Longest Night: Bea

You find yourself in a part of town you hadn't been to before.
You come across an apartment building, not far off from the Ham Panther. In the early morning light, much of it is still in shadow, but you see the flicker of a lit cigarette in the darkness.
Squinting, you see the outline of the person the cigarette is attached to: it's Bea!
Not having anything better to do, you approach her, trying not to cough when you get close to the cloud of smoke.

Bea: …[newname]?
player: Yeah?
Bea: …What brings you here?
player: Not much.
Bea: Nothing at all?
player: I didn't have any plans.
Bea: Huh. Today of all days.
player: Yeah, kinda sucks.

player: So what about you? You get into any Longest Night shenanigans?
Bea: They're over already.
player: …What happened?
Bea: …
…Dad's being a jerk.
player: …Oh.
What did he do?
Bea: Ahh, just a silly argument, really.
Over some dumb present he gave me.
You know how it is. Somebody gets you a less than ideal gift, but if you complain about it even a little you're suddenly an ingrate.

player: I know exactly what you mean.
player: That happened to me all the time.

Bea sighs.
Bea: It's not as though he isn't trying to get me something nice. It's just that we don't talk much about anything except the Ol' Pickaxe, so he doesn't know me as well as he used to.
player: What did he get you, anyway?
Bea: One of those novelty joke books. 'How to be Goth'.
player: Ouch.
Bea: Yeah.
Just one stereotype after another.
He thinks he's being funny, I guess.
player: At least you got *something*.
Bea: …That's what he told me too.
player: Sorry.
Bea: S'alright. Sounds like you didn't get anything?
Not that it's the most important part of Longest Night or anything.
player: Nothing.
Bea: I wouldn't have known what to get you, myself.
player: That's okay.

Bea flicks off the last bit of ash off her cigarette.

# a sprite without a cigarette
Bea: Ugh, that's the last I got…
I'd pick up some more at the store, but almost every store's closed today.
And I'll bet you anything nobody's actually there at the Snack Falcon today.

You've never smoked before, and you've been carefully standing upwind this whole time, but you want to hang out with her kinda badly.
You just thought of something: Wouldn't you have some cigars at your place? In what was presumably your dad's smoking room?
You don't know for certain, but you don't want to be alone today.

player: Hey, uh, I just remembered… I think I got some cigars at home?
Bea: Cigars, huh? I wouldn't have pegged you for it.
player: They used to be my dad's.
Bea: I see. Hmm, I haven't tried 'em before.
They're always too expensive.
player: So did you wanna come to my house instead?

She thinks about it for a moment.

Bea: Yeah ok, lemme just tell Dad where I'm going.

Bea pops back into her apartment for about a minute and comes back, apparently none the worse for wear.

Bea: Ok, let's go.

You start walking back towards your home.
You can't help but notice that she's carrying her laptop with her, which you haven't seen since you missed the concert.

player: Why the laptop?
player: I don't think I’ve seen you bring that with you before.

Bea: …'Cause I feel like it.

That answer, of course, makes you suspicious that she has something specific in mind.

player: So was your dad still upset?
Bea: Nah, we're both kinda over it already.
player: Just like that?
Bea: We kinda have to patch it up.
I mean, how can we live together if we're mad at each other?
player: What about working out the problem?
*Bea squints*
Bea: …What problem?
player: The way you don't really communicate.
Isn't that why he didn't get you a good gift?
Bea: It's not that important.
It rarely causes anything to go wrong, for one thing.
And I don't really need 'good gifts'.

You can't help but feel sorry for her, and wish you could've gotten her a present.
But you can sense that she wouldn't appreciate your pity.
You're both quiet for now, until you see your house up ahead.

Bea: You say you got bad gifts 'all the time'?
player: Oh. Yeah.
My mom never got me what I wanted.
Sometimes I wonder if she was doing it on purpose, but other times she seemed totally oblivious to it.
Bea: Sounds almost passive-aggressive.
player: She was most definitely not passive about it!
Bea: And here I am complaining about just one…
Is that your house?

You stop once you arrive in your front yard.
bg house exterior

player: Yeah, this is the place.
Bea: Pretty cool, actually. Way bigger than anybody else's that I know.

You almost feel guilty that all your friends have smaller houses than you, but nevertheless you gesture to the front door.

player: Step inside my humble abode, won't you?

She makes a sound in her throat that you assume is a chuckle.
Once inside, you lead her into your dad's 'smoking room' while she looks around at the aging wallpaper and heavy wooden furniture.

Bea: God, your dad must've been loaded.
player: Y'know, I really have no idea if he was.
Bea: What, no hidden hoard of gold?
player: I wish!

You search the room for the old cigar box you hope is actually there.
You find it under some yellowed papers.

player: I have no idea how old these are. Would they be any good after all these years?
Bea: Don't ask me, I'm no cigar connoisseur.

You open it and get a whiff of strong tobacco leaf.
Your nose curls. It seems like a bit much, especially since the box is dusty.
You pick one out and hand it to Bea. She sets her laptop down and gives it a sniff.

player: Are you supposed to do that?
Bea: I dunno, it's what they do in movies.
player: So what do you think?
Bea: …Smells like tobacco.

She takes out her lighter and brings the flame to the tip, but the cigar stubbornly refuses to light.
Bea: Might be damp.
After a few moments it finally develops a plume of smoke.
#sprite of Bea with cigar
It smells, and the both of you cough.

Bea: …That's a little strong.
Were you having one?

You feel awkward offering her a cigar when you don't smoke yourself, but you don't want it to be even more awkward just watching her smoke it.
Hesitantly you pull another one out, fidgeting with the band.
Bea hands you her lighter, and you fumble with it. Once it's lit, you cough harder than before.

Bea: You ok?
player: …fine.

Bea inhales. You try inhaling too- very small, shallow puffs- but you suddenly feel sick to your stomach and you gag.
You cough and hack roughly as tears fill your eyes.

Bea: …You've never smoked before, have you?

You manage to say 'no' in between gasps, shaking your head as you shove the cigar in the ashtray and smash it until it goes out.

Bea: Better not start. Hard habit to quit.

She politely puts out her own cigar. You catch your breath.

player: So why do you smoke?
Bea: Stress, mainly.
Maybe not the best idea, but once you get started…
player: What stresses you, if you don't mind me asking?
Bea: Work. Money. That sort of crap.
Same old story, really.
player: I have to admit, you seemed pretty tired when I first met you.
Bea: You can get pretty tired in this town in general.
player: Possum Springs? What don't you like about it?

Bea raises an eyebrow.

Bea: I guess I can't expect you understand, since you haven't been living here for very long…
That's sort of refreshing, actually. It all must seem totally new to you, right?
Maybe it's even a little naive?
player: Um…
Bea: Sorry.
Possum Springs is small. After a while, you've seen everything there is to offer.
And sometimes the stuff you liked about it will suddenly be gone for no apparent reason.
player: That doesn't exactly bode well for me, does it?
Bea: Yeah, I don't mean to put a damper on your enthusiasm.
I'm just saying how a lot of us feel.
I don't actually intend to live here the rest of my life.
player: Sounds like you have plans.
Bea: More like I *had* plans. Things don't always work out.
player: What do you mean?
Bea: Y'know that Longest Night movie where Jamie Stuart is trying to leave his hometown Badger Falls, and go to college…
…But something always pulls him back and keeps him from leaving?
It's like that, except I managed to escape, only to wind up back where I started.
player: You went to college?
Bea: It's everything you've heard before, really. Hopeful prospects for the young college student, eyes toward a bright future.
Then reality kicks in.
A music major doesn't really get you jobs. So I'm back here, working my ass off at a hardware store.
player: Man, that's a whole can of worms.
Bea: Yeah sorry, I don't mean to depress you.
We can talk about something else.

You both go silent and try to think.
Bea eyes the laptop that she left on the table.

player: So… a music major, huh? I heard you write it?
Bea: Might as well show you the fruit of my labors…

She picks up her laptop and turns it on, almost seeming relieved.

Bea: I've got one here if you wanna hear it.
player: Sure! I missed the one you did at that rehearsal.

Bea hesitates.
Then she taps at the keyboard intently.

Bea: …I dunno why I'm showing this to you and not the others.
Maybe it's because you don't have the same expectations of me that they do.
But I'm trusting you not to make fun of me.

Now you're confused.

player: Go right ahead.
player: How bad could it be?
player: It's not the song you played at the bakery?

option 3
Bea: No, it's not.
-
Bea: …It's a Longest Night song.

player: That's cool!
player: Huh. Not the sort of song I figured you'd write.

Bea: I'm not much of a singer. Angus is the singer.
But I can program MIDI on my laptop.

The song starts. You recognize the voice over the speakers as Bea's.
She has a sort of sleepy delivery, and her pitch isn't perfect, but it's definitely hers.
You listen.

*song goes here*
When the song's over, you're kind of perplexed, not realizing Bea had this side to her personality.
Bea looks at you for answers.

Bea: What do you think?

player: I like it!
player: Kinda corny, but not bad.
player: I know that feeling.

Bea: I dunno. I've been listening to noise pop lately.
player: Sounds fun!
Bea: Sure. Fun.
It's a bit more… sentimental than what I usually do.
I worry that I’m veering into 'appealing to the masses' territory.
player: Just because something's popular doesn't mean it's bad.
Bea: I know that!
But is it too commercial?
player: I'm not sure if noise pop is really the most commercial genre out there.
Bea: Well maybe not.
player: But no, I don't think it's *too* commercial.
What inspired you to write something like that?

Bea: I guess it's not exactly a mystery.
Bea: It's based on how I feel every holiday season.
Like you have to make Longest Night as merry as possible, and knock yourself out trying to make it better than last year.
I've seen Gregg doing that too. I think he wants to make Angus happy, so he can feel like he deserves Angus' love.
It seems worse this year for some reason. He's been working harder to decorate and make the season brighter than I've ever seen him do.
The song's actually as much about him as it is about me.
player: I hadn't noticed Gregg doing any of that…
Bea: I guess it's when you're not there.
player: What will you do with the song?
Bea: Dunno.
Since the band isn't really a thing anymore, I know I won't be having the others play it.
player: It'd be a shame if no one else heard it.
Bea: I have options, but…
…I don't even know what my goals are.
Like, do I even *want* everybody to hear it?
player: It sounded like you wished your music major got you a job.
Bea: Well I can't exactly go 'out on the road' with just a laptop.
Who's gonna want to see somebody just stand there and press a button?
player: What options are there?
Bea: Some people make a living just getting their songs on viral videos.
But it's not a guaranteed, surefire thing.
player: Didn't know that.
Honestly, I wouldn't know what you should do.
Bea: It's ok, I wasn't expecting you to.
…Well who knows. I'd be competing against all the other Longest Night songs everybody's ever written anyway.
player: It's not hopeless.

You detect a faint glimmer of a smile on Bea's face.
#smiling sprite

Bea: I like that about you, [newname], you're optimistic.
player: Well…

You feel a little embarrassed. Maybe you are naive.
Bea: We could probably use more of that sort of attitude, actually.
I'm glad you like my song.

You're kind of honored to have heard it first, actually. It sure seems to you like Bea doesn't normally share these feelings.
Maybe you're reading too much into it, but you wonder if she's showing you a more vulnerable side.
So far she's struck you like she's typically a very hardened person.
It's nice to think that maybe she's letting you see part of her softer insides, but maybe that's just you flattering yourself.
After all, what would make you so special?

Bea: Sooo… now what?

You eyes flutter when you realize you've been kind of staring at her.

player: Oh, uh… I dunno.
…You wanna eat? I've got some food in the fridge.
Not that it's at all festive or anything.
Bea: Yeah thanks, I am feeling a bit 'peckish', now that you mention it.

You head to the kitchen.
There isn't much to offer. Just some pre-made grilled chicken strips in the freezer and instant soup mix leftover from earlier that week.

Bea: Hmm, this isn't so bad.
player: I hope they go well together. I'm not much of a cook.
Bea: That gives me an idea, actually.
Let's put the two together.
player: What, put the chicken in the mixed vegetable…
…Ok, I see what you mean now.

Bea reaches for the frozen grilled chicken and the soup packet and takes them over to the counter by the oven.

Bea: Have you got any olive oil?
player: Huh? No, 'fraid not.
Bea: Okay, vegetable oil, then?
player: Uh, no, should I?
Bea: Well unless you've got a no-stick pan-
And from the looks of it, these pans predate that stuff-
What do you use to cook with?
player: I just… throw them in the oven. Or the microwave. Until they're done.
Bea: Oh wow. Didn't your parents… er, your mom teach you how to cook?
player: Nope. I wish.
Bea: Well then.
What about butter? Surely you have toast.
player: Oh yeah, sure.
Bea: Ok, I can use that.
What about spices?
player: I have… ketchup?

Bea groans.

Bea: It's ok, there's some seasoning in the soup mix.

She opens the bag of chicken and turns on the stovetop. The flame flickers for a second before a hint of smoke appears.

Bea: Geez. When was the last time this was cleaned?
Looks like there's some crumbs lodged in there somewhere.
player: Oh… sorry, I didn't know.
Bea: It's not your fault, those were probably left behind by… your dad.

Now you feel a little inadequate about your kitchen skills.
Bea takes the one pot and fills it with water, placing it over the flame, and does the same with a frying pan.
Bea puts the butter in the pan as she waits for the water to boil. As soon as it's melted, she throws in the chicken until it's hot. It smells really good.
She then pours the packet of instant soup into the boiling water. The dried veggies start to plump up.
It seems to be coming together, and Bea cuts the chicken into pieces and adds it to the soup.
You're definitely hungry. You've watched her cook in fascination this whole time, and now it looks ready.
You want to help at least a little and grab two bowls and spoons. Bea takes a ladle you've never noticed before and pours the enhanced soup into them.

player: This actually looks really good!
Bea: Eh, it's not as good as making it from scratch, but it's what we got.
player: I'm sure you've made it better.
Bea: Thanks. Let's hope so.

You sit at the kitchen table and have a taste. It's surprisingly good.
The soup is kind of salty, but it has peas and corn and carrots and a little bit of red bell pepper.
The chicken actually makes the meal, like it's what was missing from the soup the whole time.

player: This is really good!
Bea: Thanks.
I'm gonna be making dinner for me and my dad tonight.
We'll both be in a better mood by then.
player: Will that be made from scratch?
Bea: More or less. The veggies come from a can.

You wonder how presumptuous it would be to ask if you could join her.
Perhaps you don't know her well enough to do something like that.

player: You're a good cook.
Bea: Thanks. So I've been told.
Actually, I don't really hear people say that that much.
I guess after a while the people you know for a long time don't need to remind you about stuff like that.
But it's nice to hear it.

In between spoonfuls, you look at her.
She's hard to read, but she seems happier than she did before.

Bea: Maybe we should do stuff like this more often.
Y'know, just… hang out.
You seem like a nice guy/person.
player: I sure hope so.

She looks up at the kitchen clock, and sets her spoon down by the emptied bowl.

Bea: I should probably be headed back.
Can't stay away forever.

You're disappointed, but you understand. You wouldn't want to impose.

Bea: Lemme help clean up first, though.

You nod and you pick up the dishes, and head over to the sink. Once they're washed, you and Bea put away the food's packaging and toss it out.
You and Bea head for the door. She stops and turns to look at you.

Bea: Thanks for the distraction, [newname]. I would've just stood there all day otherwise.
player: No, thank you. I didn't have *anything* to do today.
Bea: Glad we could keep each other from getting bored. See ya.

You watch wistfully as she heads out the door and walks away down the path.
You're glad you got a little closer to her, and that she shared something with you that she hadn't done with anyone else.
Your first impression of her was that she was kind of distant and standoffish. Looks as though it'll take some work to become better friends.
And you're perfectly willing to make that effort.
You go to your living room and spend the rest of the day watching Longest Night movies on TV.