noteasytobepink | Wheelsy AU ~ Hollywood Nights

"Doomed. I am DOOMED. Why do I worry about you then?" She waved a hand over her head like she was asking the heavens above. "Why?!"

"Oh..."

"...right. You're cute. I'm going to get sacrificed the maternal rage beast over a cute guy. Damn. I'm a sap."

He ducked his head, and tried to cover the action by taking a drink.

Looking at her, he gave a partial shrug.

"Well, if it makes any difference, I appreciate the sacrifice. An' bein' called cute."

Yeah, the head ducking thing was part of the cute. It was inescapable.

"See that I get an appropriate grave marker and all. I'd hate to end up as Jane Pink or something because someone got clueless at my funeral."

"I will. I promise t'even bring you flowers."

"Nice ones, no end of day sales." she snorted. "A girl, even a dead one, likes to feel appreciated."

"'Course not. They may not be roses, but I'll get you somethin' nice."

Fiddling with his beer can, cleared his throat before speaking again.

"I appreciate you hangin' out with me tonight. It was good t'have someone to talk to."

He'd started out wanting to be alone, but realized it was nice to have the company.

"Oh good, I like nice things, even if they're temporary." She traveled light after all, but flowers were never a bad thing and she made her battle dresses out of watered silk.

"Hmmm? That's what friends do Bill, bug you and hang around until you realize you like having them around. I could come over and lounge on your bed, poking you until you collapse in ticklish giggles, but that leaves the desk unmanned."

"You're a different sort of friend than I've had in awhile. Most of my other friends would've let me drink myself blind, couple of 'em might've joined in. Probably would've gotten hit with at least a couple 'I told you sos', too."

It's not that they're bad friends, they're just a different sort, who've seen Bill carrying his torch for far longer than he should; often against their long running council.

"I think some of 'em have given up on me, where things like this are concerned."

"Well, no offense Bill, but I wear a dress better than most your friends." She had to point it out! "Most your friends are guys and they do thing differently. Plus I'm manning the desk tonight and cannot get drunk."

She was a very responsible girl!

"And I don't give up on people unless they tell me, to my face, and in their right minds, to leave them."

He chuckled, and had to admit she had a point there.

"I've seen a couple of 'em in a dress, an' you're pretty right there. You keep bein' all responsible an' such I'm gonna have to deputize you."

She was already proving better than his current (drunk) deputy.

"That mean even if I drive you nuts you ain't gonna throw in the towel on me?"

"You know, if the other guys cross dress I'll dress as a man for a day, no problem." Just so she could see them in dresses? And maybe get pictures? "Now I know what to bet the next time they start a stupid contest." Contests like 'Who could stick the most pencils in the ceiling'.

"If I was deputized would that mean I'd have to salute you?" Cheerful salute time! "And no, maybe throw a towel at you, or pin you to a wall and shake you or something, but never give up."

Bill leaned back in his chair, trying to recall the exact circumstances of the cross-dressing.

"Well, some of 'em it was in high school, for the powderpuff game." Which... he may or may not have been a part of (being the starting quarterback, 'may' is more likely than not). "An' the others were lost bets. So yeah, if you wanna see it, win a bet."

Pencils in the ceiling would be an easy one for her, what with the pointy thing throwing practice she's had.

"The only time anyone salutes me is if they're bein' a smart-ass, or someone important is around. You could bring me coffee, though. That'd be nice."

He gave her a smile, and he was glad to know that he had someone like her on his side, no matter how bad off he happened to make himself.

"...what is a powderpuff game?" It sounded utterly degrading. In a tutus kinda way. "Is that football in dresses? Please tell me it's not football in dresses because ONLY I should be able to pull that off." Knowing the town though, it had be based around football.

Also? Be afraid. She could TOTALLY win bets.

Easily.

"Is there any connotations involved in bringing you coffee? Am I suppose to make it a certain way? Hold it a certain way when presenting? Lean over maybe, make the other boys jealous?" BECAUSE SHE WOULD!

"Not exactly. It's a homecoming tradition," He explained. "The girls dress in uniform an' play a game of flag football. An' the guys, well, they're the cheerleaders." In skirts.

"I like two creams, four sugars, in either my Colts mug, or my silver thermos if I'm gonna be out an' about. An' I prefer it if you not fuel any rumors that are already goin' 'round."

"Sorry, sorry, Morph has totally poisoned my mind when it comes to coffee service." And giving Bill coffee probably didn't involve the French Maid costume either...

"So guys aren't usually allowed to cheerlead? And girls can't normally play?" SEXISM! "I may have to play now."

Bill arched an eyebrow at her, then decided he probably didn't want to know.

"There are guy cheerleaders, sometimes. An' no, girls don't normally play, though I've heard of a couple female kickers on some teams."

Shaking his head at her, he gave her a wry smile as he took a drink.

"You don't even like football." He had already given up on teaching her the game, or converting her into a fan.

"Well, good to know they aren't barred at least." She liked equality in most things!

"And no, I don't like watching it, or the stupid rules, but games are always a lot more fun to play than watch and I do have a very competitive streak."

Bill nodded, not about to say how girls probably couldn't fill any of the other positions on the team. He knew better than to start that argument.

"If you're gonna play, than it's gonna have t'be by the rules," he pointed out.

He would obviously be surprised at some of the girls she knew. Sasquatch for example.

"Informal games tend toward informal rules Bill! I can get the ball from point A to point B, or guard the person that is, it's all a matter of 'Hey, run that way when I give you the ball don't get smooshed' right? Who needs more rules?" And yes, she may be offering this topic up as a means of distraction.

"There are still rules, but maybe you wouldn't do too bad at a flag football game. I'll just have t'teach you how to count Mississippi's, an' catch a football."

Because there weren't too many running plays in flag football really.

And she had picked a good distraction topic.

"I may be a world newby, Bill, but I know there's only two Mississippi's. The river and the state." Yes, well, more distraction meant less drinking which made Clarice a happy girl. She was PROBABLY joking?

"And catching a football can't be that hard. It's a ball. It's not spiky. Ergo, easy." Challenge, Bill. She CHALLENGES you.

Bill shook his head at her, and his expression said she so needed to be educated.

"Mississippi's are a way of countin'. A quarterback in flag football doesn't usually have protection, so in order to rush him y'have t give a count. By sayin' Mississippi after every number you count slower, an' give the guy a better chance t'get the ball off. Of course, the defender still tries to count as fast as possible, but as long as he says the Mississippi he's playin' fair."

It was keeping his attention off of his beer, so her plan was working perfectly.

"Hate t'say it, but a lot of girls can't catch. Lot of guys, too. An' when you gotta do it runnin', with a defender, while keepin' in bounds, it makes it that much harder. Luckily, you don't get hit in flag football, so that'll help some."

"Most haven't caught a lot of things, some of it very delicate, on the fly, in a free fire zone, and with one hand throwing spikes." Clarice listed with a grin. Your football, Bill, is not likely to phase her! At least once she figured out the shape!

"And you could have just said timing counts instead of Mississippi's! That would have made perfect sense. Mr. Creed liked to space his counts with Liz Taylor's, especially if it was a tricky explosion he was timing." She never got it but hey.

"Yeah, well most folks don't come from crazy town," Bill replied with a shrug. "But since you got the experience, I guess we can skip the lessons an' get you into a game."

Leaning back in his chair, he lifted his beer and shook his head.

"It isn't about timin', you still wanna count as fast as you can. It's the word that makes the difference. You can also count 'one thousands' if you wanted, one-one thousand, two-one thousand an' such, but I don't think you'd get away with Liz Taylors."

"I will need an introduction to a football so I"m trying to catch the proper ball." She pointed out cheerfully. "And some clue about what makes it flag football instead since apparently I can't tackle people. Is vaulting still okay?" She was going to end up in time out SO MUCH.

And grin the entire time.

"And that hardly seems fair, Mr. Rules Man, being allowed to garble and speed up a count."

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