sciencesaggressively

Entry tags:

chuck hansen

crenTISTS

Today's the day. It's a big day, one Newt had cleared his schedule for because the last time he'd done something like this, the Crentists had fucked him up--and on his goddamn birthday, no less. Admittedly, that'd been poor planning on his part, which is why he'd totally be more conscientious about it this time around. Besides, he's pretty sure Chuck might try to kill him in a laughing gas-induced rage if Newt took him out in public after the fuckery they're about to endure.

Had he properly warned his best friend about the Crentists? About those frosty-tipped sons of bitches who are kind of creepy, kind of hilarious, neither of which Newt would really consider a good thing?

Nah.

In the end, they'd gotten the job done right, and Newt hasn't had problems with his teeth at all since his last visit. Granted, he's pretty sure getting gassed up isn't standard for a dental checkup, but he's also not a dentist so whatever. The objective of this visit is to get Chuck's tooth fixed, get Newt a checkup, and get the hell out of dodge. At least, they'll get out of dodge once Kate swings by to pick them up because if there's one thing Newt's sure of, it's that he and Chuck aren't leaving this office unscathed.

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This whole thing is stupid. It had been from the start, when he'd picked a fight on New Year's for reasons he doesn't even remember now and took an unexpected fist to the face for it; it was when he realized that he'd chipped a goddamn tooth in the process; it is now, waiting to see a dentist whose last name suspiciously rhymes with their profession, Newt's recommendation just a little too glowing. Over these past few years, he's found that it isn't really even strange anymore, the fact that they're friends now, Newt as much of one as he's ever had, but he also knows that sometimes Newt saying they should do a thing is every reason they shouldn't do that thing.

It's too late to back out now, though, and for all he knows, he's making too much out of nothing, finding a way to shift the blame when it is probably his own fault he's in this position in the first place. Trying to explain that isn't something he's looking forward to, either. For now, though, sitting and waiting, he turns towards Newt, trademark scowl in place. "If they wind up robbing me blind," he says, "you're paying me back for it."

"Dude, I told you, they took care of me the last time I was here," Newt counters.

They'd taken care of him alright, yeah, and maybe he hadn't been entirely truthful about what that really means; but the Crentists hadn't robbed him, at least. Not that he knows of, anyway, it's not like he'd been in the state of mind to count the cash he'd walked in with on his way back out. Now that Chuck brings it up, Newt thinks he'll do exactly that this time around. That one Crentist who clearly hadn't lived up to Daddy Crentist's expectations and ended up as the receptionist definitely does strike Newt as a little shifty.

"And fine, if they rob you, blame it on me," Newt says, sighing dramatically. "It's not like I don't have a bunch of mouths to feed at home."

"Mouths to feed?" Chuck echoes, a disbelieving laugh in his voice. "You have, what, a wife and a dog? I'm only short one of those." They do have that fancy condo, too, something that Chuck can still barely wrap his head around, but having decided already to blame Newt if this goes horribly awry, he isn't going to go back on his word now. He has a reputation to maintain, after all, even with the person who's unquestionably his best friend in this place. If anything, the fact that the reason he's here at all is because of a fight just makes that even truer. "And you have a job and I don't, so there you go. I think I'm the one who's at a disadvantage here."

"My mouth counts for two!" Newt counters, lifting his chin defiantly. "And we've got a cat so what now, buddy, huh?" He holds his arms out like he's ready to make a challenge but drops them just as quickly, rolling his eyes in spite of the smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Anyway, if you're lookin' for a job, I can get you a job, y'know? I just don't think you'd be super into playing receptionist at the lab, that's why I never offered."

"Yeah, I have a feeling me as a receptionist would not end well for anyone involved," Chuck says dryly, though there's unmasked amusement behind the sound of it. He's short on patience at the best of times, and he doubts that would translate well over the phone. Chances are, he'd last maybe two weeks, tops, and only because of Newt's influence. "There is no way your mouth counts for two, but alright, I'll let you count the cat."

Newt thinks Chuck doesn't give himself enough credit and that's actually part of why he doesn't shoot back a quip. While he can't see Chuck as a receptionist at all, it's sure as hell not like he couldn't do the job if he wanted to, even if just temporarily; but on the other hand, Chuck could actually be doing something way better-suited for him.

"Then go be like, a mechanic or something. Teach punching classes, those are things that exist, right? Self-defense, yeah, Allison tried to make me go to a few of those after-- y'know, back when." It's a double sting, the mention of Allison and the thinly veiled reference to his stabbing, but it doesn't hurt like it used to and it's a poor time to be grateful for that but he is all the same.

"Or," he continues, smirking in his friend's direction, "maybe you could just ask to join Team Crentist one day. Chuck Crentist has an okay ring to it."

"Punching classes, yeah, I like that," Chuck says dryly, shaking his head. He actually can't think of anything better — even more so than specific self-defense, really — but while there are doubtless always people looking to be trained, he would rather actually do the punching than anything else. Much like would be the case if he was working as a receptionist, he probably wouldn't have the patience to teach anyone, and would instead just wind up punching any students. At least they would probably be able to learn something from it, in this hypothetical situation, but it's still not worth it. "Better than joining up here."

If his voice maybe raises just the slightest bit, he has every intention of denying it. "What I'd have to do to my hair alone, it wouldn't be worth it."

Okay, so Chuck makes a good point about the hair thing, even though Newt can weirdly picture his friend with frosted tips. It's hilarious and also terrible but still, he can picture it. He's about to say as much and risk getting punched himself when one of the Crentists steps out to address them with a smile.

At least, Newt's pretty sure the guy's a Crentist. His memory is still fuzzy from all the laughing gas last time, but the hair is a pretty good sign.

"Hi, I'm Geoff," the guy says, holding up two identical clipboards. "I'll be assisting on the procedures today but first, I'm going to need you guys to fill these forms out. You've both got insurance, right? Ha, I'm kidding. We take anyone. I'm serious, please tell everyone you know to come here."

Newt blinks, trying to keep his expression neutral when all he wants to do is see what kind of look Chuck is pulling right now. Instead, he nods, reaching out to take one of the clipboards. "Yeah, man, totally. I've actually been here before, brought my friend in today."

"Oh, that's great, a repeat customer! Dad will be so glad to hear that. Oh, sorry, Doctor Crentist, ha. That could be one of my brothers, too, though, haha. We're a family business."

None of this is the least bit reassuring, and Chuck doesn't bother to hide the frustrated concern in his expression as he turns from one of the Crentists — Geoff — to Newt. He'd known this was a bad idea. He doesn't know how he'd known or why, but this whole thing has seemed off to him from the start, and if it weren't for the fact of his chipped tooth, he wouldn't have bothered seeing a dentist in the first goddamn place. Now that he's here, in fact, he can't remember the last time he had a dental appointment at all. Getting his teeth cleaned always seemed a little less important than saving the world, and it isn't like they'd had a team of professionals running around the 'Dome. Still, this would have been a problem either way, and they're here now, so he may as well tough it out.

A dentist with frosted tips can't be any worse than a fucking kaiju.

"Yeah, I think we've figured that out already," Chuck says dryly, nodding towards a large, framed photograph on the wall of the Crentist family standing outside the office, a Grand Reopening! banner hung in the background. "Kinda hard to miss."

Ooh, yeah, Chuck's going to kill him. Newt can feel the murder eyes glaring at him right now so he makes a concentrated effort not to look back, knowing exactly what he'll find. It's definitely not the first time he's gotten the look, it sure as hell won't be the last, but Newt is confident they can salvage this situation. Geoff might be kind of an idiot, but he's also not the actual dentist so Newt figures they can only go up from here.

Or maybe not, because Geoff turns to follow Chuck's gaze at the photo and nods with a little too much vigor. "Oh, yeah, I guess that's true! That was a great day, our third Grand Reopening!" Geoff's eyes widen a bit and he holds is hands up in front of him like he's ready to placate them. "Oh, don't worry, nothing was really wrong. It's just that one time, we got hit with those ice bees, right? And then there was the other New Year's Eve where all the animals went wild, I'll tell you what, you've never seen wild geese until you've seen what I did in here that night!"

For fuck's sake.

"Mmkay," Newt says, shifting from one foot to the other. He's already got a scar on one side of his stomach, he really does need a matching one from getting shanked by his angry best friend. "Maybe just like, we do our thing with the paperwork, you do your thing with the... whatever it is you do? Sound cool?"

"Totally cool," Geoff answers, and he's nodding again like his life depends on it. Newt wonders if he's ever given himself whiplash. "I'll just be right over there if you need me!"

Idly, Chuck wonders just how much time he can kill doing paperwork, or pretending to do paperwork, or some combination of the two. Putting it off won't really make that much difference, he's sure, but even so, this isn't something he's looking forward to, and a part of him half-hopes that maybe the Crentists will decide that this is too much trouble and ask them to reschedule or something. That would be a great way to get out of doing this, because then he just wouldn't have to come back.

Then he'd still have a chipped tooth, though, and therein lies the problem. There are other dentists, ones without frosted tips who are probably a little less terrifying, not to mention infuriating, but he has no way of knowing that. If he picked some random place he passed on the street, it could turn out to be even worse, and then he'd be stuck repeating this whole damn cycle.

Still, because all of this has him more frustrated than not, and because he can't resist the impulse to be kind of an asshole about it, he turns to Newt and stage whispers, just loudly enough that he's sure he'll be heard by whatever Crentists happen to be nearby, "Think it's too late to make a run for it?"

Newt risks a glance at Geoff, relieved to find that the guy apparently hadn't heard Chuck's super loud whisper--he might as well have yelled it--or is just ignoring, but the problem is that he's also whistling. Cheerfully, even. A fucking whistling frosty-tipped dentist's assistant, what kind of assclown even lives that kind of life?

"I'm kind of afraid they'll hunt us down with their dentist tools if we try," Newt answers, taking care to keep his voice a little lower than Chuck's. "Y'know, Kate and I went to this timeshare thing, and I'm pretty sure they were cannibals. No telling how many of them there are in the city. I mean, can we ever know for sure what dentists do with all the teeth they take?"

Chuck is about to say that he could absolutely take some dentist with their weird dentist tools in a fight, completely ignoring the fact that it was a fight that brought him here in the first place, though, really, chipped tooth aside, that guy at the bar didn't pose any kind of threat. Then Newt starts talking about cannibals and Chuck no longer has any idea what's going on. Comparatively speaking, maybe he didn't get such a bad deal being dragged here in the first place. He doesn't trust these creepy dentists for a second, but at least he's probably not going to get eaten here.

He hopes.

"I don't know how you get into half the shit you get into," he says, shaking his head. "Timeshares run by cannibals? Seriously? As part of, what, some cannibalistic plan?"

"I don't know, dude, maybe! We didn't know it was run by cannibals, we were just there for the free breakfast because we're geniuses."

To be fair, Newt doesn't think the timeshare people had actually been cannibals, it's just that they'd looked so shady. Those too white and too straight teeth will haunt his dreams for years to come, that's all he knows for sure, and he really can't remember how they'd landed on the cannibal thing in the first place but whatever. Those details aren't even important.

"You should come with us next time," Newt suggests, finishing his forms and signing his name before setting the clipboard down on the table in front of them. "I clearly recommend the best places, am I right?"

"Free breakfast... from cannibals," Chuck says, frowning deeply, half a question. "Did you ever stop to wonder what that breakfast might be?" He doesn't really think there's anything to it, of course. Chances are, the people involved weren't cannibals at all, and just said something offhand that could have been taken out of context as such. Then again,
if anyone could stumble upon some strange sort of gathering of cannibals, it would be Newt. He is entirely too good at finding trouble, and dubious places of business.

Glancing around the waiting room, he nods once to himself. This definitely counts as a dubious place of business.

"So, yeah, thanks but no thanks, I'll steer clear of the cannibalism. Don't want to wind up getting myself eaten, especially not if I'm going to put myself through this hell. What's the point otherwise?"

Of course they'd considered that, and Newt fixes Chuck with an affronted look because they're not stupid. Still... "It was bacon," he argues, shrugging a shoulder as if that explains everything. "What are we gonna do, not eat the bacon? Come on, man. 'Sides, I figure since I haven't had the craving for human flesh since then, we probably had it wrong, anyway."

Even if they'd been right, what's done is done. They're not cannibal fodder so whatever, everything's totally fine. Except for the victims, if there are any. R.I.P. them and hopefully, they hadn't been in the bacon.

"Anyway, suit yourself, I just thought free breakfast was the kind of allure everyone could appreciate."

The Crentist receptionist comes back toward them then, smiling way bigger than Newt's comfortable with, though he has to admit the guy's got a great set of teeth. "Okay! We're ready for you, Mr. Hansen, fixing up a chipped tooth today? And you're comin' right up, Mr. Geiszler, don't worry, we've got the gas all ready for you! Ha ha. Just kidding, it's just a tooth cleaning for you. But you can have the gas if you want it."

"...Yeah, I don't think that's how cannibalism works," Chuck says, expression growing only more dubious. He's never attempted eating a human to find out, but he'd be surprised if it caused any sort of craving or addiction for more human. That's just zombies, at least from what he can gather from his minimal pop culture knowledge. Then again, he doesn't have the first idea why he's thinking about this with any sort of seriousness. Timeshares and breakfasts offered by potential cannibals shouldn't be something he even has to think about. Neither should whatever the hell is going to happen to him during this dentist appointment, but that is, he supposes, what comes of being friends with Newt. Things are never dull, Chuck will give him that.

Eyeing whichever frosty-haired Crentist is in front of them now with some measure of skepticism, mouth pressed into a thin line, Chuck says, "None of that gas for me, got it?" He vaguely recalls seeing Newt loopy as all fuck once upon a time, and he however much he may enjoy a good, strong drink or several, he isn't looking to meet the same fate himself. A chipped tooth isn't the worst pain he's ever had, and neither will fixing it up be. "Not even a little bit."

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