2025-04-10 - Hell's Bells

Day drinking is a funny thing. You get all sorts. Girlfriends meeting for brunch, soccer bros in to watch the match in British or European evening hours, even the occasional senior citizen with nothing better to do... but, and especially here at Lucky's, by far the most common denizen at this hour is a park worker who's finished the early shift.

As an artist, Duncan's shifts aren't quite like those in construction, security or maintenance, but as a former firefighter he's used to long, strange hours. A bit of grease or paint under his fingernails, he's leaning on the bar here at Lucky's with a pint of Kilkenny in front of him. The pregame lead-up is on the screen over the bar, a Europa League fixture the Canadian could care less about apparently in the queue. Every so often he glances toward the door. The bartender leaves him more or less to his own devices.

With the power of magic getting stronger, Avery had been getting through her to-do list pretty quickly at work. Anything that she could use her power for, she was. Those ice sculptures were getting fixed, new ones were being created and all done in enough time to do a little day-drinking with her big bro.

She even had time to shower before getting to Lucky's. Her hair was still wet and left down when she pushed through the door of the bar, slipping on a white crop top tank top, a pair of jean shorts and a sweatshirt tied around her waist - just in case. You never knew when a snow storm could occur. This was spellbound after all and anything was possible.

Spotting Duncan at the bar, she circled over to him and took up the stool beside him, "What up, Bro?" making herself comfortable she looks over at the bartender and finds him look that way, "Could I get a shot of tequila?"

With a smile for his sister over the brim of his pint glass, Duncan offers a silent greeting when Avery finds her place at the bar. Setting the glass down on the polished wood of the bartop, he cracks his knuckles loudly and asks, "Hanging in there?"

He's wearing a plain white t-shirt today, short sleeves cuffed-- the left rolled around what's surely a pack of cigarettes. The shirt is snug as usual, showing off his muscles and the tattoos that cover them, but today it's undyed indigo jeans and his typical black Docs. The tight black beanie is back on his head, even indoors, and it's been a few days since he shaved. If Avery wasn't his sister, the guy'd probably look a little intimidating; as it is, he just looks like big brother.

After the nod from the bartender of confirmation that she'd be getting that shot of tequila, she adds, "Oh and pint," she grins, "Need a chase." Tapping the bar with her hands and then turning to look at her brother. Turning that grin on him, "Is that what this is? You checking up on me?" Avery doesn't seem upset by it, just grinning at him and shaking her head, "I'm good, Bro. I'm good. You don't have to worry."

Crossing her feet at the ankles, her legs swing as one beneath the bar.

"You sure?"

Duncan gives Avery a side-eyed look, one skeptical eyebrow arched heavenward. His typically wide, soulful gaze is narrowed.

"That's not what I heard," he says after a beat, then turns back to his pint and tips it to his lips for a long pull. He draws a long breath in as he sets the glass back down again, the bartender adroitly sliding a coaster under it. The deft move earns a chuckle from the big artist.

"I'm sure," The shot and the pint arrive at the same time, "Thanks!" she says to the bartender, drawing them closer to her. Taking the lime wedge off of her shit glass she holds it in one hand and looks over at her brother, moving her shoulder so that wet hair falls down her should and away from her shoulder. "I threw some shit at trees, I drank, I cried, I re-bounded and now I'm...." she shrugged "Here."

Taking the shot quickly, she makes a normal ' i just took a tequila shot' face, puts the glass down and bites into the lime after. Sour face happening after that. But when Avery's done she looks back at her brother, "What? What did you hear and from who? A reliable source?"

Duncan listens. Well, one assumes he listens. He's not saying anything, after all, and his eyes are on his sister so... there's that. The talk of throwing shit at trees is met with the vaguest hint of a what-the-fuck look-- what'd the trees ever do to Avery?-- but otherwise he seems to absorb it all well enough.

"Well, you took my truck without asking," he finally says, an amiable snicker giving the statement context: he doesn't really mind, apparently. "I have no idea where you went, and I don't care, but I banged my knee on the steering wheel getting in so I know someone shorter than me was driving." That gets another snorted laugh. "But your friend Diana texted me last week. Late, out of the blue. Said you were masking. I figured that sounded like you, so she was probably right."

Then he turns to look at Avery directly, and asks one more time, "You sure you're okay?"

"Don't give me that look," Avery says with a roll of her eyes at her brother. "The trees are fine, I didn't hurt any trees!" Maybe some bark was chipped off, but she didn't cut any trees down. They might not be twins, but she could read his face and sometimes his mind based off that face he was making.

Pushing the empty shot glass back, the lime wedge goes into the glass and then she draws the pint glass closer to her. Avery looks over at her brother, "Diana texted you?" a knowing smile and wiggle of her shoulders, "OooOOooo..." was she deflecting? It was very possible. "Late at night?" she says and again goes, "OooOOooo...."

Again, possibly deflecting from the question at hand, "Hey! in my defense, I did ask when you moved here if I could use your truck. I just...didn't ask before I took it when I was on the mainland."

Then comes the question again, more directly, cause he turned and did the brother turn and look thing. Avery sighs, "I'll be fine. Feel a little abandoned. Like I'm not being worth sticking around for, ya know?" shrugging yet again - cause its the dismissive thing to do.

The trees should be alright, then, so he lets that go. He was mainly interested in his sister's welfare, after all. The oooohs, and the questions about Diana that they're attached to? Those, Duncan leaves alone for now. There's only a small, inscrutable smirk in response, a slight upturning of the lips. He knows Avery won't let that topic go, but he doesn't take that gauntlet up right away.

"Look," he says grudgingly, "that's exactly what your friend said. That you were feeling abandoned. You probably don't need me to tell you this," big brother goes on, "but I'm going to tell you anyway. That's bullshit." A cocky grin appears on Duncan's face, as if out of nowhere. "You're worth way more than that, Little Sister, and if what's-his-name had other priorities, that's his problem."

Duncan never met Bam, after all, so it's more than a little ironic and clearly played for laughs when he says with a wry tone, "Hell. I never liked the guy anyway."

"You never met him!" Avery responds first, laughing, "What a brother thing to say. " Yes, she was very good at masking and deflecting things. Something she'd picked up along the way growing up.

"I know what you're saying, though. It was just the first time I let someone all the way in, you know?" She looked away from him cause she didn't want to, and she picked up her pint for a drink. Shaking it off, "It's fine. I just learned not to do that again."

Once again sipping from his Kilkenny while Avery laughs and explains, allowing a broad grin to meet her laughter at his joke, Duncan nods along before she concludes her point.

"Good idea," Duncan half-grunts, then, and it's probably telling. Deciding not to let someone in? Well now, if that doesn't sound like her older brother, nothing does.

He glances at the screen where the talking heads are discussing the chances of a famous English soccer club fallen on hard times, ready to take on a less-prestigious French side. The French-Canadian snorts. "Snobs," he snorts, shaking his head. "I hope Lyon get their butts kicked." Then back to Avery with a kinder countenance.

"Anyway, glad you're over it. I'm starting to think I'm over this island, this wacky-ass amusement park. Too much weird shit going on."

Wonder where she learned it from? Avery grins at his assessment of her approach to the idea. Mother, Father, Brother? Was it just a habitual family trait to not trust people? To not let them in?

Duncan being distracted for a moment allows her to take a dep gulp of her beer, glancing at the TV as he comments on whatever was being said, she missed it, "You're a snob." she retorts like a sister.

Buttttttt then he says what he does and the abandonment feelings start flooding back. "Wait what?" she starts, "Your leaving?"

A shrug of those big shoulders is his immediate answer. Not exactly comforting, that, but one senses that Avery's startlement might surprise him. There's a pause before answering, a moment to gather his breath and find the right words to explain his thinking at least.

"I..." Another pause, a false start then. A sip of his Irish ale, then he tries again. "I don't know. I'm not sure yet. My knee's feeling better and my art... well, they let me put Take It Easy up in the Seeing Eye. The one I'd been working so hard on, the one with the American cars from the Seventies? If I can sell it to some wealthy tourist, I'll have enough cash to write my own ticket for a while."

A moment, a space to breathe in, then Duncan concludes, "It might be better. Like I said... it's weird here. You can make ice. I can conjure fire. That shit isn't real, Avery. Everyone around here seems to pass it right off, but I don't think I can. There's a lot of fakes in this world, mon cher. And this park seems to draw more than its fair share. I mean... what better place for a fake to feel real?"

The hand around the glass of beer she is holding starts to frost. Avery's upset, and it's starting to come out in a magic form of way. Even for a moment, she is nodding her head in understanding and listening.

By the end of it all, Avery pushes the glass of beer away from her and towards where the bartender could take it back if he wanted to. "I get it," she says, calm and collected. "You got bigger and better things to do. It is weird and... Why stick around in a weird place with your sister?"

Avery's eyebrows draw together, nodding her head along with whatever she is thinking. "I should go. Let me know when you are heading out, ok?" Pushing off the barstool. Tucked into the back pocket of her jeans was some money; she fishes it out now and puts it on the bar. It's enough to cover her shot, beer, and tip.

Tapping the bar top, "See you around, Bro." and then she's off to the door.

Silently, Duncan soaks up the shifting moods of his sister like a bulwark against a storm, taking the battering of both unspoken emotions and the spoken words that purport to camouflage them. He could highlight the truth-- that all intentions aside, he can't go anywhere if the installation doesn't sell, and it's not like he has a buyer-- but he doesn't bother. That's not his way. Avery had her reaction. Let her live it.

"Yeah," he mutters, signaling the bartender for another round as he watches his sister leave. "See you around, Avery."