[OTA] To The Day

[intotherough]

Thirty-eight years ago in Aberdeen, Scotland, Benjamin Caillean Mackinnon was born to Anthony Mackinnon - a cardiologist affiliated with the hospital his only son was born in - and Sine Barrie Mackinnon, a historian. The date is no secret, and was neatly noted by the Diamond who met him at the Castle four years ago, when he arrived in Deck.

Still, Ben isn't really one for throwing a birthday parade, and so he's gone through his day the way he goes through all his days. Up in the morning and out with Charlie, because that dog has more energy than Ben does even under the influence of an entire pot of coffee. Then to the pub, to frown at inventory and the books and open the place up in time for lunch business. Then he's largely busy; his birthday went and fell on Friday this year, after all, and that's the day that everyone seems to be coming by.

Sometime in late afternoon, though, he leaves the pub in the semi-capable hands of his cook and goes for a wander in Town. He might buy himself a book or a blade, or just end up at one of the cafes for tea and - probably, because he was human - cake. He does have birthday rituals, even if they're not flashy ones.

One of them involves not working the entire day.

Comments

[butneverbreak]

He could pretend everyone's coming by and keeping him incredibly busy on a day he should be resting because they all adore him. Because they want to be part of a parade of birthday wishes. It's certainly the sort of thing the not-quite-regulars who happen by are going to claim.

Rita assumes. She's clearly here because she had any idea at all it was his birthday. Pure luck had literally nothing to do with it.

Which is why his birthday gift will clearly be her actually volunteering to pay for her own drink. "Little birdie told me you've finally taken the plunge into senility. Say it isn't so."

[intotherough]

It could be that too, of course. He could pretend that there's a parade of lovely ladies coming by because he's a heartbreaker and he has every last one of them breathless with love. It seems a bit too much even for him, though.

"Aye, 'tis true enough," he says on a sigh as he takes her money. He takes it with a bit of a raised brow, of course. "We men haven't as long with our minds as the fairer sorts, but I'm certain I haven't the need to tell you that."

[butneverbreak]

"So long as you keep your good looks, I expect it isn't much of a problem. So few of you have anything really important to say even with full mental capacity."

That arched brow will be met with a calm pat on the cheek before she settles, briefly, on her elbows. Surely what he wants to do on his special day is be kept behind the bar by customers, after all.

"What's the verdict, then? I've heard both thirty-five and sixty, and I haven't decided which I like more."

[intotherough]

"It's true," he says with a theatrical sigh as he leans his elbows on the table. "Facts are, most of the brains were given to the ladies, no matter how much my side might protest that." They did have their rare moments, though.

Well, he liked to think so, at least.

"Neither one, though I daresay if I'm so well-preserved at sixty, someone ought to throw a parade. 'Tis thirty-eight, actually," he adds with a bit of a grin. "I'll be needing a cane shortly, I'm thinking."

[butneverbreak]

To that she'll lift her glass, still not quite empty. Sometimes men do say mildly clever things, after all, and that's perfectly lovely to toast.

"Thirty-eight." Her sigh is rather dreamy, of course. Fondly, fondly does she remember the age of of so many threes of years ago. So young, so foolish. "And this is your masterful celebration of succeeding to avoid dead thirty-eight whole years in a row?"

[intotherough]

She doesn't look a day over thirty-two, Ben thinks, whereas his skin is getting increasingly craggy, truth be told. It's fortunate that people seem to like that sort of thing.

"It 'tis," he confirms with a slight smile. "Well, likely I'll go procure myself some cake in a bit. Ian's got many admirable cooking skills," he adds, nodding at the kitchen. "But he does best with things you can toss in the deep-fryer, really."

[morallydefunct]

"You're getting old," Victor said as he stepped into the pub, tossing the man a small box with a few...knick knacks inside. Mostly, a new phone by which to communicate with his mother by.

"Don't say I've never done you a service."

[intotherough]

"And so are you," Ben returned, though without any heat, really. He poured Victor his usual and slid it across the bar before flipping open the box and blinking at the contents.

"She thinks you a charming and polite gentleman, you know." Which was certainly true, just not the whole story. "Thank you."

[morallydefunct]

"Aye, well...I do try to charm her. It is the least I can do for her." He said, smirking a little. Ben's mother, really, was a rather charming woman herself.

"I tried to imagine what you'd want for a birthday, and nothing came to mind." He said, before pointing to the phone. "Aside from a link to home."

[intotherough]

It was true that Ben had come by his ways naturally, and they certainly hadn't come from his da. The thought of Sine Mackinnon had him smiling though.

"This is more than enough," he said, and quirked an eyebrow. "I've been told we're a hard species to shop for." Men, that is. Though possibly also just men like them, really. He could imagine that Adrien Fitzgerald likely made lists.

[morallydefunct]

"I would think it is a lack of need for things," he said, shrugging. He personally did not have much he wanted or needed outside of what he had. But that was merely a personal observation if one asked him.

"Ten year ago, I wouldn't have thought us likely to make it this far."

[intotherough]

Ben shrugged his shoulders a bit laconically as he poured himself his own whiskey and leaned on the bar. "Ten years ago, I was half convinced you'd already bit it," he said with rare blunt honesty.

"Course, eight years ago, you then popped up with that curious order of a genuine claymore." He'd known something was up then, as he was pretty sure the Republicans weren't trying to reenact Culloden any time soon.

[messire_messer]

Is it a special occasion? Rap genuinely doesn't know if there is. He does know that he's stopping short as he passes the cafe. "Why sir, I had no idea you indulged in sweets."

[intotherough]

Makes sense that he doesn't, really. Ben's not making much of it, after all, he's just kicked back in his chair with a book and a thick slice of lemon-glazed pound cake. "I find it breaks the monotony," he says. "Of chewing nails and wood and such."

[messire_messer]

"True, that isn't very good for the constitution, I hear. Nails are awful enough going in." Might be a joke. Might not be a joke. His expression isn't helping either way.

[intotherough]

"Even tougher coming back out again." Ben's expression matches Rap's exactly. Is he kidding? Does he actually eat nails? "A bit sharp and pointy, aye?"

[messire_messer]

"Quite the devil inside. It's a masochist's food, I believe." And now he's pulling out a chair, because surely he should subject random passersby with this kind of talk. Just the customers.

[intotherough]

Never let it be said that Ben is discourteous, so he'll put down his book and pick up the coffee that goes with the cake. "Only meant for the iron-deficient, really," he says as he takes a drink of coffee. "Anemia's a bitch, you know. Even chewing nails might be preferable."

[standlikestone]

But he will be working when Riley saunters into the bar, taking the closest seat to him and drumming her fingers on the bar. She has a pleasant sort of... look on her face. It's not quite a smile, but she can pretend while she waits for Ben.

"Heard it's your birthday," she'll say as means of introduction. "So how old are you?"

[intotherough]

"Did you?" He says with a raised brow. All told, it's probably best that Riley wasn't there earlier when her mother gave him a birthday kiss. "Thirty-eight today," he says after a moment. "Did you want a drink along with my age? Two for one on draft beer just now."

[standlikestone]

"Sure, get me one." She waves a hand flippantly, then goes on with her questioning. "How long have you lived on the Deck?"

[intotherough]

He eyed her as he poured the beer. Eyed her while he set the coaster down and put the pilsner on top of it. Eyed her as he leaned his elbows on the bar. "Why?" He finally asks.

[standlikestone]

"Well, considering Mom doesn't have any older brothers-- anymore," she speeds through that, "and all her other brothers don't live here, so I need to be the one asking."

[intotherough]

His brows go up, and he considers telling her, gently, that he and Rita aren't dating. A few dances at the party and a kiss - though he doubted Riley knew about that one - don't make for dating. Just flirting.

"Three years," he says instead.

[itsybitsyrigby]

Obviously, part of the day that isn't occupied by working is going to be occupied by a bouncy sixteen-year-old Heart who has a neatly wrapped present to hand over. Because there's no reason for him to have serious things when he could learn to talk like a cool kid, right?

Right.

"I'm paying for your dinner, Ben. Unless you have plans already."

Just a heads up.