Orlando is unhappy. He thinks it's called being bloody grumpy and annoyed with the world, but Liv says it's a grieving period. Daisy tells Orlando he's transitioning into the anger period; Orlando thinks that he's been angry since the moment he rolled over in bed and knew Eric was leaving. Mostly, Orlando thinks he's angry because there isn't really anyone to be angry at, aside from reality and the fact that things just sometimes fall apart this way. He knows about that part a bit, even if this is, technically, his first break up.
The band's approach to Eric's departure has been scattered. Orlando can't decide if they're being helpful, or annoying. It's probably both. He suspects this is probably normal.
After he makes his official announcement-- if getting a bit snappish with Sean counts as an announcement-- Dom and Billy don't really say anything, but they start refraining from large, dramatic displays of affection, despite Dom's plans to set a band record by having sex in the bathroom of every airplane they fly in, which were loudly established back at the beginning of the tour. But when Karl points on the free bathroom on the plane to Korea, Dom just shakes his head. Orlando feels rather guiltily relieved and grateful for something, he's not sure what.
Later, Orlando makes a note in his journal: Breakups mean not wanting anyone to have sex again. Ever.
In Tokyo, Viggo skulks about for a while and eventually hands Orlando a book of Greek poetry. Orlando assumes this is an attempt at being comforting, but he is not a fan of poetry at the moment. Particularly because Eric liked poetry and occasionally talked about "going to a reading."
Viggo however, doesn't seem to consider any of this. Instead he shows up while Orlando is sleeping and hands him the poems, which are tedious, long, and all about the great wonders of Greece, intellect and wrestling lions. Orlando leaves the book in his hotel room when they leave and makes another note in his journal: Breakups lead to very bad poetry, don't write anything ever again, unless cured.
The one moment where Orlando thinks he may actually do something embarrassing and dramatic is long after the announcement. There's a radio interview scheduled and they're all waiting for the hotel van to drive them there. Orlando's sitting, waiting with everyone for Bernard and Sala to arrive and give them an all-clear, feeling tired of the way Sean's face folds up and looks sheepish whenever they make eye contact, when Karl appears holding a small paper cup.
Karl never brings anyone tea. Would never bring anyone tea. Does not do that sort of thing for people, ever. Particularly when they’re the sort of people that have woken Karl up on multiple occasions by having noisy sex with their now ex-boyfriends on the rather cramped tour bus. Orlando thinks about this and wonders if the entire ending of the relationship started the moment Karl opened the privacy screen on Orlando's bunk and poured water on Eric. He decides that it couldn't have, but he still feels the urge to throw the tea at Karl instead of taking it.
Doing that, however, would require more energy than Orlando has. He seems to have lost all of it at some point during the flight from Canada to Japan.
On their first full day in Korea, Orlando wakes up and is hung over. Clearly, painfully, sharply hung over. The curtain is open and the overly cheerful sunlight is beaming down at him on the bed like a laser in a James Bond film. Orlando is not pleased.
He wants to roll over and knock into Eric's shoulder, to complain a bit and maybe get a blowjob for his pains, but Eric isn't there and that's pretty guaranteed not to change.
Instead, Orlando rolls over, digs himself further into the bedding and shuts his eyes. He doesn't like the mood he's in. He's not sure he could identify or describe it and he doesn't like that either. He sits up again and fumbles for his journal, then writes: Stop sulking and get over it. People apparently do this.
He lies down again and there's a knock at the door. It's not loud, just someone checking to see if he's awake, and Orlando groans in response.
Liv pokes her head in. "I have tea?"
"Thanks." Orlando looks up at her and reminds himself that he's getting over it.
Liv's wearing blue cotton pajamas, probably stolen from Roy, and one of the hotel's amazingly thick bathrobes with her hair piled up on her head. She looks like someone that went to bed at ten p.m. and slept for nine hours. Not at all like the person who strong-armed him the night before and took him out dancing and made him play drinking games with Daisy, who may not look it, but is evil, can drink like a fish, and has no qualms about getting depressed friends ridiculously drunk while he talks at them about politics and the different stages of breakup recovery.
Watching Liv settle into place on the bed, Orlando might hate her, just for a moment, but she waves tea under his nose and it smells like something familiar. She doesn't say anything, just hands him his tea and sips her own, leaning against the headboard and into his side.
"Thanks," Orlando says, after he's had about half of his.
Liv nods. "Too much sugar?"
"No," Orlando shakes his head. "It's fine."
Liv smiles at that and stretches her legs out on the comforter. "I feel like crap, Orli." She rubs at her sleeve and keeps staring at her feet. "I just called and Roy was out. I don't even know his schedule any more and I really, really would like to get laid."
She sort of bites her lip and Orlando pokes her in the side until she shifts over. He lift his arm up and wraps it and the comforter around her, then fishes the television remote out from under his pillow-- the location probably explaining portions of his headache and the odd red patch on his shoulder which hurts when he twists it too much.
"I really love this band." Liv frowns, then pulls the robe tighter around her. " I do."
"I know," Orlando nods. "So do I." He thinks about Eric and how he never understood the band, but how Roy always has. Orlando can't really explain the difference, but it's there and it feels like it's probably important.
Liv leans up and looks over at Orlando. "I'm sorry about last night."
"Yeah," Orlando shrugs. "It wasn't actually that bad."
Liv nods. "Okay."
Orlando looks over at the clock next to the bed. "When do we have to be up?"
"Eleven, maybe?" Liv shrugs. "I'm not sure." Orlando pokes around the different channels for a few minutes and Liv hums into the comforter. "Oh, stop there," she nudges him when he gets to a news channel.
The anchorwoman looks strangely like the Korean version of Barbara Walters. Orlando can't tell what she's talking about, but it's somehow connected to video footage of a field of corn and then a hospital with kids in it. It doesn't make any sense whatsoever, but he's hung over, feeling wretched, and Liv needs company. He can work with that. Orlando settles back, moves Liv's knee a bit to the left, and makes a mental note: This was something I needed.
Korea starts oddly. Apparently the hotel owner's daughter is a fan, which means they arrive to discover the best suite is theirs and enormous gift baskets on every bed. Bean can tell that the suite upgrade alone is giving Viggo a guilt complex, but then Viggo finds his gift basket and sees the two bottles of wine, assorted wheels of cheese, and six pears lying amidst the cellophane and many small edibles. Bean and Orlando have to work very hard to convince him not to wander the streets with their gifts, handing them to small children and shop owners.
Weeks of travelling and the never-ending feeling of jetlag are not helping the situation either. Travelling the world is a perk in this sort of career, but Bean suspects that it also can make a person a bit desperate for the English language after a while. Generally, he's feeling a bit like he's been carting a plasma cutter around and occasionally dropping it on his toes. Bean leaves his band-mates to paw through their goodies and heads for the very large bed waiting for him in his room. He showers in about two minutes time and drops onto the sheets, still wet, to sleep.
About two hours and thirteen minutes later he emerges to find most of the Peter and Fran cabal strewn across the sitting area of their suite and staring, transfixed, at the television.
"Bean," Orlando shouts over at him, "snuggle up with us and absorb some culture."
"Is that what we're doing?" Viggo mutters under his breath, then sighs and looks over at Bean. "It's rather fascinating Sean. Do you realize that the American Hip Hop culture has officially been adopted around the globe?"
Elijah rolls his eyes. "I think it's called capitalism."
Bean grunts at him in an affirmative way. He moves over to the space Orlando is making for him on the couch, sighing when he sits because his knees are clearly happy for it and it's an all too unpleasant reminder of his age.
Something resembling MTV is playing on the flat-screen television hanging on the wall. Everything on it resembles the music videos that Bean's daughters force him to watch upon occasion, only in Korean. He's beginning to understand why Viggo is looking a bit like he wants to weep, escape, keep watching, and give a speech all at the same time. Bean looks over at Orlando and smirks, Orlando smirks back.
"There's," Viggo sighs. "There's something to this, I think. This says something and we should, Peter and Fran should draw on this in some way." He rubs at his jaw and Bean can hear the scratch of Viggo's hand against the stubble. "Globalization is inevitable, but still," Viggo stands up. "Still."
Viggo walks a few steps away from the couch, then turns back. Bean decides that Viggo gets two repetitions of the movement before it's called pacing and someone will be required to intervene.
"Elijah, maybe not just Icelandic folk singing. Maybe chanting too," Viggo nods. "Those Tibetan monks."
"Should I be taking notes?" Elijah's lips get a little flat and there's a pause in the air that makes Bean's palms twitch, just a little. "Or do you just expect all of us to hear your decrees and pursue them to our greatest abilities?"
Viggo blinks and looks a bit glazed, which is exactly what Bean expected. "Ah. Pardon?"
"Yeah, exactly." Elijah crosses his arms and settles deeper into the couch.
There's another small pause, but then Viggo's cell phone rings and he makes a face at it like he's affronted, but he answers it anyway. "Henry? Yes, yes. Ahh," he looks around the room, then back at the phone. "No, I want to hear about it, tell me" he looks at Bean and sort of winces, then exits.
Liv stands up and shakes out her skirt. "Well then, I think lunch would be in order, yes?" She looks over at Orlando, but he shrugs at her. "Daisy?"
"Absolutely," he stands up and heads for the table where the room service menu was last tossed. "Let's order something ridiculous. Something with eyes, maybe." He winks at Orlando.
"Wanker," Orlando glares at him, "you better keep it covered."
"But of course," Daisy shrugs.
"Order something for Viggo," Dom looks up from the floor. "Something with kimchi."
"He hates that," Orlando looks down at Dom, "don't."
Dom just sighs and looks at Daisy, who shrugs at Orlando.
"Fine, whatever." Orlando throws up a hand and sighs.
"Bean?" Liv turns towards him.
Bean's still on the couch. He's looking at the television screen because he feels like everyone's looking at him, out of the corner of their eyes, and he's not sure why they're still coming to places like this, places where everyone looks at him and expects him to fix whatever it is, but apparently they are.
Orlando is quiet next to him, but when the music on the television switches over into some love ballad that's eerily similar to that Celine Dion song that was in that movie, Orlando reaches for the remote and mutes it. "Right then. Anyone have anything to say about this next album business?"
Elijah frowns and looks down at his sneakers. "I think I've made my thoughts abundantly clear to the people interested in them."
"That's not," Bean sighs. "He just wants to keep this going."
"Well," Billy speaks up from the floor next to Dom. "We're all alright with that. Only that's not entirely the issue."
"No," Elijah nods, "exactly. We aren't going through this crap again, with him just going off and expecting--" he breaks off and waves his hand at everyone the suite. Dom nods back at him.
Bean looks out the window at the view from their rooms. It's a beautiful day and the sky is painfully blue. When he turns back at least three sets of eyes are on him. "Look," he stands up and walks over towards the mini-fridge. "I don't know what you lot are expecting me to do, but I'm not solving this, right?" Bean yanks open the door and grabs a bottle of water. "I just got back. What happened to all that shite you've been spouting about how different things were, how different everything was going to be?" He takes a swig of his water and waits for someone else to talk. They don't. He looks at Karl.
"Well," Karl puts the guitar he's been restringing down on the floor. "Things have been different."
"Good," Bean nods. "Great. Prove it and talk to him your bloody selves." He glares at Elijah. "Will you please stop with that look already?"
"It's not--" Elijah twists in his seat, standing up and then sitting down again with one leg bent under him, arms folded. "He listens to you." Bean snorts at that. "Mostly."
"Yeah, he listens to Orlando, too," Bean shrugs. "We talk to him, he listens, that’s how it works. Stop acting like the man is made of sugar, right?" Bean sits down again.
"Sugar?" Dom smirks. "He's not a tasty treat?"
"Whatever." Bean taps the water bottle against his knee. "Point is that I'm not doing that. I'll go home first."
Liv coughs over in the corner. "We'll all talk to him." She's tapping at the room service menu with her hand and wearing the same look she had when she announced to the band that she was getting married. "We'll all mention it." She looks around at Daisy and then at Billy and Elijah. "None of us are idiots and we can all work on something and get this going. Properly" She opens the menu with a snap and stares at it like it's her job, then looks up. "Right then. Orlando, what do you want to eat?"
(Part 41c: it was the most amazing anomaly i've ever encountered")