The Stumble Inn

Hal sighed, and slicked back his hair. "Where is Kasei-La? It isn't like her to be late like this... Elena should have brought her back at least ten minutes ago... Say, this Wesa girl... She wouldn't be a bad influence, would she? Not into drugs or alchohol or satanism, right?"

"...Did the fifties just shit you out, or are you going for the most retro parent of the year award, dude? Bad influences don't do shit."

"Wesa? Wesa is thousands of years old. . . maybe more. . . or something. I don't know how that whole thing works really. . . but she's a pretty good influence, I think. She just. . . likes the night." Mel smiled a bit at this, enjoying a private joke.

Hal nodded, and sighed quietly. "Well... Alright. Say, Mel, if there's anything else you would like help with in this place, just tell me. I'm suited to more jobs than just being a bartender, you know." He smiled at her softly.

Dent rolled her eyes, and reclined in a chair. "No one listens to the military man."

Mel shifted uncomfortably. "Um, okay, Hal. I'll be sure to do that. . . "

Hal face-palmed, and looked up at her, a tad frustrated. "I get it, Mel. You're not attracted to me. I just want to be helpful, is all." He sucked in a deep breath. "I'm trying to come to grips with this reality, but I'm going to need a little help, alright? Not too much to ask?"

Dent giggled "Ooooh, argument."

Mel gave Dent a withering look. "It's not an argument if no one is angry." She told hir matter-of-factly before walking off to sit behind the counter and fill out some paperwork on the new visitors.

"...She just managed to make me feel guilty, somehow. It was those eyes." Dent looked genuinely surprised. "She gave me that same look my mother gave me when she found out I got drunk when I was fourteen... Christ, she's good."

"That's what you get." Hal walked up to Mel, and looked around for a broom. "I'll clean up anything that needs to be before I go to bed, alright? Unless you've cleaned today, in which case... I dunno."

Mel looked up at Hal, a blank expression on her face. "I take care of the cleaning around here. Don't deprive me of a job, you know? Just do your own thing, dude. This happens to be my niche I carved for myself in this town. I'm not really wanted anywhere else. . . " She looked contemplative for a moment, sighed, and then went back to her work with her shoulders hunched in despair.

Hal groaned, and then stopped in contemplation. "...You know, I know what it's like to not be wanted. I mean, my father couldn't look me in the eye after my mother died." He tried to sit down next to her. "I know you miss your boyfriend, and that... But, don't give up hope, Mel. I don't know you very well, so I can't exactly say what you're like, but I'm sure he hasn't stopped looking for you."

Mel continued to work. "You're not very good at recognizing and accepting a cold shoulder, are you?"

Hal blinked, and his shoulders sank. "...Oh, alright." He sighed, and went towards his room. "You know, maybe that's why you're alone. Rather than open up, you'd rather wallow in your sadness. Can't blame you, I once did the same. But I matured out of it. Thanks for the room, though."

Mel shook her head, never looking up. "I'm not alone, dipwad, that's the whole point."

Dent blinked, and shook her head. "You two are fighting more than mom and dad. Well, except mom would hit dad a lot. Hehe." She looked at her. "You know, maybe you shouldn't be so aggressive, huh? There's this thing called karma that tends to fuck you over. Hell, it got me already." She waved her hands over her body, and then her chair creaked, and snapped under her weight as she leaned back. "...And it got me again!"

Molodi grimaced as she drove down the long highway. "Fucking fog... Damnit. That damn blyadischa should have moved her fat ass... Not my fault I need to get somewhere. Where the otebis am I?" She groaned, and her eyes lit up as she spotted the town. "FINALLY. Hopefully the people aren't too fucking chatty. Last thing I need is some fatass huesos holding me up when I try to get my room."

She pulled up to the hotel, and stared at the downed plane. "...My homeland never ceases trying to kill these fucking Americans, do they?" She rolled her eyes, and got out of her car, pulling her suitcase from the trunk. She lit up a cigarette, and walked inside. "Spare the fucking chit chat, and give me a room. Don't tell me you have the right to deny service, because I know you don't. I read over all your policies before I came here, so I can be as much of a sooka as I want." She looked at Mel, her eyes ringed deeply with bags. "I have a very important book deal, and I'm not letting you fuck it up."

Mel looked up at the woman, not at all intimidated. "For one thing, that's impossible that you read up on us. For another, why would I refuse you? This is my job. And honestly, I don't think you are where you think you are. Welcome to the Stumble Inn, the welcoming point of Wayside."

"...Wayside? Don't you mean Salina? I thought... FUCK! I knew I should have taken a god damn left." She sighed, and looked at Melanie with her sunken in eyes. "Okay, so where in Kansas AM I, then? I didn't drive here all the way from Nebraska just to see some golubaya bl'yad." She grumbled, and downed some whiskey from her bottle, not even pulling out her cigarette.

Dent blinked, wondering if Mel would stand up for herself, or even understood what the woman was saying.

"You're not in Kansas, anymore." Mel's mouth twitched up in a bit of a smile before fading back into her usual look of bland misery. "You got lost. You fell to the Wayside. These things happen."

"Lost? LOST? I never get lost. I walked all the way from Prypiat to GOD DAMN BERLIN WITHOUT GETTING LOST!" She pointed at Mel angrily "Tebe Pizd'ets if you do not tell me how to get out of this little shithole right now and send me on my way to Salina."

Mel shrugged. "I guess the way out is the way you came in. Find it, if you think you can. Most can't. Have fun. I have work." And with that, she returned her attention to her paperwork. She wasn't about to be bossed around by someone who was too prideful to admit being lost.

"..." Molodi's eye twitched, and then a wicked smirk came on her lips. "What's the matter, you shluha vokzal'naja. Upset because your boyfriend left you, or something? That's it, isn't it. That's why you're not a loud mouth like all the rest of you fucking American pigs. You finally got some of your god damn pride kicked right out of your fucking teeth when you realized your little fuck-buddy didn't give to shits about you. Tell me I'm right. I mean, why else aren't you letting a man run the shop? You Americans are so about freedom, but when it comes to tits and skin colour, you're all the fucking same. I bet he left you to fuck some other sooka, didn't he?"

Mel didn't even glance up at her. What did it matter, really? Even if her boyfriend wasn't coming for her, it didn't really matter in the long run. He had made her sort of happy. . . but mostly she had been as miserable as ever. Everyone was miserable where she came from. Why couldn't this woman shut up and be miserable too?

"You see, that's the difference between me and you fucking Americans. All you ever do is wallow in self-pity and throw fucking tantrums when people don't do what you want... Heh... I'm being an American now, I guess." She took a drag on her quickly fading cigarette. "You know, it's weird. When you have all these nuclear bombs and tanks and planes behind you, you Americans are tough. But when no one is around to help you? You have nothing to scare people with? You're nothing. You're just scared little children trying to appear tough. I came to this fucking country expecting something better than what I left, but instead what I got was everyone taking advantage of me instead of the government. Toughen the fuck up and say something."

Mel sighed and looked up, pointing at her slanted eyes. "Not American." She stated, and went back to her work.

"So you're a Jap, then?" Molodi actually seemed to have been caught off guard.

"북한." Mel said, without looking up.

Molodi's eyes watered as she realized. "Oh... Oh my... I'm sorry. I didn't know, I didn't know..." She bit her lip, and brought a sleeve up to her mouth. "I'm sorry..." She had recognized the dialect from late nights watchign television, watching the Korean War going on with wide eyes, actually feeling pity for someone other than herself for the first time in a long while. "...I'm very sorry. I... I've been very bitter ever since the KGB killed my father... It's been a rough road... Did... Did they hurt you?"