Jerk & Jill
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The second meeting of Hooch and his mom's interior decorator Jill isn't exactly what he wanted.

Queen Street

April 5th, 2013

"You're not Cheersing me!"

The wide sidewalk of Queen Street is awash in spring sunshine and Torontonians walking in every direction — east, west, and across the road at every sidewalk and point at which they can possibly jaywalk. Young, old; it's the usual smorgasbord of hipsters, older shoppers drifting in and out of the nearby Chinatown and various walks of life browsing the shops by Spadina, plus the teenagers getting out of school and the colourful vagrants. Even the most cantankerous city dweller must enjoy the bright new spring season a little bit. It's warm out, if only by Canadian standards.

"It's gonna be a bright, bright, sunshine-y day!" croons a street performer.

Jill Rey is one of the many walking westward, enjoying the day. She is not, however, brave enough to sport the shorts and short-sleeves some of those around her do; she's buttoned up in a ruffle-fronted pinstripe shirt and a slim purple blazer and jeans. The springiest attire she wears is a pair of polka-dotted sunglasses … an eclectic style, which is to say, pretty much the norm in these parts. Walking alone, she struggles slightly with paying attention to the screen of her phone and the casual flow of pedestrians moving toward her at the same time; it's an art, okay. One that she clearly hasn't mastered, after nearly tripping over someone's beagle.

"You really should consider wearing shorts. You gotta' show off those legs, Legs."

Oh Greek God. It's Hooch. How can anybody tell? Well, because he's pretty much plastered even right now in the middle of the day or whatever. He's got a classic pair of shades on his face, which is kind of set off by the green suntan lotion on his nose. He's wearing a purple mesh wife beater and a pair of torn denim jeans that might as well not even be pants, considering the huge gaps and the amount of leg that is being shown off. He's rocking a pair of flip-flops and he's got a bottle of water in his hand. However, there's a much different consistency to that water so it's probably something a bit more stronger. And by a bit more, we mean, Vodka.

He takes a swing from his bottle, spinning off the light pole that he was leaning against when Jill trip-dodged the beagle. It only takes him a couple footsteps to catch up and he just plants himself into walking alongside her, not that she actually wants him there but he's Hooch. He goes where he wants.

"By the way, I'm totally free tonight if you want to party, drink, have sex… whatever. My usual cancelled on me, lucky for you!" Grin.

"Oh my god!" More startled than when she almost kicked someone's beloved pet in the face and nearly fell on hers in the process, it takes Jill a second to get over the fact that Hooch is here, never mind everything that comes out of his mouth afterward. He's given a wide-eyed, forehead-wrinkled look so incredulous and animated it could be totally fabricated, if it weren't for the fact that the sentiment is entirely sincere: what the hell? The first non-exclamation out of her mouth is an off-putted uh of disgust. "I'm not feeling very lucky. And my legs— " She starts off self-righteous and diminishes into awkward. " — aren't — any of your — business!" She side-eyes Hooch as she walks. A little faster. Beagles be warned. "Do you know how to say hello like a normal person?"

Hooch is wandering right alongside her, keeping up his pace with hers and making sure not to walk into anything at all. It's weird. The more sips he takes of his VodkaWater, the better he is at making sure that he doesn't bump into anyone or trip over anything. He hasn't looked in front of himself once. All eyes are on Jill this entire time. Then her question hits him like a ton of bricks and he stops, holding his bottle of water just off his bottom lip. "Actually. No. No, I don't." He blinks out of his state of realization of something about himself and picks up the pace again to catch up. "But that's what I'm sayin'! Teach me! I don't have any manners. I don't know how to get you to like me. I want you to like me! Is that so wrong?!" Maybe a little bit too loud there, Hooch. But very honest.

Just when Jill couldn't seem to look any more incredulous— "You want me to teach you manners?" She nearly trips over nothing, looking fully over to take in the sight of Hooch while trying to believe this idea. "You're like an untrained dog. Which, by the way, I'm terrible at training, they just revenge-eat my socks and pee on me, so like, don't get your hopes up. And don't do … a— any of that please." His apparent honesty, at least, prompts her to tuck her phone away into her knit purse and give him her focus, even if it is begrudging. "'Kay but, for starters, why do you you even want me to like you? I'm just your mom's decorator." She points at him mid-stride. "Any answer involving my legs is totally not reasonable, dude."

"Because. You're hot."

Hooch is really not as deep as he doesn't look. Everything is pretty much on the surface with him and it doesn't even look like he's trying to hide anything. He keeps swigging at the Courage Juice, which is what keeps him so Open. And then he's shrugging. "Listen. I don't know anything about you, okay? All I know is I come downstairs, you're there, you're hot and my body is screaming at me to get to know you. You ate my Hell Mix. My mom won't even eat my Hell Mix." She probably wouldn't survive it. "So. I'm like… Legs? Sorry, I can't remember your name. But I'm like Legs? I'm gonna' know her. And I'm gonna' make her like me. And we are going to party and bullshit and drink and be awesome." Sip.

"And fuck. A lot. Loudly."

"Oh my God!" Jill shouts, mortified, stopping in her tracks on top of a patch of sidewalk chalk art. A cluster of teenagers drift by, looking pointedly at the both of them and laughing. The woman throws her hands up in frustration, where they hover without purpose except to choke the air. She takes a deep breath, ready to tell him how she sees it, all emboldened fluster as she marches in front of Hooch and points at him. Points, and points — and rolls her eyes and exhales. "Okay, listen — " She pauses. "Is that vodka?!" Nevermind. She pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head, creating an immediate nest of tangling brown hair, and squints. "My name is Jill. Look, what if there was no chance of you ever sleeping with me? Just scratch it off the the menu entirely. What then?! Would you still wanna know me?"

"Well. Yeah. Duh." Hooch is completely and utterly lost as to how anything he said was wrong. He was just being honest and open and up front about everything! Which is not supposed to be a bad things. Crazy Mortals always getting all bent out of shape about talking about anything and everything without any qualifiers or whatever. He just kind of stares at her a bit more, before holding out the bottle. "I didn't peg you for a Vodka straight girl, but if you want some you can have some." And that's just too big of an opening for him not to smile and add, "And then you can have some of the Vodka too." He immediately holds his hand up and shakes it. "Sorry sorry! Habit!" He's trying to change. Really. Not. "Look. I don't know what I'm doing. Statistically speaking, there's no chance that I'll have no chance of sleeping with you. It may take days, weeks, years but there's always that one moment in life where someone is attracted to someone they don't initially feel an attraction for. And it is usually that moment that I score. I mean, sure, I score a bunch more other times but I'm really good at being in that moment." He realizes he's getting off topic and shakes his hand again. "All I'm saying is that I don't know you and you don't know me. Who's to say we're not Sam and Diane material? We could be! But if you don't even wanna' give me a chance…" Frown. Aw, see? Now she's hurt his feelings.

She stares, and stares, and stares. She folds her arms rather than touch the vodka. She hears him out.

Then:

"No!" she blusters, her arms shooting apart. Her exclamation works across the board. No, no everywhere. "Basing a friendship on waiting to hook up some day is totally— just— wrong and weird," Jill explains as boldly as she can. "You're not Cheersing me!" Growing stressed, she bounces once on her feet and points at Hooch again for embellishment, her eyebrows raised high. "And— and— your statistics are stupid and you have something on your nose!"

Hooch is narrowing his eyes at Jill this entire time. He can't believe that she's being the same way to him, but in reverse. And now he's going to have to drop some reverse knowledge on her. "Wait. Wait a second." Hooch takes another drink from his Vodka and finally screws the top back onto it because he's about to go there. Or attempt to go there. "So you can not want to have a friendship with me that may or may not result in some benefits because you are so adamant about not having sex with me that you don't even want to be open to anything! You're so damn close minded!" Hooch is trying to get his voice to raise enough to actually be argumentative or something.

Hooch gives his own hands a wave in the air and tries to calm himself down. He frowns and reaches up to touch his nose. "It's suntan lotion!" He sighs and quiets himself down a bit, looking down at the ground and shaking his head. "Look. I wasn't trying to offend you or whatever. I was just being honest. But I can tell I've pretty much ruined your day and that is the complete opposite of what I wanted to do. I wanted to make you smile." And now Hooch is frustrated. And not drinking. Sigh.

Trying to follow Hooch's reverse knowledge leaves Jill looking confused more than anything — and, with a shake of her head and wrinkle of her nose, frustrated again. "I am not close-minded! I am— I am so open-minded!" An example of how open-minded she is wants to roll off her tongue, but nothing happens; she's just left staring expressively at Hooch. " … Just not to your version of things. You didn't ruin my day," she tells him a little more gently. "But … okay, frat-boy, you wanna know manners?" She smiles an awkward, hopeless smile. "The thing is, you can't … or, at least, you shouldn't, go around telling near-strangers you want to sleep with them! Especially if you won't take no for an answer. It's kind of sexual harassment." She narrows her eyes, stricken with curiosity, studying the creature that is Hooch. "… Does that actually work for you most of the time?"

Hooch is in the middle of trying to open his bottle again but he may have put the cap back onto it too tightly or something because he can't get it off. And then he's being talked to again and that just ruins his concentration and he can't even remember that he was trying to do it in the first place. "Uh. First of all, what the hell is harassing about sexuality? That's pretty much what we're on this damn planet to do. Have sex." Hooch shrugs and gives a wave of his hand, not even wanting to get into that debate. "Okay, look, I'm sorry… Jill." See? He remembers her name this time. "I was just trying to let you know that I was sexually attracted to you. I thought you'd be flattered! Or something!" Hooch's hands go up in frustration, again, because he just can't seem to fathom why his way and line of thinking isn't the one that everybody else uses. Sigh. He looks back at the bottle and then back up to her, at her last question. "Uh. Obviously." A shrug as if everyone should know this. "Everybody Loves Hooch."

Jill stares at Hooch some more until she's all but forgotten to blink. She squeezes her eyes shut and open in the sun, trying to fathom his world view; they're on different wavelengths, there's no getting around it. "It's kiiind of flattering?" she allows that, her voice inching up in uncertainty. Yelling begone. "It's usually only creeps on the subway or yelling across the street that say things like that to me. Mostly it's weird, and … makes me want to be wearing a snowsuit and roll away— ? 'Cause I definitely don't wanna know what your body's doing, and I don't want any Hooch…" She shrugs at an odd, awkward angle. "I'm not— trying to offend you either, but since you were honest…"

"Oh. Oh, I see." Hooch really doesn't understand that he's not wanted. Like, this is honestly and truly perplexing to him. It's so weird. He's so used to people actually liking him that he's not used to someone not really wanting any of him. It's completely confusing. "Well! That just made this entire thing way more awkward than it needed to be. Why didn't you just say you hated me in the first place?! Sheesh, woman!" He throws his hands up in a hearty shrug and is making a finger gun at her with his free hand, since the other one is still holding onto a bottle of Vodkawater. "See you next time you gotta' make my Mom's house look less like it sucks!" And he's already turning to watch some hottie that is clearly stacked wander by. His lips twisting into a sex-crazed grin and his legs are taking him backwards and in that direction. "Watch out for that beagle!" That lady with the beagle is headed her way once again.

"Dude, I don't— " Hate him, Jill means to say, but gives up — or reconsiders — and smiles tightly instead, shooting him back with a half-hearted finger gun before she carries on in the direction she was heading, alright with parting ways with the sex-crazed college student. "What— " Beagle alert. "Sorry, hey, wow, sorry, I swear have nothing against your dog…" She's left de-tangling herself from the dog's leash and its owner.

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