The Music Waited For Him

Who: Ben, Dale
Where: Ben's House (5 Main St.)
When: late afternoon

Dale, with a bit of a sense of relief for something to do, had gone grocery shopping for things that wouldn't spoil, thanks to Ben's... not quite list. She bought a good variety for him, since she didn't know what he liked, of the canned and boxed and frozen stuff. And some personal items, like toilet paper, soap, and the like. And some jam and peanut butter and honey and butter and bread and good god, she ended up buying more for him then she did for herself. She'd shook her head at the entire grocery cart when she realized it, but took it through the till anyway. And then the car. And then to Ben's! Hurray! Or not. Whatever. She parked, opened the trunk, took out as many as she could carry, and went up to the porch and the front door. And, as per the instructions received through the journals, she knocked. Loudly.

There was a reason Ben had specified a loud knock being necessary. His house wasn't vast, but it was spacious enough that a distractable man like Ben might miss the noise even on his best days. And that was before factoring in the headphones. He was parked in front of a mammoth sound board, rewinding a DAT deck and frowning in consternation as a loop of guitar riffs echoed through the studio headphones. Ben had actually managed a little forethought when setting up his living space, putting the majority of his sound gear in the room nearest to the door, so it was a mix of luck and forethought that carried the pounding knock through a moment of silence in his work.

He wasn't even thinking of the message he'd left on the journals a day earlier, or of his request for groceries or even how long it had been since he'd actually eaten. No, all Ben was thinking was that someone was interrupting his work, and they were lucky that he still had hours before his next dose of medication would come due. Yanking off the headphones and pausing the deck, Ben stalked to the door and popped it open as far is it would go before the chain yanked tight, peering out through the small space at Dale.

Dale raised an eyebrow when he opened the door with the chain still open. As if she had enough arm room to do anything. Not that the raising of the eyebrow was all that visible with those really dark glasses she had on, but whatever. "I'm Dale. We spoke on the journals. I've brought the groceries you wanted." She paused. "Would you mind if I put these down? I've still a bunch more to bring."

The door shut without a word from Ben, only a soft thunk as his head settled on the inside of it, mind racing. Dale? Journals? he thought in bewilderment, biting the inside of his cheek to stem a threatening rush of words. Groceries. That made sense, clicked with his mental tumblers and dropped things into place. She was the woman who wanted to know what he liked to eat. And now she was at his door, with bags full of who knew what.

The door popped open just as abruptly as the first time, albeit with no chain, and there Ben stood. He had a look of skeptical concern on his face, but he reached out for the bag Dale held with nearly no hesitation. "No need to bend or strain, just pass. Fire brigade with cans and bags," he muttered, taking the bag and turning back towards the kitchen, leaving the door wide open behind him.

Well, since he'd taken the bags she'd been carrying, she nodded in agreement for the passing them on remark, and went back to the car to get another arm load of groceries for him. It was the damnedest thing - it reminded her a lot more of going grocery shopping for her home, then for herself here. But then again, she'd brought Ben quite a bit of... well... everything, really. Vague grocery lists weren't exactly helpful. But she brought the next three or so bags with her and put them just inside the entry way. Dale wasn't going to step in someone else's house without explicit invitation. This was the first time anyone in her group had actual privacy beyond a bedroom (and sometimes not even then) of their own, and she was assuming it was like that for everyone. And she wasn't about to tread into someone else's territory. "Your list gave me a lot of leeway, so I got you a lot of different things. I hope that's alright."

In the kitchen, Ben was digging through the first bag like a man possessed. "Can, can, can," he muttered with each item he pulled free, paying no mind the the open freezer of the fridge nearby except to turn with a bag of frozen vegetables. "Peas," he muttered, slinging it haphazardly into the freezer and going right back to inspecting the other items. With that bag done, Ben turned to head back out without a second glance at the cans spread across the counters. In all likelihood, they would stay right where they were until he felt like opening each of them as hunger struck. "Spice of life," Ben said in Dale's direction as he returned, hefting another bag with a grunt. "Don't pay much attention, good to have variables."

"True. Though I suggest that if it's fuzzy, you probably shouldn't make the attempt." She offered him a slight half-grin. "I've got one more armload full. I'll be right back." That reminded her. She needed to get pepper and garlic powder for herself; Dale didn't cook with salt, usually, but she did like to occasionally add some flavoring.

Anyway, she went back to the car and got out the last of the groceries, and closed the trunk of the car so it wasn't just sitting there wide open, in spite of the fact that the odds were good it wasn't going to get stolen in the middle of Godknewwhere. And for the third time she hiked up to Ben's door and started setting the bags in the doorway. "I also got some basic things like shampoo for you; when you said on the computer that you needed someone to go grocery shopping and delivery, I assumed you needed that kind of thing too. Was that alright?"

"Just fine," he replied, turning his back on Dale and moving towards the kitchen again. "Fine like wine." He usually remembered to shower, but kept his hair short enough that shampoo didn't register as a necessity. "Figure out a way to get the money for you, numbers in a system that says I have it... account? Something like that?" Ben had never been good with finances; on the outside world he'd always trusted his parents with that. He knew the money existed, but only in an abstract sense, a way that didn't quite solidify in his mind. "I... thanks," he said after a few steps, pausing to breathe deep and keep himself lucid. "Don't think I'd make it all that way. I forget when to eat, sleep, all that. Used to have help. Not here."

"I can go to the town hall tomorrow, and see if they can arrange an account transfer." Dale offered, leaning on the doorway. "I have the receipt. They'd probably have to call you or get you to sign something or whatever, but I can at least find out what needs to be done about it. I think it's a bit late in the day to do anything about it right now, though." Dale decided, looking at her watch quickly. "Yeah, definitely tomorrow."

"Late?" Ben rumbled, looking back over his shoulder and past Dale to the town beyond the door. He normally worried after dark here, wondering if and when the madness would start back up. "Getting dark? Trouble brewing, turning bitter on the burner. Don't stay out, good earns bad here. Good karma, bad payouts. Fucked up slot machine of a town." The last thing he'd want would be for something bad to come Dale's way, and if it could be avoided by shuffling her along? So be it. "I can sign my name tomorrow," he said, echoing her words as he moved back over to lug the remaining groceries inside.

"Well, it's not late, but I don't think I'd be able to accomplish much." Fucked up slot machine of a town. That's good. I like that. "If there's anything you find out you need, or you need more groceries, feel free to write to me on the computers, alright?" Dale offered him another smile, though this one was a little warmer, and she helped push the groceries inside so that he could close the door after she left.

"Don't trust those things," Ben protested, dragging the groceries in and watching Dale retreat a little. "But just may, just might." He probably would, in fact. He needed someone he could trust here, someone who could deal with the mundane and sane sides of things. And while he liked Rebekah? Sometimes Ben felt like her perspective was somewhat close to his. Dale? She seemed sane. Helpful. Somehow, Ben felt like he'd find out in the future, for good or bad. "Godspeed, grocery lady Dale," he muttered in parting, swinging the door shut without another wasted second. There were frozen things to throw in the freezer, cans to sort through, and as always, music waiting for him.