[It's so fucking kitschy. Walt Disney would certainly nod in approval to the sheer level of theming. It's the Tiki Room in the flesh, Don the Beachcomber's own type of work, all it needs to top off the awful show of tropical nonsense is old Bing himself singing something from Waikiki Wedding. It's over the top and gaudy and ridiculous and frankly trashy.
But honestly, John doesn't hate it. Theme bars usually have more character than the slick nightclubs anyway. Those are only good if you want to look important and pat yourself on the back for having a good chunk of change in your pocket while trying to woo overpriced birds in tight dresses and designer heels.
This is worlds away from that.
This is definitely the kind of place he can see Ronstadt loving.
The bartender catches his attention quickly, and he nods in response. Looks like he's on drunk wrangling duty here.] No worries, luv. I've got him. Need his tab covered? I don't mind paying up. [Ronstadt is one of the small handful of people he'd actually say that for. If this was a bigger place, he'd trick them into thinking he'd paid. But this doesn't seem like a corporately owned place at all. No, it's more down home than that. And those people tend to actually deserve the cash they get for their services.
If she doesn't want him to pay up now, he'll just continue on to the booth.] Have a nice nap?
[he gestures to the opposite side of the booth, his movement slow and sluggish, as if some demon of depression is sitting on his arm like a falconer's bird and weighing it down]
Just kinda got a head start.
[his phone slips from his hand and clatters onto the table, unlocked]
[John moves towards his seat, but when the phone clatters he doesn't have the slightest bit of self control and he has to look. He almost wishes he hadn't. But selfishly, he's glad. And he fucking hates it. He's a bastard for being quietly pleased that the bird is off shagging some drummer. It's a horrible feeling. And he forces that wicked bit of happiness to the back of his head for now.
But he's so glad for a little less competition for his best mate's heart.] Oh, Ronstadt. [It's such a sweet tone for him, quiet and comforting. And he settles, rubbing his arm gently for a moment.] You deserve better than to find out that way. But birds usually fly away. Especially from people like us. Probably for their own good too. We're in another world, friend.
[He slurps at his third mai tai, slightly diminishing the pool of blood-red grenadine at the bottom, then plucks out the cherry with a rueful smile. He'd wanted to bring Faye here, he thought miserably. Wanted to see her reaction to all the kitsch and the tinny luau music that played softly in the background. But instead she was playing half-grade bars with some band he'd never even heard of. And letting their drummer play her in ways he'd never even -]
Ugggh. Shit. I'm so - I'd hoped that wouldn't matter!
[Ronstadt slurred a little, putting his free hand over John's, holding it there, as if he'd lose his new friend forever, too, if he let him move it away]
It doesn't matter to Vez. He thinks it's awesome. What the hell is the matter with her?
[John is really hoping a waitress will pop by soon, if this place has any. He's never been here before, so he doesn't know. But he does know that he doesn't want to leave Ronstadt alone right now. Even if that means missing out on the boozing for now.]
I'm sorry, mate.
[He hates that nagging awful guilt that comes with the contact. He's so fucking selfish, and he does mean that he's sorry. He's sorry that Ronstadt is hurting, it kills him. He's also sorry that he's such a selfish prick, that he's thoroughly glad she's not in the picture right now.
John Constantine knows he's awful. And he knows he's a mess. But he damn well will be there. He'll do his best to help his friend get through this. And he'll do it without villainizing the poor woman. He's a bad person, sure, but he's not a homewrecker in any sense of the word. And he wouldn't make a move on someone who was happy with a sweetheart...
He owes her, honestly. But how she went about things wasn't right. And that's irritating him.]
It shouldn't matter. You're right there. But she's made her choice, even if it's a hell of a bad one. You're a good man. Anyone would be happy with your company. [He leans in more, closing some of the space between them.] But I'm here. I'm hardly some little pretty thing to take your mind off of her, but I am recently paid and I'll cover drinks. And get you home at closing time safe. So I guess that's good for something.
[when John calls him a good man, that seems to slam him out of his funk. Is he, he wonders? Sure, he'd done all he could to stop Kenner Lash from that nasty business with the Shadowmancers, he'd given some ghosts and humans alike a little relief from the stress of their existence, but ... well ... he'd done some awful things, too, in his ignorance. He's trying to balance them out, but it feels like the scale is constantly tipping and will never settle.
But he wasn't expecting John to lean in like that, somehow, and he pulls up out of his self-hatred spiral, chuckling softly at the comment about 'pretty things'. Ronstadt takes the umbrella out of his mai tai and tucks it into the lapel of John's trenchcoat.]
There. Now you're prettier.
[He raises his arm and his voice, trying to keep the slur out of it]
Monty! Bottle of your good whiskey for my buddy John?
[Oh no, that's cute. It's weirdly adorable, and even if he's an older rough looking man suddenly there's this bit of absolute delight at being told, even jokingly, that he's prettier than the object of Ronstadt's affection.
It's probably the booze he had before even showing up, more than anything else. But it's still something that holds appeal.]
All it takes is a little umbrella and I'm a right beauty queen. Don't let the ladies in on that secret, or there'll be one hell of a tiny umbrella shortage.
[Oh, he's already so drunk. Or at least it's got it's hold strongly. Those silly looking little drinks are always deceptively strong. John wonders, idly, if he'll have to haul him out himself.]
Oh, so I'm getting the good stuff tonight? Let's celebrate then. She's made her choice, but mate, the world is your oyster. You're free, and there's going to be a queue forming to get to you before you even realize it.
A Q? What happened to A through - oh, right. [he laughs a little] British. ... You know, I don't even like oysters. Where does a saying like that even come from?
[he leans his chin in his hand and makes an exaggeratedly thoughtful face, as Monty comes over with a bottle of Glenfidditch. While Ronstadt's preoccupied, she pours plain mix into his glass and winks at John. Monty's done this dance a few times, it seems. Maybe not over girls, but at least over Ronstadt's waves of misery, watching the tide. He only notices motion at his elbow, not detail, and grins]
You're the best, Monty. ... See? This is why I come here, she keeps 'em comin'.
"I'm just glad to see you stayin' alive, Ronstadt."
[she claps him on the shoulder and heads back to the bar]
You wanna talk about someone with girls linin' up waiting for them to be free ... there she goes, man. There. She. Goes.
Dunno. They're slimy, awful things. No one would eat them if they weren't aphrodisiacs.
[Oh, Monty is a good one. A true keeper. John nods at her gratefully, she knows how to take care of her patrons. And has obviously done so for Ronstadt in the past.] She does, mate, she does. A good bird, that one.
[John snorts a little at the comment about her going.] Alright, so a lesson from someone who's been around the block a time or two and knows a bit about ladies. Don't date the people who serve you beer, who cut your hair, or who write your legal papers. Bad news all around, those relationships. [He takes a drink from his glass, and blinks at the quality. Not bad at all.]
Yeah, but you gotta hope that how gross they must feel goin' down isn't enough to keep things from goin' up, am I right?
[he snickers a little, glad that for once his company at the Hula Shaker will appreciate a dick joke.]
I wouldn't date Monty, her girlfriend would kill me. And I don't have any legal papers. Maybe I should. Not even sure how that would go, to be honest. Nobody to leave anything to.
[that's a grim thought, and he takes another long drink of Mai Tai, draining half of what Monty filled in.]
[John snickers in response, just as much to Ronstadt's snickering as the joke itself. It's such a cheap, immature joke but it's amusing none the less.] Well, I can't say that's never been a problem for me.
[He honestly should lay off on it, but it's amusing to him anyway. And it's the truth, he's never had a problem with anything going down...
He still doesn't like oysters though. Not unless they're served deep fried.]
That's a good reason. Never get between a girl and her girlfriend, it never ends well for you. I'm not one for legal papers either. You're in the will though, I hope you know. [Since they've gone down the death route already, he's going to play with it.] When I kick the bucket finally and old scratch comes to drag me down to my reserved suite? You'll be the proud owner of one book of obscene and potentially illegal magics, two hundred packs of my brand of cigarettes, and the lucky boxers I stole from Batman himself.
[he nearly chokes on his next sip as John keeps talking, a coughing fit almost obscuring the litany of his eventual inheritance]
Wait - I'm in your will? Seriously? We - I mean - I've known you for what, a couple months? And I'm in your freakin' will?
[his phone screen glows up at him, and he's offended by Faye's even tangential presence at this conversation, picking it up and stuffing it in his pocket. Fuck Faye. He's damn sure he's not in her will. He's pretty sure she doesn't even have one yet. Of course, neither does he, and he doesn't have much worth passing on, but ... John's comment thinks maybe he should get going on it. This magic shit is dangerous, and Kenner Lash and Zemora showed him that first-hand. Maybe leave his tapes to Hattie, his vinyl to John, his best kicks and his wardrobe to Vez. Yeah. But still -]
I don't know what to say, other than, uh, obviously, don't die, that's bad, I don't care what I'm getting, I'd rather have a friend than his stuff. ... Also: I'm sorry, but did you say "Batman"? As in, East Coast urban legend? I should know better than to ask if you're kidding, but are you kidding?
Of course you're in my will, don't be a prat. Why wouldn't you be? If I get dragged down to hell someone might as well benefit from it. The demons won't enjoy all I've collected. And I don't want my ex to get my spellbooks. I've got something else in mind for her. And Chas-[Oh, that cuts off suddenly. And yes, spellbooks, instead of spellbook. John doesn't like making it sound like there's some ridiculous magic inheritance to be had though. It sounds snobby that way to him.
He personally doesn't like to think about it either. He's already well aware of how many hands are reaching for him, he doesn't have a happy afterlife to look forward to. But there's something that's pleasing somehow about the fact that he has someone in his life right now that doesn't actually and actively want him dead.
Ronstadt's a keeper, he thinks. A better person than John deserves to have in his life. John's been so selfish, desperate to Faye out of the picture without being shitty about it, thrilling when he gets what he wants despite his friend's suffering, and here the man is being better than John on every possible level.]
I don't plan to. [John takes a drink, and nods.] Yeah, he's real. A real tosser. There's this nonsense they do, it's basically a super heroes club for the cowl and tights types. Not into that, personally. But I was roped into something called the Justice league dark. Equally stupid. But at least it was full of more interesting people. And he was part of it.
[The fact that Constantine cuts himself off startles Ronstadt a little, but ... he doesn't mind. He's used to Hattie keeping all kinds of things from him, usually for his own safety. It's not a long stretch of the imagination to figure that his new friend means the same.]
Tosser, huh? Where does that fall on the insult scale? Is it more 'dickhead' or closer to 'motherfucker'? You did promise me a crash course in British.
[He'd honestly speak about it. While he holds a lot of secrets, Chas and how he lost his friendship with him is a long and painful story that's still fresh wounds to John. He didn't think it was worth going on about, not when he's trying to be the cheerful one in their decidedly undynamic duo.]
Tosser is an asshole, a big bastard of one, it's pretty high up there. I don't know about the status of his mother, so I'm not risking calling him a motherfucker. [The dead mom's club members tend to skip that one.] He's worlds above dickhead, the fancy fucker is so poised and firm and put together. Smart too. Makes me wanna punch him. [He thinks about this for a moment.] Alright. Let's start with stupid people insults. Or smart people doing stupid stuff, that works too. So in this catagory there's wankers and muppets and plonker and pillock. You can call someone daft too, or say they lost the plot. That works for crazy too. Blert gets used back home now, meff too but I've never really bothered with either of those too. Oh! Don't forget twit either. That's always a fun one.
[He takes another drink, slowly this time.] Alright, friend. Once you've taken all of that in, we can move on to crazy insults or just general asshole insults.
So he's not in the running for Upperclass Twit of the Year, then.
[Late night Monty Python reruns on PBS were some of the only British cred Ronstadt had going for him. Nana had been a big fan of the old Public Broadcasting System, but she'd been more about the period dramas and Masterpiece Theater.]
Blert sounds dumb, I can see why you don't use it. [he thinks back to a group of tourists he'd heard in line at his favorite churro stand, and realizes -] Hey, isn't there some word "neff", or "naff"? Seems too close for meff.
[That gets a good laugh from John, one he very much needed.] I think we should nominate him anyway. Send him a nice letter stating his place in the running. Besides, for being so damned smart he's probably made enough stupid choices to put him in the contest legitimately. There's a host of shitty costumed freaks still running around, after all.
[He nods in agreement with blert. It's just not his favorite at all.] Ah, naff. You can put it down to tacky or tasteless. Maybe unimpressive. Even if it's got more use than just that.
Maaaan, and I thought it was a compliment. I mean, she was grinning when she said it and everything. "Mate, your shirt is well naff." And she and her friend giggled, and I figured they were like, into me.
[Ronstadt snorts a laugh]
Guess I shouldn't have offered to pick up their churro tab.
It's not that bad coming from a bird. If a gay man says it to you? That's rough. You know you're beyond hope then.
[John didn't really fall well into any of the gay scenes, it's not that he didn't crave the kindship to some degree when he was young, but he was always so angry and so moved by other things. Mainly, magic and the punk scene as it slammed into life and left people in awe of the shameless energy.
And as a bisexual man, he didn't know if he was ever really allowed to be a part of it.
Yeah, they're pretty notoriously savage, especially here in L.A. I can't say I know too many of them personally, but that's mostly because I'm a sad excuse for a social being.
[he raised his glass to John]
If any gay guys came near me it'd probably be to give me and my apartment a makeover, you know? And no one is touching my hair, no matter how sweet they are to me.
You and me both. They're certainly not giving me a second look as a rule. I'm not polished enough for most of the ones I meet. Not hairy enough or thick enough for the ones that want bears. Certainly not fit for the ones that want queens either. I do well enough, but it's certainly easier to get myself a bird.
[He raises his glass as well, and clinks it gently against Ronstadt's.]
What, you wouldn't let me mess with your hair? I'm not gay, per say, but the sleeps with men business has to count for something. [He's obviously teasing, it's all in jest.]
Huh. So ... okay, I gotta admit, I've never had actual in-depth conversations with anyone who swung both ways. Can I ask you dumb questions?
[the question about his hair makes him laugh a little. he'd just scarcely found the right spell to grow back the bits Hattie cut out for her potion when he met John, so he was pretty self-conscious of that.]
Touch it, sure, but - no one cuts it unless they're like ... a qualified barber or something. Never again.
[as a show of good faith, he leans forward across the table and dips his head. there is a stunning lack of product in that blond mop. he's very fluffy.]
"His questions ARE pretty dumb."
[this from Monty as she comes back to top off his glass again]
[John's voice comes through warmly, absolutely sincere and honestly wanting to be helpful. He's at this perfect point for social talk and open to pretty much anything. So if Ronstadt has questions, John has answers.]
Sounds like a smart plan. Besides... [He eyes the hair a little.] It kind of does it's own thing. You might have to find a genius of hairdressing to get anywhere with it.
[Oh, oh, John can't resist. He runs his fingers through it fondly for a moment, feeling his heart slam in his chest. He feels like a fucking kid again, before everything was so painful and miserable. It's cute. This whole situation is cute and innocent in it's own strange way.
Oh, and then there's Monty.] I do too, so he's in good company. [John decides to make an order before she heads off.] Hey, luv, get me one of those Mai Tais too, will you? When it Rome, after all... [He pulls his fingers away, but the impact of being allowed touch still stands.]
[Monty grins once her back is turned to them. Normally, she'd give them a week. But Ronstadt's thick as a post. She bumps it out to a month or so.]
There's a chick in Encino that just kind of ... trims it here and there like a hedge. I don't know how she does it. Maybe she's magic too.
[Ronstadt leans his temple into John's hand for a fraction of an instant, and his first thought is that Faye hadn't even gotten the chance to do that. That makes his heart crack a little, one of the little fragments breaking free, and he closes his eyes until the twinge of pain is gone.]
Anything, huh? Okay. I guess I'll hit you with the big one first. How did you know you were a both sides kinda guy? And - okay, follow up. Did you like girls first, or guys?
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Date: 2021-09-04 01:30 am (UTC)But honestly, John doesn't hate it. Theme bars usually have more character than the slick nightclubs anyway. Those are only good if you want to look important and pat yourself on the back for having a good chunk of change in your pocket while trying to woo overpriced birds in tight dresses and designer heels.
This is worlds away from that.
This is definitely the kind of place he can see Ronstadt loving.
The bartender catches his attention quickly, and he nods in response. Looks like he's on drunk wrangling duty here.] No worries, luv. I've got him. Need his tab covered? I don't mind paying up. [Ronstadt is one of the small handful of people he'd actually say that for. If this was a bigger place, he'd trick them into thinking he'd paid. But this doesn't seem like a corporately owned place at all. No, it's more down home than that. And those people tend to actually deserve the cash they get for their services.
If she doesn't want him to pay up now, he'll just continue on to the booth.] Have a nice nap?
Re: Action
Date: 2021-09-04 02:05 am (UTC)[he gestures to the opposite side of the booth, his movement slow and sluggish, as if some demon of depression is sitting on his arm like a falconer's bird and weighing it down]
Just kinda got a head start.
[his phone slips from his hand and clatters onto the table, unlocked]
That went real well.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-04 02:28 am (UTC)But he's so glad for a little less competition for his best mate's heart.] Oh, Ronstadt. [It's such a sweet tone for him, quiet and comforting. And he settles, rubbing his arm gently for a moment.] You deserve better than to find out that way. But birds usually fly away. Especially from people like us. Probably for their own good too. We're in another world, friend.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-04 02:59 am (UTC)Ugggh. Shit. I'm so - I'd hoped that wouldn't matter!
[Ronstadt slurred a little, putting his free hand over John's, holding it there, as if he'd lose his new friend forever, too, if he let him move it away]
It doesn't matter to Vez. He thinks it's awesome. What the hell is the matter with her?
no subject
Date: 2021-09-04 05:01 am (UTC)I'm sorry, mate.
[He hates that nagging awful guilt that comes with the contact. He's so fucking selfish, and he does mean that he's sorry. He's sorry that Ronstadt is hurting, it kills him. He's also sorry that he's such a selfish prick, that he's thoroughly glad she's not in the picture right now.
John Constantine knows he's awful. And he knows he's a mess. But he damn well will be there. He'll do his best to help his friend get through this. And he'll do it without villainizing the poor woman. He's a bad person, sure, but he's not a homewrecker in any sense of the word. And he wouldn't make a move on someone who was happy with a sweetheart...
He owes her, honestly. But how she went about things wasn't right. And that's irritating him.]
It shouldn't matter. You're right there. But she's made her choice, even if it's a hell of a bad one. You're a good man. Anyone would be happy with your company. [He leans in more, closing some of the space between them.] But I'm here. I'm hardly some little pretty thing to take your mind off of her, but I am recently paid and I'll cover drinks. And get you home at closing time safe. So I guess that's good for something.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-04 05:15 am (UTC)But he wasn't expecting John to lean in like that, somehow, and he pulls up out of his self-hatred spiral, chuckling softly at the comment about 'pretty things'. Ronstadt takes the umbrella out of his mai tai and tucks it into the lapel of John's trenchcoat.]
There. Now you're prettier.
[He raises his arm and his voice, trying to keep the slur out of it]
Monty! Bottle of your good whiskey for my buddy John?
no subject
Date: 2021-09-05 05:51 pm (UTC)It's probably the booze he had before even showing up, more than anything else. But it's still something that holds appeal.]
All it takes is a little umbrella and I'm a right beauty queen. Don't let the ladies in on that secret, or there'll be one hell of a tiny umbrella shortage.
[Oh, he's already so drunk. Or at least it's got it's hold strongly. Those silly looking little drinks are always deceptively strong. John wonders, idly, if he'll have to haul him out himself.]
Oh, so I'm getting the good stuff tonight? Let's celebrate then. She's made her choice, but mate, the world is your oyster. You're free, and there's going to be a queue forming to get to you before you even realize it.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-05 07:58 pm (UTC)[he leans his chin in his hand and makes an exaggeratedly thoughtful face, as Monty comes over with a bottle of Glenfidditch. While Ronstadt's preoccupied, she pours plain mix into his glass and winks at John. Monty's done this dance a few times, it seems. Maybe not over girls, but at least over Ronstadt's waves of misery, watching the tide. He only notices motion at his elbow, not detail, and grins]
You're the best, Monty. ... See? This is why I come here, she keeps 'em comin'.
"I'm just glad to see you stayin' alive, Ronstadt."
[she claps him on the shoulder and heads back to the bar]
You wanna talk about someone with girls linin' up waiting for them to be free ... there she goes, man. There. She. Goes.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-06 04:26 am (UTC)[Oh, Monty is a good one. A true keeper. John nods at her gratefully, she knows how to take care of her patrons. And has obviously done so for Ronstadt in the past.] She does, mate, she does. A good bird, that one.
[John snorts a little at the comment about her going.] Alright, so a lesson from someone who's been around the block a time or two and knows a bit about ladies. Don't date the people who serve you beer, who cut your hair, or who write your legal papers. Bad news all around, those relationships. [He takes a drink from his glass, and blinks at the quality. Not bad at all.]
no subject
Date: 2021-09-06 04:32 am (UTC)[he snickers a little, glad that for once his company at the Hula Shaker will appreciate a dick joke.]
I wouldn't date Monty, her girlfriend would kill me. And I don't have any legal papers. Maybe I should. Not even sure how that would go, to be honest. Nobody to leave anything to.
[that's a grim thought, and he takes another long drink of Mai Tai, draining half of what Monty filled in.]
no subject
Date: 2021-09-07 06:19 am (UTC)[He honestly should lay off on it, but it's amusing to him anyway. And it's the truth, he's never had a problem with anything going down...
He still doesn't like oysters though. Not unless they're served deep fried.]
That's a good reason. Never get between a girl and her girlfriend, it never ends well for you. I'm not one for legal papers either. You're in the will though, I hope you know. [Since they've gone down the death route already, he's going to play with it.] When I kick the bucket finally and old scratch comes to drag me down to my reserved suite? You'll be the proud owner of one book of obscene and potentially illegal magics, two hundred packs of my brand of cigarettes, and the lucky boxers I stole from Batman himself.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-07 08:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-09-07 05:23 pm (UTC)[he nearly chokes on his next sip as John keeps talking, a coughing fit almost obscuring the litany of his eventual inheritance]
Wait - I'm in your will? Seriously? We - I mean - I've known you for what, a couple months? And I'm in your freakin' will?
[his phone screen glows up at him, and he's offended by Faye's even tangential presence at this conversation, picking it up and stuffing it in his pocket. Fuck Faye. He's damn sure he's not in her will. He's pretty sure she doesn't even have one yet. Of course, neither does he, and he doesn't have much worth passing on, but ... John's comment thinks maybe he should get going on it. This magic shit is dangerous, and Kenner Lash and Zemora showed him that first-hand. Maybe leave his tapes to Hattie, his vinyl to John, his best kicks and his wardrobe to Vez. Yeah. But still -]
I don't know what to say, other than, uh, obviously, don't die, that's bad, I don't care what I'm getting, I'd rather have a friend than his stuff. ... Also: I'm sorry, but did you say "Batman"? As in, East Coast urban legend? I should know better than to ask if you're kidding, but are you kidding?
IT WAS MEANT TO BE EVER INSTEAD OF NEVER BUT-
Date: 2021-09-07 07:56 pm (UTC)He personally doesn't like to think about it either. He's already well aware of how many hands are reaching for him, he doesn't have a happy afterlife to look forward to. But there's something that's pleasing somehow about the fact that he has someone in his life right now that doesn't actually and actively want him dead.
Ronstadt's a keeper, he thinks. A better person than John deserves to have in his life. John's been so selfish, desperate to Faye out of the picture without being shitty about it, thrilling when he gets what he wants despite his friend's suffering, and here the man is being better than John on every possible level.]
I don't plan to. [John takes a drink, and nods.] Yeah, he's real. A real tosser. There's this nonsense they do, it's basically a super heroes club for the cowl and tights types. Not into that, personally. But I was roped into something called the Justice league dark. Equally stupid. But at least it was full of more interesting people. And he was part of it.
Eh, he'll find THAT out eventually
Date: 2021-09-07 09:27 pm (UTC)Tosser, huh? Where does that fall on the insult scale? Is it more 'dickhead' or closer to 'motherfucker'? You did promise me a crash course in British.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-07 11:04 pm (UTC)Tosser is an asshole, a big bastard of one, it's pretty high up there. I don't know about the status of his mother, so I'm not risking calling him a motherfucker. [The dead mom's club members tend to skip that one.] He's worlds above dickhead, the fancy fucker is so poised and firm and put together. Smart too. Makes me wanna punch him. [He thinks about this for a moment.] Alright. Let's start with stupid people insults. Or smart people doing stupid stuff, that works too. So in this catagory there's wankers and muppets and plonker and pillock. You can call someone daft too, or say they lost the plot. That works for crazy too. Blert gets used back home now, meff too but I've never really bothered with either of those too. Oh! Don't forget twit either. That's always a fun one.
[He takes another drink, slowly this time.] Alright, friend. Once you've taken all of that in, we can move on to crazy insults or just general asshole insults.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-08 01:08 am (UTC)[Late night Monty Python reruns on PBS were some of the only British cred Ronstadt had going for him. Nana had been a big fan of the old Public Broadcasting System, but she'd been more about the period dramas and Masterpiece Theater.]
Blert sounds dumb, I can see why you don't use it. [he thinks back to a group of tourists he'd heard in line at his favorite churro stand, and realizes -] Hey, isn't there some word "neff", or "naff"? Seems too close for meff.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-10 08:17 pm (UTC)[He nods in agreement with blert. It's just not his favorite at all.] Ah, naff. You can put it down to tacky or tasteless. Maybe unimpressive. Even if it's got more use than just that.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-11 05:24 am (UTC)[his face falls, and he sighs into his Mai Tai]
Maaaan, and I thought it was a compliment. I mean, she was grinning when she said it and everything. "Mate, your shirt is well naff." And she and her friend giggled, and I figured they were like, into me.
[Ronstadt snorts a laugh]
Guess I shouldn't have offered to pick up their churro tab.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-12 03:04 am (UTC)[John didn't really fall well into any of the gay scenes, it's not that he didn't crave the kindship to some degree when he was young, but he was always so angry and so moved by other things. Mainly, magic and the punk scene as it slammed into life and left people in awe of the shameless energy.
And as a bisexual man, he didn't know if he was ever really allowed to be a part of it.
He still wonders sometimes, if he'd be allowed.]
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Date: 2021-09-12 03:35 am (UTC)[he raised his glass to John]
If any gay guys came near me it'd probably be to give me and my apartment a makeover, you know? And no one is touching my hair, no matter how sweet they are to me.
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Date: 2021-09-12 04:49 am (UTC)[He raises his glass as well, and clinks it gently against Ronstadt's.]
What, you wouldn't let me mess with your hair? I'm not gay, per say, but the sleeps with men business has to count for something. [He's obviously teasing, it's all in jest.]
super minor finale spoiler
Date: 2021-09-12 04:59 am (UTC)[the question about his hair makes him laugh a little. he'd just scarcely found the right spell to grow back the bits Hattie cut out for her potion when he met John, so he was pretty self-conscious of that.]
Touch it, sure, but - no one cuts it unless they're like ... a qualified barber or something. Never again.
[as a show of good faith, he leans forward across the table and dips his head. there is a stunning lack of product in that blond mop. he's very fluffy.]
"His questions ARE pretty dumb."
[this from Monty as she comes back to top off his glass again]
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Date: 2021-09-12 05:14 am (UTC)[John's voice comes through warmly, absolutely sincere and honestly wanting to be helpful. He's at this perfect point for social talk and open to pretty much anything. So if Ronstadt has questions, John has answers.]
Sounds like a smart plan. Besides... [He eyes the hair a little.] It kind of does it's own thing. You might have to find a genius of hairdressing to get anywhere with it.
[Oh, oh, John can't resist. He runs his fingers through it fondly for a moment, feeling his heart slam in his chest. He feels like a fucking kid again, before everything was so painful and miserable. It's cute. This whole situation is cute and innocent in it's own strange way.
Oh, and then there's Monty.] I do too, so he's in good company. [John decides to make an order before she heads off.] Hey, luv, get me one of those Mai Tais too, will you? When it Rome, after all... [He pulls his fingers away, but the impact of being allowed touch still stands.]
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Date: 2021-09-12 05:30 am (UTC)[Monty grins once her back is turned to them. Normally, she'd give them a week. But Ronstadt's thick as a post. She bumps it out to a month or so.]
There's a chick in Encino that just kind of ... trims it here and there like a hedge. I don't know how she does it. Maybe she's magic too.
[Ronstadt leans his temple into John's hand for a fraction of an instant, and his first thought is that Faye hadn't even gotten the chance to do that. That makes his heart crack a little, one of the little fragments breaking free, and he closes his eyes until the twinge of pain is gone.]
Anything, huh? Okay. I guess I'll hit you with the big one first. How did you know you were a both sides kinda guy? And - okay, follow up. Did you like girls first, or guys?
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From:this fake Ronstadt memory guest narrated by Peter Falk
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From:/shamelessly steals local used vinyl store
From:As you should!
From: