21 Mar 2010 : Good for the Soul
Good for the Soul
Summary: Nora runs into Dobson in the general store and the pair have a heart-to-heart about running or standing one's ground. Also, girl's night. Because Dobson is a girl.
Date: 21 Mar 2010
Related Logs: What Friends are For, Seeing is Believing
Players:
Nora..Dobson..

It's nearing the end of the day for the General Store. Aside from the teenager managing the checkout counter, there's nobody else inside. No one else except Johnny Dobson in the far corner by the freezer section. He's got on big sunglasses, looks considerably less bruised and his clothing is borderline -acceptable- by normal folks standards… meaning he has on a pair of plain blue jeans, black boots, no obnoxious belt buckle and a clean and very bright red t-shirt. It seems he's debating over which ice cream to get.

Ding ding! The door swings open to allow Nora to step inside, a bright smile on her face. Her hair is tied back in a knot, and as she releases the door to close behind her, she hooks a stray piece of hair behind her ear with the other hand. "Ice cream, ice cream…" With an almost mischievous expression, she tucks her hands into the pocket of her jacket and meanders towards the freezer section. With a quick little laugh, she chirps to Dobson, "For once it's me lookin' at your backside, only I ain't tryin' to, it's just that you're standin' right in the way."

"Have to say you're probably gettin' the better half of the deal, Tidwell," Dobson fires back before slowly turning to look the woman in the eyes over his sunglasses. "My ass is luscious." Smirking, he turns back to the ice cream, "I assume you're here for the same reason I am… I'm stuck between Moose Tracks and Chubby Hubby."

"Not sure I'd use the word luscious," Nora replies, reaching out to nudge his arm with her elbow as she sidles up next to him. Hands still in her pockets, she rocks on her feet briefly as she considers the wall of ice cream in front of her. When even she can't make a decision, she says, "Could get both, have a little of each. Or a lot of each, if you're the type." A beat, then she adds, "This is what you're doin' with your evenin'? Pickin' up ice cream to eat by yourself?"

"Old habits die hard." Dobson's smirk turns especially crooked and he opens the door to the freezer, pulling out Chubby Hubby. "Been trying to convince Zeke to start carrying chocotacos since 1996." Sighing, he asks, "How about you, how is the illustrious Nora Tidwell spending her evening then? Ice cream, chick flick and some fingernail and toenail painting?" The man almost sounds wistful for those things. Almost. "You alright, since the last time we talked?"

Before the door can close, Nora reaches in and takes a container of the Moose Tracks variety. Looking back to Dobson, her smile never faltering, she says, "I'm peachy, Johnny. I mean it." She nudges the door closed with her knee. "Sure, it spooked me, but it ain't nothin' I can't handle. There's plenty of things in this world I don't get. That's just one more." Hugging the container of ice cream to her chest, she adds, "Just like paintin' your nails."

"You. Uh." Glancing off to the side and not directly AT Nora, Dobson takes his sunglasses off and asks, "So you want company? I ain't really had a movie night in forever and I was basically just planning on gorging myself… which is fun, 'specially when you can do what I can do, but I didn't really have a plan after that. Trying to lay low after that last batch of trouble I ran into."

"Well, now, that depends." Nora takes on a more teasing tone as she starts to make her way up to the cash register, ice cream in hand. "You got any more of them weird types followin' you around? Is it safe for me to let Taffy out if you're gonna be in the house?" Glancing back at him with a smirk, she asks, "Or should I get the rifle and keep it on the sofa in between us all night?"

"Ah. Yeah. About that. Those weird types got… uh. Handled by the Mayor and a couple of concerned citizens. Really nice of them. Glad they just so happened to be where they were when they were," Dobson explains as he follows after Nora, giving the teenaged boy at the counter a shoulder shrug as they near him. "Been pretty quiet since. I think we'll be alright."

"Uh huh," Nora mutters beneath her breath, not quite sounding convinced - but not refusing him the invitation, either. She drops the ice cream on the counter, handing the clerk enough money to cover both hers and Dobson's. "Figure I'll get the rifle out anyway," she says as she turns back to face him, motioning towards the door. "'Cause what you just did there? You went and tempted fate. Sayin' it's been quiet. 'Less you wanna go to your place, in which case I hope you've got somethin' to defend yourself."

"Seriously, there was some real town pride. Great stuff." Dobson bows his head at Nora when she drops the cash, "Danke. Been a slim week." Moving on after the woman with his ice cream, he says, "You'd be welcome over at my place. I mean. It's just a trailer, but I just did some spring cleaning."

Nora would be lying if she said she wasn't a little bit curious about how far this 'spring cleaning' goes, and it's been a long time since she saw the inside of Johnny Dobson's trailer. So she accepts his invitation with a quick nod as she opens the door for him, ushering him through. "Yours, then!" She digs in her pocket for the keys to her truck. "You got your car here, or you want a lift? I'm takin' my truck either way."

"A lift would be spiffy… I walked all the way here," Dobson says as he follows the lady out into the open air. The sunglasses are slipped back on. "Been contemplating starting over again as somebody else, not as I don't love Johnny, but… after that mess with the ah… non-solar resistant folks a few weeks back. That's the closest I've come to actually dying in a long time."

Nora unlocks the passenger side door first, then circles around the front of her pickup to climb into the driver's seat. "Doesn't startin' over feel a bit like runnin' away?" She pulls her seatbelt down and clicks it into place, setting the ice cream down between the two seats. "I mean, no matter who you are, you're always gonna have folk after you. There's always gonna be somethin' that happens to make you wanna be someone else. Doesn't mean just because you can be someone else that you oughta."

"Ain't running away so much if I stay in Blue Earth, is it? More like changin' up the camoflage so to speak," Dobson says as he settles into the passenger seat, closing his door behind him. It's locked, but then he doesn't fasten his seatbelt. "I like Blue Earth. Lots o' benefits to livin' here, but if those vampires had a boss and he comes knockin' I don't want to be here, wearin' this face. Know what I mean? I'm not a fighter. I'm a talker." He sets his icecream down next to Nora's. "Still think I shouldn't run?"

"Yep." Her tone is unapologetic as she starts the truck and pulls away from the general store. Nora shrugs, glancing over at her passenger for a second or two before looking back to the road. "Still think you shouldn't." She may not go to the trailer park all that often, but she seems to have a handle on where she's going. "Else you're gonna live your life wonderin' if those folks you're runnin' from haven't figured it out and aren't lookin' for you. The new you. Might as well just turn and face 'em, even if you ain't a fighter. Find someone who is and ask for help."

"You know me. I hate inconveniencing people." Ah, the smirk is out again. Dobson strikes a nice slouch in his seat. "Running is kind of my style, y'know. Last time I stood my ground, someone ended up dead. Mind you, they deserved it, but all I'm sayin' is it prolly wasn't the smart thing to do." He glances over at Nora and says, "You ever had a job where if you didn't do it exactly right, you got beat? Or if the customer weren't satisfied just so, you got beat?"

"Only folk I ever worked for were my grandparents," Nora admits with a shake of her head. "Then myself. And I don't go 'round beatin' myself when I make a mistake, so no." Her bright and cheerful smile has disappeared, but her resolve hasn't faltered. Gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, she says, "Anyone who wound up dead, it wasn't on account of you standin' your ground. It was on account of them makin' their own choices. You can't use that as a reason to keep runnin'. Eventually you're gonna run out of places to run to, only when you get there you're gonna have no one left to stand next to you."

"That's the thing though. You more likely to stand next to an asshole who treats people like sex objects or … say… a poor innocent young woman who just got into town and needs somebody to help her out?" Dobson asks, noting in a soft voice, "You like to believe the best in people. That's fine, but fact of the matter is people are biased. Course I played my role to a T, so I'd fit in this town… May have gone too far." Shaking his head, he looks out the window at some of the buildings they pass. "You'll find as your life goes on that it tends to get harder and harder."

"Of course it does." Nora takes a turn a little sharply, her attention wandering from the road as she considers what the man says. "You're forgettin' something, though, I think." At a stop sign, she waits a few extra seconds, given that there are no other vehicles around, so that she can turn and look at Dobson with a level gaze. "You're a part of this town, Johnny. You're a part of this town as you, Johnny Dobson, not someone else. You mighta gotten your ears boxed a few times at the bar, but you're one of us. People are gonna stand by you for that."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe just you would. You got a thing for stray pups, I wager." Dobson so avoids Nora's gaze, looking forward instead. He grips the truck door when she takes the sharp turn, too, fingers whitening. "Anyway. Wouldn't hurt to have a backup life to fall back to, I don't think. Just in case."

"Maybe it's because I'm a stray, too." She takes another turn a little too sharply, an uncharacteristic bite to her words as she speaks. After a moment, however, Nora takes a breath and shakes off whatever she'd been thinking about. "Just don't go changin' everythin' about you. I like Johnny Dobson just fine, and if you go changin' on me, who's to say I'll like the new you as much? Here we are!" She pulls into a parking space and turns off the engine, letting out a breath.

"Huh." Dobson sure is looking at Nora now, eyebrow perked up a tad in his best Mr. Spock impression. He opens up his door and shouts, "NORA TIDWELL LIKES ME, Y'ALL!" before grinning at the woman and snatching up his ice cream. The benefit of living in a trailer park is that sound carries like a mofo. Several trailer's lights go on and more than a few folks poke their nosy heads out of their domiciles. "You ain't a stray. Not here. C'mon. We can watch the latest and greatest sappy romantic movie."

Instead of allowing herself to be embarrassed by the man's shout, Nora simply shakes her head and laughs as she takes her own bucket of ice cream from the truck. "Didn't mean all that much by it," she says with a teasing roll of her eyes, following after Dobson. She may have been in the trailer park before, but she hasn't a clue which one is his without having to look around some. "Never had you pegged for a romantic type, Johnny."

"Past life, kiddo. Just for you, I'll stay Johnny instead of making it a girl's night," Johnny says, motioning over towards a dark trailer somewhere abouts the middle of the park. "I just so happen to have popcorn AND a fridge full of cold beer." His, once they get a little closer, is fairly well kept. A classic model done in silver with white and red trimmings. There's a little stoop of wooden stairs and a few flower pots. A small canopy lined with little garish red chili lightbulbs covers two folding chairs and a little wooden table. "Home sweet home."

"Can't tell me that you can change who you are deep down, mister. I reckon you can change your outsides all you want but those other things'll never — holy jumpins you really are a girl," Nora squeaks with a little snicker as she looks over the flower pots, quickly covering her mouth with a hand to stifle the laugh. "Ain't a straight man in this town who'd have flowers on his stoop 'less a lady told him he oughta." She flashes him a wide grin. "You be whoever you want." Anyone listening to this conversation (as well they might be, thanks to Dobson's loud shout not a minute or two before) is going to have a difficult time following.

"Growing plants is good for the soul. Your mother never teach you that?" Dobson snarks back weakly at the tease, bumping Nora with his hip and then taking the steps up to his door. He hits the door in a particular spot with his elbow and something clicks, before he pulls the door open. "Just, ah, ignore the box in the corner." Flipping the lights on, said box can be seen in the 'living room' area which is about five by ten feet. Just enough for a television and a small couch and that box next to the tv. The lighting inside is fairly muted, more of those little chili lights running around the top of the wall. Next to the living room is a tiny kitchenette with a microwave, a fridge, a small sink and a George Foreman style grill. Beyond that is a dark room, presumably the bedroom. A bathroom is off to the left when one enters with a door that closes and what looks like a shit ton of product around the sink within. True to his word, it's pretty neat. No crumbs or wrappers or clothes on the floor to be seen.

It's a decent bet that the wince on Nora's face isn't so much from the hip-bump as it is what Dobson says. Caught off-guard by the remark, it takes Nora a few seconds to shake off the remark and follow him inside. "Can't tell a girl to ignore somethin' without expectin' she's gonna look inside when you're not lookin'," she notes as she passes by the box, giving it a cursory glance before looking over the rest of the trailer with a low whistle. "Who were you hopin' to impress?"

"Maybe it was you. Think about that?" Dobson puts the doubt in the air just like that and moves on inside himself, closing the door behind. "Hope you're okay with me lockin' it, given the givens." The latch is closed and he moves towards the kitchen, scootching by Nora on the way. "You can look in the box if you'd like. Thought I'd spare you a look at my sex toys." There's so much sarcasm in his voice, there's no way to tell if he's being honest or not. Ha. "Spoons are in the drawer. I'm gonna go slip into somethin' more comfortable." And off he goes to the bedroom area, hopefully to return in one form or another for a night of movies and ice cream and (maybe) painting of nails.

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