02 Feb 2010 : Life Coaching (by Johnny Dobson)
Life Coaching (by Johnny Dobson)
Summary: Nora stops by the Diner for a burger and chats with Dobson. Then Benny shows up and gets some life coaching from the Dobster.
Date: 02 Feb 2010
Related Logs: None

Even the cook has to eat sometime and while one could make the argument that sneaking fries all day would probably qualify, Dobson would beg to differ. Thus he's sitting in one of the booths, sweat AND grease stained. The hairnet he wears over his baseball cap slash mullet combo is off and set to the side on the table and there's a gigantic burger on the plate in front of him. Despite being kind of grizzled and gross, he eats daintily. Bits and pieces. Mouth closed while he chews. Always wiping his fingers on the napkins he keeps nearby. Bizzaro.

Despite owning a store clear across town from here, Nora often makes the trip (in the opposite directin from home) out to the Crossroads Diner for dinner after work. There's a lot to be said for human companionship, even if it's just fellow patrons at a greasy diner who don't give her a second look. She walks through the front door with the familiarity of someone who has spent altogether too much time here, turning to walk down the row of booths, her keys swinging around one finger. After a few steps, however, she slows to a crawling pace, the jaunty tune she had been humming trailing off beneath her breath. Someone is in her booth.

Oh, someone gives Nora a second look. That'd be Dobson. He looks her over like he would a fine steak and sits up from his meal, wiping his lips with an ever-ready napkin and saying, "Well ain't you a picture. You come all the way over from your store to keep me company, hmmm? Have a seat!" He throws his arms wide and strikes a relaxing pose on his side of the booth. "I won't bite. Swear it."

"I doubt that," Nora replies with suspicion, arching a brow at the cook occupying her usual table. Just the same, however, she slides into the booth on the opposite side of the booth, folding her hands atop the table. "'Sides, you don't have to bite to be bad news. You're in my seat," she remarks matter-of-factly, tipping her chin up slightly and snagging a fry from his plate. Without asking, naturally. "Makin' it all… greasy."

"Can't help that, consequence of my work…" Dobson tugs off his hat and runs a hand through his longish hair, smoothing it down some. "No need to be sassing me, 'less you think you're up to bein' sassed back…" He pauses for a second and looks thoughtful. Then he thumps his chest, smiles and lets out a loud belch. "Better." A beat. "Whatcha want?"

If Nora looks put off by any of Dobson's behaviour, she doesn't show it. She doesn't even blink when he belches more or less in her face. Her chin drops into her hands, eyes wandering as she considered the menu she has learned by heart. "Ummm…" She snaps her attention back to Dobson, sitting up straight once more. "Same as you. Shouldn't oughta, since I got about half a cow's worth of beef sittin' in my freezer, but I'm gonna. And wash your hands."

"Woman, I don't walk into your place of business and tell you how to do your job…" Dobson leads off with this as he pushes to his feet, tugging his cap and then the hairnet back on. A sleazy grin is leveled at Nora as he grabs the burger, stuffs it in his mouth and hops the counter. Piping up the grill, he looks back and tugs the burger out of his mouth, "So how is your injun jewelry doing these days anyway? Wouldn't figure you'd do so well here, 'cept I think your wares are better'n what the injuns got down on the Res."

"Slow." Nora stretches her hands out before her, glancing down at the jewellery adorning her fingers for a few seconds before she looks back to the cook. "But it ain't dead, and that's somethin'. Wouldn't say mine's better or worse than theirs, just different." She rolls her shoulders in a shrug, then turns in the seat to lean her back against the window, bringing her feet up onto the seat beside her. "Someone told me I oughta get into sellin' to folks in other cities on the computer, but that ain't happenin'."

"On the internet? Ha. That shit's such a joke." Dobson snorts and dives into his burger as he gathers up the materials for cooking up Nora's order. "My luck, you'd get into doing that shit, get all rich and famous… get all skinny like that one bleached blonde bitch on the tv. Never see you in Blue Earth again, I bet." Holding his sandwich in his jaws again temporarily, he slides over to the sink, gets some soap on his hands and gives them a good scrubbing.

"Don't gotta worry about it anyway," Nora replies with amusement in her tone, exhaling sharply to blow some of her bangs from her eyes. "Can't even get my cash register to work right half the time. More than half the time, I'd say. So a computer with all those buttons and whatnot— forget it." Technologically impaired though she may be, however, she doesn't sound bothered by it. "You sayin' you'd miss me if I was gone?"

"Nah. But I reckon we'd have a surplus of cattle if you left… seein' as how you eat most of the beef in town." There's double entendre all over that statement, there's even half a second where Dobson looks back at the woman with a gleam in his eye before drying his hands on a paper towel and moving down to the grill. "Plus that booth'd be empty all the time. Bad for selling burgers and shit." Smirking, he turns back to the grill and grabbing a spatchula. He twirls it expertly and begins his work with utmost seriousness. "Course, some of the skinny bitches in town might get some meat on their bones… but I reckon it's more likely the fat trailer park bitches'll just get fatter." Waxing philosophical here.

Crossing her legs at the ankles, one arm draped over the back of the booth, Nora tips her head back against the window with a short laugh. "Not sure what you're tryin' to say about me," she says, slanting her head back down to look towards the grill. "So I'm just gonna figure you'd miss me. And I figure you're probably right. Only the problem with the skinny bitches in town is that they got bigger problems than eatin' or not eatin' enough beef, most of 'em."

"Hahaha… yeah, like Benny. Piece of work, I'll tell you what." The burger, sizzling up a storm, is flipped off the grill, twirls around and lands raw side down to continue cooking. Dobson has a look of intense concentration on his face as he cooks, wielding a little dash of a certain spice THERE and a little special sauce HERE. Literally it's a small metal container with the words special sauce written across it in permanent marker. "Sooooooo, what have you heard lately?" The universal question asked when one wants to know the latest town gossip.

"Sorry to disappoint," Nora says unapologetically, allowing her attention to drift over the other tables in the diner, "but I don't hear much of anything ever. I work, I eat, I go home. All I've heard lately is the dang coyotes. Only I don't got any cattle to worry about any more and they'd have a hard time takin' on my horse, so I ain't worried." None of which is really what he wanted to know, most likely. "But if you got somethin' to share, I'm all ears."

"Damn woman, I thought I was living the simple life," Dobson comments with a snort. "So what you're telling me is that you live a completely quiet life with no distractions aside from your copper working." A beat. "Buuuuulllll sheet. Bullshit! I so call bullshit. You probably got some sort of kinky sex dungeon under that house o'yours, takin' men from Vegas for all they're worth then feedin' em to your horse." Grinning over his shoulder, he says, "I heard a rumor some big company is lookin' into buyin' the old mine, tryin' to open it up again."

His joke is met with a stronger laugh this time - a belly laugh, the kind Nora has to toss her head back for. Despite her dismissive laughter, however, there's a flush of colour in her cheeks at the suggestion. "My horse has better taste than men from Vegas, thank you very much." Falling quiet then, she considers his later remark, a frown settling onto her face. "Seems like opening the old mine'd be a bad idea. Too much history. Bad luck to go diggin' around in there again, I wager. Don't know why they'd want to open it again."

Dobson rolls his shoulders and finishes the burger, flipping it in the air and catching it with his other hand between two toasty buns. "Hells yeah." Setting it down on a serving plate, he goes to fetch some fries from the fryer. An oil drop lands on his hand as he reaches for the fries and he grimaces, shaking it a few times before grabbing some fries with a tong and placing them unceremoniously on the plate. "Dunno. Seems like some people might want the mine to open… even with the history. Figure they can make good cash for honest work." Shrugging his shoulders, he adds, "I got a lot of friends who are pretty pissed off about it, though."

"'s that so?" Well, now, that certainly got Nora's attention. She swings her legs underneath her as she rolls forward, sitting up straight on her knees as she peers at Dobson curiously. Her head cants slightly to the side as she asks, "Now how come your friends are fussin' over it? Can't say I like the idea, but I ain't mad about it, neither."

"S'just they like things a certain way. Couple said they'd be resistin' any city folk who tried to change things." The plate is carried back towards the booth where it is set before Nora. Dobson sits back down on his side of the booth and eats what's left of his fries. "They're the quick to anger sort anyway. Prone to drinkin'."

"Guess I can't argue with that," Nora replies, swinging her feet back down beneath the table when Dobson returns to the opposite seat. "I'm okay with city folk comin' in and changin' some things if it'll help the town. Just not sure opening the mine again's a great idea." She digs into her food, taking several bites before she thinks to look back up at Dobson. "What about you?"

"S'long as it don't interfere with my getting laid, I could give a rat's ass. Mine's been closed since before I came to town and all," Dobson gushes, dipping a fry in ketchup before eating it. "It could mean some high class broads finally coming to this town. Corporate types. With hairbuns. And glasses. I loves me some educated women."

Dobson is at one of the booths, eating what's left of a burger and fries whilst Nora sits across from him, eating her own. It's gossip mode at the diner.

"Ouch, Johnny." Flattening a hand to her chest, Nora pretends to be horribly offended by his words. "That ain't a nice thing to say to a girl who never finished high school." After she's finished stuffing a few fries into her mouth, she looks back up to the cook with a grin. "Ah well. Hard to interfere with somethin' non-existent anyway. You ain't gonna get anythin' from high class broads 'less you start washin' the grease out of your hair more often."

The little bell above the door rings as Benny pushes into the diner. She's not dressed for work, where normally she'd be behind the counter slinging hash and pouring coffee. Instead she wears jeans and a white t-shirt, with an old army jacket pulled over her shoulders against the chill of the night air. "Evenin'." She says a general greeting to the diner occupants, before heading to the cash register.

"You can't be speaking ill of my wild and manly mane… chicks dig it, I'll have you know. Plenty of sex for old Johnny!" Dobson declares loudly, right as Benny comes in. "Bitch, you're late." How's that for a greeting. "Wait." The shark in him notices Benny's attire and locks on. "Looking for your check?" There's an undertone of 'I have news about that which will ruin your day.' The gleam in his eyes is menacing.

"Old is right," Nora teases quietly while her companion is busy harassing his employee, promptly shoving her burger into her mouth to hide her smirk. Though she stays out of their conversation, Nora does nothing to hide her interest in the repartee between Dobson and Benny, raising her hand in a quick little wave as a response to Benny's greeting.

Benny is likely about to round on Dobson to tell him precisely where he can bite it and how hard, but something in his tone makes that venom draw up short. "Don't tell me…" Apparently this is a problem they've run into before. Benny forces a pinched smile to her features (likely because of pay, not the woman herself) , "Hey Nora." Of course townie knows townie, even if they aren't on too familiar terms.

"Bossman called, said they won't be in today, on account of the printer at the bank being on the fritz… prolly won't get to us before the weekend." Dobson derives a sort of pleasure from raining on Benny's parade, really, and it shows in the smirk on his face. "Won't be buying that new dildo you've been eyeing on the internet this week, eh!?" So obnoxious, really. Nora is snickered at and he says, "It's called experience, lady. You should try sex sometime. Ever. It's a grand thing."

"With the likes of you?" Nora gives the cook a long once-over, looking most decidedly unimpressed at what she sees. "No thank you. You smell funny." Sinking down in her seat, she snatches a few more fries from her plate and finishes them off. "And not funny in the good way. Don't be mean to her, neither. She ain't said two words to you and you're already bein' you."

"No, no nononono!" Eddie slams the heel of her boot into the linoleum flooring, stomping her feet like a four year old. The palms of her hands grind into her eyes, as if she's willing this to be some sort of bad bad dream. "Shit." The only thing likely keeping her from crying is giving Dobson the satisfaction. "Fuck, I'm already late on rent.." She lifts her head quickly, offering an apologetic grimace to Nora. "Pardon the French."

"Mmmmmhhhmmmmmmmm." This is Dobson's response for both women. "Sure enough I'm bein' me, Nora Tidwell. I sure as hell can't be anybody else… and she knows I'm just teasing." He lifts his chin and looks Benny in the face. Okay, in the chest first and -then- in the face. "You need an advance? Got some money set aside I could loan you til next week. Y'know. For the right price."

"Don't worry 'bout me," Nora replies to Benny with a shake of her head, holding up a hand. "Don't gotta excuse yourself on my account." While the two of them sort out their money troubles, she digs in her pocket for some change and leaves it on the table beside her plate. The last few bites of burger are wolfed down before she slides along the seat to the end of the booth. Looking to Dobson, she says, "Let me know how that mine thing turns out. I've got to get home."

Benny drops down onto the bench besides Dobson, apparently not squeaked out enough by him to warrant shying away from his proximity. But she has an ulterior motive, her hand darts out to pick up a fry from his plate. "Sorry, don't mean to run you off." She mutters to Nora, too worry-sick about her money troubles to put much effort into the apology. "Borrow money from you?" She asks Dobson with an arch of a brow. "I think I'd be better off hooking on the corner, and I'd feel less cheap," is grumbled.

"God-damn,you pervert. I meant taking my graveyard shift on Friday night. Sheesh." The man shakes his head at Benny and scoots over, before flashing a grin at Nora as she gets up. "I'll see you around, Tidwell. Don't go assaultin' any cows. You come here if you want the good beef." Hehehehe. Ahem. Eyes on his fries, rather than on Benny, the man says, "Up to you, girl. You want a roof over your head or not? And you best make your mind up right quick, cos I was thinkin' of spending the money on some decorations for my trailer."

Looking pointedly at Benny, Nora quips, "Take his money. Might feel better hookin' on the corner, but at least all you gotta worry about from Johnny's the grease and funny smell rubbin' off on his money." She looks between the pair with a grin, patting Dobson's shoulder as she walks by. "'Night, you two." With that, she pulls the door open and heads out into the parking lot.

Benny snicks another fry off his plate, as he didn't smack her for the first one she stole. She leans forward to mop it through some ketchup on Nora's discarded plate before popping it into her mouth. "Yeah. I'll take your shift. And tell the other waitresses if they have any they're willing to give up, I'll take those too. I don't care if they're doubles." Her fingers waggle to Nora as she pushes out the door. "Was that your date from the other night?" She asks of Dobson once the door closes again.

"Look at you get all ambitious," Dobson quips and rolls his eyes a little, choosing to ignore the impinging on his fry territory. Til Benny asks if Nora was his date. That has him laughing out loud as he says, "Heeeeeeelll no. Nice girl, but she's obviously virgin territory. Hell if I'm goin' there, bitch." Shaking his head, he presses the heel of his hand against his forehead as if to get the thought out of his head. "You want a burger?… could use some meat on them hips." And then, knowing very well he's probably going too far, "Bet that Foreigner likes 'em with a little junk, know what I'm sayin'?"

"I need the money." Is all she says to Dobson's accusation that she's getting ambitious, before she licks the the ketchup from her fingers. "You have a problem with virgins? Here I thought you'd prefer them, because they wouldn't have any comparison to know you were doing it wrong." Benny flashes him a smile to imply she innocent with that statement, even though she's anything but. "I'm fine. She was done with this anyway, right?" Benny continues to nibble on leftover scraps instead of taking him up on the offer of a burger. Pride and pocketbook issues, but no mention as to whether or not she cares about what the Foreigner prefers.

"Mmmm, you got me all wrong Ben. See, I like to learn from my mistakes." Dobson smiles as he says this. When the girl goes for the woman's leftover scraps, he says, "Go to town. S'bought and paid for already. I mean… it's kinda on the same level as eating out of a garbage can, but what the hell." He moves back a little into the booth and leans his head into his hand, tiredly. "So, what you need the money fer, besides rent." A finger from his free hand traces a greasy circle onto the tabletop.

"I'm not above it." Eating out of a trashcan, it seems, or at least Dobson's leftovers. "Waste not, want not." Benny flashes a fake smile around another bite of fried potato, even as her stomach rumbles from dissatisfaction. "Look, I'm just a little bit tight this month, that's all. Normally I have things all…budgeted out, but ma had a bad night." The last is said quietly, as if it should stay between them in the booth. Of course, she shouldn't trust Dobson further then she can throw him, but she's only telling him half truths and half lies, so. What's the harm?

"Why don't you tell that bitch to eat a dick?" Subtle, Dobson is most certainly not. While he keeps his voice modulated enough for his question to remain between them, it's said with blunt force. "I get she's your momma, but you ain't never gonna get out of this town if you don't start lookin' out for number one." A beat. "You really need to look out for yourself first. Trust me. Nothing else matters."

Benny looks down at her hands, which are now twisting together into a knot of fingers as she twines them together. "It's not that easy. I wish it was, but it's not. She can't take care of herself. She needs me" Ben flicks her eyes up to Dobson's, as if imploring him to understand. "She does. Ma's sick, and I'm the only one left to look after her." She attempts to joke, "'Sides, you only look out for number one, right? And look where that's gotten you. The same hell hole I'm stuck in, with a haircut stuck in the late eighties. You really oughtta let me cut that, you know."

Dobson doesn't pursue her mother anymore, but there is an eyeroll when he's given the eyes by Benny. "Whatever. It's your own business. Weren't my place to comment anyway." A beat. "Even if I think you're being a dumbass about it." There we go. "While we're on the subject of the 80s… You slept with the Spaniard yet? Ha. Oh wait. That has nothing to do with the eighties."

Benny reaches over to sock Dobson in the upper arm, but likely Benny couldn't do any damage even if she wanted to, with her lack of physical prowess. "Har har. First of all, he's married. Second of all, he's Spanish which Haven has led me to believe he treats /everyone/ like they're candy and he has a sweet tooth and third? Well. I don't have a third, but you get the drift. There's only a world of hurt down that road. Why? Have you? Wait. Was /that/ your hot date?"

"Bitch, I'm too much man for him to handle." There's a definite toss of mullet as Dobson declares this, smirking Benny's way. "Who cares if he's married. You wanna bed him, bed him. Ain't nothing wrong with people working out their problems with a good roll in the hay. Been doing it thousands of years… Seriously. You just need a good lay."

Benny reaches out to snag just one more of the fries, even though they've long grown cold. "Yeah, I'm just so sure a screw is going to fix all my worries. It's going to fill my stomach and pay my rent and make my mom better and get me out of this backwater town. Maybe if I had screwed the guy at the bank, he would have fixed the printer and I wouldn't be sitting here, pretending like you actually cared for five seconds." Her rump scoots on the bench so she can vacate the booth.

"Whatever it takes to make you happy, sugar-tits, is what you should do," Dobson points out bluntly, completely unapologetic as the woman moves to leave. "See you tomorrow?" He gives her rump a good once over. And a twice over. Then his eyes move to her face.

Benny tugs up the collar of her faded jacket, as if she expects the weather to be more bitter when stepping out into it. "Same as every other day." She says, her tone dry. "And lay off the sugar-tits." Benny grumbles.

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