We're not in Louisiana anymore...

[jwatson-cookie.livejournal.com]

[December 20th, Morning, Silk Road]

I would kill for a drink. Eight miles in the snow, and now my socks are nearly soaked all the way through. As I get closer to the town the snow is more and more cleared from the road. Thank god for the small stuff, right? I can feel the full weight of the bike in my shoulders. The snow caked on the tires makes the process of pushing it all the better. Should have filled up when I had the chance, but that old man was charging an arm and a leg for the damn stuff. Thinks he can pull one over on old Joe, huh? The buildings I see coming up in the distance all look oddly closed, but I attribute it to the cold. With a little luck this town will have a drink, and a place to fill up.

I stop for a moment, kicking the loose white powder from the tires. A futile attempt to make it a little easier to keep pushing. I light a smoke before continuing my trudge through the quiet town. Clenching my cigarette with my teeth, and throwing the old pack to the side, I put both hands on the handle bars again. The slight scraping of the rubber on the road is determined to drive me mad as I begin to take in the buildings. Anything to get my mind off of this cold task of mine. I am not really sure where I can stop, but I keep my eyes peeled for another soul in the cold.

The soft crunching under my feet echo in my mind. Each step is a little painful with the water in my boots. I wince a little, and begin to check the chimneys for activity. "Good gawd, I ain't never gonna get dry or warm again." It feels good to speak, cursing the cold. There are bells in the distance, chiming in to counteract my attitude about the whole situation. I argue with myself about my decision to ride north in the winter. All kind of pointless now. I am comforted with something to think about other than how damn cold it is.

Open to Verdi

Comments

[norn-verdandi.livejournal.com]

The Tavern's almost ready to open and I'm looking forward to it so much. Almost as much as I'm looking forward to Wanda's wedding and I smile, happy that she's found someone. Of course that means that Lucien's been cut loose and I smile again, thinking that maybe I should visit and offer some liquor and comfort. We're friends after all and there's no reason I shouldn't go see him.

I'm on the patio (http://pics.livejournal.com/norn_verdandi/pic/000agz0k), clearing the tabletops of snow when I hear, "Good gawd, I ain't never gonna get dry or warm again." I smile brightly, commenting loud enough for him to hear me, "It only seems that way because of all the snow. It'll melt eventually." He's soaked through, motorcycle and all and I offer, "Did you want to come inside and warm up a bit before you head off to--" I don't where he's going so I add, "Where ever." I point towards the tavern, "I have a fire going. There's no sense in wandering around in the cold, if you can help it."

[jwatson-cookie.livejournal.com]

The smile burst on to my face as I turned to see the cute blond to my side. I turn a little red, hoping it is masked by how wind-bitten my face must be, before I reply. "Sure does seem dat way." I give her a big grin, taking a couple steps forward with my bike, contemplating my luck. A cute girl, a drink, and a fire? Well, three out of four ain't bad. "I wouldn't say no to a spell 'round the fire." I push my bike a little closer to the large building. The snow-topped tavern sign read "The Tavern of Hell" and I chuckled a bit to myself.

Propping the bike against a nearby table, I stand up straight. I rub my hands together to generate a little heat, but I am distracted by the crick in my back. I make a show of twisting, this way and that, hearing the audible pops of my spine. It feels good not to be hunkered down over handlebars. "Dat dere is mighty kind of ya. I think I will, if you ain't minding." I take another step closer to the door, nearing closer to the woman. I offer a numb hand to my gracious host. "Name's Joseph, Joseph Watson. You'cn call me Cookie, near bout everyone does. And, who might I have the very fine pleasure of meetin'?"

I hope that my manners are well enough for these folks. I lick my cracked lips a bit before I smile again. The cold is still bitter against my skin, but it is better now, at least by a little. Eight miles walking alone makes me a little chatty, and it doesn't hurt that her smile is infectious.

[norn-verdandi.livejournal.com]

He blushes and I laugh softly before he says, "Sure does seem dat way." He give me a big grin and I smile in return, thinking about how lucky I am to meet so many new people and so often, even for a small town.

He leans his bike against a table before straightening up and then stretching. He reminds me of the Tavern cat, and I smile as I openly watch him before offering him a place to warm up. "Dat dere is mighty kind of ya. I think I will, if you ain't minding." He moves closer and I notice how tall he is. Only Gaueko and the deputy are taller, I think, and he offers his hand to me, "Name's Joseph, Joseph Watson. You'cn call me Cookie, near bout everyone does. And, who might I have the very fine pleasure of meetin'?"

I take his hand, shaking it firmly as I reply, "Hi Cookie. You can leave your bike by the side door. We'll go in by the kitchen door." I motion Cookie to follow me as I walk around the side of the building and say, "By the way, I'm Verdandi and this is my Tavern."

I open the door, leading the way into the kitchen. Pulling up a chair for him, I set it in front of the roaring fireplace. Handing him a few towels, I smile as I ask, "Are you hungry? I was just going to have a late breakfast and you're welcome to join me."

[jwatson-cookie.livejournal.com]

The chill in me is hitting pretty good as we stand there, shaking hands. She is oddly warm for the weather, and it is soothing to my hand. I nod when she tells me where to prop my bike. I walk over to the bike, and kick up the stand. The heat in my shoulders has reached a boiling point, and I grimace as I lean over the handle bars. I try to make it as quick as possible, pushing the damned thing.

It takes me only a few moments to get the bike to where it needs to go. I see her taking off to the side of the brick tavern. I catch up to her as she is entering into the building. The heat of the room hits me like a wall. My skin almost hurts with the sudden change of pace. The cold in my bones begins to melt away. The wetness of the snow makes me feel heavily damp, and I lick my cracked, dry lips again. Her invitation is the best thing I have heard all morning, and I beam in response.

"That is mighty kind of you dere, Verdandi was it?. I like that name, sounds, hrm, strong, ya know? " I say; taking a look around the spacious kitchen as I speak. I think about all of the things I could make in a kitchen like this, and the light in my eyes is telling. The rounded, double-sided fireplace burns to the side of us. I get an idea. Perhaps she would take a trade. "I tell ya though, so nice of ya to offer like this, how bout I is the one who should have to slave over a stove?"

I give her an inquisitive look, piquing an eyebrow at her as I grin. I unzip my leather coat, taking it off, and trying not to get snow all over the floor. I hang the coat over the chair closest to the fireplace, and look back over. She seemed awful nice, and it would be a change to have a good breakfast with a nice girl. Especially if I can avoid the snow in the process.

[norn-verdandi.livejournal.com]

"That is mighty kind of you dere, Verdandi was it?. I like that name, sounds, hrm, strong, ya know?" I chuckle as he speaks, liking the way his accent sounds to my ear as I lead him inside and say, "Thank you. My sisters' names are just as strong but I like mine best."

We enter the kitchen and his eyes light up. I chuckle again, because it's not me he's impressed by more, but my kitchen instead as he offers, "I tell ya though, so nice of ya to offer like this, how bout I is the one who should have to slave over a stove?"

Putting one hand on my hip, I smile wide, tickled as I say, "Men have offered me lots of things over the years but honestly, I don't remember anyone offering to cook for me," except for Edmund ...and Jenna. "But I won't say no, Cookie." I begin gathering items from around the kitchen, eggs, bacon, sausage, and I set them on the large table, asking, "Did you need anything else to get started?"

I have an idea here but I won't tell him, not yet, and maybe I'll see what I need in him. Smiling sweetly, I ask, "Did you want to change first? There's a small restroom right here," and I point out the employee bathroom as I continue, "You should be comfortable before you start. Who'd want to cook in wet clothes?"

[jwatson-cookie.livejournal.com]

I smile to her, thankful for a moment to dry myself off. "That sounds pretty good." My smile fades slightly when I realize where I left my bags. I whip my coat from the chair, and I give the door a glare before turning back. I grin when I see her. "I'll just need a sec. Be back in a jiffy ma dear." I don't want to wait. I always hate the anticipation more than the discomfort. I rush out quickly. My hands go numb in no time; which only hinders me on the ties.

It only takes me a couple minutes to get the bags off. I don't remember the last time I cursed at something as much as I did those buckles. I rush indoors again, quickly following the path we had taken. Again, the soothing wall of heat hits me as I hurry inside. I press the door closed again, denying the bitter cold. I turn over my shoulder and grin. "Shoulda grabbed 'em on the way in." I give a sheepish sort of grin, and dropped by duffle bags in the corner.

I quickly rummage through my clothes. My toes are aching something awful, and the longer I take, the longer this nice young lady has to wait for breakfast. I turn, remembering her in the room through my huff. I can't seem to say much, but I smile before I dash off where she had instructed the lavatory was.

It was a pain to take off my boots. I got my socks off, replacing them before my feet got to cold again. The boots would have to dry before I wear them again, but that fire should do the trick nicely. I run my fingers through my hair, brushing it from my eyes, and walk out again. I stop long enough to lift up a foot, proof of my dry socks, to her before I hang the wet ones on the back of the chair with my coat. Before thinking twice about it, I walk to my bag, and pull out my apron. Not the first time he would repay someones kindness with a meal they would never forget.

I walk to the counter, taking stock of more food then I have seen in a day or two. My stomach rumbles a little, and I laugh it off. Soon it will be fixed. They used to call it my 'Zone', the boy's did. I begin to cook, and the rest of the world melts away. A bit of this, and a tad of that. I taste each to make sure they are just right before plating it. It only takes me a few minutes, and my meal is ready.

I set the food out before my host first. I give her a fork, and an encouraging smile. I wait for her to taste it before grabbing my plate and setting it down beside her. "So, got anything might go with dat?" I mime a glass, wondering if it is too early for these people to drink.