02 Feb 2010 : Rumors & Hangovers
Rumors & Hangovers
Summary: Haven wanders out with a massive hangover, the night after tequila fueled visitation, and Mia cooks up dinner and a plan.
Date: 02 Feb 2010
Related Logs: Spin & Win & Bitch & Boxing Up Lucy & Late Night Visitor.

Blue Earth, Santo Estate, Kitchen
Tue Feb 02 16:13:17 2010

The Santo kitchen is clearly the focal point of the home. The counters are a dark gold and green flecked marble, polished to a high shine. The walls are a bright pale green, with red cabinets, hung with chili peppers, reminiscent of cocinas all over the West. Brushed steel and stainless steep checks back the new gas oven, and a smoke hood is set up to whisk smells and smoke away. All of the appliances are like-new, the entire room refurbished, and a bit at odds with the rest of the house, which is done largely in dark colors and antiques. A dining table is situated in half of the area, divided from the kitchen by a breakfast bar with stools, overlooking the rest. A large prep island stands in the middle of the kitchen, with its own countertop, cutting surface, and washing station. Storage is underneath. The oven and microwave are stacked atop one another, though both are designed to look like pull down stoves.

A wall of glass leads out to the greenhouse, leaving the kitchen brightly lit during the day. Plants are visible from any point in the kitchen. It's quite clear from the greenhouse and garden, out back, that the former owner of the house was both very good with plants, and quite the organic chef. Along the rear wall is the only antique element to the house — a wall length apothecary shelving unit with glass cubbies, small drawers, and thousands of tiny bottles with aging, handwritten labels. There's everything listed there from black pepper, to med. sea salt and foxglove.

It's evening in small town Nevada and Mia's in the kitchen, dilligently studying the back of a Kraft macaroni and cheese box. The ingredients are lain out very neatly on the counter, and a pot of water is boiling on the stove. From the oven comes the smell of - believe it or not - fish. It's not the overly fishing smell of 'dear god what died in there and when,' but a light, delicate scent tinged with dill.

Haven, MIA for most of the day, eventually finds her way out of the shower, and down the hall of the main part of the house from the master bedroom. She wears a pair of scrub pants and a tight little tank top that reads: FIREMEN DO IT WITH LARGE HOSES across the front. It's old, faded, and the lettering is cracked. She has a lot of old tees and tanks that say ridiculous things. She looks a little rough around the edges still. She may have just rolled out of bed around an hour ago. Well, for the second time. The first time was to fetch lots of bottled water and aspirin.

This time, when she surfaces again, there are two pills sitting in a little white cup on the counter next to a mug that has a little note propped to the front, "Just add hot water. Steep for 5m. Hold your nose and drink." "Morning," the doctor calls over her shoulder, dirt smudges on her cheek. "I didn't know if you were interested in dinner tonight, so I made enough for both of us."

"Oh." There's a pause before Haven glances over, "Yeah, thanks. I feel a little better now." She reaches for the note and the mug, and fills the thing, then goes over to shove it into the microwave. She doesn't even ask about the pills yet, probably because she hasn't let them steep and smelled them. "Thanks. That smells really good, actually."

"I got the blue room and the rose room packed up today and cleaned out," she says over her shoulder, still studying the box. The woman has an M.D. and she's reading the back of a macaroni box like it's one of Moses' tablets. "Make sure you stir the pills in well until they dissolve. Getting one of those stuck in your throat is a pain in the butt."

Haven rubs a hand over her face, and says, "Next time I even look at a tequila bottle, remind me of this moment." She reaches for the microwave as it dings, and slides the mug out carefully. She sets it on the counter, plunk-plunks the pills in, and waits. "What's the box say?" There's a moment of silence from her, before she grabs up a spoon and stirs with the tink-tink-tink of the spoon on the ceramic edges of the mug.

"I have to boil the macaroni for six to ten minutes, then add the butter and milk, then add the powder," Mia murmurs, finger moving over the back of the box. "But that doesn't seem ri…ahhhhh. There it is. You DO drain this kind." There's just a little triumph there. "Do I need to give you something for the worm or worms?"

"I don't drink the kind with the worms. But I think this bottle had a rattlesnake in it, which was kind of upsetting. I didn't look really closely." Haven stirs a little more, then slides the spoon into the sink with a clunk. "I use the microwave kind when I do it. I don't like it all mushy." She lifts the mug, and it's only then that she gets a good whiff of it. "… Homygod."

"Hold your nose," Mia advises without turning around. "Trust me on this one. Don't eat or drink anything for five minutes to give the pills a chance to hit your system. Once you get past that, however, you'll feel much better. I left some orange juice in the fridge, that'll help cut the taste." Oh, yes. It has a smell to it. It's not a horrible one, but it's certainly not a normal one. It smells rather earthy, as if she dug up some damp soil somewhere and put it into pill form. Almost mulchy or composty. "It's an herbal remedy I found in Sedona that works surprisingly well, especially after a bender. We all went out one night after an IM class and got utterly trashed. Cup of that the next morning? You would have thought we had our full 8 hours and a night of great sex."

Haven considers the mug for a long moment. On the one had, she hardly knows Mia. On the other, they're roomies. The time for mistrust about mystery pills has pretty much passed. "Ok, but I don't wanna wake up naked, handcuffed to pipes in the basement." She maybe just needed to say that out loud. She reaches up, pinches her nose, then tips back the just-hot water pill solution down the hatch. Oh god. She almost chokes on it when Mia says 'great sex', but Haven just continues and manages to power it down. Don't ask.

The macaroni gets poured into the boiling water and stirred and a bag of green beans gets tossed in the microwave. Bustle, bustle, bustle. Mia pulls a glass down from the cabinet and fills it with orange juice, sitting it nearby. "The handcuffs wouldn't fit around most of those pipes," she comments absently. "Have you -seen- them? Dios mio, the furnace pipe is about the size of Tia's head. There will be rattling worse than there is now. I poked around a little down there, but didn't want to get in too deeply. I didn't have the phone." As if that would have helped.

There's a smirk at the handcuff comment. Then Haven thinks about it a little more in depth, while she's trying to decide if she just ate some dirt or not. She remains leaned against the counter, murmurs a, "Thanks, Mia," and takes up the glass of juice in hand. She wastes no time slugging some back to cut the taste. "I don't think there's cell reception down there…" She grins a little, once she's come up for air. "Wow. That was bracing." Not too bad, though.

Mia's lips twitch a little and she nods. "The bottle will be in the cabinet with the dishes. Just remember - two pills in a cup of hot water and steep for five minutes. Works like a charm with hangovers. If you grab the plates, I'm going to…" Eye the boiling water and macaroni funny, apparently. She goes quiet, just stopping dead in the middle of the conversation.

"Oh, yeah, sure." Haven shoves off the counter, putting down the half empty orange juice glass. She reaches up to the cabinet, stretching to tug down some of the plates from the top shelf. Dark eyes flick over as Mia stops talking mid sentence. "Going to… drain the macaroni?" She tips her head forward to eye her roomie around her arm. There's a rattle as the dishes are drawn down. "Mia?"

"Mmmm," Mia says after a moment. "Drain the macaroni and get the ingredients added," she says, shaking her head. "Sorry, some things in Tia's house have memories attached." Ahhh, yes. Way to explain it off. She glances briefly at Haven and offers an apologetic smile. "Sorry, sometimes my mind runs away with my words. So what had you visiting Senor Cuervo last night?" And just like that, things are back to normal.

Haven regards Mia for a moment more, then sets the two plates down on the counter, and slides them closer. "I understand that." If she doubts Mia's explanation, it's not obvious in her voice. Seems a reasonable enough reply, after all! "I was having 'oh shit new town, why am I nesting in' feelings. I'm still new here, and I heard some rumors might have been spreading, so I got a little drunk, then had the genius idea to visit the source of the rumors."

"Oh, lovely," Mia replies, mixing the macaroni in the bowl rather vigorously. "What kind of rumors and whose house do I need to stinkbomb?" She smiles, but whether or not she's serious is rather up in the air. "And how are you feeling about the nesting? I mean, if I see you bringing twigs into the house, you might get a bit of an odd look…"

"Well, see, that's the problem." Haven drums her nails on the counter. "The Preacher is the chatty party in this case. So I vandalized his car, and then pounded on his door until he opened it. I vaguely remember a shotgun, but the rest is a little fuzzy. I just remember feeling like an ass." She got in really late, and her trucks isn't outside. She smiles, though, at the imagery Mia presents. "I just mean it's all sudden. And I keep trying to leave, but this place… it freaks me out and calls to me. People have been really helpful. Very understanding, aside from the occasional nut. It's hard to explain."

"Hard to believe the preacher's the one being an ass. I'll see what I can leave under the pews come Sunday mornin'. Maybe Maybelle Darnelle over at the trailer park can fill me in a little about him. She's been collectin' her preachers since Momma was knee high to the tractor tire." Oh, yeah, there's the accent she'd almost lost. It's like someone bitchslapped Southern with the California stick. "Well, do you like it here? Do you want to stay?"

"I didn't want to stay. But I was living in a strange place before, just there because… I guess it's not a bad place to be. There seems to be a need here, and it's not that far from Mama." You know, if she could actually get out of town to visit her and all. Haven reaches for her juice, and sips. "Maybe I do."

"Sounds as though you're getting comfy here, which is good. The house needs you and the town needs you." Mia turns away to get the fish out of the oven. Cute little aluminum foil packets. "Can you grab a bowl for the beans, please? I…shit. Didn't turn the microwave on." Sigh. Yes, she can NOT cook. "But you sound like you've got questions."

"How do you land somewhere, after getting a missive from someone you never met, then break down a couple of times, because your vehicles apparently can't cross the town limit… and suddenly decide 'Maybe I should stay'?" Haven opens the cabinet again, and reaches up for a bowl. "I don't usually do things that way. I've always had a plan. I went to Georgia so I would be on hand to help out with the Katrina situation if I could get down there. I went for weeks at a time. Close without being in it, you know? But now, here I am. I don't know how I feel about Nevada. This town is strange. And it's the smallest I've ever been in."

Mia absently punches a few buttons on the microwave after checking that the beans are in there, twice, then turns back to start dishing up the fish. "One of the things I've learned over the years is that odds and ends happen for a reason. We may not understand the reason at the time, but they happen for a reason. Tia loved it here. Oh, there were times she hated it, but those were usually around the 4th of July when the Chamber had a new harebrained scheme going. Did you know that those morons once wanted us to have a big Christmas celebration, complete with trucked-in snow?" Oh, the look she gives Haven. "You can guess how well -that- went over. Yes, the town is strange, but most of the time it's a very GOOD strange. The people here aren't those hoity-toity types you see in the big city. They're -real- people."

There's a bit of an odd look cast Mia's way at the mention of trucked in snow. She smiles, amused with the story. "It's so charming, I just don't know what to say sometimes. This place. These people." She lowers the glass. "Anyway, I have some time to decide. I'm still on leave from the SFD. They want me back, but there's room for me here." She shakes her head. "Anyway. How are you taking life back in town? Do you miss Vegas?"

The fish gets served up with macaroni - because hey, fish and macaroni go well together - and the beans follow a moment later. "Not at all," she says quietly. "There are aspects I miss, like the hamburger joint just down from the hospital. They served the best burgers I've ever eaten. We're talking thick, artery clogging, dripping with cheese, topped with bacon and mushrooms…" Mia looks like she's ready to cry for just a moment. It's that same longing look people get when they talk about lost loves who've died in the war. "Yeah, I miss that place. If I could move it here, I think I'd die a happy woman." Oh, God. Die. She realizes what she just said and crinkles her nose a touch. "Well, not literally. There's a reason no one in town'll let me near the truckstop or pink garden gnomes."

Haven glances over at the reference to garden gnomes. Clearly, she thinks this is some sort of local shorthand she just doesn't quite understand. There's a pause, then the brunette takes up a plate and scoops up a little of this and that. "… I love burgers. Cheeseburgers. That is the true measure of a place. Its burgers." She takes the OJ to the table, and slides into a seat, then rises almost immediately to grab a fork. "… Dobson might take pointers on his burgers." If you're feeling brave.

Mia groans softly as she settles into her seat. "Oh, these burgers would utterly blow his out of the water. We're talking this thick, and juicy? You need two napkins, at least. And they do a cheese stuffed burger where the cheese liquifies as it cooks and bubbles…" She speaks with all the knowledge of a true meat afficianado. Up goes her fork, out comes a sigh. "I'm a Sweetnin woman by birth, Haven. We don't tend to live long. Gramma was 41 when she passed. She was putting a new concrete gnome out in front of the trailer when she tripped. The pink hat impaled her right through the eye. Momma died when I was just a baby. She was hit and killed by a drunk driver." A bite of salmon is taken, savored for a moment. "We were sittin' in the truckstop having lunch. Lucia, my step-momma, was our waitress. She pulled me out of my high chair when the car pinned Momma."

Haven winces as Mia tells her tale of maternal woe. Her dark brows draw together as the second half is relayed. "… I don't think I'll ever be able to walk within falling distance of a yard gnome ever again." She forks up a bite of fish, chair creaking a little as she tips forward. "I'm … that's horrible, Mia. How old were you?"

Oddly, Mia doesn't seem all that upset. "I was just about a year old. Not old enough to remember it," she says with a wry little smile. "I grew up with Lucia as my only Momma. Daddy married her when I was three. That's how I met Tia. Lucia used to bring me here during the summer to learn about the gardens and to lend a hand." Ahhh, families, traditional families. "I'm the only child in the school district's history to be banned from gym."

"I noticed you have kind of a problem with…" Walking? Curbs? Open spaces? "Obstructions in your path." She takes a bite, chews, and considers the food for a moment. "Not bad, Mia. Now if we learn to cook a couple of things each, we can get by with cereal the rest of the time." She grins a bit at that, then reaches for her juice. "It's good that you were taken in by a family so generous. I did see the greenhouse, and the garden looks really well tended. I have gardened a little myself." she glances over at the wall long rack of strange herbs and dry things in bottles and jars, but doesn't comment. Some of the labels are… odd.

Mia follows Haven's eyes for a moment, then draws back to the plates in front of her. "Tia was a bit of an herbalist," she tells Haven quietly. "I know what's in those bottles, and I wouldn't recommend them for cooking." A tiny smile flickers at her lips. "If you'd like, I can show you about them, tell you about them. Teach you as she taught me."

Haven considers this for a moment, glancing from the herbs to Mia. "… Oh, herbal remedies." She nods after a moment. "I've heard things from Mama now and then about them. She uses them. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to learn something about it." She sounds a little dubious. Just a touch.

Mia takes another bite of fish then asks, apropos of nothing, "How's your head feeling?" The glance is sidelong, and just a touch impish. "I have a book or two I'd be happy to lend you for reference. I use them myself fairly often. There's something to be said for the natural ways, though modern medicine is pretty damned good itself."

Haven thinks about it for a beat. One can almost see her realize her headache is gone. She didn't even notice. "Uh… it's gone. I guess that stuff worked." Puzzlement sets in, at least until she takes a bite of Mac and cheese. "… God, I don't care if it's cheap and powdery from a box. This stuff is always good." She nods, "Sure. I feel like I should learn something about Lucy. Maybe it'll help me get to know the house better, to get a better feel for the place."

"Take your time with it," Mia advises quietly. "It helps if you just sit and listen to the house. It's one of those neat places that will talk to you. There are bits of Santo history everywhere." Sitting back, Mia looks around the kitchen through unfocused eyes. "This house has sheltered generations of Santos,a nd will probably continue to do so long after you and I are gone. I've packed a lot of Tia's things that I think you'll want to look at - later. Once you've settled in and gotten comfortable."

It's probably fairly obvious Haven has no concept of what her family history is in this place. "One thing I learned, in all the places I've lived, is eventually a place will introduce itself to you. You just have to give it the time." She finishes off a few more bites of mac and fish, then sips the OJ. A quiet falls for a moment, and her eyes wander the kitchen. "Thank you, Mia. For … I don't know. For showing up out of nowhere and helping me tackle the past."

That gives Mia pause for a moment and she stops, fork in the air with a piece of salmon on it. "I…well, my philosophy has been that we're put where we are for a reason. It's just figuring out that reason that's a bitch. You're family - distantly related, by marriage, etcetera, but you're family. I figure that Lucy planned things the way she did for a reason." The fork gets put down. "She helped me realize my dream. Without her, I never would have gone to college, let alone medical school. You…well, it was a little bit of a surprise that you took me in so quickly when you didn't have to. So thank you. I promise not to blow up the microwave."

Haven rests an elbow on the table, and slides her hand over her neck, propping lightly, fingers curled around the side of her throat. She watches Mia as the other woman speaks. There's a grin at the end there. "I had a bunch of roommates in college. I have a hard time turning away people in need. Especially when it was your family first. I mean, yeah, I'm blood, but… this was never my home." There's a distinct 'until now' left hanging in the air after that sentence. She isn't ready to say it, though. "Hey, we can always get a new microwave."

Mia, of course, is a little dubious at that. "I think we can just leave it at 'family,'" she murmurs after a moment, grinning at the other woman. "Depending on when Doc decides to give up the ghost or retire, I may be moving out. There's an apartment over the office where he lives now. I kind of prefer it out here. I never lived here, but I spent quite a few happy days here with Tia and Lucia and whomever else came by. If you have questions, I can help you navigate a little about the town, even though they haven't quite forgiven me for going away. Yet."

"They'll come around. Judging from the amount of 2am phone calls I get for indigestion," Haven's brows arch, though one is faster to go up than the other. "They could use a young, less hard of hearing physician on hand." She takes one last bite of mac and cheese. "You're a good roomie. Painkillers and food on the heels of a day long hangover." Haven grins. "I'll try to remember not to walk around totally naked, in case we get company sometime."

The larger of the two women just grins and lifts a shoulder. "Why the hell not? It's our house. It's not like you haven't got anything I haven't seen before. It's days like this…well, I thank God I'm not a GYN. You want to walk around starkers, have fun." She finishes up her meal and sits back with her glass of juice. "Yes, I am that easy to get along with. I'm a grease monkey who plays with body parts and car parts. Had a roomie in undergrad who ran a dealership, as it were, from our apartment. SHE was a nightmare."

"You had one too? I thought it was just me. Plus side, free pot whenever I wanted it." Haven grins widely at the, then rises to take her plate to the kitchen. She reaches for Mia's, or rather, makes the motion, and takes it unless waved off. "When I get my motorcycle back from Lucas, I'll be sure to call you first if it acts up again. Or we can just take it out back and shoot it."

Mia offers the plate then stands to put away the leftovers. "If I'm not up or not here, just leave me a note with what's happening with it and the keys. I can't guarantee anything - I tinker. But if I can get her purring, I will. I'm going to be in and out at odd hours. Word's spreading that I don't just deliver babies, but calves, too."

"Speaking of calves," Haven grins. "If you get a call for that, I've always wanted to see one born." She carries the plates over, scrapes off a little leftover into the trash, then gives the plates a little rinse and scrub with a soapy wandy sponge thing. "I imagine our phone is going to ring all the time."

Mia laughs quietly at that and starts to wrap things up. "I'll let you know when the call comes in. I dare say, though, my next call's going to either be a colicky baby or horse, one of the two." Her nose crinkles slightly. "I really, really hope I don't get called out to oversee a stud, though. I think I'll draw the line there. Have you ever dealt with ranchers?" A shudder rolls through her.

Haven considers the question for just a beat before she says, "No, not in relation to their… herds." She opens the dishwasher, and slides the plates in once rinsed, then reaches for a hand towel. "Every now and then, I see a ranch hand down at the diner. Just lately. And Vargas, of course. But he's Spanish, so I think he's probably a little apart from the usual."

"I haven't really gotten to know him," Mia calls from the fridge. "Just that little bit I saw of him here the other night. He's married, from what I understand? Jolie?" Fridge closed, freezer open. Out comes the Ben & Jerry's. She must have had to go to the next town for that. "Chunky Monkey or Chubby Hubby?"

"Yeah. Jolie. She's in a coma. I'm not sure how long it's been. I heard someone talking… a few years. I don't know if he has hands to help run his ranch or not." Haven glances over as ice cream is brought up. "Oh. Chubby Hubby." No hesitation. It's clear the two occupants of this house are always going to at least have the freezer stocked.

"Mmmm, perfect. I'm in a banana mood anyway." She hands over the pint of ice cream with an innocent smile. "Hm. I wonder if doc's handling her case. If he is, I'll see if I can take a look at things. He seems like a nice man."

"I haven't heard anything about it, really. I didn't ask. It seems like it might be too painful for casual conversation that doesn't involve a whole lot of wine first." Haven takes the ice cream. She smiles back to Mia, then digs around in the drawer for two clean spoons. She hands one over. "He's a very nice man."

Mia takes the spoon and leans back against the counter, digging into the container with relish. "I'm generally not one to bring up painful topics like that to the families," she says with a nod. "And if I did, well, it would be in a professional capacity, free of any wine." A pause. "Though he DOES seem like a very nice man." Ahh, yes. Echoing the other woman's words.

Haven opens the ice ceam, and tosses the lid aside. She stands there, near the counter, and spoons up a bite. She glances up. She glances up and she takes a bite of the dessert. Her eyes fall on Mia. She watches her for a moment. "He is." She just stares for a moment, then slowly turns around, and walks to the glass wall that looks out over the greenhouse.

The other woman nibbles at her ice cream, watching Haven's back for a moment. "The heart generally does its utter damndest to screw us up and screw with us," she comments, again, apropos of nothing. "It can be a right pain in the ass. Just be careful with the rumors. Jolie's kin will likely not take kindly to things, but y'all're adults and know what you're doin'."

"I know. That's what I had a talk with the preacher about. The rumors almost started." Haven scrapes at the ice cream, then shakes her head a little. "The waitress from the diner mentioned he was married. I know he's married." She shakes her head a little. "I know he's married." There's a 'but' there, like maybe she wants to say more. Finally, she says, "He treats people decently. He reminds me of home. I like to be around him. I never had to worry about anyone thinking twice about a single woman spending time with a married man."

"A beautiful woman, new to town, who reminds an almost widower of his home," Mia comments, talking with her spoon. "You know he's married, but something draws you to him like a moth to a flame. And like that moth, you're going to get burned. The only thing left is to decide whether or not you think that's a bad thing or a kinky thing, and how burned you're willing to be. Small town folks can be…rather small minded, truth be told. It's not like the big city." Yes, there's a bit of a tease there.

Haven glances over her shoulder, and quirks a little smile at that. "I can control myself. As long as I'm not drunk." She thinks on that for a moment. "So maybe casual conversation with wine is a bad idea." She takes another bite of the icecream. "I'm not worried about my reputation. He's the one who's settled here. I guess we'll see how it goes, and how closely people decide to watch the new girl in town." She grins again, then says, "You know what it is? Everyone wants to ask you personal questions. It's like going to meet the boyfriend's parents for the first time, except everyone in town is like the mom."

Mia's smile blossoms and she laughs quietly. "He's the one who's settled here, and it's his reputation at stake, not just as a member of the community, but his financial reputation in this town as well. Don't underestimate these folks. They keep their bank in the mattress and their shotgun loaded. While you're new in town, you are also a Santo, so they're going to be measuring you by Tia's reputation as well. And I'll tell you this straight up - you will never live up to it. Just like Tia never lived up to her ancestor's reputation. But that won't matter until you're about seventy and the new crop is coming up."

Haven pauses, her spoon to her mouth. The thought of growing old in this town, of being 70, and settled on the porch with a rocker and a shotgun, well. That takes her a moment to process. "I think that's why I went down on a bottle of tequila."

"Next time," Mia advises, taking a bite of her ice cream. "Spit, don't swallow." Well, that was easy. "You and I will both have to earn our way into this community. It can be done, and it -will- be done. We both belong here as much as anyone else. Just make sure your truck isn't parked at the end of his lane overnight, and that your motorcycle goes in his garage. I'll see about muffling the roar a little."

Haven very nearly snorks her ice cream, which is actually quite painful. One, it's cold. Two, it's thick. "Mia!" She laughs, reaching over to cover her mouth to try to prevent spitting the Chubby Hubby as she does so. She mostly succeeds. Mostly. "You're a bad influence. I knew I liked you for a reason."

Those bright green eyes go Precious Moments wide and innocent. Hell, she looks for all the world like Puss In Boots from Shrek. It's quite definitely the 'who, me?' look. "What? There are times in a woman's life when it is -perfectly- acceptable to make a delicate deposit in a nearby cup, sock, washcloth or bellybutton."

Haven has to swallow, because if she doesn't, she's gonna laugh and choke on the ice cream. "Mia! Dios mio!" She just shakes her head again. "Bellybutton. The next time that comes up, I'm going to blame it on you." She coughs. "Not that I think it'll come up soon." Is she flushing? She might be. A little. "Speak of this to no one."

One can almost see the halo above Mia's head and she turns toward the freezer, putting the lid back on her ice cream. She's whistling. She's whistling 'Santa Claus is Comin' to Town.'

"Hush, Mia." Haven isn't give up her ice cream anytime soon. After this conversation, she's going to need it. She shoves the spoon into her mouth, shoots a look to her roomie, and shakes her head again. "Shh."

At least her whistling is nowhere near as bad as her singing. She hushes after a moment and just starts laughing quietly. "Though, I suspect you might have a tiny bit of resistance from Benny. She was eating the rancher up with a spoon and going back for the whipped cream."

"I'm not looking to stake a claim. If he wants to snuggle up to her, she's pretty cute. Though she is the one who pointed out to me that he's married. And mentioned the preacher was thinking of giving a sermon on lust in my honor." Haven taps the spoon against her lower lip. "He saw us talking in the laundry. Apparently, our padre isn't a fan of Spaniards."

Mia rolls her eyes and moves to refill her juice glass, hefting it to offer Haven some more. "Then he needs to get laid, preferably by a Spaniard. That'll shut him up for the three minutes it takes for him to sanctimoniously finish."

"Hey," Haven replies, holding up the hand with the spoon in a woah-woah sort of gesture. She shakes her head and says, wide-eyed, "Do not look at me. It's bad enough I walked out of the parsonage at three in the morning last night. If anyone saw me…" Oh god. "Oh god. If anyone saw me."

The smile blossoms again, brilliantly. "Then good for you. He can have a taste of his own medicine," she says sweetly. "So, if you'd like to find some deer urine, I can mix up something to put in his radiator."

"Sorry?" Haven's brain does a little halt, halt, screech. "Did you say deer urine for his radiator?" What's the fastest way to confuse your roomie? Deer secretions. What. "What?"

Mia lazily raises her arms over her head. "You've heard of putting a dead fish in someone's mattress as revenge, yes? This is along those lines. You see, female deer urine is…especially potent around certain times of the year. Pheremones. Now, mix that up with a few other ingredients and put it in the radiator of his car. What goes past the radiator and into the vents when he's driving?" She waits for it, just watching Haven with a little smile.

Haven considers this for a moment, and it isn't long after the 'vents' mention, that her lips curl in a smile that could only be described in relationship to the Cheshire Cat. "Hm. That could definitely be arranged." Somehow. Where does one get deer urine? To the internet!

Perhaps correctly interpreting that look, Mia's smile grows a little wider. "Wal-Mart," she says quietly. "Or any store that sells hunting supplies. You see, that's how most huntards lure bucks. What better way than female deer secretion? Same principle the boys use to pick up women at the bar."

"It's cruel and unusual, but maybe it'll teach him to be nicer to other people." Haven walks across the kitchen to sweep up the container lid, and caps it once it's about 1/3 eaten. She tosses the spoon into the dishwasher, then clicks that closed. A glance is cast to Mia. "I should get to know him a little better, find out a little more so I know what to expect in the way of retaliation. Sometimes there's some folks you just have to be prepared for."

"You take care of recon," she says breezily. "I'll take care of the hands on work." Yep, someone has either a sense of humor or a damned mean streak. "I don't cotton to assholes."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License