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[Vash has decided to escape the rain this evening by ducking into Good Spirits. He’s been doing better since losing Rem. The pain of losing her is still fairly fresh, but no longer a shock. And now that the initial shock is over, Vash is starting to recall certain things.

He begins to think about heading home. Meryl has the day off and she’d be waiting at home and…

And…

And…

And… holy crap! Meryl kissed him! His hand hovers over his chin and his face turns bright red as he suddenly stands up, tipping over the stool he had been sitting on.]

Oh man! What do I do now!? Do I… do something!? [Starts pacing up and down the bar, staring up at the ceiling, hands clasped against his head as if no one was in the bar with him.] I should do something, but… it’s a little late for that! Oh man! WHAT DO I DO!?

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Well, you're such a charmer of course. [ Grumbling into his drink. ]

Doc, I think you an' me an' Vash-lad need some pie. Friendly bite of pie, what will cure whatever bad blood's between us.

[Vash hopes so, but he won't let those hopes get too high.] The bakery here is quite good!

You're gonna need a hell of a lot more than pie. [ But pie does help. ]

RIGHT! [Swaying slightly, Jack reaches out to grab a couple more bottles of alcohol.]

We're getting pie, right now. Savvy? [Is the bakery even open? Will they have to break in during the dead of night?]

Pie what'll resolve the bad feelings, at least for tonight, eh Bonesy? Tomorrow we can go about life as usual, with you plotting to remove the top of my skull and me plotting which end of the sword to use to run you through.

[It should be - Vash hopes, as he's not the breaking and entering kind of guy] Right pie! Delicio- ah! Would you knock it off with the stabbing talk!

I'll be surprised if you can even find the hilt of the damn thing.

[Don't tempt him, doctor; he's just getting into a good mood.]

Ha! Good one, doc! Sorry Vash lad--pirate. Onward! Pie!

[And he's making for the door, still carrying his bottles, expecting the other two to trail in his wake. Hopefully there are no open container laws in Luceti. ]

[Vash will follow behind. Either way this was a... strange... distraction from his current thoughts.] You know, you blame being a pirate on practically everything you do.

[ McCoy is apparently possessed enough to bring up the rear of this odd trio and glares at the pirate ahead. ] People like him always do.

[Jack waits for them just outside the door to the pub before moving on toward the bakery. He'll ignore McCoy's grumbling---for now.]

Bein' a pirate is a first-rate reason to do almost anything. Breaking into a pie-shop, now, for some nighttime pie; excellent excuse for that.

I don't think we'll need to break in. And pirate is not a reason to do almost anything. I know some pirates who are pretty good people.

You don't have to think about it; we're not breaking in.

Whyever not? Fun! Bonesy an' I will boost you through the window, Vash lad. And then you open the door for us.

I am not helping you break into anything.

No.

Edited 2010-06-23 07:16 (UTC)

[Jack tries the door of the shop, which is, indeed, locked tight.]

Edited 2010-06-23 12:43 (UTC)

[And, after placing his bottles carefully on the ground with a warning finger to stay put, the pirate takes a few steps back. He squints at the door, then rolls up his sleeves a bit, then RUNS AT THE DOOR TO BREAK IT DOWN WITH HIS SHOULDER.]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

[Turns out, however, that the door wasn't LOCKED, just stuck tightly. Be treated to sounds of crashing, swearing, and then silence, broken only (eventually) by what might be the sound of globs of pie dripping to the floor from a broken pie plate. Then...]

Little help?

Oh! Wait! Wait! That door sometimes- [Winces]] -uh, sticks.

[Vash sighs and heads on in.] But you're doing so good on your own already.

[ McCoy decided to stay outside during this shameful exploit, slapping a hand against one side of his face in annoyance once Jack flew into the bakery and sighed at the resulting crash. ] Good God...

[The mess isn't as epic as it had sounded, actually--mostly the fallout from Jack crashing into a shelf that had held baking pots and pans of various sizes. There was only the one pie casualty.]

Well I got us in, didn't I? OI! BONESY! PIE! What kind d'you want, then?

[Don't mind Vash. He'll just be quietly cleaning up your mess Jack. Don't need the bakery people miss making him his morning donuts because of your mess.]

[ It's a spillage after unlawful entry: therefore, it is in his mind. ] I didn't even want any to begin with!

Apple then? Right. Me, I'll have this lovely spiced pumpkin. Vash lad? Stop that cleanin' immediately.

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