2025-02-06 - Your Marriage License and Registration Please

It's been relatively a quiet rotation in the apartment. Chores get done when they get done but ultimately the kitchen stays clean and the rest of the place has been reasonably tidy. Jack sleeps most of the morning after his night jobs, Colt's gone most of the day, and sometimes weird things show up randomly (thanks Colt). Today it's like 6 boxes of girl scout cookies that were likely Colt's doing but left in the kitchen.

What is new is the cable maintenance done around the main part of the apartment. This is new as of this morning as is Jack coming into the the apartment at 11am. Did he have a morning shift to cover at the resort? No, the pianist has a pink rabbit and a discontent look and new power cables in hand.

There is a slurry of French Canadian given to the rabbit that ends in "Maybe don't eat this one or I turn you loose in Diana's apartment. Allo." he greets.

There is more new to the apartment since Jack left.

Dylan is not particularly a surprise, given he does live here, and does not seem to naturally stick to what one would call a reliable schedule. His shifts vary, his sleep varies, and what he does in between varies too. But as long as it doesn't destroy the apartment or wake anyone up when they work tomorrow, that's fine, right? And, he's wearing pants, so that's not startling either. Nor that he's sprawled out on the couch, eating probably-breakfast. That it's a plate of Belgian waffles is a little unusual, though.

The more unusual thing is that there's a fair-sized Edible Arrangement in the middle of the coffee table, a resplendent effusion of flower-approximating fruit that immediately makes one wonder how badly someone needed to apologize and for what. And what would in other circumstances be most unusual is that there's a small pink fluffy rabbit-like thing sitting on his abdomen, in the middle of devouring everything off one of the sticks that's been pulled free for it.

Both creatures look toward the door when it opens, and the pink one brightens up excitedly, trilling a little five note tune. Which... sounds an awful lot like the beginning of the chorus of Don't Stop Believing. Well, there's probably only so many five note variations, right?

For Dylan's part, his greeting is the full extension of one arm to point at Jack and accuse, "You!" A beat. "Have one too!" Another pause. "And a way more professional touch with cable management than I would've guessed. ...Which is not a come-on. Unless you want it to be." He's got a brilliantly cheesy grin to offer, there. "Waffle? Where'd yours come from?"

Jack closes the door and decides, today, to lock it. Heel to toe shoes come off to be put on the rack at the entrance. There's some confusion looking at the coffee table. "Yoooou missed me? My piano better be okay." A warning, but also the expectation that it likely is. He lifts the bunny out of the gym bag to set down and says to it "Stop destroying things."

It's Dylan's expression that gives him pause and makes him laugh. "My English might be okay buuut I think you are getting your cable management and pipe management confused there." There's a wink and some assurance, "Everything is a compliment." Allow him to steal some more now that they are freely offered. "You need anything from the fridge while you are pinned?"

He looks to the musical menace and says "Oui, tried to dismantle part of my bag looking for where the sound came from. I was working on a thing and hit the right notes to make him come running. Now he won't leave me alone." He queries, "Yours?"

"Always, desperately," Dylan declares, "...but we soldier on. I promise I did not touch a piano. And neither did Barbenheimer." The little pink not-rabbit's ears droop as no matching tune answers back, and it returns to eating its fruit. Glumly.

Dylan absently runs a fingertip over the bunny-thing's head, and shrugs. "Anyway, you lay pipe, you lay cable, I'm pretty sure the laying's the important thing there. And right? Who doesn't like a compliment?" More people than he would consider ideal, actually. "Grab me something to drink? Thanks. I was working and he started singing from just off stage." He eyes it. "Ham. Y'know they always say never work with kids or animals."

This does not stop him giving it a little more scritch until it looks less depressed. "I think he's looking for something."

There's a sputter of a laugh, "Barbenheimer? Fucking love it." The grin holds as he brings out more little things that they can destroy as he seems to hit up the tarjay. "Have not named this one yet but might name him Mozart because he's fucking trolling me and making life difficult... I respect this."

At Dylan's explanation he pauses and turns with that look of how to explain this "Ummm... one is a absence of constipation in a way that exceeds expectations. The other means you look like you can pound it out like King Kong how about you do that?" With a snicker he says "Little bit of a difference to not get confused."

Bunny Mozart hops over and looks very hopeful singing his little five note trill to the other bunny hoping and hoping on its little stubby hind leggies. As he finds it not repeated back Jack notes they both look disappointed. "Aww you're having my luck at the bar the other night. Here. Food." He picks up the rabbit and puts it on the table with the other one anyway.

"How has it been for you? You've been outside. They get the wind down in the midway?"

Dylan gives Jack a little mock-salute at the name-appreciation, and the thought for the other's name gets a laugh out of him, too. "Leck mich im Arsch!" he sings, not really particularly well, but with gusto, 'conducting' it in the air with his fork.

That pause and explanation have him turning his head to look at Jack again, with a slight tilt and a faintly dubious expression. "Not what I was told," he notes, but the expression goes more thoughtful, brow furrowing, and he allows, "...it would explain a couple things, though." Huh. Another shrug, and he grins again. "Fine. Remind me to break the plumbing so I can appraise your pipe management skills."

Sad bunnies are sad. He gives a very quiet "Aw," before carefully sitting up and relocating Barbenheimer to the table as well. It does not look thrilled to be moved away, but for the moment does seem pleased to be right by More Fruit. It will take the trade for now. For now.

Dylan pulls his legs up to sit crosslegged in somewhat less space than he was previously occupying. It might be an invitation; it might be coincidental. "It's been cold for me. Mostly cold. Still windy. But it could be worse. I think Sara the belly dancer almost froze something off yesterday. Which would be a shame for everybody, not least her. How's it been going in the cozy warmth of an interior?"

Jack points to Dylan, "A proper come-on and a challenge and a threat. See that's a good one. Full points, plus one." Jack shakes his head putting his haul on the table. "I do not know what to say than one is for the bathroom one is for the bedroom. Best not to get confused or trust whoever told you otherwise."

The little bunny, Mozart tries again with the five note tune that wounds a bit like X-Files. Getting no response back that matches from Barbiheimer it squints accusingly. Jack looks at the fluff bun, "Everyone a critic, I know. Eat your feelings, kid, works for the rest of us."

He unpacks a few things, one of which looks like a U shaped cat recliner but it's scratchable. "Aww if she wants to freeze things off tell her to come here if she wants to warm back up." He is sympathetic, but reliably sympathetic if it can be self-serving too. "On the walk arounds on the cold days they have those super thin sock warmers. I find those help. So windy it was going right through two layers on me the other day."

on a more serious note he says "I told Diana she can come and do dinner with us. Across the hall?" that one. "She was in Vegas for like couple weeks so her fridge is dead. Colt I'm guessing is going to be busy anyway. You let me know when is good?" he does offer though, "You need anything while I'm up?"

Full points plus one? Dylan gives Jack a quick pair of fingerguns, with another grin. "Even my folks'd be happy with that grade." Though whether in that subject, who knows.

Barbenheimer does sing back to Mozart -- but it's the same tune as before, the don't-stop-believing-esque phrase. They both look disappointed by the exchange. At least they have plenty of fruit to take Jack's advice with.

"I offered. She said she wasn't that cold yet." Alas. Still, there's a beat, and Dylan lifts a finger, with just a ghost of the grin, to emphasise, "Yet." The grin escapes, and he shakes his head a little as he cuts another bite of waffle. "I'll make sure to include your invitation if it gets any colder. Where do you get the super thin sock warmers? I could do with a couple of those."

A small pause, and he answers that last question, "...and still something to drink, thanks. Not picky. Juice, soda, water, whiskey, whatever we've got handy over there. I'm good with having her to dinner. If it's 'cause of the fridge, I'm assuming you mean, like, tonight or tomorrow? Just let me know when so I know to be here. ...or help cook." He considers that. "Or help order something." He's not a terrible cook. It's just not what one would call a dinner party repertoire. "I can be free. What was she up to in Vegas? Do we need to find her registry and tie empty cans to her doorknob?"

Jack grins, "Hunting department at Wal-Mart on the mainland. They are into sitting out in the middle of nowhere big time around here but also off the island I have to imagine the snow gets pretty deep. They're not buffered from the cold as we've been." Which is to say super fortunate.

Jack goes into the fridge, "Everyone gets a 'yet'. Respect though for doing that outside in the winter." He stops pulliing two canned bubble waters, lime, out of the fridge for now. Walking one over to Dylan he hands it over watching the rabbits equally entertain and disappoint one another. "God they are moody."

But he asks about the Vegas wedding and there is a look of vindication on Jack's face, "Seeee this I ask her and she said nooo nono I went to visit family! I was like so new in-laws? Nonoooo she says. But in case the liquor was really good I say we err on the side of the caution and do this. Also why not with a registry? She's a wonderful person. She should get a gift. I think it will be hilarious. Twenty says she totally leans into it. We get her two. One for the wedding he second for the divorce. She can get the best of all worlds and know she is celebrated. Now, we need to make her a registry."

"You'd think when the snow gets pretty deep people'd stop sitting around in the middle of nowhere, but I guess y'like what y'like." Dylan tucks that information away for his next trip to the mainland, nonetheless. "I'm curtailing my sitting around in the middle of nowhere even now! ...not that there's a lot of nowhere around here to sit in the middle of, anymore."

The drink's accepted with another, "Thanks," and while he doesn't vocally say 'Right?' to the accusation of moody bunniness, the way he turns his hand palm up to gesture to them does. Jack's vindication and explanation thereof get the grin again, smaller, then broadening as the plan gets implied. "I mean Vegas is known for having really good liquor, right?" He opens the can and takes a good sip, thoughtful. "Who wouldn't lean into getting gifts? But we'll need the husband's name on there, too." He mulls this a moment. "I guess there's always good old A. N. O'Nymous. Diana O'Nymous. Sounds okay, actually. Bit on the nose, though. Oh! Alan Smithee. Standard but subtler. Now. Is she the Amazon registry type, the Neiman Marcus registry type, or the Etsy registry type?"

Jack chuckles shaking his head and taking a drink. "People." He can't help but to be baffled, disdainful, and also love them for being exactly what they are perhaps. He lifts the can to clink, "Salude to them."

He takes a drink as Dylan as some very important questions which gets an affirming "mmhmm.. hmm... Little on the nose." He takes another sip and answers without even thinking, "Neiman Marcus. See now I think we should go to the Tarjay or maybe take two hour ferry to mainland and find that glass shop in Traverse City and get something appropriate for this clever ruse of hers so show, aaaah we miss you but we also see through the lie Ms. Nonymous."

There's a pause and he adds very officially for the record, "That Black Star winery is there and they have a special right now also has very clearly nothing to do with it. This is also why it is important you join me."

"Nothing in the least and also nothing to do with my agreement that yes this is clearly both urgent and imperative," Dylan agrees equally officially. "We're gonna need a bun-sitter. I think I know someone who'd be down." He lifts his can to give Jack's a second clink. "Two hours on the ferry oughta get us a good start on the registry, too."

For now, though, he's got the remnants of a waffle to polish off, and a couple pink bunny-things to watch devouring an edible arrangement. A pretty decent morning, all in all.