The Deck; Saturday Afternoon [05/11].

[howareyanow]

Well, now, this weather put a bit of a damper on Wayne's vague plans of possible having a Burning Bush Party tonight to take care of that glittery shirt, now, wasn't it? Not that he'd been expecting much, considering he didn't have anyone's Facebook (and fuck Facebook, anyway), and the talking cat had suggested he make flyers if he wanted to let people know, but fuck if he was going to make flyers. He was just going to head out into the woods, maybe get a bonfire going at that old camp ground he remembered passing during his quote-unquote-Wilderness class, have a couple beers, a couple smokes, and if that was it, well, then, that didn't seem like a bad night. If anyone else happened by with pert'near the same idea, then that would work, too.

Not good bush party weather, though. Not good weather for anything much but crops, realleh, but if Wayne was going to allow himself to be cooped up inside for much longer, he was going to get a little stir-crazy. Seemed to be space enough out here on the deck where he could stand underneath something and have a dart without getting wet, though, so that was good enough for him.

Not much to do, realleh, but there was fresh air. Beat just stickin' in his room, dicking around on his phone all day. But if it stayed this quiet, he might wind up doing a little bit of that. Pull up the good ol' hockeyfights.com, and there's an afternoon well spent.


[[ open deck is open, of course! *mods plenty of overhangs and dry space or whatever, idk, why not?* ]]

Comments

[chirpchirpchirp]

Vette could not stay in her room today. She didn't care what the weather was like, if she didn't get outside and get moving around or do something, anything, she was pretty much going to scream.

And so it was one Vette, with one Miss Dozy draped over her shoulder, mostly hidden by her lekku, who was making her way down to the deck to clean her blasters.

Which totally stayed locked up in the weapons locker at all times she was in the dorms otherwise, honest. Except for how they really super did not. Oops?

"Oh, hey," she said, once she noticed she wasn't the only one out there. "Flatcakes. How goes things?"

[howareyanow]

"Wayne," he corrected, turning his head and taking a drag from his cigarette, all squints and frowns and furrowed brow at Vette. Part of it, a very little bit of it, was because, sure, she was a blue alien girl, but she couldn't really help that, could she? And she seemed to have an alien-looking cat-thing with her now, too, and, well, the alien-looking cat-thing couldn't help it being what it was, either. But what could be helped was not letting the idea get spread around that his pancakes were...flat.

Bad gas travels fast in a small town.

"It's Wayne. And I'll have you know I make some of the fluffiest goddamn pancakes this side of Lake Huron. You wanna know what? You wanna stand there and talk about flatcakes, I say you go find yourself someone to fix you up a crape, then we can talk flatcakes. Flatcakes. Comin' out here, insulting a man on his pancakes, when I know perfectly goddamn well..."

Trailing off into a sort of indistinguishable murmur, Wayne shook his head, gazing off to the distance for a moment. He looked about ready to launch into something else, and seemed to try with a "Y'know what--"

Stopped. Sort of tried again. "Y'know--"

Stopped again.

And then just settled in with another drag from the dart and what could only be described as the surliest of pouts.

"I'll show you a flatcake, that's what I'll do," he concluded, in a murmur, looking away again. "Get yerself a crape, then we can talk flatcakes."

But he wouldn't want to make a fuss about it.

[chirpchirpchirp]

Weirdly enough, that was apparently exactly what Vette needed, today? Which she hadn't even realized herself until Wayne (forever in her heart now known as Flatcakes) had launched off on his diatribe.

"Hey, relax," she said easily, pulling up one of the little outdoor tables and slapping her blaster pistols down onto it, one-two. "That's just what they're called back home. Your pancakes were just fine. Best I've had in a while, actually."

Which wasn't saying much, granted, but she'd let him think whatever he would anyway.

[howareyanow]

And that praise, which Wayne was going to take with a grain of salt because how good could alien pancakes be if they went around being considered flat?, did actually help a little, but not enough that he wasn't going to be a pedantic little shit about it because now he'd gotten himself all riled up.

"Well," he said, because she really should know, "that's not what they're called here. They're called pancakes. Or flapjacks. I guess you could call 'em flat, technicalleh, but they're not really. Flat. Not compared to a crape. Those you can call a flatcake. I don't give a shit what you call those. But I don't want anyone around here thinking I'm going around, makin' crapes, when I'm not, I'm making the fluffiest goddamn pancakes you ever had."

He was, however, not so distracted by his little fussy rant, though, that he hadn't noticed the blasters with a bit of interest.

[chirpchirpchirp]

Well now, Mister Pedantic Flatcake Guy, Vette was going to just grin, wholly unperturbed, as she started expertly disassembling her blasters for cleaning with the deftness and confidence of somebody who had been doing this for years. Barrel here, crystal there...

"They're flatter than birthday cakes, right? I'm pretty sure your pancakes were flatter than birthday cakes," she decreed. Mostly just to be a little shit, now.

[howareyanow]

"Well, sure, Vette," Wayne, brow furrowing again, nodded. "Vette, sure. But that's why you go around calling a birthday cake a birthday cake and not a pancake. You can call a birthday cake a sheet cake, that's a thing, but no one's going around trying to pass a birthday cake as a pancake. S'why it's a birthday cake.

"I mean, if we're going to go around, calling any sort of cake that flatter'n a birthday cake a flatcake, then what're you gonna do when you've got two birthday cakes, both of varying heights, and one's flatter than the other? Is that a flatcake now, too, Vette? Is it? Supposing someone sat on the cake? Well, then I suppose you've got yourself a new flatcake as well as a need to go and get yourself some new pants, while you're at it."

[chirpchirpchirp]

"I dunno, still tastes the same after you sit on it," Vette mused. "But why are they called pancakes, anyway? You don't serve them in a pan. They're not pan-shaped. If we're going to be pedantic about the shapes of cakes now, I feel the need to point out that calling it a pancake is a bit of a misnomer, too."

She pursed her lips for a moment as she started unpacking her blaster cleaning supplies.

"I mean, I guess I could just call it 'puffy breakfast food,' but then people might think I was talking about scrambled eggs or something, which... hey, also good."

[howareyanow]

"....you make 'em in a pan!" said Wayne, after a very long moment of just sort of looking at Vette as she managed to somehow skip right over that essential detail in her ponderings on the matter and sort of gawking at her a little. "Figgur it ouwt! And don't get started on how you can also make 'em on a griddle, because, guess what, big shoots, then you've just got griddle cakes."

[chirpchirpchirp]

"Okay, sure, but don't you also make birthday cakes in a pan? I mean, don't you make most cakes in a pan? I'm pretty sure that's exactly what cake pans were invented for," Vette pointed out. "What is with Earth and naming everything after what they're cooked in, anyway? Pancakes, griddle cakes, fries..."

She kind of petered off for a moment as she picked through her cleaning supplies for a fiddly little tool with a squidgy thing on the end.

Which was exactly what she'd call it if anyone asked, too.

[unusual_sith]

"Vette, hi." Lana smiled. She caught sight of the little spark on Vette's shoulders. "Who's this?"

[chirpchirpchirp]

"This is Miss Dozypants Stickywhiskers Grembledina Tookasneeze The Second, Esquire," Vette introduced proudly. "Miss Dozy for short."

This name brought to you by the girl who would someday call a blaster cannon 'Spewie' and live out a whirlwind romance with him over the course of about ten minutes and a daring heist.

"She was a gift."

She was possibly part gremlin.

[unusual_sith]

Lana laughed. "That's quite the name. Hello, Miss Dozy." She gave the cat a little wave but didn't disturb her.

"How have you been lately, anyway? I haven't seen you outside of classes for a while."

[chirpchirpchirp]

It was absolutely one heck of a name. Dozypants Stickywhiskers didn't even have whiskers.

"I've been keeping busy," Vette replied, shrugging like it wasn't really a big deal at all. It prompted a little complaint from Miss Dozy, who settled in again a moment later like nothing ever happened. "Work and work and class and class, you know? Finding out which new students make the best breakfast - don't ever call them flatcakes in front of Wayne, here, he will go to war over how fluffy his pancakes are."

That was said with a grin. So far as war went, The Great Flatcake War of 2019 was just about her speed.

[unusual_sith]

"Pancakes?" Lana frowned. "That's an odd name. They're supposed to be flat."

[chirpchirpchirp]

"Yes, but his are fluffy."

Vette shrugged.

"Earth is weird. Have you noticed? Weird Earth?"

[unusual_sith]

"Just a little." Lana grinned. "All right, so calling them 'pancakes' isn't any weirder than calling what Stance is a 'dog'."

[chirpchirpchirp]

"Stance is that rainbow wolf-thing that lives with Hera's guy, right?"

Just checking.

[unusual_sith]

Lana wasn't much better at being cooped up than the others, so eventually she came out to the deck.

"Oh, hello." She nodded to Wayne.

[howareyanow]

And Wayne gave a stiff nod back. "How are ya now?" he greeted back.

[unusual_sith]

"Well. And you?" Lana came to sit on one of the drier chairs.

[howareyanow]

CLose enough.

Wayne shrugged a bit, took a drag off his dart, looked out toward the preserve. "Oh, not so bad. Nice weather for a picnic..."

[unusual_sith]

"I suppose that depends on how much water you like in your food," Lana said. "I'm not a fan personally."

[howareyanow]

"It'd be perfect....if yer a fish."

Wayne's head tilted, squinting for a moment at Lana. "Yer in that quote-unquote Wilderness class, aren't you?" he asked.

[unusual_sith]

"Yes," Lana answered. "Lana Beniko. Why 'quote unquote'?"

[howareyanow]

"Wayne," he offered back, nodding, because it seemed like the thing to do before launching into the next part. "And, well...there's just not a whole lot of wilderness out there, is there? Decent patch of woods, I'll give it that, but wilderness? And you're gonna tell me there's something a man in pressed fucking khakis can tell me about the woods that I don't already know yet? Fuck a duck. And don't get me started on the snacks. Like I'm in grade fucking two scouts all over again."