Barnies and Bennies

June 09, 2018:

Two California transplants run into each other in Salem. Challenges are thrown.

Salem Center - Westchester - New York City

The epitome of gentrification.

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

OOC Note:

Surf Slang:
Barney – a surfer that is not cool, untalented, rookie
Benny – a person who is not a local.


June Moone was, though she would have been loathe to admit it, and rarely gave into the stereotypes of her kind, a California Girl. She had been raised in a land of sunshine, a land of blue oceans, of always new and endless construction. Anything older than fifty years was a relic. And so, when she she had found herself on the east coast, she had often had chance to remark to herself how odd and strange this part of the country was. With its red brick, and colonial architecture. Not all of it was period, of course, but it was a world away from the white walls and floor to ceiling glass windows of the west coast.

And so, having come to Salem to catch a show, she'd come early, to allow herself time to wander the streets, to take in the weird and occasionally wonderful world of the northeastern city. Thankfully, she didn't have a guidebook, or a need to keep checking her phone for directions to the New Salem hotspots. She simply allowed her curiosity to direct her to this store or that. Just now, she was stepping out of a small shop which seemed to specialize in old coins and other numismatic amusements.

-

Drake Riley hadn't really taken time to appreciate anything the city had to offer. Having come to the east coast under likely very different circumstances, he's mostly bee focused on his assumed tasks at hand. Today's is simply to get the lay of the land, so to speak. This nook of the city is the closest to his new, hopefully not temporary abode, and where he suspects he'll be spending a lot of his time when out and about. As such, he has no destination set in mind!

A door swings open, and he halts abruptly to avoid taking it straight on the nose. "Whoa, hey!," he startles. The woman left in its wake - June - gets an awkward laugh afterwards. "Hahah, sorry. You'd think they'd have entrances less right-on-the-sidewalk, right?" Dressed perhaps a little oddly to be roaming the city, Drake is sporting a dingy once-white t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and beat-up sneakers. One would be forgiven for assuming he has laundry going somewhere nearby.

-

June had had just enough of a glimpse of a figure out of her peripheral vision that she manages to reach out to grab the edge of the door before it swung full around and took out the poor unfortunate soul who had happened to venture into her surrounds. "Good grief! I'm sorry!" She didn't grab so well that she had managed to escape without injury, however, and a wordless sound which would have been a curse, if she hadn't actually been nearly face to face with a stranger, was her most immediate response. Her second, was to look down at where she's torn part of her nail away. They were short, and neat, but that never stopped calamity. But for the moment, she ignored the nail, in lieu of the young man she'd nearly laid out on the sidewalk, "I didn't realize the hinge was so loose, or I'd have been more careful nt to let it slam out like that. You alright?"

-

"I'm good!," Drake promises. Though having said that, he sidesteps a bit to clear the door's trajectory just in case the next person comes flying out with less wherewithal. "And hey, that keeps life exciting, right? What's a couple years off the ticket?" He offers the older woman a lopsided smile, then cants his head when he notices her noticing her fingernail. "Oh, are /you/ okay?"

-

Well, at least she's not precious about that sort of thing. June, glancing over to one of the many discrete trash bins that seem to dot the street, steps over to peel off the remainder of the nail and chuck it in. She'll take care of cleaning up the damage later, "Oh, sure, I'm fine. I've gotten sort of used to losing fingernails." Which might be one of the oddest comments ever to come out of her mouth, but true nonetheless. The smile she returns, settling back into herself and pushing the crossbody bag she's wearing back behind her back, rather than sitting on her hip, so that it isn't the next thing to get knocked into as they're standing out on the street. "It's just the bad years you're losing, right?"

-

"That's the idea," muses Drake, his eyes still on her finger. "Seriously though, are ya hurt? I might have a band-aid or something…"

Whatever she answers with, expressive emerald eyes lift to her face again. "I feel sort'a like I blundered right into you. Where were you heading? Maybe I could get ya something, maybe make up for it? I'unno."

-

"No, I'm not hurt." She does hold up her hand to exhibit it. "Didn't manage to tear down in the nail-bed, so it's just a home manicure lost. It's sweet of you to be concerned." In lieu of lowering her hand back to her side, June instead slips it into her pocket, as she steps back to avoid a woman and dog situation, "I wasn't heading anywhere, really, to be honest. I've never been here before and I as sightseeing before a show I'd planned to go to tonight. I'm June, by the way. And you don't have to get me anything, honestly."

"Okay. I always kind'a.. y'know.. don't know how someone means it when they say they lose a nail." Drake raises his hands, as if demonstrating. "I'm a guy. I can't relate." Indeed, his own nails are neatly trimmed.

"A show? Like a movie?," he asks. "I haven't run into the theater out here yet." After a quick beat, he backpedals a little. "I'm not trying to be nosy! I'm just new around here, too. Gone from one end of the country to the other."

-

"I imagine they're probably talking about snapping off one of those hideous fake nail jobs that seem to be all the rage. I usually lose mine on digs." She nods towards Drake's hand, "I'd keep mine that short, but sometimes they help to pick up fine items as you're sifting through dirt or sand."

"A drag show, actually. It's supposed to be at the music center. And I missed the date in the city," by which June must mean New York, everyone pretty well means New York when the say 'the city' around here. "So here I am. I'm not sure there's a theater around here either, although I did see a mall on the drive in." The mention of going from one end of the country to the other catches her interest, "You from out west?"

-

A drag show. Drake blinks at her. Not exactly his idea of a good time, but hey, whatever lights her candle. She says other things that are more interesting than that, anyway. He has the mental image of her delicately pinching a bone in some dig site with nothing but her fingernails. Actually, that sounds pretty uncomfortable. But before he can get into that, he seems to've brought up something she's interested in, herself.

"Yep. California born'n raised. It's a long story, but this is definitely, uh.. different." After a beat, he says flatly, "I miss the beaches."

-

The look on the young man's face at the mention of a drag show actually causes June to burst out laughing, "I know, I probably hardly seem the type, right? But there's something about the performance of it, the unapologetic nature of it. The idea of being able to transform into something so completely, especially when it's your polar opposite, just fascinates me. I tend to prefer the comedy queens to the song and dance ones, though." The laughter fads, but the smile remains at his revelation, "Me too. I grew up in Calabasas. Not the right side, of course. But I miss the beach. It's not the same here, even when it's warm. It smells wrong, you know what I mean? Although…they do like a good boardwalk down in New Jersey. Have you been?"

-

Drake Riley wrinkles his nose a little at the revival of the drag show. It's clearly not his preferred form of entertainment, but he summarizes his feelings on it with a passive shrug. It could be argued that there's something there for mutants like himself to grab onto thematically, but it just doesn't appeal to him. "To New Jersey? Huh-uh. I basically went from California in a totally straight line to here, then stopped. And no, you're right, the smell's all weird. Not enough ocean. Or maybe it's blowing in from the wrong direction. /Something/."

The teen exhales a puff of a sigh, then continues, "And the sunsets, the skyline, all that good stuff. It's a lot noisier here." He pauses to glance around the surrounding Salem Center, then back to her. "Well, not /here/, but in general. New York's noisy."

A grin soon finds his youthful features, and he hooks his thumbs into his pockets. "You a surfer?," he asks, voice lilting just a hint on teasing.

-

June, for her part, seems not at all to be bothered that the young man doesn't seem as enthused as she is. Quite likely she's grown accustomed to that sort of thing. People like what they like, right? "I'm actually living in Gotham, at the moment, so the first thing I did, once I'd settled in, was try to find some part of New Jersey that had even one redeeming quality. It was a job, let me tell you. But the boardwalk at Sea Isle City is fantastic. More midway games than you can shake a stick at. You're right about the wind though, I think. I mean, I stand on the beach at home, and I feel like the horizon is stretching out to infinity. I stand on the beach here, and I feel like it's shrinking in on me."

"And rude. Everything's so hurry up and go. Don't look at anything, don't dare stop on the sidewalk, and for the love of god, don't say hello or good morning to anyone, they'll think you're either a panhandler or a mental patient." A shake of her head, at his question, "Not for a long time. When I was a kid, I used to ride the hell out of my boogie board, but once I hit high school, I was so busy with classes and schoolwork, I never had the time. I was the kid who'd sit on the beach and complain that there was sand in my textbook."

-

Drake Riley hunches his shoulders a bit. "Yeeaah, I've noticed the weird sort'a attitude here…" Although he's less ready to criticize them for it. What he's wearing now could actually be considered 'nice' compared to what he'd been wearing since arriving in the city. Homeless people don't draw the best reactions out of people. But the boyish grin soon returns, taking on a playful tone. "Hah. You're a nerd~," he teases. "No way we would'a been friends. I'd've been bugging you too much to drop the book and come out to the water. I'd drive ya nuts."

-

"I don't mind that people are different, I get that, hell, I've seen that all over the world, but there's such a lack of…I don't know, human feeling or compassion, I don't even know the word for it. I mean, it doesn't cost you anything to be nice to someone. Or to help someone out who's in a bad way."

June's grin is absolutely unapologetic. "Oh, I was absolutely a nerd. I'm sure most of the people who know me would tell you that I still am. But I don't think that would have meant that we couldn't be friends. I mean, I might have tried to brain you with a book once or twice, but I might have gone out eventually." She takes a moment to chuck her head in the direction of a diner across the way, "I wouldn't mind grabbing a drink. Want to walk with me.." she falters a moment, as if realizing that he's never actually told her his name.

-

"Drake," he introduces without missing a beat. "And sure, I could do that." He's accumulated enough for that, he believes. Not much beyond that, but that's something she doesn't need to know. He motions forward, inviting her to lead, "After you." Of course, once she gets her heading, he'll be walking more or less beside her.

"What's your name, by the way? And you were probably the type to wear normal street-clothes to the beach, too. Which, y'know, would just make it more agonizing trying to get you in the water."

-

June seems to have decided on the sort of retro-style diner across the way, so neatly worked into the gentrified neighbourhood that you'd almost be forgiven for thinking that it was authentic, and not purpose-built. "I'm sorry, I was sure that I'd said. I'm June. Moone. Yes, I'm serious." Because if that's not the most quintessentially hippie California name, well. "I probably would have. I did own a couple of swimsuits, sometimes I remembered to put them on underneath."

June paused, checking the street before she quickened her pace to lope across, moving with an easy economy of movement, stopping on the other side to allow Drake to catch up with her, "Good to meet you. Always nice to find a bit of home when you're so far from it."

-

"If ya did, I missed it," Drake admits easily. He trots after her as she lopes along, a little more heedless. He doesn't care where they're going, so long as they're remaining in motion towards something. Well, and as long as it isn't a bar. They might have difficulties if she tries to take him to a bar. He might have been flattered, though.

"June Moone. Easy to remember, at least!" Once they reach the other side and near the diner, he hastens to the door ahead of her and pulls it open for her. "/Sometimes/ you'd remember. Yeah. You'd drive me nuts, I'd drive you nuts, it'd work that way."

-

"Sometimes, I think the best of friends tend to do. Well, that's what I've always thought, any way. I wasn't much good with friends when I was younger." June, seeing Drake move around her to get the door, dips her head in a polite gesture, "Thank you. You keep that up, and people will know you're not from around here." That's said in friendly fashion though. perhaps he hadn't meant it to be flattering, but it was. Old school manners always were.

June stepped inside, moving towards the hostess station, "Two please. Could we have a booth?" The woman who greeted her nodded, adding a, "Sure, no problem!", grabbing up two menus and turning to lead them into the half full dinner, towards a booth with a nice street view.

-

"I could think of worse fates," Drake muses.

Once inside, he simply follows the females along to the booth in question. Once they've arrived, he shifts onto one of the cushions and scoots all the way in. The menu is taken as it's offered, but he already knows what he's getting. Having little to no money in the Big Apple sucks, but he's made due with less at hand. Things could be worse.

Naturally, the two are prompted for drink orders first. "Ah, Coke's fine for me." He glances to June.

-

"They might think you were from Brooklyn." Even June, new as she was, knew the reputation Brooklyn had for hipster beards and new bohemian naval-gazing. June settles into the seat opposite Drake, the one which allows her a good view of the door, as well as the existing view of the sidewalk. A hand slides the single set of silverware and wrapped napkin left on her side after the hostess takes away the extra in front of her as she scoots in to sit against the wall. "Unsweet iced tea for me, and a glass of ice water."

Once the waitress heads off for the drinks order, June inclines her head, "Lunch is on me, if you're hungry. The least I can do after I nearly laid you out on the sidewalk. And to thank you for being a little bit of home." Because he hadn't chosen to actually be from California, but he had chosen to talk about it and share that bit of camaraderie.

-

Drake Riley watches te waitress take her leave, then returns his attention to June in time for her to make her announcement. He blinks. "What? You don't have to do that. All that's free. I don't mean whacking me with a door is free, I mean the.. me.. not.. flipping out.. uh.."

He's managed to lose his train of thought. He tries this from a different angle.

"Whatever would the townsfolk say?," he teases with a perked eyebrow. "A lady, getting a guy lunch? The /gossip/, June. The bitties wouldn't be able to fan their faces fast enough!"

-

"I know I don't have to. But I want to." She isn't going to push though, leaving it to him to decide to eat or not. Talk of gossip actually brings a rather delighted glimmer to her eyes, "You know, that is actually an incentive, rather than a deterrent. I've had a few people tell me that I need to try to come out of my shell more. Today might be the next day along my journey to full blown extroversion." She pauses, as she sees the waitress returns with their drinks.

-

"Is that so?," asks Drake, more focused on the woman in front of him. "In that case, alright. Here's a challenge. You order." He leans back with a cagey smile. "All of it. My tastebuds are at your disposal. Will you be evil and order something gnarly? Will you be good and order something-.. uh, good? Let's see what kind of person you are out of your shell!"

Drake quickly follows June's gaze to the waitress, then right back to the woman. He perks an eyebrow at her impishly.

-

June's grin only widens as Drake steps up to the challenge, her brows waggling as she turns to the menu, skimming over it to pick out a few things. "We'd like to start with the wedge salad. Extra blue cheese." Which does seem a bit daunting, as she follows with, "Or maybe…no, the wedge salad. Oh…I'll have the fish and chips. Could I have the chips extra crispy? And he'll have the steak tips and baked potato, with everything. Extra butter. And for dessert two orders of caramel bread pudding."

"Oh and one of your fried scrapple sandwiches."

-

Drake Riley looks ever more intrigued as she seems to accept the challenge. And as she waitress comes in to take the order, Drake leans back. He should've been bracing himself. As she orders, he blinks owlishly at her. And when the waitress is finished writing it all down and scurries away, Drake… continues to blink at her.

"You just wanna see if I'll balloon out like a cartoon," he concludes with a squint.

-

The look June offers, as the waitress wanders off to place their order, and Drake offers his commentary is nearly angelic. "I ordered a salad. Two salads, in fact, one for each of us. That's downright healthy. I would going to go with the chili, because I have a pathological need to try the chili anytime it's on the menu at a place I've never been to, but I thought we might need roughage."

"If it makes you feel better, if you do blimp out, I will happily roll you down the street to your next destination."

-

"You'd /like/ that, wouldn't you," Drake states more than asks with an animated near-shut squint. Really, he couldn't possibly squint any more at this point.

Leaning back again, he exhales a breezy sigh and relaxes his face. "It does sound good, though. You sure that isn't too much? You mentioned a dig earlier, are you like.. Indiana Jones? What do you do?"

-

"Well, yes. I do think I might get a kick out of it yes, surfer boy." Since she's 'nerd girl' in this situation. "As long as I didn't run you into any garbage cans or loose track of you in any busy intersections." A shake of her head, as she lay claim to her cutlery, pulling off the paper band holding it all together and beginning to crinkle fold the band as if it gave her something to do with her hands, "Oh, yes, quite sure. And yes, I'm an archaeologist. I also work authenticating artifacts for museums and private collectors. Mostly freelance work, so I can make my own hours."

-

"Huh," says Drake, at a loss to contribute any more. Poking around in the dirt doesn't sound especially appealing to him, though ancient things are cool enough. He'd be more interested in it once it's actually cleaned up and in a museum. "Then what brings you out here? A client?" After a beat, he grins. "That makes it sound so… /unscrupulous/. Like you're working for The Don or something."

-

June actually laughs, at Drake's comment, a shake of her head following, as she pauses, the salads being dropped off. Extra blue cheese, thankfully on the side though. But still, the smell of it is powerful strong. At least the wedge of iceberg lettuce looks fresh and the bacon's crisp. "You know, you wouldn't be far off. I actually came at the behest of a longstanding customer. They wanted me to consult longterm and most of their business seems to be centered here. To be honest, I haven't really been back home in years. There's always some dig or musty, dusty place to explore. Some job that needs doing."

-

"At least you're not bored, right?," offers Drake.

His nose crinkles at the salad. Not his usual food, but he's willing to give it a shot. If nothing else, he made the challenge and she accepted. It's on him to go for it. In a way, he brought this upon himself. And so, Drake begins picking at the salad in an almost avian manner. "Bet it's kind'a lonely, though," he adds offhanded.

-

"No, I suppose I'm not. I literally never know what I'll be working on from one job to the next." June, in all honesty, is doing bit of picking at her own salad, though she does begin to make inroads into it. "As a rule, I really don't like blue food." And some of the cheese crumbles are ferociously blue. Something in his final comment tempers June's previous cheeriness, "Yes. Most of the time it is. I try to find something to anchor myself to, but it's hard. People, pleaces, they don't always want you holding on to them."

-

"Well, I recently lost a lot've people," Drake notes bluntly. "Had to leave'em all behind. So I get that. But I'm definitely looking for more, uh.. anchors, is how ya put it." He lifts his gaze back to her, his smile a little gentler. He knows she's older than him, and likely by a fair margin. He isn't trying to hit on her, but she /is/ nice. It's been good to feel normal again, for as long as this can last. "I'm happy to be a point of, uh… humanity…? You get what I'm saying, right?"

-

June lifts her eyes from her salad, though her knife and fork are still in 'attack formation'. She's not about to insult Drake by invading his personal space, his bluntness sign enough of how welcome that might be, especially from a woman little better than a stranger, "I'm sorry, Drake. I know how difficult that is, to have to leave people that you cared about. And how much having something solid can mean." She pauses, to bring a piece of the sliced salad to her mouth. She almost manages to take one more bite, before she sets it down, "I just can't. It smells like an old shoe." Setting the fork back down, she studies the young man sitting across from her, "Yes, I do. And if I can offer you the same, I will."

-

"Oh thank God," Drake says when she yields to the pungeance of the blue cheese. He stops picking at it and scoots it aside. In his mind, he wasn't allowed to bail on it until she did, herself. Though given his sparse pokes and prods here and there at it, odds are she actually ate more of it than he did.

"How long're you in town for?," is his next question. "I haven't even really seen much of the city. Not been here that long." It's not /entirely/ true, what he's saying. He's been here long enough to've seen the sights. The problem was, the sights he'd been touring were back alleys and other people's food trays in malls.

-

June can't help but grin as Drake too, sets aside the Salad of Doom(tm). "Did you ever see that movie Labyrinth? It came out…well, well before you were born. I'm fairly sure the Bog of Eternal Stench smelled and tasted just like this salad." June, unwilling to take another such taste, uses her napkin to wipe every trace of dressing off of her fork. Thankfully, they're not waiting that long, and the food comes along in short order.

"Honestly, I hadn't decided yet. I'm in the middle of jobs right now, and I don't have anything pressing to get back to. If I wasn't here, I imagine I'd just be rattling around my place. This place at least has better scenery."

-

"You flatterer," teases Drake with a wink. Because she was totally referring to him as scenery.

The food then quickly takes his attention, immediately having at the steak. There's a level of eagerness that might suggest food, perhaps of this quality, hasn't come easy lately. But he's making an effort to not seem like a complete animal about it, pacing himself. The pace just happens to be in a sort of fast-forward. "So what do you like to do?," he asks. There's another chomp of steak. "B'sides drag shows," he teases.

-

June offers a flash of a grin at that, "Well, I do like to lay on the charm." Not that she actually is. It would be fairer to say that she's simply being herself, and doing her best to offer as good company as she's receiving. When the fish and chips arrives, and the scrapple sandwich besides it's…daunting. "I think they literally gave me a whole fish less the bones." A deep breath, as though she were girding herself for battle. "I am going to need a hell of a lot more tartar sauce."

Rather than being alarmed by his eagerness, June seems to take it as what it might also be, which is a still growing teenager at pretty much every meal from the time they hit puberty to full maturity. "When I'm not working, you mean? Read, mostly. And, lately, I've been interested in making handmade books." The nerdhood is strong with this one, "I do love a good farmer's market or street fair, though."

-

"Neeerrrd," drones Drake between bites. Even the other things she mentioned sounds boring. Like old-people things to do. She looks older than him, he believes, but not /that/ much older. "It's summer. You should be hitting the beach on your off-days. You're from California, remember? We've gotta represent." He punctuates the last statement with a bob of his fork. And then it's right back to task.

-

"When was the last time you went to the beach and went surfing?" June calls over the waitress, requesting the necessary boat of tartar sauce, before she digs in with her own meal. She isn't eating quite as fast as Drake, but she's no slouch. The good doctor is most certainly not a lettuce and plain chicken breast because 'I need to lose 5 pounds' sort of woman, "So if I represent, will you do the same?"

-

"S'been a hot minute," Drake muses. "But I'd totally do it. I don't have a board, though. It's way back on the other side of the States. I'd definitely hit the beach again. Even if these beaches aren't as good."

He pauses to glance back up at her, wry smile on his face. "Is that a challenge from you this time?," he counters.

-

"Why yes, I think it might well be. Might be worth it to see if you can actually seal the deal. We know you can talk a good game." June is making headway with the fish and chips, but the scrapple sandwich June pushes over in Drake's direction, "I'm not sure how decent the beaches are in New York, though, so we may need to do some reconnaissance."

-

"I've seen a couple," Drake mentions. Coney Island, for one. Certainly not the beautiful sprawls he's used to on the west side, but it's serviceable. "But we can scope'em out, if you like. You gonna wear normal street clothes to the beach again?," he chides.

-

"I might be persuaded to put on a pair of shorts. Possibly a tank top. But I'm not tooling around the tri-state area in a wetsuit." It likely will be colder here in the water, this early in summer, than in California, probably. "Since you'd be the more experienced waterman, you'll decide on where you actually want us to go into the water."

-

"Lame. Did no one ever teach ya that going to the beach is about its own dress code?," Drake teases. "Swimsuits. Even if ya never get in the water. It's, like, a rule."

Despite this, Drake actually doesn't possess anything of the sort right now. All of that was left back at his home. He's working against himself here, but it's perhaps a flaw of his to meet challenge with challenge.

-

"Even in California, the girls on the beach wear shorts." Usually over their swimsuits but still, it was a thing! "I'll wear a swimsuit under the rest." A compromise, see? June, though, took this moment to look down at her plate. She's managed one whole fillet, but the other half a fish was still there, and full on half of the fries, "You haven't got a hollow leg, have you?" She asks, rather hopefully.

The restaurant continues on around them. Drinks are refilled, people are seated, some even making use of the nickelodeon machines at each station. Tiny jukeboxes for the win!

-

Drake Riley is mostly focused on the food and verbal game of plans that he doesn't sincerely expect her to keep. But at least he's moved on from the meat - that is, devoured the meat - and on to the potato. He looks back up at her with a curious, near-feline tilt of his head. "Huh? N-.. no? It's got.. like.. bones'n stuff..," he replies, clearly not used to the expression.

He looks back down to the potato to resume his work, though it's slowed at this point. The main attraction was the steak. "Wearing a swimsuit /under/ normal clothes is cheating. Gotta do, like.. half. Shorts, but swimsuit top," he compromises. "But even then, you're not doing it right~.."

-

June shakes her head, amusement colouring her features, as she pick at one of the french fries, "I did it again, didn't I? Used a phrase I read in a book somewhere that no one actually says anymore. It means being able to eat like you don't get full. It's a bit like. 'His stomach is a bottomless pit. And I'm not sure I can finish this second fillet, and it's a hell of a lot better than the salad."

June considers, "Well, it's baby steps, isn't it? Considering I haven't even been on a board, and that was a body board in probably a good fifteen years at least? Also, it isn't as though you won't be wearing shorts too."

-

"I wouldn't be dragging ya out onto a board the first time. Come on, I'm not /that/ crazy..," Drake chides. "And hey, you're right. But I'd /only/ be wearing shorts. Unless I wear one of those Gilligan's Island onesies or whatever."

He shudders. Eugh.

-

June, for her part, ends up having the fish boxed to go, as well as the sandwich which she did not have the cajones to try herself. Not that that cleared the table, as it was dessert next, which, well, there's always room for dessert. And in all of that, latching on to the most salient point so far, in their discussion.

"So what you're saying is…you would wear the onesie if the incentive was right?"

-

Drake Riley widens his eyes like a deer in headlights at her. "No. Nonono. No one wants that. Not me, not you, no one. Trust me. You either have to be a goofy dude from the fifties or an old-timey strongman to pull that off. Handlebar moustaches required. Let's just.. keep me in trunks, yeah?"

-

"Keep your pants on. I got it."

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