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Fourth Floor Common Room | Evening | Sunday | October 9

Nathan was going to fucking Canada tomorrow. And Nathan, in the classic fashion of all Youngs before him, was getting himself an education on all things Canadian in his own special way. He'd packed his bags earlier (making sure to stow plenty of cigarettes and liquor in his bags) so his education could fill up his evening.

The movie he'd chosen was fucking old and fucking outdated but he'd been told it was the quintessential Canadian film (no, he hadn't been told that, he'd just guessed) and Nathan figured he could learn all he needed to know from one viewing of this classic cinematic masterpiece.

To make sure his night of educating himself on all things Canada, he'd even found a spot on the mainland that sold him something Canadian to eat. Nathan...wasn't really sure about the monstrosity he had in front of him and was thankful his room was just down the hall in case he needed some beer to wash the taste out of his mouth.

Nathan was going to Canada tomorrow and he was gonna be fucking prepared before he did. No one would peg him as some Irish tourist. Not a fucking chance (okay, there was a huge chance). Movie started and food in his lap, Nathan slouched onto a couch and settled in.

[Post is open and I <3 Canada. Nathan's just a dumb jackass.]

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Bruce was on his way back up to his room after taking some time this afternoon to secure the cave for the week. But when he heard the TV on the fourth floor, he decided to stop in and see if anything interesting was happening.

And then he saw the poutine.

"Getting ready for the trip?" Bruce asked. It wasn't a huge stretch, even if he didn't recognize the movie.

"Well." Nathan was pushing at the pouting and looking at it like it might jump up and fucking bite him. "Is all food in Canada like this? I might have to fucking hide in a closet if that's the truth. I can't eat this. It's like processed puke."

He wasn't a fan, no.

"I've never actually been there, but I'm pretty sure most of it is safe," Bruce said. "Just stay away from anything poutine-related and you'll be fine."

Nathan tossed the pouting onto the cushion beside him (he didn't dump it out, he just got it off his lap) before doing a full body shudder. Gross.

"You going to the land of hockey and water and moose too?" he asked, glancing over at Bruce.

"How could I pass up a week of house building and Canadian nightlife?" Bruce asked. "I'm going, yes. It was either that or spend the week alone here."

Which he wouldn't have necessarily minded. Or he might have taken a trip on his own for training, but the charitable aspect of this trip spoke to him.

"Oh right, we've gotta fucking do shit," Nathan said because he was not charitable at all. He and Bruce were opposites in that regard. "Is there actually Canadian nightlife to speak of? I mean, I don't wanna get up there and have to stick dollar bills in a lumberjack's g-string. That's just asking to be traumatically scarred."

"I'm sure you'll be able to find a non-lumberjack strip club if you look hard enough," Bruce said. "And if you do, make sure to hit a currency exchange first. I doubt they'd appreciate American dollar bills."

"Wait, I gotta fucking do that again?" Nathan asked in all his dumb glory. "I did that once when I came over the fucking ocean to this place. Why can't every single country just go to one fucking type of money? It's easier."

For him.

"I could give you an answer, but it's long and complicated," Bruce said. "And I don't think you care enough about economics for that."

"Yeah, thanks," Nathan said and pouted for a second before he got over it. He'd get pissed when he had to change the money tomorrow but for no, forgotten.

"So, are you that much of a goody two shoes where you'll be spending all your time building that fucking house? You don't need any time off because the smile of a little child will keep you going? Lame."

"Not all my time. Just whatever hours the group is scheduled for," Bruce said. "After that, there's going to be plenty of time to check the area out."

"How are you spending your time if you're not going to be helping out with the house?"

"Hey, I never said I wasn't gonna help out!" Nathan pointed out. Sure, he'd expressed disdain but he thought he'd help...maybe. "They need someone to supervise, yeah?"

Yeah, because they'd really let Nathan do that. "I did manual fucking labor as a part of my probation, I'll have you know. I can swing a hammer and pick up trash and dance with old people. I'm a fucking saint."

"What kind of manual labor did you have to do?" Bruce asked, even if he was more curious why Nathan had probation.

He wasn't going to touch the saint thing.

"We painted shit," Nathan told him, shrugging. "We sorted through ratty old clothes. We rid the fucking community center of hideous graffiti. That prick Banksy, he's everywhere, mate. Bloody everywhere and let me tell you, he is vastly overrated."

"Then you should be fine here even if you don't get that supervisor position," Bruce said.

"Isn't this supposed to be a vacation?" Nathan whined, wondering why there weren't gonna be any beaches or shit this go 'round. "Why would I go on vacation to work? Doesn't that defeat the fucking purpose of the word? Wouldn't I be angering the gods for defying their vocabulary?"

"That's why they call it a 'break.' It's still a break from school work, and they never actually claim it's a vacation," Bruce said. "So it follows the right definitions well enough not to anger any gods."

"You're actually looking forward to this, aren't you?" Nathan thought that was an idiotic thing to look forward to, personally. "Let me guess, you always get up early, drink milk and take vitamins. Where's the fun, mate?"

"I have plenty of hobbies, and there's always girls," Bruce said. "But you don't look forward to helping people at all?"

"No Canadians have ever helped me," Nathan said selfishly. "Why in the bloody hell should I want to risk the possibility of someone taking my eye out with a nail gun for a Canadian?"

"You're not much for the concept of charity, are you?" Bruce asked.

"Well." Nathan pretended to think about it before he shrugged. "If the charity's directed at me? Sure, I fucking love charity!"

"I'll keep that in mind if I'm ever in a position to help you out," Bruce said.

"I'm getting the feeling that you don't actually mean that," Nathan said though he didn't sound like he really cared. "What could you help me out with anyway, mate? Oh, do you know Helen Mirren? Always found her so bloody foxy."

"Sorry, 60-something year old actresses aren't really in my social group," Bruce said.

"Bummer!" Nathan didn't sound all that bummed about it. "Well, maybe one day you'll get there, mate. There's always hope. That mean you're gonna try and get you a taste of Canada tomorrow? Canada's gotta have girls, right?"

"I don't usually go to other countries with hooking up with locals as a goal," Bruce said. "I'll just focus on having a good time, however that happens."

"You must lead a very sad life," Nathan said, shaking his head sadly. "If I give you this processed looking puke over here, would that help? I just stared at it. Didn't even stick a finger in!"

"Well, you've made it sound very appetizing, but I'm going to have to pass. I already ate," Bruce said.

"After this, I'm wondering if I shouldn't smuggle some actual edible food up north there," Nathan said thoughtfully. "Do they have Burger Kings and Taco Bells and Chinese food? Besides being the birthplace of violent video games, fast food is what America does best."

"I'm fairly sure they do," Bruce said. "But I can't say how close they'll be to the resort."

"Hmm." That might need some planning. Maybe Nathan would actually have to leave a cushy hotel room and risk the possibility of getting caught not doing work so he could eat.

He glanced at the movie and frowned. "I think this movie is portraying Canada inaccurately. Come on, the people can't all be this fucking dumb. That's a title saved for people from Wales."

Bruce stared at the screen for a moment. "It's a comedy," he said. "They're more focused on trying to be funny than trying to be accurate."

"I wasn't actually serious, mate," Nathan said, snickering. "I might be stupid but I'm not that fucking stupid. There's a reason I've only died once!"

That reason was called dumb luck.

"It's because I don't put myself in dangerously stupid situations."

"Then how did you die the once?" Bruce asked.

"I was trying to save my friends from some cult leader in a cardigan," Nathan said and shuddered. "She was brainwashing all my friends into being...good!"

Ew. He could still remember that university prospectus in Kelly's hand.

"So, I took her hostage with a water pistol and then fell off the roof off the community center onto the fence below. Got a funeral and everything. Let me tell you, waking up in a coffin? Not as fun as it sounds."

"I don't know, that sounds like a pretty dangerously stupid situation for someone who's so vocally opposed to helping people," Bruce mused.

That...was unfortunately right which meant Nathan had contradicted himself while bragging about his heroic deed. Dammit.

"Hey, we all have our moments of decency, yeah?" Nathan tried, shrugging. "Besides, I wanted to shag one of the girls who ended up all pure and devoted to being good. Can't shag someone when she's closed up tight."

That...was an attempt at not seeming like someone who would help people.

"Did you shag her afterward?" Bruce asked, playing a hunch.

Stop that, Bruce!

"Of course!" Nathan said though he avoided eye contact. "Come on, she couldn't wait to get into my pants."

That was a lie, yes.

"I didn't think so," Bruce said, taking the lack of eye contact as confirmation of his suspicions. Between that, his offense at being considered ignorant, and the assertion that he actually was going to help out with the home building, Bruce was pretty sure he had a decent handle on Nathan. "Just out of curiosity, why the facade?"

"What facade?" Nathan asked, glancing over at him. "What you see is what you get, mate. I'm an open fucking book. And what you get is whatever I wanna give you on any given day."

"In that case, I guess I'll have to just take that," Bruce said. It didn't mean he believed Nathan, but he didn't have any reason to push it.

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Fourth Floor Common Room | Evening | Sunday | October 9

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