There's no way the Admiral is going to show enough mercy to assign Sam as his proper Warden; it would be too kind.
His eyes dance over the offerings. He's confident he could clean all of this on his own, but the fact there's so much, both in amount and diversity, is wonderful. But he knows better. He laments not being prepared or he would have brought nicer food. He'll have to make due.
Sweeney reaches into his jacket and pulls out two apples tucked in his large hand, and sets them on the bench next to the tray. His hand back in, he produces a wheel of cheese, wrapped loosely in a tea towel; it's missing a chunk, but it's what's on hand. Lastly, a small satchel filled with odd candies from Flotilla. Sweeney's found that candy is generally well met for trade here.
Sam's brows go up, pleased at the apples. He hadn't any, and the ones in the greenhouse seemed to have... claws. The cheese and sweets are likewise welcome. "You didn't have to bring anything, but that's right kind."
Okay, they have food, they have tea, they've talked about the garden, and there's no weather. So it must be time to talk business.
Sam's shoulders ease, with a bit of a chuckle. "Wardening. Been making my old Gaffer's tea since I can remember, though my Rosie says it's a wonder I haven't starved him. But where I'm from, the only wardens I know of is those elves in Lórien, who keep folk out of their wood. Though maybe it's not so different, since they're the ones who know all the paths and where's safe and all. Guides, to folks as need it."
"Guessin' we don't run in the same circle of elves. Ones I know are a bit more likely ta see folk pulled off the path." He wets his lip as he glances back down to the food, trying to figure out what to start with.
"As far as I can tell, there inn't a universal way ta warden. More 'bout bein' yerself or some shit." One shoulder shrugs.
"'specially while yer tempin', seems ta be mostly a 'make sure they have what they need an' stay outta trouble gig. Punish them if they misbehave." Sweeney peeks back up.
"Though I've ne'er seen a proper list of rules, much less the assigned punishments fer that shit. Only one I'm sure on is 'no killin''." He rolls his eyes. "E'eryone seems ta agree on that one." Which Sweeney thinks is kind of dumb, given the 'not staying dead' bit, but whatever.
"You got any specific questions yet? Or ya still workin' on dealin' with the general level of bullshit?"
"Do you have what you need?" he asks, looking at him over his tea. The delicate cup looks a little silly in Sam's work-worn hands, and will look like a toy in Sweeney's.
As wee as things are, Sweeney has no complaints. He's not a big tea drinker, but he certainly doesn't mind it for the sake of being social. The question earns a shrug of his head.
"I do a'right." He slowly exhales while he plucks up a biscuit.
"Shit I need is too 'xpensive ta ask fer." Sweeney sucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I ain't got that kinda capital. Just lookin' ta earn it." His head tips, weighing another point.
"Course, I've been with temps fer nearly two years. So yer likely ta run inta folk with more pressin' needs as shit goes on."
"There's a Lucky Coin. My Luck; all wrapped up in it." His jaw flexes slightly, and he keeps his focus low, on the food.
"My Luck's fer shit 'til I have it back, but right now it's in Dead Wife's chest, keepin' her up an' movin'." It's clearly tied to a good chunk of self-loathing.
"Adm'ral's got my magic tamped down. Need that back, but without my Coin, I'm a walkin' disaster." Sweeney rolls his eyes at himself.
"An' I gotta curse." That has a far deeper shame. "Where the Mad comes from." His hand lifts enough to imply 'in my head'. He's managed so well to keep free of the moniker, but he knows it's on the roster and his ledger page, so Sam clearly already knows it.
The Luck doesn't make sense to Sam until Sweeney says magic, and then his expression clears. Magic accounts for all manner of oddness and strange goings on, plainly.
"I've seen madness," he says, after a moment to get past 'Dead Wife.' "The sort as makes a fellow a stranger to himself, or if not a stranger, certainly no friend. Like that?"
"Not a stranger." Sweeney's lips press. It's not a favorite topic. He swallows and licks his lips to part them.
"I weren't always a Leprechaun." A slow sigh escapes through his nose. "Been lots'a things, lots'a lives. They...stack. Bleed. I...get lost in myself. Memories." Sins. He hopes that makes some level of sense to the stranger.
Sweeney tips his head, as if weighing the suggestion.
"I got someone that helps me. Can't stop me from gettin' lost, but helps me get back ta the present as quick as I'm able." He's grateful for her every day. Sweeney can't imagine how he'd manage without her.
He swallows, a clear hesitancy catching him in the question. After a breath too long, he shakes his head, trying to shrug it off casually.
"Nah. She f'gures it out. 'pparently, I ain't a hard read." Even at a distance. She's private, and he doesn't want to complicate anything by burdening her with the worries of others. She'll find him, he's certain.
"Normally, I just hole up in my cabin an' let shit blows o'ver."
Sweeney accepts the offer without protest, though he doesn't know if he'd take Sam up on it. There's a level of intimacy there that he just hasn't found with many people. Realistically, only Tiffany and Swamp Rat. They let him be naked enough to be fucked up.
"'ppreciate it." His gaze wanders over the space. "Sure is hell'uva lot nicer than my fuckin' motel room."
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Spam
Date: 2022-07-29 06:46 pm (UTC)There's no way the Admiral is going to show enough mercy to assign Sam as his proper Warden; it would be too kind.
His eyes dance over the offerings. He's confident he could clean all of this on his own, but the fact there's so much, both in amount and diversity, is wonderful. But he knows better. He laments not being prepared or he would have brought nicer food. He'll have to make due.
Sweeney reaches into his jacket and pulls out two apples tucked in his large hand, and sets them on the bench next to the tray. His hand back in, he produces a wheel of cheese, wrapped loosely in a tea towel; it's missing a chunk, but it's what's on hand. Lastly, a small satchel filled with odd candies from Flotilla. Sweeney's found that candy is generally well met for trade here.
Re: Spam
Date: 2022-07-29 07:25 pm (UTC)Okay, they have food, they have tea, they've talked about the garden, and there's no weather. So it must be time to talk business.
"You know I 'aven't done this before."
Re: Spam
Date: 2022-07-29 07:37 pm (UTC)"Then you've got me fooled. Don't think I e'er been served so nice a tea." Then something else comes to him, and he tilts his head in question.
"Or ya talkin' 'bout the Wardenin' thing?" Because of course he hasn't.
Re: Spam
Date: 2022-07-29 07:48 pm (UTC)Re: Spam
Date: 2022-07-29 07:59 pm (UTC)"As far as I can tell, there inn't a universal way ta warden. More 'bout bein' yerself or some shit." One shoulder shrugs.
"'specially while yer tempin', seems ta be mostly a 'make sure they have what they need an' stay outta trouble gig. Punish them if they misbehave." Sweeney peeks back up.
"Though I've ne'er seen a proper list of rules, much less the assigned punishments fer that shit. Only one I'm sure on is 'no killin''." He rolls his eyes. "E'eryone seems ta agree on that one." Which Sweeney thinks is kind of dumb, given the 'not staying dead' bit, but whatever.
"You got any specific questions yet? Or ya still workin' on dealin' with the general level of bullshit?"
no subject
Date: 2022-07-29 08:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-29 08:15 pm (UTC)"I do a'right." He slowly exhales while he plucks up a biscuit.
"Shit I need is too 'xpensive ta ask fer." Sweeney sucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I ain't got that kinda capital. Just lookin' ta earn it." His head tips, weighing another point.
"Course, I've been with temps fer nearly two years. So yer likely ta run inta folk with more pressin' needs as shit goes on."
no subject
Date: 2022-07-31 02:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-31 03:33 am (UTC)"My Luck's fer shit 'til I have it back, but right now it's in Dead Wife's chest, keepin' her up an' movin'." It's clearly tied to a good chunk of self-loathing.
"Adm'ral's got my magic tamped down. Need that back, but without my Coin, I'm a walkin' disaster." Sweeney rolls his eyes at himself.
"An' I gotta curse." That has a far deeper shame. "Where the Mad comes from." His hand lifts enough to imply 'in my head'. He's managed so well to keep free of the moniker, but he knows it's on the roster and his ledger page, so Sam clearly already knows it.
no subject
Date: 2022-07-31 03:42 am (UTC)"I've seen madness," he says, after a moment to get past 'Dead Wife.' "The sort as makes a fellow a stranger to himself, or if not a stranger, certainly no friend. Like that?"
no subject
Date: 2022-07-31 03:48 am (UTC)"I weren't always a Leprechaun." A slow sigh escapes through his nose. "Been lots'a things, lots'a lives. They...stack. Bleed. I...get lost in myself. Memories." Sins. He hopes that makes some level of sense to the stranger.
no subject
Date: 2022-07-31 04:07 am (UTC)Briefly, he pats the pocket of his vest, but he's left his pipe inside. Ah well. He just wanted it for something to do with his hands.
"Is it the getting lost as is the curse? Or all the folk you've been?"
no subject
Date: 2022-07-31 04:21 am (UTC)"The other folk are part of the package." Which now that he thinks about it, certainly don't help. Maybe it is the curse. Or at least some of it.
no subject
Date: 2022-07-31 04:36 am (UTC)"I don't see as how it'd be expensive to ask other folk to help you not get lost, so I'm guessing it needs more'n talk and company."
no subject
Date: 2022-07-31 04:53 am (UTC)"I got someone that helps me. Can't stop me from gettin' lost, but helps me get back ta the present as quick as I'm able." He's grateful for her every day. Sweeney can't imagine how he'd manage without her.
no subject
Date: 2022-08-03 08:12 am (UTC)"That's as good. Should I know who it is, so's I can get her if you need?"
no subject
Date: 2022-08-03 08:21 am (UTC)"Nah. She f'gures it out. 'pparently, I ain't a hard read." Even at a distance. She's private, and he doesn't want to complicate anything by burdening her with the worries of others. She'll find him, he's certain.
"Normally, I just hole up in my cabin an' let shit blows o'ver."
no subject
Date: 2022-08-03 08:41 am (UTC)"You can come by here, too, if you need." Because he saw the way he looked at the garden.
no subject
Date: 2022-08-03 08:49 am (UTC)"'ppreciate it." His gaze wanders over the space. "Sure is hell'uva lot nicer than my fuckin' motel room."