Tenzin’s Food Donation Drive
Date: 2025-10-01 15:08
(Tenzin’s Food Donation Drive)
[Wed Oct 1 2025]
McShiel’s Irish Pub
The pub holds a classic, old-world charm to it. Dominated by dark wood and ornate craftsmanship, the space features a long, polished bar lined with high-backed wooden stools. The bar itself is detailed with carved woodwork and brass footrails, and a variety of beer taps gleam from its center.
Above the bar, a decorative wooden overhang adds a bit of flair, with vertical slats and crown molding that give the area a cozy, enclosed feeling. The ceiling is open and industrial, exposing wooden beams and ductwork, while soft, warm lighting spills from elegant chandeliers, casting a golden glow over the space.
To the left, round high-top tables with matching wooden stools offer casual seating. The floor is tiled with an intricate mosaic pattern, adding texture and historic moxie. Walls are adorned with framed art and flat-screen TVs, that almost exclusively seem to be playing football, or as Americans call it, “Soccer”.
It is about 60F(15C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Carnation and Lake
It is a humble setup that Tenzin has. One table beside the door. A few first donations in the way of water bottles and Cheetos have already been received. The poor need to have their fix, too.
Tenzin rises from his seat when Buck and Sophie walk in, followed by Kai and Kaelyn. He gives them all a respectful bow of the head. “Welcome to McShiel’s. Thank you for coming to donate. Just set them down here.” The monk gently rests the green beans on the tabletop.
Horace wanders in, looking kind of lost, but then nods to the others, putting his hands in his jacket. “I don’t have anything to donate, but thought you might need help moving boxes or something.”
Kaelyn grins as Kai accepts the beans without complaint. Raising a hand to the others in greetings she focuses on Tenzin, “Wasn’t sure what kind of stuff to bring. Internet suggested these.” She sheepishly rubs the back of her neck, “But, might have under prepped.”
Tenzin looks the most pleased to see the rice. Up shoot his brows. “My thanks, Small One,” he warmly tells Kaelyn, moving everything else around so it crowds the big bag of rice. “This is actually very helpful. It will store well, and many can eat.” He quirks a semblance of a grin when he looks between her and Kai. “I see you’ve brought your cat.”
Slipping Kaelyn hand in Kai’s she nodded with a little grin.
Sophie gives Mercy a wave, “Hey!”
Kai gives a two-fingered salute to Mercy and squeezes Kaelyn’s hand in his, he looks to Tenzin, “I’m a pit bull, if I’m anything,” he complains to the man, “How’s it going? Did you make sure the homeless are all not hungry?”
Wandering over to lean against the bar, Ekaterina leaves Tenzin to the duties of the drive as this is his event, arms crossed so that she’s not obstructing.
Mercy lumbers in with her arms full of, you guessed it, hot cheeto bags and some other assorted essentials. She catches Sophie’s wave and upnods the other girl while meandering towards the table.
“Ooh, they have some whiskey here. Don’t mind if I do.” Buck says as he orders up a whiskey and starts afternoon drinking. “I’ll have to remember this place, first time here.”
Kaelyn face brightens a little bit a the mention of cat, but she nods once, “Very much a cat.” She grin flashes a grin to Mercy, “Hey.”
Sophie giggles softly at Buck, “So, we’ll just stock their whiskey and forget the still. Huh?” She leans in and gives his cheek a kiss, “Much more fun.”
Horace takes a seat at the bar then, to watch the comings and goings, with the others.
Buck chuckles as he reaches for Sophie’s hand, giving it a squeeze, “Maybe I’ll still use the Still to make really bad whiskey.”
Sophie gives Buck a sideways glance, “Nobody deserves bad whiskey.”
Buck chuckles as he smirks back at Sophie, “I’ll get better at it the more I practice, but I don’t doubt I’ll be terrible at first.”
Mercy hits Kaelyn back with a quick “Hey.” but her attention seems briefly pulled by Horace and Ekaterina as she finally makes it up to the table Tenzin’s manning.
Tenzin exchanges a knowing nod with Kaelyn, upnodding Kai mano-a-mano. “Farting One, it is good to see you standing straight this time. We will all make sure they are not hungry by the end of today,” he greets and reassures. He nods as well to Horace, “Any help is much appreciated. There will likely be a need to box it all up later.”
He rubs the back of his head, spying Mercy coming in with more Cheetos. The man can’t help the broadest grin, like he were about to shit out a joke.
“Cheetos are what the homeless get to snack on as they wait for everything else.” Ekaterina suggests to Tenzin.
Sophie laughs quietly as she surveys the area, “I feel like we should have brough more.”
As Kaelyn moved to go to the bar the bartender gave her a stern look and sent her packing back to the tables. Glancing between Kai and Tenzin she raises a brow. “Farting One?” She questions and simply shakes her head,”Nope. Actually spare me.”
Sophie laughs quietly as she surveys the area, “I feel like we should have brought more.” -fix
“Sure thing. Just let me know how I can help,” Horace tells Tenzin from over the top of the crowd. “Just call out for Jim and I’ll come over there.” He gives a firm nod then scans the faces passively while he gets his coffee delivered to him.
Mercy steps right up and unceremoniously dumps three large bags of cheetos in front of Tenzin with a deadpan “Ta-daaaa.” But wait, there’s more. She fishes through her pockets and drops a couple bags of skittles and packs of reeses peanut butter cups down too, the latter of which she points to very eagerly while insisting to Tenzin, “That there’s the real good shit, make sure it don’t melt or nothin’.”
“I farted during a meditation once,” Kai tells Kaelyn, grinning a little at her, he gives a two-fignered salute to Matthew and Malin when he sees the pair enter and squeezes Kaelyn’s hand back, turning his head to look at Tenzin, “Sooo… how’s things going with you?”
Sophie notes the peanut butter cups and gives Mercy an approving nod, “I don’t know if I’d share those.” She says with a little playful shrug before noting Matthew and Malin, “Afternoon Boss. Hey Malin!” She offers with a wave.
Buck gives a tip of his hat to Matthew and Malin, “Afternoon, you two. Good to see you out and about in town.”
Horace casts his eyes around and over to Ekaterina. He gives her a quick nod and introduces himself, “Jim.” With that he takes a sip of his coffee and leaves her in peace if she wishes it.
“Jim, alright. I am Tenzin,” Tenzin calls back out to Horace. He greets Matthew and Malin with a bow of his head, palms together. “Hello, welcome.”
The monk barks out a brief laugh at Ekaterina and quickly points her out to Mercy. “Ah, that is my boss. She is very sensible,” he introduces, sort of.
The donations Mercy brings make him hum but there is no judgment. “Oh, chocolates. They will enjoy this, I am sure.” He puts them all by the sack of rice.
Malin enters in with Matthew, and while the Montrose has a bag of goods, the Swede doesn’t seem to have anything. But wait. She reaches into the pocket of her bag and seems to be taking something out… “Hello,” she greets Tenzin as she moves to the table, and she give a wave to Sophie. “Hello, Sophie.”
Kai hmmms and looks aside to Kaelyn, “You know what we should try to learn to cook? Gruel! Then we could become cooks and feed the homeless. We could like ladle the slop out for the dirty homeless people and be heroes. I think it’s like water and sawdust, so that’s like practically free.”
Out comes the spotted dick, in a tin, and Malin places it atop the table.
Matthew and Malin arrive, he has a plastic bag in hand, donations he clearly intends to offer as he makes way over to the donation table where Tenzin is standing ready to receive them. “Hello,” he says, looking around, doing his best to make sure he is indeed noticed and seen as he lifts his phone up, hitting video in selfie mode, capturing himself and the monk as he smiles brightly, speaking. “What’s everyone! It’s your boy, Matthew Montrose, checking in on the streets of New H aven. Today we’re not just all about fashion, we’re doing it: Handing out food–” he passes the bag over to the recipient, “putting smiles on faces and making sure the foods’s flowing> Don’t forget, generosity is always in fashion. And if your’e inspired, tag me when you’re out there doing your part. Remember: Stay full, keep glittering, and never miss a chance to shine!”
Kaelyn snorts a little, leaning against Kai’s side. “See, I always knew you smelled a little off.” Falling quiet she watches Mercy, trying not to laugh at the assortment of goods the other woman had brought. “Gruel, huh?” She shakes her head, “You make it sound awful. Stew with veggies and cubes of beef. And… they have showers at the shelter, I think.”
“Ekaterina.” Ekaterina introduces, calling over the gathering to Horace. “I am Tenzin’s boss, though any claims of being sensible are in question, da.”
“If they want meat, they can get a job. Give me a break,” Kai tells Kaelyn, shaking his head, “Stew with /potatoes/. Maybe. But that’s it,” he replies to her, “Beef for bums… hell to the nahhhhh son,” he grins a little and waggles his brows.
Buck pulls out his phone and taps on it, making a post.
“Da,” Horace says in his Yorkshire accent, loud enough to be heard, even though he is sitting near her at the bar. “Pleasure to meet you, Ekaterina.”
Matthew’s thumb taps the screen of his phone and a moment after he’s pocketing the devise, looking out over thoes gathered at the tables and bar. He spies Sophie and Kai, sending an upnod their way before looking over at Malin, “I wonder if the hobo we’re looking for will show up.”
“Homless people like spotted dick, right?” Malin asks Tenzin as her slim digits release the tin of that stuff and leave it to meet whatever fate may come for it. As Matthew makes his announcement, she nods along with what he’s saying. “Perhaps. It might be too crowded for their taste, though.”
Sophie glances at Matthew, “Have you been looking for a hobo boss? I doubt they’ll come in here. You’d be wasting your time waiting I think.”
“Is the hobo you are looking for the hairless fat one with the half-dead horse?” Ekaterina calls over to Matthew. “If so, it was in Redstone yesterday.”
Raising an eyebrow, Buck looks over at Ekaterina, “That’s quite the specific description.”
Sophie nods at Buck, “You missed a few things.”
Matthew turns to look at Ekaterina when she says that, his eyes widening just a touch. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says, making his way towards the bar, “I am Matthew Montrose.”
Matthew turns to look at Ekaterina when she says that, his eyes widening just a touch. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says, making his way towards the bar, “I am Matthew Montrose.” [re]
With a wounded gasp Kaelyn looks to Kai, “But, I’m a bum. Living on the mean streets of New Haven. You’d deny me meat? Cruel.” She chuckles, “Though, that would get expensive and we still need to figure out this elusive cooking thing.”
But Matthew lingers, checking in on Malin to see whether she is with him or still speaking with the monk.
Tenzin is briefly panicked seeing the label on Malin’s donation. He doesn’t question it. As Matthew starts streaming, he catches sight of himself in the screen; the canned good is hastily slid behind the sack, so ratings continue to be General Patronage. He cannot really say much besides smile awkwardly at the camera. Meanwhile, he helps Mercy unload the ton of her donations. He tells Malin, “I ah, appreciate the… thought, regardless.”
Buck nods to Sophie, “I was out of town on cases for a bit. Glad to get back in touch.”
Sophie glances at Tenzin, “It’s a pudding, there..” She offers to him, “A tasty one.”
Kai nods at Kaelyn, “I would. Get a job, bum,” he says and then moves to try to enter Matthew’s stream, where he shouts himself out, “Gadfly Deliveries, Rituals, Ghost Communion and more! Follow me on MyHaven!” he flashes twin peace signs and ducks back over to rejoin Kaelyn.
There is a pleased expression forming across Malin’s facial features over Tenzin’s verbal response — the physical reaction earned a quirk of an eyebrow and momentary concern. “Wonderful,” she says, flashing a broad smile at him.
“Ekaterina Perunova.” Ekaterina introduces for Matthew’s benefit from where she stands beside the bar. I heard rumour of a fat hobo with a half-dead horse being saught. So I assumed the same.”
Mercy sets down that last packet of reeses with some hesitation, like it’s physically painful to part with, but when she glances back up to Tenzin she flashes him a quick, coy grin and then peers back over to Ekaterina with realization. “Ohhh, so that’s the one who gets to tell you what to do.”
“Brother Tenzin I do not have to tell.” Ekaterina insists, mostly for Mercy’s benefit in regard to Tenzin. “He is one of the most adept we have.”
Horace nods to Matthew when he joins the bar, lifting his coffee cup in greeting. “Jim,” he greets him by way of introduction. “Jim Willoughby.”
Matthew posts up at the bar, looking between Ekaterina and Horace, producing the same introduction for the latter, “Matthew Montrose,” a hand lifted like he’s intending to dap him up. “Good to meet you.” He look sover his shoulder towards Malin, pointing her out, “That’s my handler, Dobie.”
Kaelyn shakes her head at Kai’s antics, slipping her hand back in his as he returns. “Guess, I’ll just have to get another job. Work my fingers to the bone and wither away,” She says mournfully. Turning her gaze to the other two at the table: Buck and Sophie, “How have things been with you?”
Upon hearing her name, Malin glances over at Matthew, and then raises her slender right hand to waggle slim digits in greeting to Ekaterina and Horace’s
Mercy holds her palms up in deference to Ekaterina. “Fair ’nuff, ain’ gonna argue that. He out there hustlin’ hard.”
Matthew looks towards Ekatarina, voice lowering just a touch, “So what’s this you said you saw her out in Redstone. You know whereabouts?” He frowns a touch, adding, “the homeless are really getting out of hand, don’t you think?”
“Dobie,” Horace says not even blinking at the name. “Pleasure.” And then another quick sip of coffee.
Malin has both of those medium-width eyebrows lifting over Kaelyn’s fairly loud whispering. Then she looks over at the bar, then back at Kaelyn.
Tenzin holds his head low. Here, he tides both Malin and Ekaterina’s words. From it, the nomad sneaks a wry but affirming smile at Mercy’s. “Yes, and the one who listens when I have ah, things to say,” he says of the woman, too.
He takes out his phone and pulls out the stylus, navigating through it in a slow, unsure manner. “Oh!” Looking around, he finds Annabelle finally. “Sad Girl, you are here, as well. I was wondering why I got this strange bank message.”
Sophie asks Matthew, “How did you get Dobie from malin?” She asks curiously, “I’ve never heard that story.”
Nodding to Matthew, a hand raises to return that wave to Malin. “Handler or not, the fall king of the Court.” Ekaterina notes.
Buck gives a nod to Kaelyn, “Oh, we’ve been great! We’re working on a scavenger hunt around town with clues lately. Also we made some dishes for the thing Sophie had on Campus a few weeks ago.”
Mercy snorts loudly and looks on over to try and see whom, exactly, ‘Sad Girl’ is and why she has been dubbed as such.
Annabelle straightens, having been speaking, but just too far and too subtle at a different table to be heard. “Heeeey, Tenzin.” She greets motley. “I usually give half my paycheck to New Faith. I thought it’d be nice to give it here this week.”
“Well someone has to handle my PR,” Matthew informs Ekaterina, his definition of handler likely differing quite a bit from her own. What is said after only has the man’s smile brighting and he puns, “The best Fall King choice, too.” There’s a wink before Sophie’s voice is earning his attention, “Dobie or Not Dobie, that is the question,” is his unhelpful answer before once more his voice is dropping, speaking with those at the bar.
Leaning back against the donation table as if it were almost a bench and a proper place to loiter, Malin remains at her chosen station. Once again, she reaches into her handbag and retrieves a new item. This time it is still likely a bit dick related, but it isn’t in a tin, rather instructions on how to be one, most likely. Flipping through the pages, she finds where she left on and continues her studies.
Kai shakes his head at Kaelyn, “I’m not sure,” he says and he looks to Sophie and Buck, nodding along with Buck after the man speaks, “That’s cool,” he says.
Kaelyn nods at Buck with a friendly sort of smile, “Oh, I think I’ve seen something about that on.” She wiggles her phone. “Seems like it could be fun.”
Buck gives finger guns to Kai, “Hey, thanks for the posts about the Legion. I know my local office of The Twilight Bureau is going to try do some work on Fairefield since I live there.”
“I am afraid I don’t know most of these people,” Horace says to no one in particular as he watches Kaelyn whispering to Kai then turns his attention back to Ekaterina and Matthew as they talk about the homeless of the city.
“Your donation will go into nutritious food choice, and not into Taco Bell,” Tenzin is transparent about it, thanking Annabelle with another head bow. “Very much appreciated. I am sure you and everyone who has given to charity today, out of the goodness of your hearts, will find your hearts lighter and your spirits more pure,” he wishes for her and all the townies who came out to the pub.
He hears Fall King and has to look. The monk curiously appraises Matthew and Malin, murmuring the names earlier mentioned. “Matthew. Dobby.” The accent does its thing.
Kai calls over to Horace, “Hey, I’m Kai. Who’re you?” and grins at the man a little as he l eans a shoulder up against Kaelyn’s.
“Ah…” Enlightenment has ventured its way into Malin’s mind as those blue-greys traverse a page with its lack of infinite wisdom. Lips that have been injected to be a bit too plump attempt to purse, but only manage to pillow as she considers what she had just read. When Tenzin mentions her, she tears her gaze away from the written word to view the monk. “Namaste,” is said with the reverence of a California bimbo in a yoga class to the man.
Well, that was one way to handle it. Kaelyn gives a curious sort of look to Horace as if waiting his response on the matter.
“Replace the corporate elite with trash babies.” Annabelle bobs her head encouragingly over to Malin in some eastern language, smiling brightly in a whisper to excitement.
Mercy shoots Malin a sidelong, well-concealed look of vague distaste before clapping her hands together loudly and performing a shallow bow of her head to Tenzin and Ekaterina as she backs away from the table. “Ayeah, yer ma’s tea or what ever she said.”
Sophie squints at Matthew, “That wasn’t an answer but, I will file it away with things beyond my ken.”
Malin squints a bit at Annabelle. “Would that work, do you think?” she wonders back at Annabelle in her English that has the slightest Scandinavian affected inflection. “Babies can have a dramatic effect on things, after all, so you may be on to something.” In response to Mercy words, she nods and a soft, “Mm,” in a tone that conveys her agreement is produced and then she says, “Yer ma’s tea. A greeting that invokes so many feelings. It’s a spiritual subversion with working class warmth and it brings with it an ancestral energy of a mother’s unconditional love, and also allows one to sip on their own emotional heritage.”
Tenzin inspects Matthew’s donation bag from 7-11. Far be it from the ascetic’s practice to stray from his focus, his gaze wanders to the book in Malin’s hand. Something in his countenance winds a bit tighter.
He also notices her crop top, which is enough to propel his attention elsewhere. The monk doesn’t look for too long, or at all, below the neck. Leaving Malin, Annabelle, and Mercy to get acquainted, he lowers gently back into the monoblock chair.
“You know, I’m surprised nobody brought some Vinnie’s pizza. The Italian Bomb is awesome.” Buck says as he glances over at the donation table.
Kai gives a wave to Tenzin and a general salute before leading Kaelyn out of the pub.
“Oh NO-” Annabelle says within a gasp, covering her mouth with her hand while her ears turn scarlet. She lifts a hand to babble out, “I mean yes it would totally work and in eight to nine months they would collapse under the debris of all of their baby trash.” A look to Malin, to Tenzin, to all around, and with a hushed hiss to herself like the broken villain, she utters, “No one was supposed to knooooooowwwwww-” And escapes.
Sophie blinks, “Not supposed to know..what?”
Mercy straightens, telling Malin as she turns to get some distance from the crowd, “You get it. Let that steep in yer mind for a while.”
Matthew smiles and looks back over at Sophie, “I was introduced to her as Dobie,” he shares, winking at Malin when next he catches her eye. “When I first met her.” While Tenzin inspects the bag, the Montrose throws out, “I almost brought a pack of cigs for them, too. But then I got distracted and like…” he shrugs, apologetic, “next time I’ll get them smokes.” Which isn’t at all food.
Sophie asks, “You sure someone didn’t mistake her for Dovie?”
“Well, typically,” Malin deducts and shares in someone’ direction, “when something is supposed to be kept a secret, one does not talk about it in public…” Her voice trails off some, waving her right hand slightly as it flops right to left atop that slender wrist, hinging the dismissive motion. She nods to Mercy head bobbing along. “I’m infusing it into my brain now.” As Matthew mentions his original introduction to Malin, she flashes him a broad, proud, and adoring smile.
“Well, typically,” Malin deducts after someone’ direction after she’s fled in apparent embarrassment, “when something is supposed to be kept a secret, one does not talk about it in public…” Her voice trails off some, waving her right hand slightly as it flops right to left atop that slender wrist, hinging the dismissive motion. She nods to Mercy head bobbing along. “I’m infusing it into my brain now.” As Matthew mentions his original introduction to Malin, she flashes him a broad, proud, and adoring smile.
“Well, typically,” Malin deducts after Anna’s direction after she’s fled in apparent embarrassment, “when something is supposed to be kept a secret, one does not talk about it in public…” Her voice trails off some, waving her right hand slightly as it flops right to left atop that slender wrist, hinging the dismissive motion. She nods to Mercy head bobbing along. “I’m infusing it into my brain now.” As Matthew mentions his original introduction to Malin, she flashes him a broad, proud, and adoring smile.
Buck blinks as he listens and looks to Sophie, “Steep? I guess she’s making tea or something. That’s all I know that you steep things for.”
Sophie giggles at Buck, “That’s what I think of too.”
Mercy types something into her phone with a quiet scoff.
“No no, no need for smokes,” Tenzin reassures Matthew with a helpless, polite laugh. “We do not want to encourage vices and these attachments to worldly things.”
He settles into that seat behind the donation table like a safety bubble. He relishes the silence by staring at the food, at everyone, and drawing in a deep breath to steady himself. The man rubs his rough hands together absent-mindedly. His phone beeps. Once more, he does the dance. Slow, methodical poking with the stylus. He takes a screenshot of whatever is there and presses send. The phone beeps again. That is when he snorts in amusement, looking around and finding Malin again. But he tries to cough the chuckling away with a bow, because that is what monks do a lot of. It would not be suspicious.
Suspicious or not, Malin doesn’t really seem to be paying attention to Tenzin. She’s reading some possibly very important material. A page is turned and she takes in the next selection of information. Her tongue clucks against the roof of her mouth and she utters out a, “Huh,” before nodding to herself and reading further.
Sophie asks Tenzin, “Do you think you’ll host these monthly?”
“Host these monthly? Why do you ask?” Tenzin asks Sophie back.
His attention does not stay there for long; it does not remain on Malin either. The monk pulls open a clean white square on his phone app and starts scribing words in letter form. Sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth, he concentrates as he clicks buttons to finalize and send.
As the line for donations slows down, the man calls out to Ekaterina, “Eck, we are not ah, drunk over there yet, no?”
“I think not.” Ekaterina calls back to Tenzin. “Is too early to be drinking.”
Sophie smiles at Tenzin, “No reason.” She gives Buck a soft nudge, “Anytime you’re ready to head home love, I am too.”
“It’s basically five o’clock,” Matthew claims towards Tenzin and he lifts a hand, calling to the entire place, “First round’s on me, get me a stout.”
Malin is entirely content to be learning about brainwashing, leaning against the table and letting the others chatter away.
Buck nods to Sophie, “Sounds good.” he gives a tip of his hat to everyone, “Well, it’s about dinner time, so all this food has me hungry. We’ll see you all around, yeah?” he says as he shoots them with finger guns and starts to get up from his seat at the table. “Thanks for organizing this, I know the less fortunate will be happy to have food.” he notes to Tenzin.
Mercy shoots Matthew a glance from behind the cover of her shades, expression unchanged, then looks to Horace with a slight inclination of her chin. “Mercy. Jus’ Jim?”
“In that case, yes, I consider the idea,” Tenzin happily nods at Sophie. He avoids looking at Malin directly while he checks on the rest of the pub.
Matthew glances towards Mercy, feeling her tinted gaze on him, “You drinkin’?”
“Just Jim,” Horace confirms to Mercy with a faint smile. “Nothing exciting or fancy,” he says with a practiced look scanning the room before coming back to rest his eyes on the aviators.
Sophie brightens and tells Tenzin, “If I can help at all, please let me know. I’d love to.”
Mercy perks up her head and slides another glance to Matthew with newfound interest, tongue pressed to the inside of her cheek a moment. “Yer buyin’? Then hell yeah.” And to Horace, she tilts her head to one side inquisitively. “An’ what does Just Jim do fer a livin’?”
Checking her phone, Ekaterina leavers herself from her lean against the bar. With a nod over to Buck, Sophie, Matthew, Malin, Mercy and Horace in turn, she insures that the kitchens are working on food prep for Tenzin.
Then, with a raised hand in a wave, the scarred Russian makes for the door. “If you will excuse me, I have a meeting with Black in half hour.”
“Like I said, first round’s on me,” Then he nods to the bar, “What’ll it be?” The Matthew’s eyes flick towards the tables, seeing if there are any takers there.
Buck nods to Sophie, “You ready?”
Sophie nods at Buck.
Horace looks to Matthew first, “If you are buying, an O’Hara’s would be nice.” He glances back then to Mercy and adds, “I drive trucks, between here and other places along the eastern seaboard. I am not in town very often because of it. A few times a week unless I am needed.”
Matthew nods at Horace, “Of course,” and he starts motioning to the bartender, “Keep ’em comin’, let’s get another for Jim over here.” Another stout is brought out and slid before Horace.
“A firm tone and a confident mustache will command any crowd,” Malin reads aloud, but as she’s speaking these words, she’s touching her fingertips of her free hand to trace above her upper lip, discovering she lacks the requirements. “‘The first rule of influence is to look important while saying nonsense–‘ oh, I know how to do that,” she gains some confidence back. “To lead the masses, one moust first confuse them.” The Swede looks a bit confused, but she continues on with, “A man with a chart and a pointer is never questioned, and facts are optional when the voice is firm.” Her nose scrunches, crinkling the skin above her nostrils and her gaze wanders over to Tenzin as she asks, “Do you have a monocle, by chance? I feel that might elevate the look I need to go for in order to be successful in my latest endeavour.”
Mercy rapidfire texts with a thumb and reaches her other hand out sans looking up to accept the pint, which she hefts up to Matthew in a typical ‘cheers’ gesture. A sip of the stout is taken before she looks back up to Horace, ignorant of the foam mustache decorating her upper lip. “Thas’ kinda neat, bet you see all kinds’a shit on yer routes. Got any good stories?”
Tenzin abruptly stands at attention as the Russian passes him by. “Director,” he nods curtly. The soldierly stance relaxes fluidly into another sit at his table. It is just Matthew, Malin, Mercy, Horace, and him now, besides the usual All Saints community.
Curiosity has his gaze alight on the cool people’s table. When Matthew calls for drinks, a quiet burn of envy resides in his eyes. He closes them, bows his head, and chuckles softly to himself. Hearing Malin speak to him, he cannot help but look up at her again, presenting a courteous smile. “I do not have a monocle. I do not really own many things,” he apologizes. “Perhaps one of the local shops have this?”
Horace leaves the glass of beer on the counter next to him, finishing his coffee first in a very praticed and methodical fashion. “I have seen lots of things, yes,” he says to Mercy before nodding his thanks to Matthew for springing for the beer. “Is there anything in particular you would like to hear, Miss Mercy?”
Matthew nods at Horace, “Yeah, what kinda things you see on your routes,” he props up an elbow, settling in with the stout. Malin’s question earns his eyes, a smirk as he eavesdrops on her discussion with Tenzin, the monk’s envious isn’t lost and he says, “Send a whiskey over to the monk,” taking pity on the monastic’s probable vows.
The whiskey is sent over to Tenzin courtesy of Matthew, who flashes a smile and waves once it’s been set down.
Mercy belatedly flicks a bewildered glance to the donation area where Tenzin and Malin have, what is to her in the few scattered words she overhears, a bizarre conversation involving the need for a monocle. While trying to keep one ear tuned in for an answer to this riveting development, she otherwise keeps her attention on Horace and leans a hip into a nearby table casually. “Ever see anythin’ spooky? Mysterious? Ever end up performin’ an epic act of heroism with yer trucker know-how an’ save some small town from disaster? Or you know, what ever comes to mind first.”
“Sad,” Malin says to Tenzin initially. “How eye-ronic,” she makes a terrible pun that might go missed. “But imagine it, one lens to focus your chi. A true tool of a ninja sage or whatever it is that you are…” Gesturing all the while at the monk, she continues. “May your vision ever be centred, even if your eyewear is not, sir. But maybe you can take me shopping.” The power of suggestion.
Horace goes to open his mouth, then closes it before picking up his mug and chugging the coffee before looking at the glass of beer for a long time. Eventually he says in a rather neutral tone, “I am not a hero.”
A moment later he reaches up and scratches at his stubble before relaying, “I was once on a drive through West Virginia. Got caught up in some really dense fog, and am pretty sure I was being hunted. I can be pretty fast when I want to be though.”
“Fast?” Matthew asks, Horace, he glances at his phone again, typing as he speaks, “like, in a car or…?”
Mercy nurses that pint of stout in slow sips, savoring what she cannot buy for herself just yet, and stares up at Horace with her brows raised up over the lenses of her shades- attention sufficiently grabbed. “Hunted by what? Did you have a weapon? Were it a lunatic lookin’ fer his next victim to skin an’ turn into a lampshade?!”
The canted eyes on Tenzin are stricken wide when he is favored with a free glass of whiskey. Immediate caution and amusement stir together. “My apologies, Matthew, I do not drink anymore,” he respectfully declines. “But I appreciate your boundless generosity.” He’s still sizing up that drink, though.
One monk raises his attention back to Malin, the power of her confusion working wonders. His brows twitch together. “You speak perhaps of the East Asian temples,” he supposes of the chi and ninjas. “I have ah, never been there yet. Next on my pilgrimage was supposed to be India, but I was called elsewhere. I am sure I can introduce you to someone who may be better versed in shopping.”
“Used to be faster I suppose,” Horace says thinking about the question. “I used to be able to run pretty fast. Not so much right now.” He blinks a few times at Mercy question and then just rolls with it, “I don’t know. Hungry wolf, hungry vampire, creature of the mist? Who knows for sure.”
“So…” Malin deliberates a moment, her head tilting to the right, then left, and back again. Lips skew initially in the same direction as her head’s first movement, then twist in the opposite direction a moment later. Then, it appears she has it. Her throat is cleared lightly and she asks Tenzin, “What religion do you practice, then? Hinduism?”
Navessa makes her way into the pub, giving it a once-over. Mostly at the menu as she passes by it. “Nachos?” A shake of her head as she makes her way toward the donation table, setting down a many-times crinkled grocery bag. “Had to empty out my fridge anyway,” she explains to whichever monk happens to look her way as she hands some things over.
Matthew nods at Horace, studying the man at length, “So not fast anymore, but back then you could out run whatever was in the mist?” Matthew glances back to Tenzin, “Oh, well in case you change your mind.” Navessa’s arrival earns a nod and then his eyes are back to Mercy and Horace, “like, you got Angelblood fast, or…?”
Matthew then turns towards Malin, asking, “Babe, you want a drink, too, in on the five o’clock round?”
Horace watches Navessa come in, his eyes following her as she moves then turns his attention back to Matthew and Mercy, “Oh no. I am not special or anything. Just a regular old human.” The corner of his mouth twitches into that faint smile, “I am wholly unexciting with very limited skills.”
Mercy whips her head back around to the donation table, catching Tenzin’s refusal of the whiskey and swiftly attempting to call shotgun on that shit. “Ey! I’ll take it if he don’t want it!” She yells while beckoning to herself, then it’s right back to Horace. “So you didn’t see it? Nothin’ came out an’ attacked you? What happened?”
Tenzin chuckles at Matthew and tries to eavesdrop on the tale Horace shares. That shotgunning makes him hesitate to separate from the libation, but he allows it. He sounds pained. “Alright, you can have it.”
Navessa walks in, and he opens his arms to share her burden. “My thanks for your donation,” he expresses, placing the food down on the filled up table. “You are Nadav’s lady, no? How is he? We have not seen or heard from him in weeks.”
“No, not Hinduism,” the monk shakes his head at Malin. “I am Buddhist. From Tibet.”
Mercy practically leaps away from the bar to go claim her prize before another thirsty predator can beat her to it, and of course get back quickly enough to hear Horace’s continuation of his tale in the mists.
Navessa gives a nod back to those that look her way, but then blinks at Tenzin. “Nadav’s…” There’s a sudden laugh from her. “Oh, god, no. He’s just my tenant, though-” a glance to her phone. “Not for much longer. I’m selling the brownstone, so he’ll have to figure out a new place. He’s just been busy with his shop, I think. I don’t even see him myself, these days. Just texts. I’m dating Preston. I’m Navessa. We were introduced in… a rush before a raid once.” She puts her phone away. “I’m sorry, I have to drop these off and rush out. Meeting the agent to finalize the property I’m getting for my new studio space.”
“Nope. Never saw anything,” Horace says after a long pull of his beer. “Rather, I saw a lot of shadows and shapes but nothing that would confirm.” He considers her a moment longer then says, “Well, I got out of my lorry to change a flat. The distance wasn’t far, I sprinted from the car to the garage and locked the door behind me, the waited for the creature to stop circling the building and the sun to burn off off the fog.”
Matthew’s head continuse to nod as Horace shares that information about himself, the man’s interest shifting some once it’s explained that the truck driver is, indeed, just that, a mundane human who drives big cars. “I’ve been there,” he says, “kind of. I tell you what, I see mist, I run, or drive real, real, slow… when I see it, that is.”
Mercy leans in closer to Horace with increasing curiosity and a need to probe for details. “What kinda sounds did it make? Were it screamin’ like some hellish thing from the great beyond? Did it rake its claws ‘gainst the garage door an’ taunt you like you were a canned good ’bout to be cracked open?”
“Buddhist,” Malin repeats, humming softly as she tries to recall something, perhaps anything. Medium width brows furrow as that mind of hers has those wheels turning. “Ohhhh. Those are the onces with karma-flage, right? Nirvana… Ohm my,” there’s an ‘ohm’ for good measure. “Very zensible, I bet, you are.” She almost took on a Yoda accent there, but not quite. “What brings you to New Haven, then?”
Mercy juggles the stout in one hand and the whiskey in the other, truly having the best of days.
Horace seems to consider the question posed him for a long time then says, “They were howls and scratches. Some sort of beast, likely.” He considers Mercy for a moment, “I was scared but not terrified.”
“So busy with his shop, not even we see him,” Tenzin’s chuckle is a little harder for that. Mercy is a blur, stealing away the temptation before the monk might bend. He watches it all happen with a calm, lidded gaze — simply being. The monk brings brown eyes back to Malin, but the wordplay misses the landing strip in this foreigner’s head. “Zensible, haha.” It is another polite chuckle. “Zen Buddhism is of the Eastern countries. There, the monks follow a slightly different path.” He has resumed his seat by now, but he offers another to Malin if she has been standing all this time. “I wander from monastery to monastery, and learn what I can. Met some people in Cambodia who were ah, aligned with my goals. They suggested I come to the Wat Pang Sai; here I am now.”
“I did attempt a pilgrimage here, in America. However, when they say it is a ‘Temple’ in Las Vegas, it is not actually a temple…”
The yoda impressions draw Matthew’s attention and he floats on that way towards the donation table, Malin and Tenzin, drink in hand, nodding as he remains silent, listening for now.
It is rather intently that Malin listens to Tenzin. Despite how she can be all over the place, it seems she can be entirely attentive if she wills it. “A literal path?” she might be misunderstanding what the monk is explaining, as he mentioned ‘different path’ and then wandering. When Sin City comes into play, amusement strikes across her facial features. “There really isn’t an eightfold path in Las Vegas, but definitely an eightfold buffet. They have some good food over there.” Next, she tries to sell Vegas as, “The shrine of neon divinity to Lady Luck.” Matthew heads over and she winks at him. “We’re talking about religious things.” Clearly.
Mercy is sure to ouu and ahh as Horace indulges her with a few more details of this harrowing encounter with a creature of the mist, alternating sips between her two drinks. “You ever go lookin’ fer it? Like Ahab an’ his white whale? Might even be lurkin’ ’round the mists here right now.”
Matthew smirks at Malin, nodding, “The church is strong in Vegas,” he shares with someone, eying his now empty glass before placing it down amongst the donations. “Lots of worshipping going on there–” there’s a bit more support, motioning back towards Malin, “Lady Luck of course reigns supreme. Have you ever prayed to her?”
Matthew smirks at Malin, nodding, “The church is strong in Vegas,” he shares with Tenzin, eying his now empty glass before placing it down amongst the donations. “Lots of worshipping going on there–” there’s a bit more support, motioning back towards Malin, “Lady Luck of course reigns supreme. Have you ever prayed to her?”
Mercy lowers her voice but not really, using a pinky to carefully lift her shades up so Horace can see her eyes hovering warily on the pub entrance. “May even be waitin’ fer you outside as we speak..”
Horace smirks a little, perhaps the first relaxed expression of the evening, and looks Mercy dead in the eyes. “7100832, if you want to hear the rest of the story. Or if you want to go hunting for it.” With that he drinks the last of his beer and tells Matthew, “Thank you for your hospitality. I should probably get headed home for a nap before I pick up the next load bound for Boston.”
Matthew upnods Horace, “Good to meet you, Jim,” he returns, “have a good one.”
Mercy tilts her eyes back up to Horace and there’s a flicker of mischief in their otherwise dull, disinterested depths, a glimpse before the aviator shades drop back down. She nods once and flicks the man a quick two-fingered salute, tucking the pint in the crook of her arm to free up a hand for her phone.
“There are many interpretations, many refinements, and thus many schools of Buddhism,” Tenzin tells Malin patiently, nodding as the pub lights shine upon his hairless scalp. He was shaved before he got here, but he still has his eyebrows. Faint amusement comes out in crow’s feet as he says, “Shrines to idols, money, and vices. But Buddhism makes none a god. Not even Buddha is our god. He forbade his followers from worshiping him, you know?” Matthew is welcomed with a gesture, bowing his head. “I pray to no goddesses either, I’m afraid.” He throws out a wave to Horace and tells him, “Thank you for staying. If you might want to help still, I intend to take all the food to the New Faith Homeless Shelter in Northview Park. But if you must hurry off, it is fine.” The man shoots a look at Mercy with a questioning raise of brows.
Malin shakes her head at Tenzin, clearly knowing very little about Buddhism. “I did not know,” she explains to him in response to people being told not to worship him. “I figured he was a god. Who or what do you pray to, then? Nature?” A guess is ventured.
Horace nods and says to the other three, “Feel free to call me if you ever need a lift or something transported. Logistics specialist I guess is my proper title.” And with that he bundles up and heads off to the cool October evening.
“If you don’t pray to a god, is it more like…” Matthew’s words trail off, trying to put words to thoughts as he studies Tenzin over. “coming to a place of knowing. Enlightenment,” he’s probably quoting off whatever he’s picked up from pop culture, “and hoping your blood activates to make you… well, better?” He glances in Malin’s direction like maybe she might know more about this, considering she is the more worldy of the two.
“Hell yeah, love stories.” Mercy remarks to herself through a mumble, absorbed with her phone once again now that her distraction has left, though she does occasionally peer back to the donation table as snippets of conversation catch her notice.
“An easy mistake to make, since we have his statues and iconography,” Tenzin does not blame the error on Malin, and gently explains the truths instead. “We use them to help center our focus and inspire us to keep on. The path we walk is not an easy one.” Wringing his hands, he rises from his chair and opens up a big square of cardboard that he assembles into a bulk order box. The logistics specialist had to go. The monk realizes should’ve done this much earlier, but his motions are unhurried as he listens to Matthew.
“It is less about pleasing a higher power, and more of self-improvement. Self-enlightenment. Vows you make to yourself,” the ascetic extends to the pair, packing goods into the big box. He stops and looks at the Montrose thoughtfully. “We do not need the power of the supernatural to improve. In fact, the supernatural can push one farther away from this path.”
Malin looks over at Matthew like she has no freaking clue, and those narrow shoulders rise and fall in a shrug that states this fact even further. “Is it offensive when people rub Buddha’s belly, or are people meant to do it for luck?” she wonders curiously of Tenzin. “His belly always looks shiny and worn when I see those big statues in restaurants.” Western superstition has ruined that religion in the states, it seems. “Okay, Mister Monk Man. What kind of power do you need if you don’t activate?”
The look Matthew gives Tenzin is one of pity, perceiving no challenge in the monk’s claim. Malin’s questions have the corners of his lips stirring, climbing towards a smile, earning a look that makes it clear he adores her. There’s a nod, and he explains, “I’m pretty sure Buddha is a Faelord and that’s why you rub the belly for luck.” THen back to the monk, “I’m really glad that there’s at least something you can do to elevate yourself if your blood is…” Social etiquette prevents him from putting a label to it, instead motioning with a hand, settling on the most polite thing he can think of: “just human.”
Tenzin takes one piece at a time like it were some form of meditation in itself. Counting food, mumbling thanks over each one, except for the spotted dick which makes him flinch away. He drops it into the box at twice the speed of the rest. “It is always offensive,” he tells Malin and Matthew with a chuckle and a shake of the head for the thought of Buddha as a Faelord. “But I have been asked this before. In China, I believe there is a different buddha called Budai. He is a fat monk from their folk stories. They do have this ah, tradition of rubbing his stomach for some reason.”
The monk quietly goes on with his tidying up, when Matthew drops such a line on him. Immediately, there’s a shift in the air about the man. He wets his lips, tongues at his teeth, and offers a tight-jawed grin. “I have never wished to be anything else,” he says quietly, leveling an intent look at Matthew. “But I truly hope that you and yours may someday find true lightness of being.”
When the monk reacts to that sponge cake sort of thing in a can, Malin narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. Who doesn’t like spotted dick? “It’s a steamed, canned cake,” she seeks to assure Tenzin. “It’s a treat!” is said further of her donation. “Some lucky bastard is going to fall in love with it,” get claimed about that tinned dessert. Now that she has the revelation that rubbing the Buddha belly is not a good thing, she declares, “No more belly rubbing for me,” in an oath. \
“Unless it’s the CHinese one, right?” Matthew suggests, glancing towards Malin, “I think if it’s their tradition, it might be rude not to.” Eyes track towards Tenzin like maybe he can confirm, while the well-wishes are accepted with a simple nod. “Thanks. I think I need more rhinestones first, but I’m getting there.”
One can credit Tenzin easing out of his rigid moment to the absurdity that is Malin’s donation. “Why is the name…” He shakes his head and sighs, unable to fit anything more into the box. There’s still a lot of Cheetos left out. “Red, can you help me?” he upnods Mercy, giving the remainder of junk food and water bottles a pat.
“Unless it is the Chinese one, Budai,” the monk confirms for Matthew, rubbing some tension out of his neck. “Budai means ah, ball sack in English. So technically, you are rubbing…” This is another thing he lets finish itself. “You do not need rhinestones,” he shakes his head at the influencer, unsticking the sign from the table. “You simply need to sit and exist. There, the answers will come to you.”
“I could just start rubbing your belly. Push that fleshformed perfection out and let’s see if you can look preggo,” Malin teases Matthew, wriggling her eyebrows at the Montrose playfully, and then as she looks back to Tenzin she tries to take on an utterly composed appearance. That lasts an entire two seconds, because the very next thing she attempts is patting her own head and rubbing her belly at the same time. Success is found. Then it seems this food donation event is about testes and peens in one way or another. “Grasshopper,” she decides to call Tenzin, and in all of her wisdom as a geriatric who looks like a twenty-something shares, “Your mind has been corrupted by this world. ‘Dick’ is the old English word for ‘dough,’ and became to mean ‘pudding’ in some dialects in the You Kay. It looks spotted because of the currants that are in the dish.”
If Matthew is supposed to make heads or tails of Tenzin’s words, he makes no show of it, though he does look down and to his feet. “You like my shoes, Tenz?” gets asked, toeing them up for the monk, “if you ever want to help bring sparkle to your inner shine, I’m happy to help.” Malin’s tease is met with a grin, back arching as he pushes his belly out, attempting to present a pregnant belly.
Malin keeps patting her head, but reaches over to try and rub Matthew’s forced pooch attempt.
Mercy seems to be very focused on what ever game is being played on her phone, however a few key words inevitably draw her attention and some faint but nonetheless partially realized expressions; bafflement and disbelief, primarily, though while in the safety of her introvert sanctum she lets a hint of disgust color one of them, just for a second.
Matthew does his part to assist Malin, like he’s familiar with this routine, attempting a belly roll against her hand – but he’s no belly dancer. It just looks like he’s sucking in and paunching out, over and over.
Mercy chugs the rest of her stout afterwards and slams the pint down against the bar top with an overly southern “HOO.”
Tenzin pulls a face when Malin and Matthew play around throwing fleshforming around. He warily takes a step back, not wanting to be the next patted and rubbed. The man does not realize that Malin has performed something requiring some actual skill. “English, You Kay, America, it is hard to understand when the meanings are entirely different but the same language,” he grunts, glancing down at Matthew’s shoes. “Are those Air Jordans?” he asks, baffled by their bedazzlement.
Tenzin throws Mercy another look, more impatient this time. Seeing her down that drink, he merely sighs and sets the junk food aside. He will be making a second trip for the rest.
“Yeah, they’re the ones,” Matthew tells Tenzin, clearly proud of his shoes. “I had them dazzled up, too. Crystals, y’know. If you decide you want a pair, I Can probably hook it up,” he adds, totally ignoring all other signals that he and Malin are in fact rather offensive to this monk. He looks to Mercy, “So you carrying the monk’s food around, or you eatin’ it?”
It is most definitely that Malin brought ‘spotted dick’ for the reactions. Anyone who looks at her with any bit of discerning qualities in their character can see that fact. Blue-grey eyes glisten with amusement as she witnesses Tenzin, and even moreso as he looks uncomfortable over how freely magical language is spewed. Plus, the belly rubs. Matthew’s rolls are imitated, only her flat abs are exposed thanks to her vintage-wear, and she adds in some hip rolls — although none of it seems to have any intention to seduce. This woman is simply goofing off. “Rhinestones are supposedly a sign of a bad economy, but I love how much they glitter.”
Mercy catches Tenzin’s look and needs a second to remember why he’s throwing it her way. The lightbulb flickers on in her head and she pockets the phone, hopping away from the bar to rejoin him by the table. “Ayeah, sorry, was jus’.. really into what I were doin’..” She offers while readily switching into work mode and grabbing up an armful of the junk food. “Where you want it all?”
Matthew is caught off guard by someone’ words, “Are they really? Where did you read that, or hear it?”
Matthew is caught off guard by Malin’s words, “Are they really? Where did you read that, or hear it?”
“Noooo, please do not do that.” It comes out of Tenzin much too hastily. His palms move in downward calming manner, and he switches up his track to mean, “I cannot accept such an expensive and rare gift. I would not attach myself to anything.” The monk is either a victim or collateral damage to Malin and Matthew’s playful antics. He stares past them, muttering a mantra for extra patience.
Mercy saves him this time. “If you could deliver the rest to the New Faith Homeless Shelter, that should be fine. You can handle?”
“Okay,” Matthew says and then he glances at his phone, explaining to someone “I need to take a call!”
“Okay,” Matthew says to Tenzin, and then he glances at his phone, explaining to Malin, “I need to take a call!”
Mercy tucks a few water bottles under her arm while juggling the rest with just a bit of difficulty. There’s a pause at Tenzin’s request where she quite pointedly looks between him and the couple, trying to gauge the monk’s reaction as to whether or not he needs backup.
“Is it polite in Buddhism to turn down gifts?” Malin wonders of Tenzin, trying to wrap her mind around the monk’s culture which obviously confuses her. Her nose scrunches some more, that hand falls from Matthew’s flat abs, and the one that was patting atop her own hair finds its way to rest beside her hip. She glances at Mercy and asks, “Do dogs practice Buddhism?”