[Honestly, Saxsice probably would feed Charlie paint chips. She's a menace to society.
The door swings open with the rattle of the long, mismatched string of jingle bells that Saxsice had tied to it years ago -- offkey, pealing and slightly discordant. Everything about On the Rocks has that vibe, though, like half a dozen dumpster-dives went into putting it together. Most of the booths don't match, and the decor runs the gamut from flamingo-pink neon to car calendars from 1982 to a dart board covered in cut-out photos of Nicholas Cage. But the food is edible and the booze is decent, though it definitely doesn't fill up until after seven or eight P.M.
Case in point -- the only person in the bar, sitting cross-legged in a booth, is a boy of around eight or nine. He's very still, posture too stiff and exact for a kid, and he's pale and dark-haired where Saxsice is tan and blonde. He looks up at Dee, slowly, taking her in head to toe.
Then:] She ran upstairs. She'll be right back. [Again; too serious and formal for a kid. More like a slightly put-upon tax auditor.]
[She should. He'd probably love it, and Saxsice would become his new BFF.
Dee likes Saxsice's bar. Like Paddy's, On the Rocks is shabby, and rough around the edges, and it's got that familiar scent of beer lingering in the air. But it feels safer and more welcoming than Paddy's, and Dee doesn't feel like she's going to get mugged as soon as she steps outside. She likes the old car calendars and the pops of flamingo-pink, and she also likes throwing darts at Nicholas Cage's grinning maniacal face. It's pretty funny.
The beer tastes better here too, which Dee can't explain, given that both bars serve the same shit at the same temperature, in glasses that are almost the same. Maybe it's because she can actually relax at On the Rocks. That's probably it. That, and the bartender is stunning.
Her blue gaze quickly falls on a young child sitting at one of the booths, and she quietly wonders if she's being addressed by a Victorian ghost. This can't possibly be Saxsice's kiddo, but... she doesn't see any other kids around.]
O-oh! Okay! [Dee says in a high-pitched voice that sounds too eager to impress. She approaches the booth like someone approaching a lion's cage, and gently places her hand on the table.] I'm Dee. D'you mind if I sit with you?
[The tone gets a brief, scrunched-brow frown, but then the boy's all politeness. He's not wearing a tie, but he has the air of someone who would>/i>, squared shoulders, ramrod-straight back, solemn expression. But he moves aside the stack of notebooks on the table -- spiral-bound, the cheap kind from the dollar store, four or five of them with creased covers and ragged pages.]
Sure. I don't bite. [It has the air of someone's awkward dad trying to make a joke, which is weird coming from a fourth-grader. Once Dee's sat, the kid folds his hands, that slight frown back.]
Ryan. Mom said you'd be coming. [Inexplicably, yes, this too-serious horror movie child is related to Saxsice.] Did you find parking okay? It can be tricky this time of day.
[Dee's almost reminded of the lawyer she used to harass when the Gang needed something; Ryan has similar energy, except he's baby, and not an old guy sitting in an office, bluntly telling Dee that her mom thinks she's a disappointment and a mistake.
She's used to kids being holy terrors who scream and throw furniture, and give adults attitude just because they think they can. She isn't used to stoic horror children who say they don't bite, but absolutely could.]
Yeahhh, parking was fine. Didn't have to fight anyone for a space! So I call that a win!
[She says with an awkward chuckle. God, this kid doesn't care about parking spaces. Does not care. Surely not.]
Good. That's a relief. [It's still very polite, pleasant, the way anyone making small talk at the bus stop or grocery store might be. It's unclear whether Ryan is just copying adults he's seen chitchat, or if he has some secret, ulterior motive in asking the questions -- his expression stays neutral, unreadable.
Until Dee mentions the notebooks, and the careful mask slips. Ryan blinks a couple times, looking over at the stack like he's surprised it's still there, surprised she had noticed it. One hand goes out, fidgets with a ragged corner. All his nails are bit to the quick, bandages on a couple.]
No. Not -- I'm nine. [It's an explanation and a question, like the idea of being either is so far out of the realm of possibility that Ryan can't wrap his head around it.] I just like to write stuff down. So I remember it. [The corner of the notebook is about to tear right off, and he pulls his hand away.] It's dumb.
[Dee could be an asshole, at this point, and try grabbing one of the notebooks, snatching one up so she can have a look at whatever the kid's hiding. She's good at being a piece of a shit, good at being a bully, but something stops her and it's unrelated to the fact that she really likes this kid's mom. It might be because -- as soon as his mask slips -- she sees herself at that age, sitting alone in a diner with a nanny who was more of a mother than Barbara Reynolds ever was, holding a notebook to her chest that contained all the little worlds and characters she used to create.
Dee called her own ideas dumb, and no one ever disagreed with her, so she always kept them close. Kept them secret.
She reaches into the bag, pulls out the mixed lollies, and rips the bag open, turning the opened side toward Ryan.]
Not really. I used to write stuff down all the time so I wouldn't forget. Still do. It's actually a really smart idea. Means you're organized!
[Ryan's hand is still hovering near the stack of notebooks, like he's expecting her to try and take them -- at least until Dee says she used to do the same thing. His expression is just as readable now as it had been unreadable moments before: surprise, curiosity, something like awe.]
You did? So you remembered how to do things right? [It's a revelation that doesn't fit at all with how Saxsice is -- she's chaotic, carefree to the point of obliviousness. Why is her kid so hyperfixated on rules?
The bag of candy gets a thoughtful look, though Ryan doesn't automatically reach for anything. Again: rules.] How come you still write stuff down? You're an adult. [Implication being: you're perfect now.]
[Dee answers with a casual shrug, quietly trying to figure out why this kid is so fixated on 'doing things right.' She doesn't know what she was expecting upon meeting Saxsice's kid, but she did have a picture in her head of someone a little more... energetic. Chaotic.]
Uh, well. Because... sometimes I still forget how to do things right. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Mistakes will happen, no matter what, and that's... fine!
[There's another of those long, thoughtful looks from Ryan -- less calculating and detached than before, much more obviously him trying to figure Dee out, see if she's being honest with him or not. If he comes to a conclusion, he doesn't say anything, just finally looks away, reaches out and straightens up the edge of the stack of notebooks.]
Are you dating my mom? [Oh, welp. There's a swerve for ya. At least he seems to have relaxed enough to reach out and grab one of the candies, turning it over in his hands as he waits for an answer.]
[She trails off and looks at Ryan like she isn't too sure what he just said to her. She heard him loud and clear, of course, but she doesn't know how to answer that. The word 'dating' makes it so official, and while Dee really likes Saxsice, she assumes they're just doing this for fun. She has no idea how to respond, how to explain this to a kid who also happens to be an important part of Saxsice's life. She clears her throat, and stammers a little.]
Oh. Well... I'm not too sure. [She says with a nervous laugh, voice taking on a higher pitch.] Uh. But I think your mom's great, so that'd be pretty... cool?
[There's a pause where Ryan does another of those intent, unflinching, mildly-horror-movie-esque stare-downs. But then he nods, something tight in his shoulders relaxing.] You should tell her. She can be really oblivious sometimes.
[As if on cue, Saxsice finally clatters down the steps (upstairs, from the apartment perched over the bar) and skids into the room, out of breath and still damp-haired.] Hiiii, hi hi hi, sorry, I thought I'd have time to shower, sorryyyyyyyy!
[A good amount of the stiff, formal tension vanishes from Ryan's posture, though his posture's still way too good for a kid. Saxsice plants a kiss on top of his head, fluffing up his hair, then plopping down next to Dee and kissing her cheek noisily.]
[The pause makes Dee so uneasy; she doesn't know where to look, and her gaze keeps flickering down to her hands like they possess some kind of grand secret. Then she sees the kid relax, and his advice is met with a slow, cautious, contemplative nod. Her own shoulders relax -- right up until she hears Saxsice's voice and hears her clattering down the steps. Then Dee jolts and tenses her back up like a child who's just gotten in trouble with her teacher for daydreaming because she's still thinking about what Ryan just told her.
She turns around, smiles, and raises her hand to wave cheerfully, watching Saxsice plant a kiss on top of Ryan's head. Dee can't help chuckling when the other woman kisses her cheek, and she kisses Saxsice's cheek in response before rummaging through the bag. She produces the pretzels, slides them over so they're in front of Saxsice.]
How could I forget?! I brought us candy too. The nice stuff! Not the stuff that makes you feel like you're chewing on rubber.
Mmmmm, thank youuuu. [Saxsice scoots closer, bumping Dee's hip with hers, warm and affectionate and smelling like coconut shampoo.] You're my favorite, don't tell the others. [The pretzels get ripped open and she somehow manages to fit approximately fourteen in her mouth at once.
Then, swinging one bare foot to nudge gently at Ryan's:] Hey, finally heard back from your deadbeat dad, he's gonna come getcha in 20 -- yay or nay?
[It's a familiar rapport, Saxsice flicking her thumb up, then down. Ryan considers a moment, then nods -- thumbs up. Then, to Dee, he adds:] Kai's not actually my dad, she calls all her friends that.
[Saxsice chuckles, settles against Dee's side like she's a comfortable couch, then reaches for the candy.] Takes a village, Munchkin. Go getcher stuff, yeah? [Belatedly, defensively:] Some'a us like chewin' on rubber. Like those uhhhhhh, Polly Pocket little fffffrickers.
[Dee chuckles lightly and nudges Saxsice's shoulder with her own, feeling all relaxed and cozy in this bar. Dee feels relaxed at Paddy's too, but it's different here. It's a different kind of cozy.]
Our secret. [She grins and then watches in amazement as a shitton of pretzels is shoveled into her mouth. With anyone else, Dee might mock them for being gross, but this is Saxsice. Saxsice gets a pass. Dee snatches up a pretzel for herself, and nibbles at it while listening to Ryan.]
Gotcha. [She smiles at the kid and gives him a thumbs up. Ryan gets a pass too. Why can't all kids be super polite and not screaming, chair-tossing rage demons? Saxsice settles against Dee, and Dee rests her head against hers, still nibbling the pretzel in the same way a little mouse might.]
Yeahhhh, I've gotta admit. I do appreciate rubbery candy that tastes like fake strawberries and cough medicine. Sometimes you're just in the mood for that kind of thing. [She snorts.]
This is the fancy shhh-- [Do not swear, Dee. Not while the kid's still around.] The fancy stuff. I don't know if it's much better though.
[The thumbs up gets a brief flicker of a smile as Ryan stands, gathering his notebooks into his arms carefully. He seems unbothered by the almost-swear, offering:] I've heard all the words, it's okay.
[Saxsice chuckles through her mouthful of pretzels, then swallows and grabs for another handful.] I let my kid say "fuck" if he wants to cause I'm a cool mom. [Granted, he usually chooses not to, but Saxsice is working on that. She has a dream and all that. Ryan huffs out a little sigh, then, with a "nice to meet you" to Dee, he heads up the stairs to gather his stuff, apparently.
After he's out of earshot, Saxsice exhales, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table, though she keeps her hip pressed to Dee's.] Ffffuck, sorry. Didn't mean to spring him on ya unprepared like that. I totally thought I could shower and stuff and introduce you guys and...I dunno, warn you?
[There's a bit of a pained wince as Saxsice fingercombs her hair back, sighs again.] He's -- a weird kid. Obviously.
[Both Ryan and Saxsice's responses make Dee laugh -- a gentle, high-pitched (somewhat bird-like) sound that's full of genuine joy and amusement. Dee never knows how to act in front of kids. From what she's seen, most of them love to drop colorful language all over the place, and she usually expects that kind of thing from them, but she also assumes that they come with parents who want to discourage swearing. She's trying so hard not to accidentally sabotage this.
Dee replies to Ryan with "you too, buddy," and offers a little wave before finally shoving the rest of that damn pretzel into her mouth. Nibbling at it like a tiny rodent was getting old. She sits up, chews, swallows, and nudges Saxsice's shoulder with her own.]
No, it's fine! [She waves a hand dismissively, and snatches up another pretzel. She then lowers her voice:] I was a weird kiddo too, and, well. He didn't attack me with a slingshot, or try spitting on me, unlike most kids I've met, so he's perfectly fine in my books.
[She leans in, her voice lowering to a barely-audible whisper.] What's up with the notebooks, though?
[Saxsice looks genuinely delighted at the laugh, which is unlike the ones she's heard from Dee before. It's brighter, more genuine. It's nice. She reaches for the candy, unwrapping a piece and stabbing it's gummy little heart with a pretzel stick.]
Most kids spit on you? What, you insult Fortnite in front'a them or somethin'? [She only has any idea about Fortnite because of memes. Ryan doesn't care for it, he's a Sims or Stardew Valley kid exclusively.] What'd you guys talk about?
[Ahhhh, the notebooks. Saxsice is quiet for a moment, eating her candy/pretzel creation slowly.] He lived with my mom until last year. She had a lotta rules, and was pretty harsh whenever he broke any of them. Writin' stuff down makes him feel better, I think? More in control? I dunno, the counselor guy said it was a copin' mechanism.
Oh, yeah. Do not do that, or they will riot. Let me tell you.
[Yeah, she might have walked into a game store and told a child his taste was trash. Dee plays CoD like a cultured person, okay? And she gets into arguments with children online too. It's... fine.]
Well, we talked about the notebooks, a little. [She doesn't bring up the other thing. Not yet. She doesn't know how.] And... wow. Shit, that does sound rough. Poor kid. I, uh told him I wrote stuff down too, though mine's more like... a diary?
[Then she snorts.] Yes, I'm a grown fucking adult, and I still keep a diary. Like a goddamn schoolgirl.
[That gets a snort, Saxsice sitting up straight and making more of her gummy-candy-impales-on-pretzel creations.] You ever insult a kid on Xbox Live? Part'a me is dreading the teen years in case my kid makes friends with one of those little shits. He's too nice, he totally would, and I'd have to pretend not to want to dropkick the cringey little fucks who come over for dinner or whatever.
[A nod, thoughtful, lining up the snack creations, then offering one to Dee.] My mom's a bitch. And I'm a bitch for leavin' him there all this time. [Matter-of-fact, the way Saxsice says most things. She's straightforward to a fault.
Then, with a grin, making the snack fly through the air, before gently tapping the tip of Dee's nose with it:] Awwww, you use glitter gel pens too? Stickers? Sign off "xoxo gossip Dee"? Cuuuuuuute.
[Dee watches Saxsice create her pretzel candy works of art with a lopsided, faint smile playing across her lips. That isn't something she's ever tried doing, but now she's curious.]
Yeahhh, I've told a kid to eat a giant rancid dick and choke. But to be fair, he called me an old cunt first. And I feel like it becomes acceptable to insult a child when they start slinging the ol' C word at you. I hope Ryan makes friends with some normal kids who know how to take toilet breaks during their gaming sessions.
[She happily accepts the innovative snack creation, but doesn't bite into it this time.] I hear ya on the bitch mom thing. Loud and clear. My goddamn condolences.
[She means that too. Dee didn't even go to her mom's funeral. She hates that woman so much.
The little tap makes Dee wrinkle her nose, but her smile brightens. She makes a dorky little snorting sound and taps the table with one well-manicured finger.]
Hot pink glitter pens, and I sign off "xoxo Sweet Dee". And I don't do stickers. I do love hearts and stars. [Is she joking? The smile suggests that she's joking. As soon as she stops talking, she pops her candy-pretzel creation into her mouth and grins as she chews.]
[There's a surprised, wheezy laugh from Saxsice, who covers her mouth with one hand, eyes bright and dancing at Dee over the top.] W-Well, sounds like his vibes were atrocious. You prolly did the world a favor, humbled him a bit? Hopefully, otherwise he's gonna end up in politics.
[Another preztelcandy is devoured, then another, while Saxsice nods slowly.] Momma was -- is -- a different kinda awful'n I am, at least. There's that. [A careful, sideways look.] Fuck em, right? Moms. Unless they're cool, like me.
Cute. [Her hip presses closer, knee rocking back and forth, knocking lightly into Dee's.] Where'd that come from? "Sweet Dee". S'a cute nickname. Specially for a hearts-and-stars kinda girlie.
Hopefully! Either I humbled him or made him worse, and if I made him worse then little buddy is definitely going into politics. [She ends her sentence with a grimace and an eyeroll.]
I'll drink to that. [Dee says and raises her pretzelcandy like it's a glass of cold beer.] Screw moms, unless they're cool. Like you. [Then she winks, pops the pretzelcandy into her mouth... and proceeds to continue talking.] You're doing a hell of a lot more than mine ever did for me and Den.
[She smiles, looking a little self-conscious. It's like part of her is afraid of being mocked, despite there being no reason for her to feel this way. She can express herself much easier here, in this bar, with Saxsice.] My brother started calling me that when we were kids. I was... always trying to be nice, and positive, and upbeat, and I think he was making fun of me, but I decided to own the nickname!
Cheers to that guy hopefully failin' every math class and needin' to drop out or somethin'. [Saxsice clinks her pretzelcandy against Dee's, then pops it into her mouth.]
Think it's the thought that counts? Cause lemme tell ya, I've beefed it a lot in my time. Did you know kids get sick like so damn easy? It's a damn nightmare.
[Shaking her head, Saxsice pops a few more pretzelcandies into her mouth, chewing slowly and listening.] Damn, lookit you. Makin' lemonade outta your brother bein' a little shit. Good for you.
[Dee chuckles and nudges Saxsice with her shoulder.]
Look, I know I would too. No one's perfect; we all kind of suck sometimes, but there are some people out there who are way worse than we could ever be. And I believe you! Schools are like fucking petri dishes, and there's always that one kid who's perpetually sick and spreads it to everyone else all the damn time.
[She grimaces; a core memory of classmates in elementary school may have just been unlocked.]
Thank you! [She sounds so pleased with herself.] He was not happy once he realised what I was doing, but I honestly did not give a shit.
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The door swings open with the rattle of the long, mismatched string of jingle bells that Saxsice had tied to it years ago -- offkey, pealing and slightly discordant. Everything about On the Rocks has that vibe, though, like half a dozen dumpster-dives went into putting it together. Most of the booths don't match, and the decor runs the gamut from flamingo-pink neon to car calendars from 1982 to a dart board covered in cut-out photos of Nicholas Cage. But the food is edible and the booze is decent, though it definitely doesn't fill up until after seven or eight P.M.
Case in point -- the only person in the bar, sitting cross-legged in a booth, is a boy of around eight or nine. He's very still, posture too stiff and exact for a kid, and he's pale and dark-haired where Saxsice is tan and blonde. He looks up at Dee, slowly, taking her in head to toe.
Then:] She ran upstairs. She'll be right back. [Again; too serious and formal for a kid. More like a slightly put-upon tax auditor.]
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Dee likes Saxsice's bar. Like Paddy's, On the Rocks is shabby, and rough around the edges, and it's got that familiar scent of beer lingering in the air. But it feels safer and more welcoming than Paddy's, and Dee doesn't feel like she's going to get mugged as soon as she steps outside. She likes the old car calendars and the pops of flamingo-pink, and she also likes throwing darts at Nicholas Cage's grinning maniacal face. It's pretty funny.
The beer tastes better here too, which Dee can't explain, given that both bars serve the same shit at the same temperature, in glasses that are almost the same. Maybe it's because she can actually relax at On the Rocks. That's probably it. That, and the bartender is stunning.
Her blue gaze quickly falls on a young child sitting at one of the booths, and she quietly wonders if she's being addressed by a Victorian ghost. This can't possibly be Saxsice's kiddo, but... she doesn't see any other kids around.]
O-oh! Okay! [Dee says in a high-pitched voice that sounds too eager to impress. She approaches the booth like someone approaching a lion's cage, and gently places her hand on the table.] I'm Dee. D'you mind if I sit with you?
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Sure. I don't bite. [It has the air of someone's awkward dad trying to make a joke, which is weird coming from a fourth-grader. Once Dee's sat, the kid folds his hands, that slight frown back.]
Ryan. Mom said you'd be coming. [Inexplicably, yes, this too-serious horror movie child is related to Saxsice.] Did you find parking okay? It can be tricky this time of day.
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She's used to kids being holy terrors who scream and throw furniture, and give adults attitude just because they think they can. She isn't used to stoic horror children who say they don't bite, but absolutely could.]
Yeahhh, parking was fine. Didn't have to fight anyone for a space! So I call that a win!
[She says with an awkward chuckle. God, this kid doesn't care about parking spaces. Does not care. Surely not.]
So what's with the books? You a writer? Artist?
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Until Dee mentions the notebooks, and the careful mask slips. Ryan blinks a couple times, looking over at the stack like he's surprised it's still there, surprised she had noticed it. One hand goes out, fidgets with a ragged corner. All his nails are bit to the quick, bandages on a couple.]
No. Not -- I'm nine. [It's an explanation and a question, like the idea of being either is so far out of the realm of possibility that Ryan can't wrap his head around it.] I just like to write stuff down. So I remember it. [The corner of the notebook is about to tear right off, and he pulls his hand away.] It's dumb.
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Dee called her own ideas dumb, and no one ever disagreed with her, so she always kept them close. Kept them secret.
She reaches into the bag, pulls out the mixed lollies, and rips the bag open, turning the opened side toward Ryan.]
Not really. I used to write stuff down all the time so I wouldn't forget. Still do. It's actually a really smart idea. Means you're organized!
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You did? So you remembered how to do things right? [It's a revelation that doesn't fit at all with how Saxsice is -- she's chaotic, carefree to the point of obliviousness. Why is her kid so hyperfixated on rules?
The bag of candy gets a thoughtful look, though Ryan doesn't automatically reach for anything. Again: rules.] How come you still write stuff down? You're an adult. [Implication being: you're perfect now.]
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[Dee answers with a casual shrug, quietly trying to figure out why this kid is so fixated on 'doing things right.' She doesn't know what she was expecting upon meeting Saxsice's kid, but she did have a picture in her head of someone a little more... energetic. Chaotic.]
Uh, well. Because... sometimes I still forget how to do things right. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Mistakes will happen, no matter what, and that's... fine!
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Are you dating my mom? [Oh, welp. There's a swerve for ya. At least he seems to have relaxed enough to reach out and grab one of the candies, turning it over in his hands as he waits for an answer.]
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[She trails off and looks at Ryan like she isn't too sure what he just said to her. She heard him loud and clear, of course, but she doesn't know how to answer that. The word 'dating' makes it so official, and while Dee really likes Saxsice, she assumes they're just doing this for fun. She has no idea how to respond, how to explain this to a kid who also happens to be an important part of Saxsice's life. She clears her throat, and stammers a little.]
Oh. Well... I'm not too sure. [She says with a nervous laugh, voice taking on a higher pitch.] Uh. But I think your mom's great, so that'd be pretty... cool?
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[As if on cue, Saxsice finally clatters down the steps (upstairs, from the apartment perched over the bar) and skids into the room, out of breath and still damp-haired.] Hiiii, hi hi hi, sorry, I thought I'd have time to shower, sorryyyyyyyy!
[A good amount of the stiff, formal tension vanishes from Ryan's posture, though his posture's still way too good for a kid. Saxsice plants a kiss on top of his head, fluffing up his hair, then plopping down next to Dee and kissing her cheek noisily.]
Hiiii, did you bring me pretzels?
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She turns around, smiles, and raises her hand to wave cheerfully, watching Saxsice plant a kiss on top of Ryan's head. Dee can't help chuckling when the other woman kisses her cheek, and she kisses Saxsice's cheek in response before rummaging through the bag. She produces the pretzels, slides them over so they're in front of Saxsice.]
How could I forget?! I brought us candy too. The nice stuff! Not the stuff that makes you feel like you're chewing on rubber.
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Then, swinging one bare foot to nudge gently at Ryan's:] Hey, finally heard back from your deadbeat dad, he's gonna come getcha in 20 -- yay or nay?
[It's a familiar rapport, Saxsice flicking her thumb up, then down. Ryan considers a moment, then nods -- thumbs up. Then, to Dee, he adds:] Kai's not actually my dad, she calls all her friends that.
[Saxsice chuckles, settles against Dee's side like she's a comfortable couch, then reaches for the candy.] Takes a village, Munchkin. Go getcher stuff, yeah? [Belatedly, defensively:] Some'a us like chewin' on rubber. Like those uhhhhhh, Polly Pocket little fffffrickers.
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Our secret. [She grins and then watches in amazement as a shitton of pretzels is shoveled into her mouth. With anyone else, Dee might mock them for being gross, but this is Saxsice. Saxsice gets a pass. Dee snatches up a pretzel for herself, and nibbles at it while listening to Ryan.]
Gotcha. [She smiles at the kid and gives him a thumbs up. Ryan gets a pass too. Why can't all kids be super polite and not screaming, chair-tossing rage demons? Saxsice settles against Dee, and Dee rests her head against hers, still nibbling the pretzel in the same way a little mouse might.]
Yeahhhh, I've gotta admit. I do appreciate rubbery candy that tastes like fake strawberries and cough medicine. Sometimes you're just in the mood for that kind of thing. [She snorts.]
This is the fancy shhh-- [Do not swear, Dee. Not while the kid's still around.] The fancy stuff. I don't know if it's much better though.
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[Saxsice chuckles through her mouthful of pretzels, then swallows and grabs for another handful.] I let my kid say "fuck" if he wants to cause I'm a cool mom. [Granted, he usually chooses not to, but Saxsice is working on that. She has a dream and all that. Ryan huffs out a little sigh, then, with a "nice to meet you" to Dee, he heads up the stairs to gather his stuff, apparently.
After he's out of earshot, Saxsice exhales, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table, though she keeps her hip pressed to Dee's.] Ffffuck, sorry. Didn't mean to spring him on ya unprepared like that. I totally thought I could shower and stuff and introduce you guys and...I dunno, warn you?
[There's a bit of a pained wince as Saxsice fingercombs her hair back, sighs again.] He's -- a weird kid. Obviously.
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Dee replies to Ryan with "you too, buddy," and offers a little wave before finally shoving the rest of that damn pretzel into her mouth. Nibbling at it like a tiny rodent was getting old. She sits up, chews, swallows, and nudges Saxsice's shoulder with her own.]
No, it's fine! [She waves a hand dismissively, and snatches up another pretzel. She then lowers her voice:] I was a weird kiddo too, and, well. He didn't attack me with a slingshot, or try spitting on me, unlike most kids I've met, so he's perfectly fine in my books.
[She leans in, her voice lowering to a barely-audible whisper.] What's up with the notebooks, though?
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Most kids spit on you? What, you insult Fortnite in front'a them or somethin'? [She only has any idea about Fortnite because of memes. Ryan doesn't care for it, he's a Sims or Stardew Valley kid exclusively.] What'd you guys talk about?
[Ahhhh, the notebooks. Saxsice is quiet for a moment, eating her candy/pretzel creation slowly.] He lived with my mom until last year. She had a lotta rules, and was pretty harsh whenever he broke any of them. Writin' stuff down makes him feel better, I think? More in control? I dunno, the counselor guy said it was a copin' mechanism.
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[Yeah, she might have walked into a game store and told a child his taste was trash. Dee plays CoD like a cultured person, okay? And she gets into arguments with children online too. It's... fine.]
Well, we talked about the notebooks, a little. [She doesn't bring up the other thing. Not yet. She doesn't know how.] And... wow. Shit, that does sound rough. Poor kid. I, uh told him I wrote stuff down too, though mine's more like... a diary?
[Then she snorts.] Yes, I'm a grown fucking adult, and I still keep a diary. Like a goddamn schoolgirl.
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[A nod, thoughtful, lining up the snack creations, then offering one to Dee.] My mom's a bitch. And I'm a bitch for leavin' him there all this time. [Matter-of-fact, the way Saxsice says most things. She's straightforward to a fault.
Then, with a grin, making the snack fly through the air, before gently tapping the tip of Dee's nose with it:] Awwww, you use glitter gel pens too? Stickers? Sign off "xoxo gossip Dee"? Cuuuuuuute.
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Yeahhh, I've told a kid to eat a giant rancid dick and choke. But to be fair, he called me an old cunt first. And I feel like it becomes acceptable to insult a child when they start slinging the ol' C word at you. I hope Ryan makes friends with some normal kids who know how to take toilet breaks during their gaming sessions.
[She happily accepts the innovative snack creation, but doesn't bite into it this time.]
I hear ya on the bitch mom thing. Loud and clear. My goddamn condolences.
[She means that too. Dee didn't even go to her mom's funeral. She hates that woman so much.
The little tap makes Dee wrinkle her nose, but her smile brightens. She makes a dorky little snorting sound and taps the table with one well-manicured finger.]
Hot pink glitter pens, and I sign off "xoxo Sweet Dee". And I don't do stickers. I do love hearts and stars. [Is she joking? The smile suggests that she's joking. As soon as she stops talking, she pops her candy-pretzel creation into her mouth and grins as she chews.]
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[Another preztelcandy is devoured, then another, while Saxsice nods slowly.] Momma was -- is -- a different kinda awful'n I am, at least. There's that. [A careful, sideways look.] Fuck em, right? Moms. Unless they're cool, like me.
Cute. [Her hip presses closer, knee rocking back and forth, knocking lightly into Dee's.] Where'd that come from? "Sweet Dee". S'a cute nickname. Specially for a hearts-and-stars kinda girlie.
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I'll drink to that. [Dee says and raises her pretzelcandy like it's a glass of cold beer.] Screw moms, unless they're cool. Like you. [Then she winks, pops the pretzelcandy into her mouth... and proceeds to continue talking.] You're doing a hell of a lot more than mine ever did for me and Den.
[She smiles, looking a little self-conscious. It's like part of her is afraid of being mocked, despite there being no reason for her to feel this way. She can express herself much easier here, in this bar, with Saxsice.] My brother started calling me that when we were kids. I was... always trying to be nice, and positive, and upbeat, and I think he was making fun of me, but I decided to own the nickname!
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Think it's the thought that counts? Cause lemme tell ya, I've beefed it a lot in my time. Did you know kids get sick like so damn easy? It's a damn nightmare.
[Shaking her head, Saxsice pops a few more pretzelcandies into her mouth, chewing slowly and listening.] Damn, lookit you. Makin' lemonade outta your brother bein' a little shit. Good for you.
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Look, I know I would too. No one's perfect; we all kind of suck sometimes, but there are some people out there who are way worse than we could ever be. And I believe you! Schools are like fucking petri dishes, and there's always that one kid who's perpetually sick and spreads it to everyone else all the damn time.
[She grimaces; a core memory of classmates in elementary school may have just been unlocked.]
Thank you! [She sounds so pleased with herself.] He was not happy once he realised what I was doing, but I honestly did not give a shit.