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The "Desperation" Biker Add-on, continued...



M_Jehan_7 9:51AM - November 18, 1998 (856)
"O my eternal soul, hold fast to desire in spite of the night and the day on fire." -- A. Rimbaud --

Jehan rubs the back of his head, examines his fingers, frowning, and speaks, voice edged with sarcasm.

Congratulations, Sweetie. Ya drew blood. Cripes! Not exactly sporting of ya, an' I wasn't tryin' ta show off. Just let ya know ya had a formidable ally, but --

Jehan shrugs, puts a scoop of ice chips into a clean towel, bundles them up, and applies them to his head, wincing a little, then turns back to Pandi.

Shit. I hope ya didn't go an' gimme a fuckin' concussion ! Check out my eyes, will ya?

M_Jehan_7 12:49PM - November 18, 1998 (858)
"O my eternal soul, hold fast to desire in spite of the night and the day on fire." -- A. Rimbaud --

Ya know, I'm really startin' ta get pissed off at this cream-puff rep you're givin' me.

Jehan slams his ice pack down on the countertop.

Whatcha want from me, anyway? Want I should put on a dress an' heels an' swig gin, maybe sing youse a couple a torch songs?

So sorry ta disappoint, but I don't do that gig. Just 'cause I don't wanna play hide-the-salami with none a youse, it don't mean I ain't a man. An' I don't whine. Whatcha want me ta do, huh? Prove myself? I got scars, too, just like the rest a youse. Either we're friends here, or you're out ta fuckin' harass me. Which is it?

Pandikat 5:31AM - November 19, 1998 (859)
"You know that I love you, but I'd be inclined to slap you in the mouth."

"Relax, Jehan." Pandi sinks into a booth, laying her head back against the red vinyl. "It's late, okay? I didn't mean to offend you or anything, it's just that our lives are riding on this and I just want to be sure about you. We've been screwed before."

Darla again. What she had done was unforgivable...what had been done to her was monstrous. Pandi didn't want to rub anyone the wrong way, not tonight, but sometimes it was the only way to be sure.

She waited to see which it would be.

TheGremster 6:09AM - November 19, 1998 (860)

As Sage shifted back against the booth wall wrapping her blanket around her all she muttered before gracefully bowing down to a fitful sleep was their war cry

Sisters united until death....

Nightmares were so common now that if she didn't wake with the sweats and shivers then she wasn't normal. As a matter of fact how could anyone be normal after an episode like they've been through. They all bare scars and they all remember Darla.....

Sage awoke to the heavenly smell of a fried breakfast expertly cooked up by Jehan and the juicy aroma of coffee beans. Pandi was already up dismantling her Magnum and Spye was just begining to stir.

I'm just gonna stretch my butt and freshen up before I tuck into your delicious spread there Jehan.

After last nights man handling with Pandi, Sage hopes Jehan realises the seriousness of this escapade they're on. They just can't afford to lose another member and everyone's back must be covered before they even think about tackling Tak.

M_Jehan_7 8:29AM - November 19, 1998 (861)
"O my eternal soul, hold fast to desire in spite of the night and the day on fire." -- A. Rimbaud --

Jehan knows it's serious, all right. Even though these women are new to him in this life, he can't shake the feeling that somehow, somewhere, they've all been together before.

His restless two hours of sleep brought foggy dreams of horses, castles, thick woods, shrieking spirits, and the comforting thoughts of past revels and feasts shared. Jewel in a different guise, at his side in a huge, well-appointed kitchen. Pandi in some strange rig made of metal, singing. The taste of fine Scotch tingling in his mouth, so vivid he can almost still taste it.

What else to do, but rise and prepare another feast? But before that, he calmed himself with a few quick tokes, then settled into the routine, revved up the espresso machine once again. Coffee. Coffee would make them grateful, he thought, the voice in his head sounding vaguely like the Wicked Witch of the West. He chuckles softly, recalling Margaret Hamilton's later life career - hawking Maxwell House coffee and calling herself Cora.

He thinks of how much he loves to cook for people, and knows he could easily have spent his whole life thus occupied, with no regrets, if not for the loss of Tony. They'd both loved it. The new people they would meet, the regulars with whom they would share opinions on the current news of the day, even the occasional sad derelict whom they would ply with coffee and food, then send on his way again, pockets filled with muffins and a few dollars for a room in a shelter.

The diner in the desert wasn't so busy, and Bucky Butch had been the sort of derelict who never got any better, no matter how much a person did for him. Jehan crossed himself, contrite for having thought ill of the poor man. He'd just been weak and sad. Not a survivor, and Jehan pitied people like that, tried to help when he could. Tony had taught him that compassion. Continuing to show it was tribute he could pay, until an opportunity arose to avenge Tony's untimely, violent death.

Jehan surveyed his feast, satisfied that all was now ready, then went through the diner, gently rousing his guests. Yes, they were guests, not customers, and would eat well, and free of charge. His dreams had told him so. Guests. Friends, and old ones at that, from a time long past.

Come on an' have a seat at the counter, ladies. Eat up, as much as ya want, and if we run outta somethin' I'll make more. An' if I forgot anythin' speak up, an' I won't be offended. Just so's ya get what ya want. An' it's on me, 'kay?

Pandikat 11:36AM - November 19, 1998 (862)
"You know that I love you, but I'd be inclined to slap you in the mouth."

"Ah, coffee!" Pandi gratefully accepts the cup from Jehan. She feels confident that the touchy counter boy is on their side and won't let them down when the battle gets dirty. There was no going back now.

"So, Spye. What's on today's agenda?" Pandi asks, nibbling on a strip of crispy bacon. Ah, all the forbidden foods; good health certainly seems to pale in comparison with the evil to be faced. Bacon vs. Tak? No comparison!

M_Jehan_7 2:23PM - November 19, 1998 (863)
"O my eternal soul, hold fast to desire in spite of the night and the day on fire." -- A. Rimbaud –

Jehan smiles warmly at those assembled.

What a flatterin' testimony ta the way I take care a myself, havin' youse all callin' me boy like youse been doin'. I ain't as young as I look, but then maybe it's my lack a stature that makes ya think I'm a kid, hah? But that's how it goes with us short guys. We - ah - tend ta overcompensate for it by bein' in bitchin' great shape. An' I useta be a semi-decent gymnast in High School. Long ago an' far away.

Jehan scans the counter, frowns.

Hey, what's with all them empty coffee cups, hah? Give 'em here...

TheGremster 2:09AM - November 20, 1998 (864)

Ya wouldn't happen to have a brew back there, would ya.

Coffee never really was her thing Sage thought. God it's been that long since she last smelled an Earl Grey, memories of her childhood in ole England came flooding back.

Sage hadn't seen her sister Sara in over 8 years. She and Rick were the only family she had now and due to her dangerous life they were now Erased, so as to protect them both from Sage's enemies. Only Sage knew of their new existance and she gladly supplied the money to look after them for the rest of their lifes.

--bijoox-- 2:57AM - November 20, 1998 (865)
"Guide you my stray down quiet roads where peace is. Be my engine of myth..."GB

With a swift and easy grace that spoke of years of experience, Jewel freed the Bulldog .44 Special from the waistband of her jeans and laid it on the counter next to her plate. The juxtaposition was weird indeed: The big, ugly gun, with it's wide, oily bore and fat grip lay there obscenely next to the prettiest food she had ever laid eyes on.

Plump, tender Eggs Benedict, blanketed with velvety hot Hollandaise sauce lay invitingly on fragrant Canadian bacon and toasted English muffins. Belgian waffles, golden and crisp and dusted lightly with powdered sugar were topped with creme fraiche and fresh sliced strawberries. And her cafe au lait was steaming hot and most delicious. It was all perfect, just the way she would have made it....

Jewel felt suddenly frightened. How could she possibly know anything about this kind of food? She who had never had anything but sunny ups, hash, white toast and the crappy black mud her roadlife decreed was coffee?

She reached out to touch the Bulldog, for reassurance, when Jehan caught her eye. Solemnly he winked at her, and again she had the overpowering sensation that she knew these people from some other place... She got up, smiled crookedly at the assembled women and raised her hand in salute.

"Sisters united until death." She intoned softly, walking up to each of them and lightly high-fiveing. Jehan was last, and, not knowing what to do, she shook his hand.

"So, er...can we call you 'sister', sister?"

M_Jehan_7 4:22AM - November 20, 1998 (866)
"O my eternal soul, hold fast to desire in spite of the night and the day on fire." -- A. Rimbaud --

Jehan smiles .

Well, before ya start sayin' sister, would ya consider a slight alteration of your motto? Like "sisters an' brothers united until death"? I mean, the sisters thing - it's great for youse, 'cause you're ladies an' all, but I'm a guy, an' I got me enough of a rep as it is. But if youse'll call me brother - well, you're a pretty tough crowd, no offense intended, an' if I hang with ya, ain't no one gonna be callin' me a pansy no more. I ain't never been one, even though I'd rather lay with guys. Hey, if Tony was here, he could tell ya some great stories, but -

Jehan sighs.

I wish ya coulda known him. What a guy!

Sage, I ain't got no liquor license, so if ya want brew, ya gotta bring it yourself, but I can whip up a pot a Earl Gray in two shakes, if that's what ya want.

Jehan fills kettle, pops it onto one of the burners, cranks up the flame. Blue fingers of gas shoot up, tickling the kettle's copper bottom, stirring the cold water into a mass of dancing bubbles and steam. Jehan finds a small brown teapot, rinses it well with some of the boiling water, measures in fragrant tea leaves.

One for me, one for thee, an' one for the pot.

Jehan winks at Sage.

Didn't think I knew, hah? I ain't never been ta England, but I useta watch "The Prisoner", an' I remember McGoohan sayin' that in one a the episodes. Chick who was spyin' on him was tryin' ta put drugs in his tea, so he pretended she hadn't made it the right way, an' gave her a lesson.

Jehan pours water over the leaves, inhales the steam, and pops the lid on the pot, sets it down at Sage's place. He leans close and grins engagingly.

Happy, or is there somethin' else I can get ya? Cream? Lemon? Some kinda food I mighta forgotten?

Jehan lays a hand on Sage's shoulder gently, sensing there might be something wrong with it, wanting to touch but not jar and cause further pain. Their eyes meet, and he sees the sadness in the depths of hers. He leans closer, whispers to her.

It'll all come out right in the end, Sweetie. We just gotta fight the good fight.

Jehan straightens, surveys the women and the counter before him.

Ay-a-minaggia, but youse eat fast! Gimme them empty plates, hah?



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