions the name softly.
Gabriel tilts his head sideways as he looks off for a moment. "I guess I can't really say that I lost them. At least, not like that. Just that I'm not with them anymore. But I did lose Natasha." He takes a long pull on his fizzy soda drink, but then something resembling a smile returns. "The Montana, a battleship that didn't exist. Department of Defense modified it to hell and back, used it as a test bed. Short story, I was in charge of security, after I got out of the Raiders, and CIA ops. They pulled off some kind of test, things went wrong.. and I ended up with a ship half-sunk in solid rock, laying on my back in a meadow about one, maybe hundred and fifty miles north of here." He shrugs an adds, "I'm afraid I'm the only one who made it. Anyway," he drinks again, "now I'm here. How about you, if I can be intrusive?"
Caliopa listens, her face interested as he speaks. "Sounds like a real shock." She murmurs the words sympathetically, awkwardly, the conversation not coming naturally. She takes a swig of her beer, his question bringing a hesitation to her manner before she replies slowly. "Grew up in Chi-Town. Came here, 'n' worked in AIM for a time, 'n' then bought my own place. Livin' with Alistair, 'n' that is about it." Her reply is reserved, a brushing over details as she glances away.
The Kentuckian has had a good four decades to recognize awkward conversation when he hears it. Gabriel empties his entire bottle in one long pull, and waves in another one, putting up with the same insults as before, and doing it with a smile. "Must have been here a while, huh? The winters always like this? I've been all over the globe, but never actually been through a Missouri winter. At least, not all the way through."
The relief at the topic change is easily written in loud letters across her face, as she replies to his questions. "Reckon you get used to them. Some are worse 'n' others, 'n' this one ain't so bad so far." Her smile is quick to return, sunny and warm as she puts her bottle back on the bar, emptied. "Ain't really a travelin' type, myself."
"Oh really? I'm not really the traveling kind myself. Just liked staying home." Gabriel still shies away from the topic, adding only, "The military managed to give me a good long time of travel, but I can't complain. I signed up for it. Thought it was the right thing to do." With a somewhat fatherly smile, he reaches out a hand - then realizes that his gloves and woolen cap are still on, laughs at himself, and removes them, setting them in his lap. "As I was about to demonstrate, you look like you know your way around an engine block."
"Ain't never been overly fond of the military." Caliopa's reply is soft, awkwardly said but she shoots him a puzzled look at the extended hand. "Reckon I ain't bad with them. Ain't many things I can't set myself to fixin', if I've a need to turn my hand to it." She speaks modestly, her cheeks flaring with colour. "Some folks don't look out for their machines, ain't listenin' when they speak of what they're needin."
Gabriel nods as Caliopa speaks. "I'm not so good with machines. At least not the engine-type machines." He looks away as he says in a much softer tone, "Armament, that's a different story." But he turns back to the young woman, crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue. "Something about the way that I got here, however I got here, it kind of knocked things out of my brain." He taps his skull with a gently closed fist. "All I remember how to drive are things with tracks. Don't think I could even change my oil right now! What got you into the mechanic's work?"
Caliopa's face softens as the topic moves to her work and she curls her hands around her empty bottle of beer. "Reckon I was doin' it soon as I could walk, see. My pa, he used to fix things, same as me, 'n' I spent more time with him than my ma in them days, fixin' the bits that spoke to me." Her face is softer, warmer as she smiles at a memory. "Then when I left Chi-Town, I done carried it on." The switch is abrupt and she puts the bottle down again. "Reckon I best get back to work." A whole world of happenings was obviously left out of her story.
"Of course - Miss Cali," Gabriel winks at the obvious use of "Miss." With a smile, "Take care, I'll follow you out."
