[PRP] Get yer sandwiches (Oliver & Elliot)

[Melancholies]

It was approximately a**-o'clock in the middle of the night, but Oliver had woken up. This wasn't unusual—most of the time he was just awake to be awake—but sleep had granted him a sliver of solace for an hour or so, and now it was time to return to reality. Rather, fate had decided he needed to get his a** up, because they had visitors.

Oliver had noticed it recently, but the wildlife had been getting a little too friendly with him lately. This was to say he'd been approached more than once by a raccoon in broad daylight, which was weird, mostly because he worried that they might be rabid or some crazy s**t. He couldn't deal with rabies this late in the game; that would be like, the worst way to die. Ever.

Cue the moonwalker sitting at the sliding glass door, cross legged, his head propped up in his hands. On the other side of the glass were a few sets of glowing eyes. The handout crew was here, and no amount of staring was making them go away.

saedusk

 

[saedusk]

Waking up at (or staying up 'til) a**-o'clock was more of an Oliver thing, but occasionally Elliot did the same. Tonight was one of those nights. It wasn't because he was sleepless, though. In fact, he felt like death on legs trying to make his way to the bathroom. Normally he would've slunk back into bed, back into the protective warmth of his covers and his dumb dog, but tonight he happened to notice Oliver's door was open. That was unusual.

So instead of retreating to comfort, he set out to find the missing Beaumont and make sure he wasn't passed out on the couch instead of his goddamn bed again. What he found was probably more concerning than the former. What the heck was Ollie doing sitting on the floor nose-to-nose with the door?

"Everything alright?" he asked, voice thick with remnants of sleep. Even with the pretty damn obvious glowing eyes at the window, Eli didn't immediately notice their visitors.

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Oliver was too sleep-drunk to jump when Elliot called out to him. Instead he continued to stare at the moving shadows beyond the glass, the rims underneath his eyes a little too dark to be mere circles of sleep deprivation. "They're here." His voice was hollow, low, sleepy. It wasn't the full moon or anything, but he was a little caught up with himself.

He did eventually turn over to look at Eli, "Don't tell Pascal, he'll boof."

saedusk

 

[saedusk]

This was something out of a horror movie. The way Oliver talked, tired, lost... it was the voice someone adopted before they died an awful death. It was how you could tell they'd given up. Or maybe, just maybe, Elliot was also more than half-asleep and his mind was racing with a bunch of dumb things that didn't make sense. That was probably it.

So, he rubbed his eyes furiously and tried to wake the ******** up.

"Pascal is asleep," he mumbled quietly. If he talked too loud now, he might wake him. Instead he sat down on the floor next to Oliver, peering out into the night, finally catching sight of the shadows moving beyond the glass. "Whoa, whoa, whoa- Wait- What-?" Now he was a little more awake. "What is that? Who's here??"

Melancholiessss

 

[Melancholies]

Ollie also returned his attention to the beings just outside the door. At Elliot's entrance, they seemed to back off a little, but it was mostly a slight setback. The thing about urban wildlife is that they were really ballsy, and people didn't pose much of a deterrent at all. "I recognize them," Oliver told him, "There's the big fat one with the nic in his ear—he's prolly like, the mob boss—and there's a smaller one with a really big mask, and that one has a stubby tail..."

He was starting to recognize them like you would people.

"They're raccoons that I see around." He finally explained, tired eyes turning to set on Eli, "Usually they're down by the dumpsters though. I dunno how they got up on the balcony." Sure, they were only the second floor, but it was still pretty goddamn impressive.

"They're hungry..." He turned back just in time to see a pathetic parade of paws squabbling at the glass. "I guess it's my fault for feeding them the once."

saedusk

 

[saedusk]

The fact these raccoons made it up to their balcony wasn't as strange or fantastical to Eli as the fact that they were a coon-mob or that Ollie had no issue pointing out one from the next. Did they have names, too? Would it sound too snarky to ask? The filter was only barely there at this point, but he bit his mental tongue on the thought.

Later, maybe, later...

"Soooo," he said instead, "Are you telling me they expect us to feed them now?" Watching their uncanny paws made the horror movie equation even more real. "They won't go away until they're satisfied?" Look at that energy, after all, that determination. It was hard to believe anything else.

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"Probably not. I mean, do you see them?" He turned to look at Elliot, the wide alert look to his eyes a total facade. He blinked slowly—deliberately—like a cat. The creepy paw-hands were still fishing all over the screen door. "I guess we could ignore them, but that seems kind of sad. What if Bukowski attacks the others?" Oliver was silent.

"Bukowski isn't his real name." And then he went back to looking out the door. "I don't think any of them have real names. They're just raccoons."

"We should make sandwiches." He said suddenly.

saedusk

 

[saedusk]

Burning curiosity? Sated. Well, sort of. Only one of their visitors had a name so far, or at least had an inkling of a name, since they were all raccoons and probably didn't have real names. According to Ollie, at least. It was becoming more and more obvious the more Elliot woke up that his roommate was beyond tired and probably borderline delusional.

Didn't mean Eli wouldn't humor him. In a strange way, this was nice. Weird, definitely, but nice.

"Wait, so which one is Bukowski?" he asked, "There are a lot of them, you know." Then he leaned forward, closer to the door where he could hear the scritch, scritch, scratch of their paws, so he could get a good look at Oliver's face. "Hold on, sandwiches? Isn't that an awful lot of work for the middle of the night? Can't we just throw them some bread?"

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"The super big one." Ollie said, "The fatty. The mob boss. Look at him."

'Bukowski' was lumbering near the back of the other two raccoons, his fluff making up the majority of the "fatness" that Oliver seemed to be referring to. Still, he looked positively rotund, like a potato on sticks. His legs looked awfully spindly in comparison, but they were probably just average.

"Listen." Oliver huffed, "If you were homeless, and someone was offering you free food, would you take the bleached white bread? Or would you take the bleached white bread with peanut butter?"

saedusk

 

[saedusk]

If Oliver was trying to guilt him, it was only sort of working. The logic was flawed, but how were you supposed to explain that to someone who was obviously beyond out of it? Looking out at Bukowski, he shook his head. Realistically, he was far cuter than he was menacing, all fluffy and round and-

Sigh.

"I wasn't planning on offering them a choice..." he mumbled, but it was mostly to himself. Fingers pressed at the bridge of his nose, but he was smiling. "Alright, you've got me, of course I'd choose the bleached white bread with peanut butter."

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"Lots of peanut butter. They need the protein." Oliver was standing up, wiggling off towards the kitchen, "Did you know some people track the economy through peanut butter sales? It's cheaper than meat, so whenever food prices get bad, people tend to buy that instead for their protein fix."

The counters were already getting covered in the necessary supplies.

"We can make an assembly line." He said dutifully. The scrabbling of paws at the door only got worse with their departure. They felt forsaken. "And then when they're fed, we can sleep. I can't sleep unless I know they're gone, or else I'll just—I'll know Elliot." He looked at his roommate with sleep deprived eyes, "You know?"

saedusk

 

[saedusk]

"Lots of peanut butter as in 'plan on buying more at the store because we're about to use it all' or-?" It's not like it was a full jar, but just how much did they plan on feeding these raccoons that probably got plenty of protein on their own? Well, it came with the sleep deprived Oliver territory, so Eli supposed it wasn't that much of a surprise when it came right down to it.

"I know you'll know," he said without a fight. Obviously he'd know, because Ollie would never let it go and he'd never hear the end of it. Somehow, someway, it would come up even when everyone was well-rested and in their right mind again.

"Tell me what to do. You're the boss of this outfit." The bancho, one might say. If the big, fat raccoon hadn't already been dubbed Bukowski, he definitely would've suggested Bancho for a name. It was a good fit, right?

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"No, no. They don't need that much. I need some for my toast tomorrow morning." The bread was out, he was rifling around for the aforementioned peanut butter. He found a jar of nutella, but after exchanging a look with Elliot, he put it back silently.

"Can you..." Elliot knew Oliver. He'd know this look. This was the look of sudden realization, the epiphany that making sandwiches was kind of a one person job. What was Eli supposed to do? Hand him slices of bread? Accept the bread with the peanut butter on it? It made no sense.

"Cut the crust off." Oliver blurted out suddenly. Their assembly line had just became the product of pure chaotic capitalism: Nepotism being the foul source for corporate bigwigs to make job positions that were wholly unnecessary just for the sake of getting their buddies in there. The crust didn't need to be cut off. Ollie wasn't about to deprive him of a job. "And I'll slather them." Where did he get a butter knife? He had a butter knife.

saedusk

 

[saedusk]

The balance of this wild corporate scheme was kind of amazing, actually. Even if Oliver was tired and made no sense a majority of the times he opened his mouth, there was a strange, efficient grace to the way he did certain things. Case in point, that butter knife. Where the hell had it come from? Elliot didn't even notice him opening the drawer.

"Cut off the crust?" he asked, somewhat incredulous. There was a knife in his hand now, too, and he wasn't quite sure where it had come from. He didn't even notice until he really looked and even then he had to double-take.

"I'll admit, a sandwich always looks good and finished with nice, clean edges, but... wouldn't the raccoons enjoy it just as much with the crust?" It was more for them to eat and Eli couldn't imagine they'd turn that down if they had the words to do so.

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"Oh, no." Oliver shook his head quickly, "We're still giving them the crust. That would be a waste. It's like when you cook a steak with the fat on it 'cause it gives the meat good flavor, but not everyone likes the fat so you gotta cut it off. But then if you're rich enough to afford fatty steaks, then you probably give the trimmings to your dog or tiger or whatever."

He took a deep breath.

"So nothing gets wasted. They're gonna want that crust, but you gotta make it look nice. Haven't you ever watched the Food Network? Chopped? You get graded on taste and ingredients and plating, Elliot, the plating."

Somehow Oliver had a sandwiched slathered up and ready to go, and he handed it over to Elliot dutifully.

saedusk