Chapter Text
Natalie finds herself in bar, no surprises there. She’s not even sure why she’s here, and if that isn’t the story of her entire miserable, shitty life.
Gulping down a mouthful of warm beer, not bothering to pretend to care about the temperature, she places it back down. Despite where she’s found herself she’s not particularly upset about anything at the moment, she muses, life is the same old level of shitty it always is. A silent huff of laughter to herself, she takes another swig of her beer, it sits and pools in her otherwise empty stomach.
Attention waining from her drink, she looks around, she’s driven by this bar on occasion but never entered before today. First time for everything.
The bar is dingy but in the typical way all bars are, the floor is as sticky as expected, the bar stools uncomfortable. The jukebox on the other side of the room is probably the oldest thing in here, Natalie wonders if the thing is as old as she feels right now. She makes a point to sit up, back creaking as she does so, an attempt to preserve a posture that died long before the age of thirty. The bar has more people that she initially wanted, how is a woman supposed to enjoy her carefully crafted solitude with so many chattering drunks around? Easy enough to ignore, Nat turns her head back to the bar and gestures for another drink, not nearly drunk enough for her tastes.
A new beer is placed in front of her, she offers the slight wave of her hand as a thank you. Failing to ignore the blathering of the bar she notices a particular voice stick out amongst the endless hum of noise. She turns towards it, about five stools down is a couple, well, Nat assumes they’re a couple with how the woman is commanding his attention, or at least trying to. Nat feels her face sour, judging the frankly pathetic attempts at keeping this dude attentive to the one sided conversation.
Natalie has never understood the need nor urge to keep a man’s eyes on her like that, she’s also never had to try particularly hard if she’s honest. Speaking of dude, he looks completely stuck, like a mouse in a glue trap. He’s got a practiced smile plastered to his face, his eyes scanning around the room every few seconds, looking for a way out perhaps? So maybe not a couple after all, Nat concludes, more so trapped prey and predator.
They both look… frumpy? He’s about as average as they come, straight cut jeans, sleeveless puffer jacket over a flannel, and plain hair. The bitch accompanying him however is much more of a character, floral patterned cardigan on top of a sunny yellow blouse, fuzzy socks featuring cats, and are those crocs?? To top it all off Natalie doesn’t think she’s seen hair that large and poofy since a particularly bad high back in 08.
She can’t decide if it’s all entirety hideous or charming. Charming in the same way a grandma is charming, or maybe in the way a 50’s dinner is charming. If a person could be kitschy, this lady has nailed the aesthetic.
She mentally shakes her head, swigging her beer. Even the glasses are comical with how they easily take up half of her face, this woman truly is a walking cliche. Nat can’t judge really, being the poster child for drunk, punk, trailer trash. She never could give up leather and cheetah print, and good luck prying her jewellery and music from her cold dead hands.
We’ve all got our quirks , the crocs are pushing it though.
Whoever she is, probably this guys date, she sure can talk, and Nat is having trouble ignoring the overly eager tone in her voice or the way she seems completely oblivious to this guys disinterest. It’s beyond grating and it’s almost sad to see how animated she is. Without much better to do than start nursing her fresh beer, she decides to listen in. Free entertainment is free entertainment. If she’s lucky she might even find out why this guy looks like he’d rather be doing quite literally anything else.
“So I asked around at work for someone to babysit Caligula, of course no one jumped at the idea but then I remembered that Jessica owed me a favour for helping with her- well you don’t wanna hear about that, I’m sure. I know she’s good with routines so I trust her with him.” This woman likely doesn’t have an off switch, she could probably spend an hour talking about her grocery list.
Nat has only just started actually listening and she’s already decided that this woman could talk down a jumper by simply boring them down and off the ledge. Finding her own morbid thoughts hilarious she lets out a huff of amusement. And what was it she said? Something about babysitting? She’s got kids? Poor kid probably wishes he was deaf. Another noise of humour and another sip of beer. She listens on anyways. That’s one entertaining Poodle.
After another fifteen minutes of constant yammering broken up by noises of hesitant acknowledgment, this guy looks ready to flee the country to get away, he’s picking at a small hole in his jeans as if making it big enough will allow him to jump through and out of the situation.
Suddenly, with all the grace of a new born fawn, he gets up, no tact at all really, and excuses himself to the bathroom. Nat wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t come back. The bespectacled woman doesn’t seem aware of this likelihood, happily shaping her curls, letting them bounce slightly as she lets them fall back to their natural spot above her shoulders, then reaches in her purse for a small hand mirror, checking her makeup, and repositions her glasses, pinky raised high as she does so.
This woman cannot be real.
After five minutes and no sign of little miss poodles date, the woman down the bar seems to finally notice, a small crease to her brows as she worries her lip. She fiddles with her phone, probably wondering if she should bombard the runaway with questions or plague his bloodline with curses. Natalie feels it could go either way honestly.
She adjusts her necklace as her face seems to heat up slightly, from the embarrassment, Natalie guesses. Nat sighs, tearing her eyes away for a moment, offering a privacy that ultimately won’t go noticed or appreciated.
She cracks her neck, “fixing” her posture again. As cruel as it is, she didn’t expect the ladies date taking off to upset the woman so much, she assumed that this was a regular occurrence. And yeah, maybe that’s harsh, she doesn’t particularly care, but she’s also now hesitantly invested.
Nats gaze on her beer hardens, glaring even, mulling over nothing but bad ideas. With another sigh and the trepidation that she’ll definitely regret this, Nat asks the bartender to get her another of whatever she was drinking and another one of whatever she was drinking. If you’re going to be stood up and miserable, may as well get shitfaced.
She mentally prepares herself for the impending headache she’s signed herself up for, already regretting her choice, Nat always was good at making the worst decisions. And not before long she notices the looks of puzzlement on the other woman and the subsequent way her eyes trail over to herself when the barkeep points in her direction, no doubt letting her know where the drink came from. She looks back to the drink for a moment, brows furrowed in confusion, and then back to Nat.
Nat pointedly avoids acknowledging any of this, refusing to make eye contact, maybe she’ll get an extra minute of peace if she pretends to be a part of the furniture.
Unfortunately for her, the world doesn’t work like that, especially not for Natalie Scatorccio. In the corner of her eye she follows the short woman, watches as she clumsily shuffles from her own bar stool to the one next to Natalie. She’s short, Natalie observes, probably no taller than five feet, she had to fully hoist herself onto the bar stool, it’s almost enough to make her laugh.
Resigning herself to her fate, Nat looks over the blonde poodle, her gaze lingering for a moment, as if to acknowledge her presence beside her. Still though, refusing to speak just yet.
Very surprisingly they stay sat in silence for over a minute, the smaller of the two shifting her eyes about and toying with the rim of her glasses, and then the rim of her drink, a drink Natalie finally looks at. Oh god, is she drinking a chocolate martini? Nat never knew a person could be completely disgusted and simultaneously unsurprised in the way she is right now. She regrets her decision a little more, now utterly offended.
The silence stretches on and Nat is super confused if she’s being honest with herself. She likes the quiet, don’t ever get it twisted, but this woman was talking up a mighty storm not even ten minutes ago. The same woman who was talking with all the theatrics in the world, as if she was reading a script, is now experiencing… stage fright? Now she’s here, next to Natalie, and not even a peep has left her lips? Is Natalie that intimidating? Nat discreetly looks herself up and down, and then smirks. Probably.
The blonde does look a little frazzled, as if out of her comfort zone. Hmmm, maybe she shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
She eventually surmises that sitting in a charged silence is not how she wants to spend the rest of her evening, she came out to have a good time, as much of a good time that she’s capable of having anyway. If the Poodle won’t speak, Nat will carry the burden of breaking the tension.
Tapping the bar in time with the music, avoiding the sticky spots, she searches her mind, looking for something to say. Anything is better than nothing, and so, with an attempt at a placating smile on her lips, “Guys, they fucking suck. Right?” That’s the best you got Scatorccio? She forces back a reaction and brings the bottle of cheap beer to her lips to avoid having to continue further with her pathetic attempt at conversation.
Completely embarrassed and once again regretting every choice that led to this moment, Natalie turns her eyes away from the adjacent barstool and the person occupying it. In her embarrassment, she doesn’t notice how the Poodle next to her doesn’t seem at all fazed by the awkwardness and is now smiling brightly.
The smaller of the two women now positions herself to face Nat, emboldened, as if her words gave her permission to begin talking.
Yeah, this was definitely a bad idea.
Readjusting her glasses, she practically chirps, “Absolutely, I mean, he wasn’t anything serious, just another match off this dating site I’ve been trying out. Honestly he didn’t seem all that interesting anyways.” Yeah, Nat thinks with a secret smile to herself, you never gave him a change to convince you that he was interesting, “-and it’s not like I’m that upset about it, he was cuter in his pictures anyways.” She finally finishes, with a shrug that was almost comically animated. This woman was probably a thespian in a past life with how practiced that was. So bushy tailed and bright eyed.
Not sure what to say to that, Nat shifts slightly, careful to make sure it’s not noticeable. Not keen on inquiring about this chicks attempts at online dating, she thinks back to what she heard when listening in on their past conversation, “Hmm, maybe when he found out you had kids he decided he wasn’t ready to be called daddy by someone who wasn’t gonna get his dick wet.” She smirks, not caring if that was entirely too far, or something you definitely shouldn’t say to a stranger, she’s four beers down and very well could’ve said worse.
The blonde, Natalie really should ask her name at some point if she’s stuck here, looks confused, tilting her head ever so slightly. Nat doesn’t know if she’s confused on how she knows she has kids, if the other woman is upset that she eavesdropped, or if it’s the fact Natalie said something so out of the way of a normal response. Natalie decides that perplexity is a better look than the plastic smiles she was offering Random Guy earlier.
Seemingly coming to a conclusion of her own, the shorter woman is quick to explain, “I don’t have any children… were you listening to our conversation?” She shakes head head, “well, no, that’s not- I don’t have any children,” she now offers a real smile, all teeth, “I have a bird. He’s a parrot, African grey. That’s probably who you heard me talking about.” Still all smiles, like Natalie purposefully brought up the perfect opportunity for her to talk about her fucking bird. Completely ignoring the daddy comment all the while.
That makes about as much sense as the rest of the woman beside her. Nat shakes her head with a snort. “Yeah that adds up, Caligula is a beyond stupid name for a kid. I just assumed you were,” she looks her up and down, “the eccentric type.” She meets her eyes again.
The other woman just laughs and makes a slapping motion with her hands in mock offence, “Hey, Caligula is not a stupid name. Caligula was named after a Roman emperor, who was assassinated. Only interesting people get assassinated.” This woman is officially strange. Natalie isn’t drunk enough for this, she decides. And yet, she has to admit that there’s amusement in the absurdity. Maybe she’s just drunk enough.
“Okay, hold on, wait,” she watches the smaller woman finish off a sip of her pathetic excuse for an alcoholic beverage, “you got someone to babysit a parrot ? Don’t they live in cages? What, scared he’ll get assassinated like the guy he shares a name with?” Natalie is going to get a kick out of this conversation if she’s forced to entertain it.
The woman laughs, a noise that sounds unpracticed, “Not at all, Caligula does have a cage but he mostly goes where he pleases when I’m home. That’s off topic though, I had to get a petsitter because I assumed,” she pauses, trying to hide the way her smile falters, “I assumed that I was going to be staying at my dates place tonight and didn’t want Caligula home alone overnight, I know, a mother worries I guess,” she shrugs, “It appears I was a little presumptuous, huh?” She finishes with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, deciding to finish the rest of her drink when Nat doesn’t say anything in response.
Well, she thinks. That’s awkward. She never was the best with emotions, not her own, not other people, and especially not the emotions of a random woman who wears cardigans and owns a parrot.
Luckily, before she has to pull together a measly attempt at comfort, the other woman seems to get the hint that she’s not going to be getting any sympathy and changes gears. “I’m Misty, by the way! I probably should have mentioned that earlier, or not,” a small shrug, ”What’s your name?” She holds her hand out to Natalie, smile genuine if not a little tight, probably from the awkward display she just preformed and Natalie was forced to witness.
Nat has to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the gesture and decides she’s not cruel enough to let her stoop in it. She takes her hand if a firm and quick handshake. “Natalie.” She answers simply, playing along with the handshake but refusing to give into the whimsical nature of the other woman entirely.
At least she can stop mentally referring to her as Poodle, she lets the beginning of a smirk escape.
Misty doesn’t let the short answer deter her, if anything she’s now alight with confidence. She starts talking about everything and nothing. How she works in a care home, God save the elderly. She talks about how she got Caligula as a gift to herself for finishing medical school, and that’s a little sad but it’s not like Natalies life is exactly sunshine and rainbows either. Nat chimes in with a comment every so often. She should despise herself for being so present in the conversation.
Natalie hates to admit it but this isn’t the worst time she’s ever had. Sure, Misty is a lot and far too preppy for Natalie’s tastes, but she also accepts that for all the ways this woman is entirely strange and all the way odd, she’s funny, although Nat doesn’t think she’s trying to be, maybe that’s what spurs on her laughter.
Before either of them realise it, an hour has passed and Natalie hasn’t developed a migraine nor wanted to run away. Maybe she’s drunker than previously thought, maybe that guy was wrong in his assessment of Misty, or maybe she’s finally gone crazy.
She begrudgingly decides that even she can’t drive safely if she drinks anymore and makes a point to pay her tab, making sure Misty notices, encouraging her to pay her own. Bill paid, conversation coming to a natural halt, Nat let’s out a sigh, hand travelling through her hair, “You’re fucking weird, Misty.” she ignores the way her comment only earns her a confused smile, Misty apparently too busy humming along to the song whirring on the jukebox, finger waving and wagging in time to the music, Nat doesn’t recognise it.
She shrugs her leather jacket over her shoulders, looking across at Misty who looks warm in the face, eyes closing easily, hesitant to opening again with each blink. Natalie doesn’t want a guilty conscience by leaving her alone, definitely far beyond buzzed, and not exactly giving off an air of someone who can look after themself.
She sighs, accepting that the night isn’t over yet. “Do you need me to call you an uber or something? Was that guy your ride?” Misty perks up, the question drawing her attention, readjusting her glasses for the thousandth time tonight.
Misty finally chokes out. “yeah- I mean, he was my ride. I should probably call an uber, shouldn’t I? I left my car at home.” It was obvious she left her car at home, Nat rolls her eyes. And God, why does she sound so sad? I thought that guy was a tool. ‘Nothing like his picture’ or whatever.
Another sigh, deeper this time. You’re gonna regret this Natalie, she tells herself. Just let her call a stupid fucking uber, this woman is not your responsibility. Don’t do it. And she’s doing it. She waves her hand, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll drive you home. You sober enough to give directions?” Fuck. Stupid. I hate myself.
Misty practically lights up.
Please stop smiling at me like that.
Well, she’s in too deep now, she stands, back protesting heavily. “Get your stuff together if you’re ready to leave.”
No need to tell her twice, Misty is practically jumping as she fastens her cardigan buttons up, clutch already hung over her shoulder. It’s almost embarrassing how eager she is, like a child before being taken to the park.
Nat hides a grimace. Just get it over with. Nat starts walking to the exit, not even bothering to check if Misty is following, Natalie knows she is.
She holds the door for Misty, the smaller woman smiles brightly at her and Nat immediately regrets that decision. She has so many regrets about tonight that a confessional stand wouldn’t even want to hear it.
The parking lot is dark, pavement damp from rain, the only light coming off the building itself and a flickering street lamp by the sidewalk. Dingy bar and slasher style parking lot. How fitting. Despite the scenery, Jason doesn’t jump out at them with a katana or whatever the fuck he cuts his victims up with, and Natalie is forced to continue the good deed she put upon herself.
They get to her car, the headlights momentally lighting up the immediate area as it unlocks. Nats car is only a two seater but she suspects that Misty would’ve helped herself to the passenger seat regardless with the way she all but saunters herself into Natalie’s car. Bold. Not surprised. She hates that she smiles at the action, amused despite the surface level irritation. Soon they’re both in the car, Misty buckling up instantly, hands in her lap. And if that isn’t completely on brand. Nat rolls her eyes, unsure if it’s from annoyance or because it’s charming .
Shockingly enough, they drive in relative silence. Misty fiddling with the radio occasionally, apparently not a fan of Nats usual tastes, she almost smirks at the image of croc and cat sock wearing Misty listening to anything heavier than pop. She settles for a station she’s never heard of, some sort of church music? Nat didn’t peg her for the religious type. She pays closer attention to the radio despite how it’s definitely not in her best interest to do so. There’s certainly some heavy piano. Then there’s violin. A surprising lack of lyrics about letting the lord in or whatever- wait. No. No, that’s definitely classical. Jesus, this woman is strange. At least Misty had the decency to keep the volume low.
After ten minutes or so, Misty starts offering directions, nothing more than a “next left” or “follow this road”. Natalie is more than happy without the small talk, relived actually.
The rhythmic sound of the engine and tires on road has significantly calmed her down, she feels sober already. Okay, maybe that’s pushing it. The point is, she’s relaxed and doesn’t need the relative stranger in her car to ruin this for her.
Another ten minutes and they’re pulling up to a house that undoubtedly fits the woman in her passenger seat perfectly. Is that a garden gnome? Sure fucking looks like it. The whole picture in front of her screams weekend at grandmas .
Maybe this was Misty’s parents house first? Or did Misty go out of her way to purchase a house and age it thirty years? Natalie accepts that she was right about her initial assumption that Misty is eccentric and probably a little off her rocker. Again, ‘kitschy’ is what comes to mind.
They sit there for what feels like minutes and Misty still hasn’t made a move to get out of her fucking car. She looks over at her. Misty is worrying her lip, brows pulled down in thought. Nope. Whatever it is, just no. Nat did her good deed for the entire fucking decade and now she’s going home, and as far as she’s concerned, will never see Misty again. Just because she made her laugh once or twice does not mean she’s going to entertain whatever idea Misty is brewing up behind those bangs right now.
Nipping any and all possible thoughts in the bud, she makes a point to turn the engine off. “Home sweet home,” she says it sweetly, mocking almost. She looks back at the house, “This is the right one, right? You’re not that shitfaced, I know.” Misty has the nerve to pout. Not my problem. She then rummages around in her clutch and pulls out a little notebook and red pen. Makes perfect sense to keep those in her purse, of course, typical purse items, for sure.
Next thing Nat knows, she’s having a slip of paper thrust into her hands and Misty is refusing to look into her eyes. Nat glances down at the paper despite her better judgment, the paper reads Misty Quigley along with a phone number. Fuck my entire life. Misty is now looking at her with a smile that doesn’t feel completely real, somehow real and plastic at the same time.
This woman is not my problem , she repeats it to herself like a mantra.
Misty then decides to speak, completely unaware of the way Natalie is holding back the urge to strangle her. “Thank you so much for the ride home, and the drink, and well… everything. I um, I thought that I probably owe you one, or a ride, or something. If you need anything, there’s my number.” And her smile is now blinding despite the fact that what she just said was completely embarrassing and deranged.
Does she seriously think we’re going to be, what? Best friends? Gal pals? We’re going to braid each others hair? Watch shitty tv and share tubs of ice cream? Natalie knew this woman was odd but she’s just jumped up all the way from weird to batshit insane.
Holding back a grimace, Nat simply nods, waves her off, and with all the casualness she can muster, replies. “Really, don’t worry about. Like, at all. You should probably head in though, it’s late and your bird is waiting.” She’s proud of herself for the way she managed to say that without throwing up. Your bird is waiting. Jesus fuck.
The mention of Caligula seems to finally pop Misty out of her self made bubble. She nods, smiles, and clumsily exists Nats car. No more words were exchanged. Small victories.
Nat doesn’t drive away until the front door closes behind Misty and the lights of the house turn on.
Thank God that’s over.