It’s subtle, a blink-and-you’ll miss it sort of gesture, but Charlene shifts her sloppy weight and dips her head as invitation for Emmett to join. She didn’t know him well, had only seen him in passing, but as she focused- really focused, his face apparated into familiarity. The farmer man, her brain supplied. Charlene’s lip quirked. Her heart did a victory dance at having achieved the task of recognition. And another time, perhaps she would have felt shameful, embarrassed for her drunkenness in front of an acquaintance, and shit- wasn’t he a father too? The moonshine dulled her senses, and she was grateful for it now.
“The runs,” Charlene parrotted dumbly. She took a breath and tried to steady her swimming head. At the moment, the countertop was rushing up to meet her. But she had been through worse, goddamnit, she could handle a bit of liquor. She swallowed, hard, and motioned for the bartender to pour her some water.
“I-,” and she didn’t know how she was forming words but- but she sure was alright, “Yes. Yes, of course. It’s human nature to seek normalcy, and everyone knows how unnatural this whole thing is. But not everyone needs this.” She gestures to her cup, then repeats the word with a disgusted scoff. “Need,” and makes a face. “What an indelicate, presumptuous concept. Do any of us need anything? Air, yes. Food. Water. But this? This attempt at fostering camaraderie. Look, farmer man. I know what it’s like to go without routine, and love, and celebration. The world doesn’t end. You don’t die without it.”
When the bartender sets down a glass for her, she seizes it gratefully and takes a huge gulp of the clear liquid. Her stomach is assaulted with fire. What kind of stupid goddamn sunovabitch asshole would pour her more moonshine? Charlene winces with her whole body, squeezes her eyes shut, and pushes away the deceitful glass.
THE MAN SITS down, and gives the other a nod in thanks a he does so. He is content to keep up with the smalltalk and mostly just enjoy his drink in peace, keeping a watchful eye on his daughter playing across the room as he attends his perch. However, his eyes cast upon Charlene and his brows raise without his permission. They only give away his shock at her tangent for a moment, carefully being pulled back down into an expression more closely aligned with attentive interest.
He wonders then, how to go about his next words without prompting more upset out of his new drinking partner --who seems, in all fairness, a good bit ahead of him. He would like to comment on how it is something necessary to maintain one’s sanity, one’s will to live. Though it might not be the sort of thing your body needs to survive, it is entirely necessary for the mind, at least for most people he’s come across, no matter how hardened they may seem. He rethinks it, however, considering that she might take it as a slight to her own mental stability, and he offers a small smile, and concedes.
“I, uh, I guess you’re right. We don’t need a lot of things we act
like we do, but... It’s still nice, I think. Especially for the kids, and--”
Emmett stops as he notices that she’s been served not water, but some of the moonshine one of his fellow farmers has supplied. He shoots a disapproving look at the person who’s taken on the role of bartender for the evening, and nods his head away from them in a clear signal that he ought to make himself scarce. He gets up and moves around the bar, telling the man to take five, and pours Charlene a glass of water himself, setting it down in front of her without a word, his eyes cast back to Lucy absentmindedly.