(2018-11-19) Suddenly A Drunk Scotsman
Pate is cold, so he decides the best place to get warm is at the B&B.

Katherine is finally taking a break, between the holiday and the new building in the backyard, it's been a day. Dinner is in the crock pot and she's curled up on the couch, watching a fire in the fireplace. The television is on, but it's muted, and she doesn't seem to be paying it any attention. It started to snow again outside, but the flakes are few and far between.


It's rare to have a Scotsman bumble into your B&B mildly drunk.

Well, maybe not Glasgow, but around here it is a rare occurrence. Pate seems to burst in from the cold, his nose red and his eyes a little bloodshot. "Aye, it's fucking cold out there!" he exclaims in his brogue, keeping his balance as he shuts the door, if only barely. "Jesus, colder than a witch's tit, I swear it'll be the fucking death of me, it will." He mocks shivers, and then laughs raucously.

And then he notices Katherine.

"Oh! Pardon me, Kate, aye — what're you watching?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "Just thought I'd come by to get warmed up a bit, yeah? Maybe see if you've got a spot on that I can pay you for — oh! And pay you I can, you see, yes?" He's in very good cheer, despite the expletives, and pulls out a wad of cash from his pocket. Like, a big wad of cash. "And, aye, I've been maybe having a bit since I got paid, but, hell, there isn't a Scotsman alive that don't like a good splurging when he can."

He laughs appropriately and loudly.


Suddenly Pate! Katherine pushes to her feet, blinking toward the Scotsman as he is suddenly in her living room. "It..is cold outside." She responds, trying for something that resembles a smile. "Well it won't be the death of you now, sit down and get warmed up. You..want food?" She asks, glancing toward the front door, mostly to make sure it's closed, before she eyes Pate again. "Yes, you certainly can pay me, but you should probably put that away. I don't want you to lose it, especially here. Though I think any of my tenants right now would return it." She stands still, fidgeting as she watches him laugh. "Oh dear.."


"Aw, c'mon, Kate."

Pate doesn't seem to care at all. Which is fine, really: it's nice that there are people in the world who aren't always giving too many fucks to have a good time. The Scot finds himself a place to sit, and says, "I won't be losing it, my pet; I'm not that bad with money. But! It's enough to get me home, if I get too knackered to find my way back to my car." He sighs. "I made it all the way out here, and, wouldn't you know it? Not a bloody place to buy a lady a drink." Harumph.

"What a predicament."


"I have liquor in the kitchen." Kate remarks, pointing vaguely in that direction. She moves slowly toward the kitchen, turning to watch to see if Pate is going to follow her. "It's whiskey." She calls out, shifting her feet between the rooms, as she nibbles on her bottom lip. "If you get too knackered, you can't go anywhere in your car. I've an extra room, and you can stay there if you have to." She finally steps into the kitchen, moving over to the crock pot. "Do you like jambalaya?" She calls into the great room, eyebrows raised.


"Maaah, I'll just be a bother if I'm here."

Pate makes a waving hand gesture through the air. "But whiskey!" He grins. "Whiskey is never a bother! Not like a lonely Scotsman, love, you understand?" He squints at Kate, and grins at her lopsidedly. "You should never underestimate a lonely Scotsman. They are like Flying Dutchman: horrid fantasies that only cowards believe in, and the insane lament." Whatever that means. "Just — wait."

He holds up a finger.

"You said you had what now? Jammer-riya?" Beat. "It sounds odd, yeah, but if it's good, why, I'll have whatever you give me, lass, and I promise to keep it in." He hits his chest with a fist. "We Scotsmen have cast-iron stomachs. Even when we're radge on the scotch, yeah, we keep it in because that's how we poison ourselves to death. Can't really die on the moor if you keep puking your guts out, yeah?"

He probably doesn't need another drink.


Katherine opens her mouth to reply at least twice, frowning. She gives up and spoons some jumbalaya into the bowl, sticking a spoon in it before she walks it back into the greatroom. She holds it out, eyebrows raised as she waits for him to try it. "We'll have whiskey once you finish that, maybe. I could use a shot myself." She settles into the couch, pulls her throw back over her legs and eyes Pate warily. "Are you sure you're not going to vomit?" She asks faintly, tilting her head slightly to the side. "If you think you might, just let me know and I'll grab a .." She trails off and her grin is slightly nervous. "How lonely is the Scotsman?"



Pate rolls his eyes. "I'm fine. I've got my cat." Beat. "You know, I only think about it when I haven't other things to think about." He cocks one leg slowly over the other, settling into the seat that he selected for himself. It's a very comfy chair, actually. "I guess I'm not lonely, yeah? But it's not like I share much with others." Beat. "Except my puss, and he's a good puss, drives with me on the long road."

He sighs.

"What about you? Please tell me that a bonny lass like yourself isn't as lonely as a drunk Scotsman." He smirks, and then lets out a sigh. "Life's too short for that, but, I'll bet not. You've got a good thing here. People coming in and out. Stories." Snort. "I had too much of a temper to be a barkeep or innkeep."

"So, I drive trucks."


Rainbow Sparkle, a pygmy goat arrives from the Kitchen - Stone B and B
Rainbow Sparkle, a pygmy goat has arrived.
Rainbow Sparkle, a pygmy goat leaves, heading towards the Stone Bed and Breakfast [O].
Rainbow Sparkle, a pygmy goat has left.
(I had to leave this in)

"What kind of cat is it? I have Blue here, she's a calico, but she hides in my room. I have a pygmy goat outside in the garage right now, because it's cold, and I just got a chicken today." Katherine tilts her head, gazing down at her knees. "I'm lonely, but I think I don't want to be anymore, so I'm going to do something about it. Maybe do something wild and crazy." She gestures to the bowl, a smile tugging at her lips. "So is it okay? Good? Do you need something else instead?"


The Scotsman pauses to take the bowl, and devours a couple of mouthfuls.

"You're the best, pet." Pate smiles from ear to ear. "This — this hits the spot, love, it does. And if the path to my heart's my tummy, then, you've got them both, Kate." His tone is familiar, friendly, and fond. Not inappropriately, mind; apparently, the menacing stare goes away when he's drinking. "I find it truly hard to believe that no man or woman's been smart enough to plop down in this chair, look you in the eye, and say, 'Kate, I'm going to marry you,' or something truly romantic like that."

He chuckles jovially, and then sighs happily.

"You know, I did that once? I did." Beat. "Ah, it was years ago, yeah, but there was this one girl — this one woman, aye — that I met back in Long Island, when I was doing longshoreman work." He clears his throat. "She was so bonny and beautiful it'd make you tear up on a hot summer day. And I said to her, 'Sally, you and I? We're going to get married'."

He then chuckles again.


Katherine carefully watches Pate, beaming a bit as his praise, her cheeks flushed red. "Well maybe they're all too busy to stop by and say something romantic like that, but..perhaps there is some fault somewhere here and that's the reason why they don't. I try hard not to worry about it, things will happen for me eventually." She settles back against the arm of the couch, listening to his story with a small smile on her face. "What did she say when you said that? Was she happy?" She folds her hands, settling them in her lap.


"Aye, not so much, she had a boyfriend."

Pate smiles for a moment, and then takes a break to eat another mouthful. "Yeah, Rosco. He boxed up my ears right nicely, he did, after sucker-punching me from behind at a bar." Snort. "Well, after that, I didn't see Sally at all at that place." There's another brief pause, as he remembers more. "Next time I saw her, she had — " He gestures at his face. " — she had these shiners on her. Figured I knew who did that too."

He takes another spoonful of jambalaya in, chews, and swallows.

"Anyhow, I had to do something about that, yeah?" His voice isn't so boisterous now. "And the world's a better place without that cowardly fuck Rosco." His voice is quiet and even. "So, I guess, some good came of my stupid words in the long run, yeah? But Sally, well — " Shrug. " — I couldn't face her again, not after that." And then, he looks to Katherine after a moment of reflection.

"Guess I'm lonely because I'm a bad person, Kate."


Katherine's eyes grow wide when Pate reveals what he had done, and then she lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head back and forth. "It's a shame really, I can see why you weren't able to face her, but in the long run she probably was thankful for you." She rubs her hands along her sweatpants clad thighs, shrugging. "I don't think you're a bad person. I think you're a person who does bad things for good reasons… at least in this case?" She goes quiet, gazing from Pate to his bowl, and back again. "Do you still do bad things?"


"Depends what you define as a 'bad thing'."

Pate returns to being mildly jovial. He smiles again, and it makes his face look warmer. "I mean, have I beaten some drunk assholes that thought it'd be fine to touch some women? Yes." Shrug. "Otherwise, I suppose it depends on who you ask, love. I don't get into fights with people that don't deserve it, or haven't done shit bad enough to make people want to hurt them in return. I'm no, like, crime fighter? Vigilante? But I don't tolerate people that fuck with people for profit, yeah?"

He spoons some more of the food into his mouth.

"What you do does more to make the world a better place than an old fighter can do with his fists." Beat. "The world needs less of me, and more of you." Snort. "You think anyone'd just feed a drunk, lonely Scotsman? Sheesh." Another snort. "I swear, some'd think you mad for not tossing me out on my arse immediately, Kate, you ought to think of that."

He winks, and looks very comfortable in that chair.


"Well I would define a lot of things as bad, less than some might think, but .." Katherine leans forward, resting her chin on her knees as she smiles at Pate. "I suppose I shouldn't sit here smiling, I should try to toss you out, however I have no clue how I would do that on my own.." She shrugs, both shoulders rising slightly. "So I guess you can stay." She laughs and glances toward the fire. "I think you're right about how people might react, but let's be honest, it doesn't matter what other people think."


"You know, I think it matters to me."

Pate makes a harumphing sound. "Maybe you don't care, less, but — " Sigh. " — you know, I've been around the country — I've been around the world — and I see what people say about people." Beat. "People can be cruel with words. And, let's face it, between you and me? If the cops barge in, they are going to presume it's because of me."

He laughs, finishes off what little remains in the bowl, and then sets it aside.

"So, if I'm going to stay here tonight, love, I hope you've an extra room." Snicker. "If your guests see me splayed on a couch, or snoring in this chair, I think that you might get a few complaints about the manging old vagrant taking up space in your living room, yeah?"

"And don't think I want charity — I will pay, and you'll take it."


"You're the first person who has said that in a while." Katherine remarks, her teeth still worrying her bottom lip. "The funny thing is, I don't associate with cruel people, I just think that people see me as a certain thing, and never bothered to scratch at the surface." She glances toward the door and then back to Pate. "The cops aren't going to barge in here, so I wouldn't worry about that." She keeps her chin on her knees, chuckling softly. "I have an extra room, yes, and it comes with a nice big bathroom." She eyes him a little warily when he makes his last statement, holding up a hand. "I won't offer you charity, if you needed it, I would, but you clearly don't right now. You'll pay for the room, and you'll get all the amenities that most people get when they stay here. So don't expect me to scrimp at them, hmm?"


Pate chuckles at the repartee, and nods his head, a deal.

"They don't scratch the surface?" Beat. "Maybe they're scared. Maybe they'll find out that you're actually as good and generous as you are, and it'd make them feel ashamed for their flaws." He smiles a lop-sided smile. "Maybe they see you as a certain thing, yeah? But maybe the question is: how do you want them to see you?"

He sets his hands on his stomach.

"Is it that you don't want to be lonely, or that you're lonely because people don't look at you as you want them to look at you?" Pate lifts an eyebrow. "Might be that I'm just an old man, but — " He clears his throat. " — I know how I look. I know how people see me. And to be honest, Kate? I don't mind it. If people are afraid with me, then maybe they won't fuck with me, yeah? And maybe they don't fuck with the people I care about, and that means I don't have to break their fucking legs."

His is a grim smile.

"But you?" He shrugs his shoulders. "I know what I think I see." His smile becomes warmer. "I see a lovely young woman, is all I see. Not some wilting flower or some daft bimbo, but a business owner. Strong. Generous. Fierce." He shakes a fist. "And good, Kate. A good woman."

"You'll do a person better if you like them."


Katherine chuckles softly, watching Pate almost as if he's hypnotized her. His words make her smile, laugh and she just keeps her eyes on his face. "I want to be seen as someone who matters, not someone who can be brushed off and left behind." Her fingers pick at the yarn at her feet, eyebrows furrowed as she shrugs. "I don't want to be lonely, but part of me is afraid of taking the step to fix that. So I need to work it out in my head, I guess. It is as much my fault as theirs." Her cheeks turn red at Pate's compliments and she glances away. "You are probably the most eloquent man I've met, how come you aren't a few years younger so I could chase after you?"


"You got to be quick with your words, love, if you're gonna fight."

Pate smiles broadly. "Or, it might be the scotch and whiskey in me talking. Who knows? My pals Glen Fiddick and Mr. Jameson make a fine pair." Beat. "But, the truth? Ah — " He waves his hand through the air. " — I'm just an old man who's spent a lot of time on the road with his puss. And puss is a good listener, you know, as cats often are."

"Getting to be a bit of a fat bastard, though."

The Scot looks at Katherine for a few moments in silence. "Not meaning to imply that I'm more than I am, but if you wanted to chase me — " Pate snickers. " — I think you'll find me as fat a bastard as my cat, you will. I'd just sit there, easy to find, easy to catch. Not wanting anything more than some food, a rub on the tummy." That makes him laugh just a little. "But, ah — you know, as I said before — " Shrug. " — I'm not a good man, Kate."

"And a good person deserves a good person, yeah?"


"I had six brothers and sisters, I was never good with verbal altercations. I was the middle kid, one of them anyway." Pate's smile inspires one from Katherine and she ducks her head. "I don't think it's the scotch and whiskey, you have a lot of good words in there, and you're skilled at tossing them at me." She gazes at him when he looks at her, eyebrows raised. "Do they? It seems like it's the bad sorts that always get what the good people want. They're more willing to stab and flay, and here I am trying to make sure everything is okay. My first instinct isn't to leap in and hit something. Sometimes I wish it was. Maybe you can teach me how to hit something properly."



Pate rolls his shoulders. "Maybe that's how it seems." He grunts. "Folks that do bad things to take one up on others, yeah. Yeah, they get the money, the power, and all of that shit." Shrug. "I don't think it matters. Do you think it matters? I mean, I've seen them fall too. Not all of them, but most of them." He gestures to himself. "I fell."

He doesn't elaborate on that.

"Won't make them any more or less lonely or unsatisfied, I think." Pate grunts. "Nah, I found, ever since I stopped thinking of getting ahead like that, that there's a lot to just enjoy in life, yeah? So much that I didn't see or — you know, I did not have a true appreciation for when I was a younger man." Snort. "And here I am, a few years too old and a few pounds too fat to be chased by bonny lasses, like I might have been when I wasn't such a rank bastard."

His laugh is a little sad, but still amused.


"I'm sure there is still a bonny lass out there for you, somewhere." Katherine murmurs, getting up to take Pate's bowl. "You've given me a lot to think about at least, maybe things aren't as bad as I think they are. I just need to grab the donkey by the balls, or something like that, right?" She carries the dish to the sink and rinses it out. "You'll have the Fall Room, upstairs. The door is painted red, with some leaves stenciled on them." She folds her arms over her chest and gazes at him when she walks back in. "Room is forty a night, it includes breakfast lunch and dinner, so don't get any slick ideas about paying extra for the food I served you tonight."


"Do women find truckers with cats sexy, then?"

Pate slowly rises, and gently strokes his generous beard. "I had some lass call me a fucking hipster the other day, and I don't even know what that is, yeah?" He makes a grumbly sound in his throat, like a cat waking up suddenly. "But if I sound like a genius when I'm drunk, maybe I need to drink more." He covers his mouth and burps gently. "Pardon me."

With a sigh, the Scotsman pulls out his wad of cash again.

"You're only charging me forty, then." Snort. "Well, if we'd have some whiskey together, I'd pay and tip you for that, lass, that's what I'd do." Stubborn old mule. "Oh, aye, one thing." He squints at Kate. "Did your friend Heather tell you that I'm going to be on the telly for some show she wants to produce?" Beat. "You think some fame like that'd make an old codger like me look more or less appealing?"

Everyone loves reality stars, after all.


Katherine looks like she's thinking about it for a moment before she answers. "I think some women might, and don't mind the hipster thing. I'm not even sure if that's a compliment or an insult, if we're being honest." She folds her hands in front of her, head tilted slightly. "It's what I charage everyone for a night, one of my tenants say I should charge more, and I'm considering it. You're not paying any less than anyone else, I assure you." She glances toward the kitchen, then back to Pate. "Whiskey tomorrow if you behave yourself tonight." She blinks at him and raises both eyebrows. "You're going to be on television? Well now you're going to get all kinds of tail, people love reality stars."


"Oh goodie."

You know Jeremy Irons? Remember the Lion King? Yes, that's exactly how Pate sounds. And his eyeroll fits. "I like my lasses pretty and nice, Kate, but I prefer if they aren't so daft as to throw themselves at me, for fuck's sake." He holds out forty dollars at Katherine. Actually, it's sixty; maybe he can't count too well or something. "And I'm not so daft as to think that's a good idea, yeah? Sticking me thing into anything that wants it."

He visibly shudders.

"So, if you offer whiskey tomorrow, then whiskey it'll be after I make sure my puss is fed and happy." He makes a gesture with his hand, tilting it back and forth. "Sort of this, sort of that. Will you be drinking with me? If so, you best get on your drinking clothes, then. I'll likely still be in a good mood, and ready to see whether my liver can handle what I toss at it, yeah?" He glances over Katherine for a second.

"So, is that your way of saying I'd best be off to bed, then?"


Katherine tries very hard not to laugh, but she can't help herself. "Well if you're on television they'll be throwing, they can't help themselves." She pulls out the extra twenty and raises both of her eyebrows, attempting to hand it back. "Yes well that's another thing entirely, if you do that, it's going to fall off. Do you know what people are carrying around these days." She shudders as well. "I might drink with you, but you'll have to tell me what drinking clothes are, because if it's not sweatpants…" She looks amused, lips twitching into a grin. "You should go take a nice hot shower and go to bed, you'll feel better after a good night's sleep. I'll set out some aspirin on your night stand, hmm?"


"Drinking clothes are what you wear if you don't care what you spill on you."

Pate pulls the side of his mouth into a smile. "I'm not going to risk falling, so I'll take one in the morning. And I don't tihnk I'll need the aspirin, but — " Shrug. " — any excuse to have you slip unnoticed into my room isn't a bad one in my books." He wiggles his eyebrows, but probably means little by that. "So, then, I guess it's good night, Kate." Short laugh.

"I would have said 'Kiss me, Kate', but you've got more sense than that."


"Good night, Pate." Katherine murmurs, and she turns to walk toward the kitchen, pulling the sweatshirt from around her waist to slip it over her head. "You should have tried the Kiss me, Kate, I love that movie and ..it might have worked." She turns on the sink and starts to clean. "Too late now though!" She calls out.

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