Kidd Spring Park
The remnants of the dense forestry are located in here, as paths lead from the woods to the more entertaining features of the park. A jungle gym, complete with a small clubhouse and slides make up a play area designated for children, as do a few sandboxes. A community rec center can also be found in the park.
Separating the trees from the busier points of the park is small lake. During the summer months, a life guard can be found on duty so swimming is allowed, and there is also a small dock from which paddle boats and kayaks are available for rent.
The day promises to be a good one. The wide Texas sky is bright with clouds dotting the expanse of blue. There are rumours of rain for later in the afternoon, but for the moment, there is absolutely no sight of a grey cloud on the horizon. It is the last 'official' day of Spring Break for the kids, and as such, most of Dallas' population of youth is out enjoying the weather. Soon enough they'll turn their attention to shopping indoors once again, but while the sun is out and high in the sky, they're finding their recreation on the rapidly greening grass.
Trees are blooming; dogwoods and fruit trees lend their colours to the reawakening earth. Dogs are out in great numbers, with some lying calmly on blankets soaking up the sun, and others running madly hither and yon in the search of the perfect stick, or that ball or frisbee that was thrown.
Brett Coleman has carved out a spot for himself with a red and white checkered tablecloth (courtesy of his mother), and dotting the sides are various bags; some paper, some plastic, and a dark brown leather briefcase. He's settled on a free edge, sitting crosslegged for the moment, dealing with the heavy-weight paper plates and plastic cutlery. It won't be until after he finishes working out how to keep everything from falling over that he'd even begin to touch the food and distribution thereof.. and he's not even close on that score.
—-
It's a good thing that Brett is still in the middle of getting everything set up, because Mignonette is running a bit late. Late, late, late. For a very important…date? Not her usual state of affairs. But finally, the SUV pulls into a parking space just outside of the park, and the door opens, allowing Migs to step down from the driver's seat, and close the door behind her. And today, she doesn't look anything like the lawyer, the negotiator or the business woman. Today, she's just a cajun girl from the bayou, complete with shorts and short-sleeved shirt, hair a bit blown about from driving with the windows down. Only the fact that she's wearing slightly dressy shoes gives any indication of, well, anything. Still, it's mostly besides the point, as she goes around to the back, pulling out a very country picnic basket, and after locking the car and sliding the keys into a pocket, she starts off into the park proper, scanning for any sign of the person who's got her out here on a lovely Sunday afternoon.
—-
While he can't claim to have always been so, Brett doesn't really live by the watch. If asked, he's a more 'month by month' sorta guy. While he can easily spout off when sunset officially happens, he doesn't track the minutes and the seconds. As a result, he's just not all that worked up or worried about whether Mignonette is late or on time. If she doesn't show, he'll be … more disappointed than he would have thought— but he's got his 'fall back' plan of getting some work done before the week begins for him.
Giving up on setting out individual places for the moment, Brett stacks them on the side with the cups nearby. The plastic utensils are put back in the bag so as not to get dirt or the random bits of grass that seem intent upon gracing his blanket.
Exhaling, he leans forward and rests his elbows on his legs and looks out over the field dotted with trees. The dogs look like they're having a blast, as well as their owners.
Perking, as Brett is scanning, there's a moment when he thinks that he recognizes the form and figure of a person.. a most welcome person.. carrying—?
Putting his arms out to unfold himself and gain his feet, he leaves his place behind for the moment in order to help the almost unrecognized Mignonette with her burdens.
—-
"Hi." That's it. That's all Brett gets, as Mignonette's path converges with his, and the taller man moves to divest her of her basket. But it isn't for lack of, well, maybe it is for lack of anything to say. Truth be told, Mignonette isn't sure what the right thing to say -is-, and the shyness in the tone of her voice, and the expression on her face, up to and including the smile she offers say more than any other words could. But eventually, she does have to say something, so she tries again, "I got your note." Which can't been seen, but the stalk of bluebells that came with it can, as it's tucked into the strap that keeps the basket closed, "I didn't know what to bring, so I brought a few things, and they took longer than I thought to finish cooking, and…" She stops, taking a deep breath, "I'm late."
—-
"Let me take that," Brett reaches for her burdens, a genuinely pleased smile gracing his face. "You didn't actually have to bring anything. Well," he turns to escort Migs to where he's set up. "I was hoping you'd come, but…" anything else is just added benefit.
"You look good. Very.." relaxed? "..comfortable." The moment it exits, however, he wishes he could take it back. Doesn't 'comfortable' equate to 'messy'?
Brett does a quick mental dance, and adds, "I like it."
*sighs*
He knows better than to 'correct' her, telling her that she's not when she's already confessed, so honesty works really well. "I hadn't noticed, but it's fine. You're here, and I've got a spot carved out over there, just off the park migration route." Where dogs and children and other park patrons travel.
"I didn't know you cook."
—-
"I know I didn't have to," Mignonette begins, as she allows you to take the basket, using her new freedom to allow her the time to slip out of her shoes, and walk barefoot, carrying them in her offhand, "But I wanted to. You didn't think I'd come, after you invited me?" That at least turns Migs attention away from the uncertainty of the moment, but she does step it up, to keep apace with the taller man, "Thank you. It's nice to be able to wear whatever I want and just be comfortable and not have to worry if my hair's messy or my shirt doesn't match my shoes. You look very nice yourself. if you don't mind me saying." She seems to be getting her bearings, the further she walks, but she hasn't yet found a need to put her game face on, so, yes, she's still the country girl, which is real, and not the Savoy, which, mostly, partially, isn't. "Oh, I love to cook. That's one of the things I miss the most about being home, I don't have as many people to cook for. I mean, I've got Alex and James, and they come over whenever they can, some people from the office, if there's work to be done, but it's not the same, you know?" She pauses, her tone suddenly very serious, "I make the best chicken and waffles in East Baton Rouge Parish." And then, as suddenly as it came, the seriousness is gone and a smile is in its place.
—-
A lopsided smile appears as he takes the burden from Mignonette, and senses more than sees her remove her shoes without seemingly missing a stride. He's.. no, not impressed, but certainly.. no, not even surprised, but pleased that she has the ability to simplify and step down to take that breath of air and to take in the simpler pleasures.
"I.. uh.." Brett has the courtesy and honesty to look a little sheepish in the admission, "wasn't sure you would." He leads the way if only by a half step towards the blanket. It's not far, "I'm glad you did, though."
Could he say that any more than he has?
Looking down at Mignonette's compliment, he's back to being a little self-conscious, "Still working out what I have for spring and summer." He's sure the sleeves will be rolled up soon enough. Or the oxford will be taken off completely, leaving the t-shirt beneath. "But thanks."
The topic goes back to something that he's only learned about her, and as they come to the blanket, he's ready to put the supplies down. "Do you have one of those big, stainless steel kitchens I see on those cooking shows? Pots hanging everywhere, big ol' refrigerators?" High end, top of the line.. and most of the time, he has no idea how anyone got any time to use half of the stuff that's put in there. "I'd get lost. My apartment has a kitchen that fits exactly one. Two, it gets kind of cozy."
Hearing the shift of tone, Brett pauses and studies his lunch companion for a long heartbeat before the grin relights, "I don't doubt that for a second. I love chicken."
—-
"It's been a long time, since anyone asked me out to do anything." That's simply, honestly said, as Mignonette continues along with you, pausing, once she gets to the edge of the blanket, and she sets her shoes down in the grass, and before anything else, she pulls a cleaning wipe out of the little pocket on the side of the basket to wipe her hands. At Brett's admission, her tone turns pointed, not upset, but, well, inquiring, "Did you think I wouldn't want to be seen with a schoolteacher? Someone who drives a pickup truck instead of a cadillac?" Still, she does step onto the blanket, settling in cross legged, as she reaches over for the basket, which, thankfully, you haven't set too far away for her to reach easily, "Oh no, the kitchen is actually pretty small, in the house, so it's nice, especially if you have someone cooking with you. The fridge is stainless steel though, if that helps." She moves to unfasten the simple catch on the basket, "I'm really glad you said that, because that was one of the things I brought." A beat, "You're not allergic to shrimp, are you?"
—-
Once again, Brett looks somewhat surprised, and ducking his head forward, he considers it a moment before he folds his legs under him and sits down in the spot he'd only just vacated when he'd caught her approach. He takes a second before he recovers completely, and there's the smile, "Then I'll consider your social calendar to be somewhat open for the next full warm day?" He'd like that, and just the fact that he's now thinking one step ahead would be enough to give him pause— if he even notices. Maybe later, in retrospect.
"Well, I would imagine there'd be a.." Standard? ".. there'd be expectations in social circles. Like.. even in social surroundings, there is something to 'image'. Now, if my superintendent saw us, he'd probably say, 'Attractive young lady…' and the 'safety' of students are assured and image of the school preserved. If, though, I'm with someone who doesn't quite.. fit the image of a teacher or the reputation of the school, while I wouldn't be called onto the carpet, my tenure might be delayed a little." Fact of life, and he's very much aware of it.
The 'heaviness' of the topic, though, isn't something he really wants to maintain. "But I promise I won't embarrass you should any client wander by."
On to food, however, which really is near and dear to his heart. "I like pretty much anything. BBQ, Mexican, chicken.. Shrimp is good." He chuckles, "I remember when I was a kid, my parents would occasionally bring home those big pound bags of shrimp. Boil them up, and my brother and I would go for hours pulling off their legs, shelling them.. all that work for a small mouthful. But there wasn't any better way to keep two active boys busy…"
—-
"Certainly there are always expectations in social circles, none more so than perhaps the sort you think my family would run in. But we're honestly not all debutantes and high-brow social climbers. One of the reasons my family has been so successful in their law practice is because we have always tried to find a way to maintain a relationship not only with the working class, but also with the white collar echelon. And that isn't just something that we do as a good business practice. It's part of who we are. I was never raised to think of myself as better than anyone else. That there were some people I should associate with and some I shouldn't." She begins, as she's speaking, to remove the things she's brought. The basket, thankfully, is neatly divided into two insulated sections. Out of one, she pulls out warm things. Fried green tomatoes, fried chicken, some mac and cheese. Out of the other she removes cold potato salad, some sort of chunky orangey-pink sauce of some kind, and a small selection of fresh fruits, "I'm just a girl, Brett, you know? And if you ever had something else you wanted to do on another full warm day, then I think there's be a spot on my calendar for you." She goes about setting things out as best she can. Finally, a carafe of what looks like fresh watermelon juice. "Me too, though, I will admit, I sort of have a fondness for spicy foods. I guess because I grew up on it." The serious topic set aside, laughter replaces her words, "You sound like Alex and me. My mother used to keep us busy with crawfish. We'd get so messy, pulling them apart, sucking the heads. We used to have special clothes to wear, she used to call them our crawfish cloaks, because we'd make such a mess of anything normal we might have been wearing."
—-
Brett nods as he listens to the recounting of her beliefs on the matter. With each word there's a sense of relief, though he's not identifying it as that quite yet, and he nods. "Makes sense in a way. Everyone likes to think they 'belong'. That the blue blooded, highly valued attorney is not only their representation but their friend." Of course, also makes for some odd bed-fellows, and he's -not- thinking in the literal sense. "My parents, though, always had a streak in them.. nothing bad, but because the family seems like they've always been in Texas, we know everyone's family." Except for transplants. "Who knows whom, who is going behind someone else's back.. It's a lot to keep track of." Grinning lopsidedly again, he waves it off, "Which is why I'm leaving it all to my mother. Though, she's made me promise 'a nice girl'."
What the hell is he doing?
Clearing his throat, he leans over as Mignonette begins to pull out the food one by one. With each serving, he can almost hear his stomach grumble and growl. The bags that he'd brought are also grabbed; lunch meat, rolls, deli pickles. "If you want spicy, I'll take you over to the Stockyards in Fort Worth one night. Best Mexican there is, short of going across the border. Some friends used to say they make the best margaritas, but I don't know. I don't drink much. Especially if I'm driving."
A laugh comes and he nods, "Childhood in the south? Toss the kids out with food.. and tire themselves out with eating something that takes a lot of work. I think we just stumbled on a secret of theirs."
—-
"Oh, my families the same way. I think ever Southern family is. We all want to know what's going on with whom, where and why. Grapevines may grow best in California, but I'm pretty certain they started out down here." Once Mignonette has finished setting out everything she brought with her, she pulls out the insulated liner of the basket, which unfolds nicely into something if not hard, well, at least firm, to set everything on. After that, the basket itself is superfluous, and that ends up on the grass, as she turns to help you with what you brought, "Probably a good idea, letting your mom handle the details. It's what I do, usually. But sometimes you can't always keep that sort of promise. The heart wants what it wants." Still, there's food to be put out and a meal to be eaten, and Mignonette is all about eating, "I'd like that very much. I love mexican, and I haven't had a chance to get over to Fort Worth yet. Not to mention that this city alone is so huge, it's hard to know what place is good and which isn't, unless you've lived here a few years." She takes the time to steal a pickle slice, munching unashamedly, "I'm not much of a drinker either, and almost never when I'm out." As for the secrets of southern mothers, well, "I won't tell if you won't."
—-
Brett decides that he'll simply seize on traveling and places to go. Safe there. Gone is the feeling he'd had the other day of inadequacy— just in terms of social status when it came to shopping in whatever store that was. (He'd found a nice shirt even if the employees looked down their nose at the fact that he fit into it properly right off the rack.)
"You'd like the Stockyards. Neon bars as far as the road goes, and great Mexican food. Of course, there's the various rodeos that come through, and the stock auctions. Place has been there for as long as Fort Worth has been, so it has this strange mixture of old and new."
Brett whistled at the layout and reached over to hand her one of the strong paper plates, a couple of napkins, the cups still set to the side. "And a couple dance halls, too. It's the only time I ever wear my boots." Every man, woman and child born in Texas has a pair. It's just a matter if they're worn or not.
"And that is a secret that I can't even tell my brother.. the discovering of mom's little secret. He'd tell."
—-
"I'd love to go to a rodeo," is Mignonette's immediate answer, just after she offers a 'Thank you', when you hand her the plate. And then, rather than serve herself, she looks back to you, "Would you like a little bit of everything, or just a few things to start?" She kneels up, to make it easier to reach everything, though she does wait for you, before she starts making your plate. She does need some guidance. After she's got a good handle on things, she'll be less reticent, "It sounds like a place I'd really enjoy." And yes, she's not just saying that. "I suppose I'll have to buy a pair of cowboy boots, right? The real kind, not the touristy kind." a flash of a smile, as she steals another pickle, "It's just you and your brother? I'm an only child, but my cousin Alex grew up with me, so he's the next best thing."
—-
"A little bit of everything." Coyotes are opportunistic hunters and scavengers, after all. Even if Brett doesn't look it, he doesn't like to miss a meal, as it were. He just keeps reasonably busy. "I haven't met a food I haven't liked yet. Rabbit. Deer. I think I've had a prairie dog…" He chuckles, "But not in some time."
The speed in which Mignonette expressed her desire to attend a rodeo brought another smile to the man's face. "We'll get some good bullriders through. They come through Dallas, too. You can practice on the bull before we go 'live'?" He's teasing her now.
"You'll have to have a good pair of boots, yes. I can help you find a good, solid pair."
Taking his plate once its piled, he puts it to the side and offers the carafe now. "Lemonade with cherries." Pouring two cups, he sets them down and retakes his plate.
"It's just me and my brother, yes. He's a little younger than I am. But he's my best friend growing up, and he's in Dallas. I'm hoping to grab him when I'm ready to buy a house." Brett pauses and adds, "He's a general contractor. And good."
—-
Mignonette, like many a good Southern woman, seems more than happy to pile your plate until there's not a single free inch to be had for love or money. And unlike many a good Southern lady, she's equally as happy to do the same for herself. She simply has no shame when it comes to food, "Have you ever ridden a bull? I'm sure I never have. I -did- wrestle an alligator once, but that was just on a dare." She accepts the glass, and sets it aside, for the moment, while she makes herself comfortable, "Thank you, it looks lovely. Everything does. It was very sweet of you to think of me." She does finally opt for sitting a bit off to the side, legs straight, toes wiggling, manicured, of course, as she looks at them, thoughtful, "Real ones, nothing girly." Well, only for a second, before she curls them back under herself and settles in, "Like Alex and I. It's usually a good bet if you see me out some night during the week he's with me. They sent him up from the New Orleans office to head up security for the office."
—-
"I've never ridden a bull, no," Brett shakes his head ruefully. "If I get near one, they get really.. unruly. I don't ride horses, either. So I just watch." He's a cowboy, but only to a point. Maybe 'urban cowboy' does work for him as opposed to the insulting 'city boy'.
"Wait.. wait.." The plate is ignored for a brief moment as he stares intently, "You.. wrestled an alligator. You." The food isn't going to wait, however, and he takes a forkful of potato salad, chews and swallows before, "I have to hear about this." Cowboy boots can wait…
—-
"Oh." That's just before takes a bite of one of the tomatoes, and the sauce, as it turns out, is a shrimp remoulade, which is a typical cajun preparation for the southern side dish. She continues after the bite is swallowed and she wouldn't be talking with food in her mouth, "Yes, so, I was home from my sophomore year at Columbia, and Alex wanted to take me down with him to New Orleans. He had arranged to be home on leave from the Navy when I'd be home for summer. So we were driving down, and there was this sign for a gator farm, and we pulled off to see what it was like. And so, they happened to have wrestling, and he dared me to do it." Mignonette takes the time to take a breath, and to have a few more bites, before she takes a sip of the lemonade, "It's wonderful. Did you make it yourself?" And then she continues, "So they found the smallest one they could find, but he was still sort of big, so I ended up grabbing his tail and holding on for dear life, and Alex grabbed the rest of him, and we managed to wrangle him. I think that's the term." And then, as she moves back to a point of previous discussion, "You don't ride horses…and you're from Texas?" There's a definite critical eye there, but just as much humour. She's clearly teasing.
—-
Sunny Sunday afternoon. Not a cloud in the sky. Rumours are rain later, but for the moment, there isn't the barest hint of a grey cloud. There are people out enjoying the weather— kids, pets, couples taking their afternoon strolls.
On a red checkered blanket there's a pretty impressive spread. Fried chicken, shrimp, potato salad, lunch meats, hard rolls, lemonade.. and that's only the beginning.
Brett is there, sitting 'Indian style' on the edge of the blanket with Mignonette sitting the same on another side of the blanket. The pair are talking easily, chatting, and there seems to be a moment where Brett is looking and listening intently to whatever it is that his lunch companion is telling him before he barks a laugh.
"Okay.. that so sounds like my brother. He actually dared you… and you DID it? Were you nuts? Or was it one of those…" sibling things he knew all about.
"There is no way that I'd consider doing something like that." Unless he was drunk, and then there'd be no hope of him ever remembering.
Brett shakes his head, "Oh no.. not leaving the whole alligator thing yet. And no, they don't like me, which is fine. Not insulted in the least. And yes." Brett unwraps long enough to poke at Mignonette with a sneakered foot. "Born and raised." So there!
—-
"Alex is five years older than me, I spent all of my life looking up to him, wanting to be just like him, nevermind that he was a boy and I was a girl. If he was going to do it, I was going to do it too and do it better." Oh yes, sibling rivalry was definitely alive in the Savoy/Benoit household. "We were so competitive when we were growing up. If he dared me, I would always do it, no matter what it is. I think it was his way of making sure I'd be alright, be able to handle myself, I don't know. But I -wasn't- drunk, and we did get that 'gator. They're strong, yeah? But their weakness is that they can't open their mouths with any sort of force. All their muscles are—hey!" Mignonette gets a sneakered toe in the hip, and Brett gets a blueberry tossed at his face for his trouble, "Just because I pointed out the obvious is no reason to get pushy. Mr. Coleman." She's still yet to use Brett's first name, but this time, his proper name's not used with any sort of ire. More humour than anything else, "I thought all real cowboys rode horses."
—-
After the whole conversation with Adam, Abbey had to leave the garage, either that or she was going to hurt something or something. She's managed to calm off to some degree just from walking for a while. At the moment she is slowly making her way through the park, unlit cigarette between her lips. Why is it unlit? Because Sam stole her lighter again, though just chewing on the butt seems to help enough to calm her nerves. Its better then some addictions at least. Her pale gaze slowly drifts over the area and the ones she happens to be passing as she wanders along, she didn't even realize how far she went by just walking. She turns her gaze catching sight of a few out with their dogs which of course reminds her of when she would bring Steele here. She really should find other things to think about.. A faint mutter escapes her as she continues walking, the wind brings plenty of scents to her, a few she actually knows and her gaze turns towards where Brett and Mignonette happen to be. Its not that hard to see that the two are on a picnic it seems, and she ponders if she should stop to say hi or just leave them alone as her mood isn't quiet the best at the moment. Still she turns and wanders on towards where the pair are sitting, choosing to at least say hi if nothing else. "Afternoon you two." Is offered with friendly tone and smile once near enough.
—-
"Oh yeah," Brett offers dryly, "never know when you'll be attacked by a small gator in an alligator house."
He raises his hand to keep the blueberry from hitting him, and manages to block at the last second. It falls to his lap, and he goes for it to pop it into his mouth with a grin. "Yes, but there are some of us that are just not built for saddles." Okay, a slightly off-colour joke, but it's a truism too! "And horses really don't like me." Prey animals. Coyote.
"I never claimed to be a cowboy. Just born and raised here. I know what's right, though.. and you 'gator wrasslin' is just so wrong."
The plate is recalled, and all the yummy food still upon it, and another forkful of potato salad is eaten.
With the proper timing, Abbey's approach catches him as he's spearing a shrimp. "Ms. Wallace.." His brows raise in askance. Unlit cigarette.. "Heya."
—-
Mignonette -is- a lawyer, and don't think she hasn't learned how to play dirty. And while Brett is trying to retrieve the blueberry, she aims another, this time at the top of his head, as he's looking down, "Clearly you've never lived on the bayou, or you'd know how lucky you would be to be with someone who -has- that sort of skill." She doesn't bother launching any more of the fruit in the man's direction, that would be a waste of fruit, but verbal assault she can still do, "Is that why so many of the men I see down here walk bow-legged?" A sniff, as she takes a dainty bite of the small sandwich she put together, "So if I'm not supposed to be 'gator wrasslin'," she does make her accent as down in the bayou as she possibly can, "What do you think I should be doing?" Brett sees Abbey first, but as soon as attention is called to the woman, Mignonette shifts, so she can look over as well, "Abbey, nice to see you out on a day like today."
—-
Abbey smirks faintly at the look she gets from Brett. "Sam hid my lighter again.. So its better then bitting my nails at the moment." A glance is offered to Mignonette. "Yes.. Its better then being at the garage right now." Sad thing is she lives there so she'll have to go home at some point. "Looks like you guys picked a good day for a picnic." She glances up to the sky, a faint smile offered. "I didn't want to bug you guys.. Just though I'd say hi."
—-
"Clearly," is given in a slow Texas drawl, accentuating the difference between the two accents. "But," here, Brett twists around theatrically looking first in one direction then the other, "this here is Texas, little lady. Don't see many of them there alligators 'round these parts."
The plate is put down and a piece of the fried chicken is held in his fingers. There is just nothing dainty about it, nor, in his opinion, should there be. Here Looosiana accented words could lead to real trouble, and it's with a grin he shakes his head. "Well, here in Texas," the drawl continued, the words slow and deliberate, "is the bull ridin'. We'll git yerself some real boots… and maybe teach you the Texas two-step while we're at it."
Looking up at Abbey, the smile doesn't fade, "It's okay. Not bugging us." Ever the gentleman that his mother raised, he gestures towards a side of the blanket. "Join us?"
—-
"I have a feeling there are a lot of things in Texas people aren't expecting to find." But, for the moment, Mignonette will let it go, as she sets down her own plate, moving this and that towards the center, to make certain that Abbey has as much room as she needs to make herself comfortable, Brett having already extended the invitation, "Why don't you grab something to eat instead, and you can just toss out the cigarette." Not that Mignonette is one to chastise anyone for their vices, but food is simply that much more fulfilling, "If I agree to learn the two-step, does that mean that -you- agree to learn to tango?" She doesn't pick back up her plate, instead, she moves to get a clean set of everything for Abbey. There's also two drinks, lemonade with cherries in it, and what looks like watermelon juice.
—-
Abbey is about to say something to the fact of her joining them, though with mignonette moving stuff around she figures she might as well stay. "Well.. If you don't mind a someone else then sure.. Thanks." This said before she sits herself down, cigarette grasped between her fingers and she smirks slightly at Mignonette. "There are worse habits.." She points out with an amused tone while the cigarette is stuck back into the pack that happen to be in her pocket. "An you can find alligators in texas you know.. Close to the Louisiana border in the swamp." She isn't about to comment how she knows that one though.
—-
"Last time I checked the Trinity River," that'd be the dividing river to the north of Oak Cliff and the rest of Dallas, "there weren't any alligators in it."
Brett grins at Mignonette at her pronouncement. He can't argue that for a second.
Lifting the prize winning fried chicken, he takes a bite.. and pauses, chewing slowly. For a long moment, he sits there.. and remembers, almost belatedly, that he really should swallow before he talks again. "This is.." Amazing?
Brett blinks as he takes notice that the ladies are shifting positions, making room, and he scrambles to aid in the moving of items around. Reluctantly, he puts the chicken down, but keeps a close eye on it. "Here, let me.." Grabbing a few things, he sets the empties just off the blanket and sweeps with his hand some of the grass that always seems to find its way onto the fabric.
—-
Brett, despite having to put down the chicken, and Mignonette work rather in sync, and as he puts stuff off to the side, she piles it all neatly in the picnic basket, making the area where the trio are now settled a bit more neat and tidy. There're just some things you -cannot- unlearn. Still, it doesn't take too long, before everything's make more suitable for three on the blanket, rather than just two. "You like it? It's my own special recipe. Alex says that's what got him through SEAL training. He used to bribe his CO with it." There's a sparkle in her eye. Must be a joke, "No gators…right now, you mean." She finally settles back down, reclaiming her plate, and her lemonade, "So why're you trying to escape the garage, Abbey?"
—-
Abbey helps move a few things around so she's not the third wheel that does nothing at all after being invited to join. She chuckles softly as she listens to the two. "Well that's true.. I don't recall seeing any over there but you know I did remember hearing some shark attacks in on of the major swimming rivers. Which isn't a surprise with how them rivers are attached to the sea at some point." She picks up the glass that Mignonette set out for her and pours the watermelon juice into the glass and takes a sip from it. Her pale gaze drifts to Mignonette at the question. A soft ah escapes her. "A client that I wanted to punch mostly.." Which is Adam keeps pushing her buttons she will at some point.
—-
Kidding? Brett can believe it, the chicken is just that good.
Once everyone and everything is settled, he reclaims the chicken and tears into it once more.
"No gators, now," he agrees. More than half the meat on his piece is gone, and there is only a couple more bites left. The skin, though.. that's completely gone. "See, sharks I can believe. But Ms. Savoy didn't confess to shark wrasslin'."
At Mignonette's question for Abbey, Brett is given the opportunity to take a couple more stabs at his plate, washing it down with the lemonade. "Ah.." is given in reaction. Probably better for his companion to quiz Abbey rather than him. He's more than aware there are just.. some things.
—-
"That's because you don't wrassle sharks. You put on a chain metal suit, and you go down in a cage and then you do the stupidest thing ever and try to get them to attack you." Mignonette returns to her fried green tomatoes, not having even started on the chicken yet, "Have you ever though about doing something that doesn't involve the garage, Abbey? I mean, I don't mean to sound harsh, but you're always there. Not to mention you live there. Maybe you just need a break from it for a while. A change of scenery. It might do you some good. And it's not like Sam and the others can't handle the workload."
—-
Abbey peers at the chicken a moment. "I didn't know you cooked Mignonette.. I just tend to burn everything I cook.. Save for noodles, just dump a box in some water and set the timer an I'm good to go." She's had many nights of just cooked pasta with a caned sauce, or nothing with it. A glance is offered to Migs and she grins slightly. "Well.. You can wrassle sharks.. just the little ones. I've actually caught a few at the beach, just pups was fun still." She blinks slightly at the talk of her doing something else and shrugs a moment. "I have no idea what else I could possible do.." Its not like she has a college degree here. "I was going to try and go camping for a few days at some point.. Thought about getting an apartment away from the garage and turning that space into a paint shop." She's quiet for a few moments, pondering over the possibilities perhaps.
—-
"That really does fall under the heading of 'animal harassment'," Brett grins. "Then again, I've seen you poke even the poor little sea urchins, Ms. Savoy."
Nodding at Abbey, he has to agree, up to a point. "I'm not a chef. Not by a long shot, but I won't starve either."
A glance is given to Mignonette before Brett shifts his position on the blanket and sets it aside for a moment. He uses the napkin to clean off the little residual grease from the food, wipes his mouth, and clears his throat. "Ms Wallace," he begins, "No one said anything about having to start a second job. This is Texas. What don't we have in this state? Rodeos. Dancing. Museums. Ghosts. I'm sure Ms. Savoy didn't mean you having to do something to earn more money. Just.. activities that would take you out of the garage once in awhile."
—-
"I've been cooking every since I could hold a spoon. Mother insists that no respectable Acadian woman can call herself so if she can't put a good meal on the table, no matter how poor the ingredients. I'd be more than happy to give lessons, if either of you are interested." Mignonette also sets aside her meal, for now, cleaning her hands and settling them in her lap, as she looks over at Abbey, nodding to Brett in passing, "Just because you -do- one thing for a living, doesn't mean that you can -enjoy- other things outside of it. I've always thought that when you spend time away from the things that you love, that you end up coming back to the those things feeling refreshed and more fulfilled for having been away. And it might very well be a good idea to find a place away from the garage, a place just for you, that doesn't have anything to do with your business." That was certainly one of the reasons Migs is no longer living in the Savoy corporate apartment.
—-
Abbey peers at Brett slightly. "Its.. Abbey.. Really enough with the Ms. Wallace.." She says after a moment. "I didn't think your meant another job." This said after a moment. Just working at the garage tends to actually keep her out of trouble she's found. A slight nod is seen as she listens to Mignonette. "I understand that. A few things lately just kept me from doing much else.." Like saving a certain lawyer from getting eaten, not that its a great excuse now that she's getting better there are talks of a few local races that she plans on getting into. "I have a few things in the works actually."
—-
"Okay." Brett is willing to take Abbey at her word with 'few things in the works'. With the suggestions made, he's willing to sit back and resume attacking his food. The fried green tomatoes are excellent, and his attention falls back to the shrimp.
"I'll think about taking you up on your offer of learning how to cook. My mother would be both proud and horrified, and," he chuckles, "I think a little bit insulted."
—-
"Well, I do hope that you're able to pull them together, Abbey. I don't mind saying, I've been a bit worried about you, lately. It seems like nothing good is coming out of that garage lately. At least not as far as your state of mind is concerned." She pauses, gesturing with a pickle slice, "Well, except for that Brian. Have you seen him, since Una Bella's?" Mignonette shifts her attention to Brett, considering his comment, "Well, I imagine that it would depend entirely on if you made her dinner and you burned the house down around her. And if she's like most Southern mothers I know, she'd probably think it would make you a more eligible catch."
—-
Abbey glances to Brett and then over to Mignonette curiously. "Worried about me? You don't need to worry about me. I've managed well so far." She's clearly not use to people worrying about her it seems. "I saw him the other day.. He found an apartment and I guess his all busy with that and the new job. He seems alright." She shrugs slightly at this while picking up a pickle and takes a bite from it.
—-
"Nah. Mom thinks I'd make a good catch just the way I am." Brett manages to say this with a straight face, though he can't hide the amusement playing in his eyes.
Now, he's eaten a good portion and has cleaned his plate at least once, but once is just not enough. Reaching for the bread this time, Brett pulls it open and starts loading the lunch meat on. Roast beef, cheese, mustard..
"Brian.." Brett's brow creases slightly and he headcants, "The guy who rented the truck and stayed with you for a bit?" There's a pause, then, "He seemed to like you. I mean, I noticed. Practically asked to take you out."
—-
"He -did- take her out, actually. I barged in." Okay, this isn't strictly the truth, she was invited to their table, but still. Her version sounds much more scandalous. "And yes, I'm certain your mother thinks you'd make a wonderful catch. But she -isn't- the one who has to date or eventually marry you. And despite the fact that the last time I actually was -on- a date was sometime before I got my JD, one thing I do remember, is that there's not many things more romantic than coming home and dinner's already in the making. It says, 'I know you could do this, but i want to do it for you.'" Mignonette reaches over, stealing a slice of roast beef from Brett's sandwich, before he can manage to put on the top of the roll.
—-
Abbey nods as she hears Brett while chewing on a bite of pickle. She blinks and just peers at him. "Really.. I totally didn't catch /that/.." This said with a joking tone. "The guy is new to town.. Don't think trying to take me out was his best call. I'm not the best person to date.." So she's be told by a few guys. Though in her defense its not like she could actually skip a full moon after all. A glance is sent Mignonette's way. "It was not a date.." There's a pause and she seems to think on this.. Was it a date and she just had no clue in the matter..
—-
"You should have heard the plans in the garage," a soft whistle sounds, "Days and days worth of events." Brett grins broadly, "That wasn't a 'could you name a few places' sort of—
"Hey!" Brett closes his sandwich quickly, the top bun making a soft, squishy noise due to the mustard. Now, vampires have celerity, that is, speed. Weres, sure.. they may be a little quicker. But shifters? No such luck. Left out in the cold. No extra speed anywhere. As a result, Brett will always be victim to sneaky, roast beef-stealing women!
"I'll make one for you." Barking a laugh soon after, he shakes his head, "Nothing says 'breaking and entering' quite like prepping dinner?" Is it that obvious that he's never dated anyone that would do that?
"And once it's dinner, where does it stop? Laundry?"
—-
"Oh, it was a date. And it seemed like it went pretty well, even after I joined the table." At Abbey's comment about her relationship status, Mignonette shakes her head, "You get out of a relationship what you bring into it. If you walk in thinking, 'I'm not a good date,' then the date and the relationship isn't going to end well. People judge you by the way you judge yourself. They may not know, consciously that they're doing it, but they do. And if you don't think you're a catch, which, for the record, you are, why should they?" As Brett makes the attempt to protect his sandwich, and makes the offer, Mignonette glances over, "Well, since you're forcing me into it, sure." As for laundry, "Sure, why not? Even the simplest things can be enjoyable when you do them together."
—-
Abbey blushes as she hears Brett and clears her throat slightly. "Oh.. so funny.." She offers while looking amused as Migs is able to steal Brett's food. A slight glance is offered to Mignonette, she's quiet as she listens knowing the other is right on the matter. "So.. you have a good point there.." Is offered after a moment before her pale gaze drift between the pair.
Brett gives Mignonette a long look and puts his sandwich down and out of the way before he picks up another roll and pulls it apart. Taking hold of the mustard again, he puts a generous amount on both the upper piece and the lower before grabbing the roast beef, then the cheese, and one more slice of meat before closing up the sandwich. A new plate is taken from the pile still within a plastic bag and the sandwich is placed upon it. The pickles are next, and he lays a couple slices on the side before he hands it over. "Voila.
"And doing my laundry is just.. wrong. Just for the record."
Nodding at Mignonette's words, however, he sounds in agreement. "She's right. See, there are times when she's paid to be right, and other times, like now, that it's all pro bono. This is one of those times."
A moment is taken in pause before he starts working his way to his feet, the sandwich still off to the side. "If you ladies will excuse me a moment.."
—-
A genuine smile, as Brett does the gentlemanly thing, and makes her a sandwich, "Thank you, Brett." And as he rises to leave, she nods, "Of course. We'll be right here." She certainly has no intentions of disappearing into the night. Well, the day, as it happens, "I'm sorry if I seem as if I'm coming off like your mother, Abbey, I really don't mean to be. But it's just in my nature to try to help people." Which Abbey should already know, what, since she's already sent James either directly or indirectly over twice to make certain Abbey was tended to?
—-
Abbey looks amused for a few moments while she watches Brett move off before she peers back to Mignonette. "Its alright.. Suppose I need someone every now and then to put common sense back into my head.. Anyway I'd say more along the likes of older sister then mother." An Mignonette has helped her out and she is thankful for that. "I do appreciate the help.." There's a slight pause before she goes on. "But you have to understand I'm just not use to it." She's pushed people away for long its not that easy to actually let certain ones back in. A faint smile is seen while she stands up. "I'm going to get going.. I have a few things to finish at the shop before it gets much later. Thanks for letting me crash your little outing."
—-
"People change, and our lives change. There are going to be a lot of things in your life that are going to happen that you're not used to. Give yourself time, and you'll be the better for it, I think." As Abbey moves to leave, Mignonette holds up a hand, "One second," that done, she goes about making a plate for Abbey to take with her, the tomatoes, chicken, roast beef, pickles, potato salad, even some mac and cheese. Everything they have set out. She covers the plate with another, before she hands it over, "So you don't forget to eat. And you're welcome, Abbey. You have my number, and you know you can reach me anytime."
—-
"So I'm starting to find out.." Abbey offers after a moment. She turns to leave but pauses and peers at Mignonette before ahing, as if thinking about stopping her but just stops herself. A slight smile offers as she takes the plate. "Thanks.. An I'll call you later maybe. Tell Brett I said bye?" This questioned before she turns and leaves. "You two have a nice 'date' now.." The last bit offered with a joking tone.
—-
"I will, and you're welcome." Mignonette watches Abbey, until the woman heads out of the park, before she returns to the blanket, and she goes about cleaning up and consolidating as best she can. This seems to have become the MO of her life. People, people, people, and then nothing. Everyone just cuts and runs. "Well, I -know- it's not my cooking. And I did take a shower this morning, combed my hair, even painted my toenails." Mostly, she's just talking to herself, as she cleans up, using the bags Brett brought to consolidate the empties and the dirty dishware.
—-
The small building on the other side of the clearing is something of a walk, and it takes Brett more time crossing the grass than inside, and as he heads back to the blanket, he sees only one person at the blanket rather than the two he'd left. As he gets closer, his pace increases somewhat, and upon reaching the blanket, he rolls up his sleeves and circles around to 'his' edge again and folds his legs under him, "Where did Abbey go? She okay?"
—-
Mignonette was just setting Brett's plate on top of his briefcase, to avoid any ants that might want to crash the party, as the man returns, and she glances over, "She said that she had some work to get done at the shop before it got too late, and to tell you that she said goodbye." She settles back onto her side, after pouring herself a glass of the watermelon juice, the lemonade, her glass, at least, having been finished for a while now.
—-
"Oh.."
Brett looks around, having arrived at the tail end of the straightening. He exhales softly, "Thanks."
Retaking his plate from its new perch atop his briefcase, Brett nods at it, a half smile on his face as he turns his attention back fully upon his lunch companion. "Homework tonight, then. And I really don't mind. I enjoyed this. Now, this week will be filled with classes and my turning in for the night early out of sheer exhaustion."
His head cants, a smile playing on his face, "Rodeo isn't due in town for another month. Bull riding has arrived, though. Then there's the Stockyards." Twisting around to check his position in the park, Brett sees a familiar landmark and follows it from there with his gaze, "Or ghost hunting in the Historic section?"
Making sure this isn't the last outing they have?
—-
Mignonette has settled herself comfortably back onto her half of the blanket, seeming content, for the moment, with her juice and the sandwich you made her, "I'm sorry you weren't here to say goodbye to her," is the carefully worded answer, "She just…left, rather abruptly." As Brett recounts the events he has planned out for the rest of the week, "Do you enjoy it? Being a teacher, I mean?" Certainly it's not a career Mignonette has ever had the opportunity to explore, "Can't we do all four?" It is four, right? Rodeo, bull-riding, mexican, ghost hunting, yep, four, "I mean, if it wouldn't be too much trouble for you. I'm certain you have other commitments, not only to your students."
—-
Brett really isn't all that sure what to say about Abbey's departure, when put the way Mignonette had. At first glance, it had appeared to him that Abbey needed someone to talk to. And, as Mignonette and Abbey are friends, and as a guy, there are just some things that won't be said in front of him that perhaps needed to be said?
Or perhaps he's got that all wrong.
"I hope whatever it is works itself out." There is, after all, only so much one can say or do before it's left up to the person being aided.
The change of topic was a welcome one, and reclining onto his side with the sandwich in front of him, his crooked elbow rested on the blanket and his head was held by flattened palm. "I do like it. I think I do an okay job at it. Once the discussions start, the kids actually ask questions and always surprise me when they apply something that happened a hundred years ago to day. Especially by the kids who had my history class and signed up for my civics course. That's when I know I got them." Brett chuckles and shakes his head, "And they said I'd become a millionaire if I taught. Still not seeing all the zeros."
Pushing himself up slightly, he takes hold of the sandwich, biting, chewing and swallowing quickly. "We can. One a week or so?" He grins, "I've started to look for a house, and I'm hoping to meet with the real estate agent soon. Or, me and my brother. I'm hoping to move in by the end of the school year, so I'll be using some of my time after school in searching. But.. but.. I'd really like to make a firm day for the trip into Fort Worth for the Stockyards before we leave."
—-
There's really nothing much more that Mignonette can say, all this considered. There's only so much she can give Abbey, before the woman has to step in and accept the helping hand. And she is a grown woman. And so, for now, Mignonette sets the topic aside, turning instead to the subject of events to plan. That she can manage, "I'd like that. My evenings are usually free, and my weekends almost always, I mean, I do work when I get home, but it's easy enough to arrange things." And then, she's content with silence, listening to Brett talk about his work, and his students. At the last, she does offer, "Money, despite what people might like to believe, really doesn't buy happiness, if anything it just creates more problems than you'd have if you were poor." That, at least, she knows something about, "If you need help with inspectors, or need reliable information on the house and the owners, you can always come into my firm." It's just an option, "How about next Saturday? That'll give you a night of rest from work, and leave you Sunday free to prep for school the next week?" It seems reasonable enough, and likely the pair will continue along this vein, either until the food is finished, and call the picnic a success or they simply pass out from food coma and trundle off whenever they both wake up. Either way, the afternoon luncheon ends with a successful outing and equally successful plans for at least four more to come.
