ways_back_room | Weekend Entertainment: Test Drive Meme!

Weekend Entertainment: Test Drive Meme!

It's an

app_this_plz weekend, so it's time to break down the walls and let in the new, the departed, and the already here with a Test Drive Meme!

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Face. Palm. "How many times have I saved your life? Do you really think I'd go to the trouble of doing all of this?" HUGE BAR CARLTON HELLO. "There are rats carrying trays! Anyway, I'd never do that to you Carlton." She frowns. "I'M NICE."

Shawn would, for the record, totally do that. But not Juliet.

Edited 2012-10-08 00:42 (UTC)

"Animatronics." There are not real rats carrying trays. It's some kind of movie magic or something. Spencer knows people.

"You may be nice but you're under the influence lately."

"I like Shawn a lot, but he's not that smart. You KNOW he's not that smart." Lassiter, meanwhile is doing what Shawn usually does and is giving her a headache. Luckily, Juliet's been prepared for this event for awhile, so she has ammunition.

"Go to the bar and order something." Animatronics can do many things, but making food appear magically isn't one of them.

Edited 2012-10-08 00:47 (UTC)

He knows a setup when he sees one. He'll go to the bar, order a cup of coffee, and it'll be drugged.

"I'm not in the mood to be roofied, thanks."

"Oh GOD. You're so..." SHE goes to the Bar, and makes a great show of ordering Lassiter's favorite type of coffee (black, no sugar, and strong enough to make the hair on your chest stand up). It materializes, and then she deliberately turns toward him, taking a long drink before putting it on the table.

"And if you want to draw my blood, do it."

Where did that coffee come from? This is making less than no sense.

"I have a head injury. That's what this must be. I'm suffering from head trauma and I'm hallucinating."

He'll wake up soon. Probably in an ER with O'Hara standing over him with her worrying face on.

"You're fine," she says firmly. The anger's starting to ebb and her usual sympathy's returning. "EVERYBODY is fine." She awkwardly pats his hand. "I've been trying to warn you about this place ever since Shawn and Gus and I found it, then Henry and the Chief started coming." It was honestly just Lassiter's turn, as far as Juliet's concerned.

"The Chief?" Now, he could see the elder Spencer getting into something silly like this, roped in by his son, or in trying to insulate Shawn from the consequences of one of his schemes. But Karen? She stands above all that.

"You've seen Karen Vick here, in this place, which you claim is," well, he can't say it, because it's just all still too ludicrous. "If I were to call her right now, she'd tell me she's been here?" He pulls out his cell phone. No bars. No 4G. Of course not.

"Gimme that coffee." He scrubs at his face. Maybe the coffee will wake him up and help all this make sense somehow.

"Magic Bar. Porthole to a thousand different universes. And a maker of great coffee." She cringes as he fiddles with his phone. "They don't really work here. The end of the universe doesn't have Wifi. But if you ask Karen about it at home she'll admit it." Probably ~~unlike some things she won't share with Jules~~.

She sympathetically nudges the cup over towards him. "Your time was just up, Carlton."

Edited 2012-10-08 01:25 (UTC)

"You make it sound like I've died."

Carlton takes a long draw on the coffee -- it's good, he'll admit that it's a damn fine cup -- but he looks up in alarm.

"Oh God, I'm dead! I'm dead and this is... I'm in hell. How did it come to this?"

Ohboy, Carlton never panics, and she doesn't want him to freak out now. She deliberately pinches the back of his hand. "Do you FEEL dead..." Squinting. "...You think I'm going to HELL?" YOU ARE UNDERMINING THIS PARTNERSHIP BOND CARLTON.

"Just because I'm in hell doesn't mean you're here too. You could just be a demon masquerading as Juliet, designed to aid in my eternal torture and damnation."

Who knew he was such a spiritual literalist?

"...By giving you good coffee?" She shakes her head. "I'm not a demon, Carlton."

Okay, maybe she has a point there, though demons are full of trickery. Or something.

"Distraction..." he mumbles into his cup. Yes, it's really quite good.

"If it's not hell, what is it? Tell me again. Slowly. One more time, just so I'm clear?"

"For what?" she asks. "Violence isn't allowed here, I told you." She rubs her temple. "It's a magic bar, somewhere at the end of the universe. No one knows why it's here or how people manage to find it - sometimes it just happens by accident - but there's usually a single door you have to get through to come in. There's one at the Psych offices, and one near the evidence locker at the station." She counts off the rules. "Your first drink's free but you have to pay for everything after that. No violence, no outside business, and no sex downstairs. If you ever get stuck here, you can get a room upstairs. She'll let you tend during her nap to pay off your tab."

All those words make sense. Even in sequence and context. But they're still more than a little bit unbelievable.

"Wait, she? She'll let me tend? Who's she?"

"The bar," she says, pointing to the magical slab of wood. "She's a she. Even has a baby." She points toward Magellan. "Yes, it's a globe. Don't ask."

"So the bar is sentient, had a globe baby, and will let me tend to pay off my tab. Does she take American currency? How about my American Express?"

This is all very complicated.

She nods. "She'll take whatever the local currency is and put it toward your tab. I know a girl who pays in bottlecaps."

Some part of her can't believe this conversation.

"Bottlecaps. Well, yes, of course, why not? Why not?"

He puts his head down on the table. "I think I need some quiet time."

She knows that look. "Don't fall asleep," she says. "The Loompas will try to polish you."

"You're just messing with me now. Loompas. That's from that movie." Carlton's voice is muffled against the tabletop. "I'm not Mike Teevee."

"They're real here - just don't tell them that." She sighs and leans back in her chair. "You do look like him, though, around the ears."

Carlton knows this, a little too well. Neighborhood kids plagued him, calling him Mike Teevee for years. Just because he wore guns and had sticky-outty ears. He didn't want to be a fake television cowboy, he wanted to be a lawman. He is a lawman.

He sighs. Loompas are real. He's at the of the universe with sentient female furniture and rats serving drinks. And he's not dead or in hell.

This is somehow his reality. It makes absolutely no sense.

He sighs again.

Well, this is awkward.

Carlton's never been good at accepting comfort from anyone, and she knows how he'd react to a hug...

Backpats then, partner? "It's not bad here. As long as you stay out of the woods."

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actualdetective - 2012-10-09 19:36 (UTC) - Expand

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craftylildoodlepumpkin - 2012-11-09 08:15 (UTC) - Expand

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