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 Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2007 3:17 pm
Place: The bar
Characters: Fiach and Brad
When: Evening
If you'd like to join in, feel free to ask.
Nursing his third beer of the night, Fiach glowered into the foam of the latest. If there was one bad thing about growing up drinking, he concluded, it was that it took copious amounts of liquor to get him going. Fiach hadn't bothered to put his hair into its proper ponytail today, so his hair flowed freely into his face. A large bruise was swollen on the left side of his jaw, a reminder from the earlier fight with Emile. Brushing the hair out of his face on the opposing side, he glanced around the bar before tugging the cuffs of his hoodie lower over his hands.
He was self conscious about the scars, but had figured the hoodie would cover them suitably. Taking another swig, he vaguely wondered if he would run into anyone he knew while he was here. Or if any of the other customers would approach him. He hoped he'd be left alone, he wasn't in a good mood, but with how many people were in the bar...you never could be too sure.
Tucked back into a corner of the bar, at a booth all his own, Fiach was able to stretch his feet way out. A rarity for him, but luckily the bar was full enough no one noticed him - but not so full he couldn't relax a bit. Taking another swig of his beer, he glanced over to the other side of the bar and out the windows with their myriad of neon signs. Watching the people stroll by on their way, oblivious to everything around them. The smoke filled air was obnoxious, but the prices on beer were decent enough that he could ignore it for now. Those his nose wrinkled at the thought of how difficult the smells would be to get out of his clothes when he got home.
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Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2007 3:48 pm
Brad needed a beer, and that was never good for anyone involved. The week had been horrifically rough, between deadlines and unexpected calls from the past that had all but nipped him in the arse. Hell, it was less of a n** and more like taking a chunk out of him, or chewing him a new one. The man did not take well to such stresses, and resorted to drinking only when he couldn't sort out of his own convulted thoughts.
The rough week showed. He had a shadow of an unshaved beard, making him look a little older and haggard, although his hair seemed to have every strand in place. Indigo eyes were rimmed with dark circles, not exactly the type that looked like he had two black eyes, but it was a far cry from his otherwise neutral and deadpan expression. Donning only a jean jacket over a black fitted shirt and blue jeans, Brad entered the bar with a faint grunt as he pushed the door open.
He didn't bother looking around, not initially. He really didn't think about meeting others in the area, least of all those he would care to keep up appearances with. Heavy foot falls took him to the bar, nodding singuarly to the bartender with vague familiarity. "Texas tea," he rumbled as though his throat was hoarse, "use your best."
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Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2007 4:27 pm
Concluding his third beer, Fiach sighed and slowly stood up. Checking to ensure his dark hoodie sufficiently covered up the scars, and hiking up his baggy pants, he carried his empty mug over to the bar. Fiach balked only slightly when he saw Brad had wandered into the same bar he was in, deciding relaxing was more worth while than causing a scene like he had in that cafe.
Leaning against the bar so that his right side was the only view Brad would have of him, Fiach set his mug down on the counter while waiting for the bartender to notice him. Once noticed, he nodded his head before requesting, "Jager bomb and another mug of the last, please." Perching on a stool while he waited for his two drinks to return to his booth, he glanced at Brad out of the corner of his eye. He looks a lot older than he did last time we met...I wonder what happened?
Curiosity overcoming him, he raised his voice a little and looked in Brad's direction, "You don't look so good." He felt kind of awkward saying it like that, but he didn't want Brad to think he was a wuss. He had, after all, freaked out at both of the last times the two met, and he felt really bad about that. It didn't help that the recent fight with Emile was still on his mind.
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Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2007 4:37 pm
Patience was one virtue that Brad was afforded at the moment, and he did not mind to wait for his booze to be mixed. He wasn't usually a mixed drink type of guy, but given his heavy thoughts, he wanted to stop thinking as soon as possible, and that wasn't something beer could do without taking out a few six packs. He thought he heard a familiar voice next to him, but he didn't pay it any mind, staring at the blank space on the counter where his drink should have been.
Lazy eyes shifted over to the familiar voice as it addressed him. He was momentarily horrified, embarrassed and somewhat amused to see Fiach, in one of the last places he truly would have thought to have found the young man. A bar? "Are you even old enough to drink?" he asked in a deep baritone, only partially chiding the other. The man frowned a little as Fiach actually faced him; there seemed to be a fresh bruise that blossomed on the young man's jaw line. Brad looked down to his drink as the bartender placed it in front of him, momentarily avoiding the other's gaze.
"'nother friendly fight?" he inquired, not bothering to comment on his own appearance. He knew there was a good chance he looked like death warmed over. The mug was lifted deftly to his lips, where he drained the six liquored drink halfway in one sitting. Brad hissed softly at the burn, an appreciative noise as he waved a hand to the bartender to let him know he was okay. It burned, yes, but he needed that bitterness.
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Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2007 5:01 pm
Shrugging slightly, Fiach rolled his eyes slightly at the older man's question concerning his age. "I'm 21, old enough to drink, old man." Besides, its not really any of your business if I'm old enough or not. Having his right to drink questioned wasn't exactly his idea of starting off a great night. The past few days had really bit for the young man and he'd come here to relax.
Smiling slightly coldly as the bartender set down both of his drinks, he tipped his head back as he took the shot down quickly before answering the older man's second question.
Playing a little with the fresh beer, he turned his cold smile at Brad, "I suppose you could say that." Standing up from the stool he'd been perched on, he gestured with his drink towards the booth he'd been at previously. Rubbing the bruised side of his jaw lightly as he thought, he muttered, "You can join me over there, if you like." A wince touched his face as he noticed his sleeve had come up a little more than he'd anticipated with the gesture. Lowering his hand quickly, he hoped Brad hadn't noticed the white scar.
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Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2007 5:17 pm
"Are you always so defensive?" the older man grumbled. He had laughed a little at being called old, not at all taking offense to it. Brad ordered another of his drink, downing the other before it came. Picking up his fresh replacement, he turned to follow Fiach, not sure he wanted the company but knowing it wasn't a smart idea to be alone, either.
He gave a little shrug to himself, remarking, "I'm not gonna say anything about the bruises. If you want me to believe it's a 'friendly fight,'" he hooked his fingers as though making quotations, "then that's your thing. I'm not going to think less of you, although you probably don't much care for what I think." Brad smiled then, and it wasn't cruel or sarcastic; in fact, it was probably a rather genuine one. He wasn't trying to be mean, but he felt as though there wasn't much he could do to make Fiach not on his guard around him. Ah well, live and learn, or something like that. As it was, the man had either not seen the scar or chose not to comment on it, simply following the youth to the corner area.
Brad sat in the booth, scooting all the way to the side before leaning his back against the wall, letting his legs dangle over the far edge of the seat. Taking another drink, although substantially less than his previous draining, he put the mug on the table, rolling his head to look at Fiach. "What brings you here, then?" There, that was a simple enough question, hopefully one Fiach wouldn't find some way to take offense to.
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Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2007 8:19 pm
Ducking his head a little, Fiach suddenly felt bad for snapping at the man. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you." Gesturing towards his jaw he gave a little shrug, "Just not in that great of a mood, I'm afraid."
Taking the bench opposite Brad, Fiach set his drink down before self consciously tugging his sleeves down once more. Fiach pondered if he should be honest or not, he didn't want Brad to think he hated him, but he also didn't want to burden the older man with his ridiculous tale regarding the first fight, and this latest one. After all, telling someone your best friend had beat the hell out of you prevent you from possibly committing suicide, and then you had fought the man's boxing champion of an older sister didn't exactly make you sound good. Stretching his legs out the side of the table, sitting close to the edge of his seat, he played with his mug a little. Off in his own world for a moment, before he heard Brad speak.
Looking a little confused as he tried to remember what had been asked, he blushed a little before answering. "Its...a place to escape." There, that had been an honest answer. Though it was a rather curious one. Shrugging, he took another large swig before setting his mug back down. Tilting his head slightly, he leaned back in his seat, "And how about you?"
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2007 8:57 pm
"Hmph," Brad mumbled a little, settling against the wall comfortably. "Riddles, Fiach. Sometimes, I think that's how you speak with me." He smiled a little, although it was a bit off, as though not quite whole. His keen gaze didn't miss the other's discomfort, and he decided against commenting on it for now; he really had no right to stick his nose in anyone's business, let alone that of a young man who didn't seem to particuarly like the older one across from him.
With a deep sigh that seemed to come from his toes, Brad picked up his mug and drained another fair amount of liquor from its contents. "To stop thinking," he remarked dully to Fiach's inquiry, his voice dry and devoid of his placid mannerisms. "It'll take a few of these to do the trick, but it's the best thing I got." The man leaned forward a bit, waving his hand to indicate another order to the bartender before returning to his lounging position.
Again, he rolled his head to the side, observing Fiach. There was no scrutiny in his gaze, nor concern, just questions. Quite frankly, the man was more than tired of his good intentions getting lost on others; Fiach wouldn't be the first to see his bad mood, but he was silently hoping he was the last. Now, he just had to make ammends with the secretive youth...somehow.
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2007 9:27 pm
His offensive demeanor slipping away as quickly as sand slips through fingers, Fiach hung his head abashedly. He hadn't meant to take his anger and pent up aggression on the older man. Brad wasn't trying to stick his back up, Fiach was just taking everything the wrong way. When Brad said it was as if Fiach spoke riddles, Fiach knew that in a way...he was. Always hinting at, but never actually broaching the truth.
"I don't mean to speak in riddles. It just happens. I..." Sighing, Fiach's hands tightened on his mug. Either he was becoming a lightweight, or the past several days had made him reach his limit mentally. Swallowing his original words, he quickly re-worded it, "...guess I'm still just a little weary of you, that's all." Groaning inwardly, he realized that certainly wouldn't help things to nearly admit to being afraid of the man across from him. Though, in truth, he was a little afraid - it wasn't so much from their first meeting as it was from the way Brad patiently, quietly listened.
Taking a hefty drink of his beer, he swallowed it back before tilting his head slightly. It hadn't really occurred to him that Brad might also have something to escape from.
"Why do you want to stop thinking?" His eyes widened slightly at his forwardness before he ducked his head slightly again.
I really hope the old man doesn't lose his temper again...
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2007 9:36 pm
Ah, so he'd hit the nail on the head, this time. Brad watched Fiach react with what appeared to be a guilty conscious, his smile one of grim understanding. He uttered a brief bit of laughter as the youth admitted being weary about him; talk about stating the obvious! "First impressions are lasting ones," he agreed, although there was a touch of melancholy in his voice. "That was my mistake, and I'll bear that burden." He lifted his glass to Fiach as though in a salute of acknowledgement before draining the contents. Two within ten minutes was a good start.
His dark brows lofted into his equally dark hair as Fiach suddenly seemed to take an interest in him. That was a curious turn, suddenly asking about the older man. Brad pursed his lips, giving a nod to the bartender as his empty glass was replaced with a blessedly full one, his calloused fingers working around the cool drink. "Because you can't change the past," he answered slowly, seeming to choose his words carefully. "There's no use in fretting over it. Sometimes, no amount of rationality can make me believe that."
Indigo eyes lowered, looking to the cell phone on his waist. No, if he kept getting stuck in his past, he'd make the same mistake, and lose the very few that were precious to him...so, drinking was the only way to stop the stupid onslaught of memories, as counter productive as that was. Brad may have been intelligent, but he was easily guilt tripped, especially by himself.
"Hmn," he uttered in a near chuckle, "more riddles."
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2007 9:54 pm
A sigh of relief escaped Fiach's mouth as the man took him at face value. Relaxing a little with the realization that Brad likely either didn't care enough to question him further, or just hadn't noticed the near slip, Fiach gratefully acknowledge the man's salute with one of his own. Lightly placing his mug back down on the table, slowly losing interesting in getting wasted, especially after listening to the man's next words.
Wincing slightly when Brad reminded him that you couldn't change the past, Fiach wondered at how the man was able to say things that cut straight through to the heart of the matter without really even seeming to mean to. His surprise registered on his face, before he rubbed one hand through his hair. Letting it slowly cascade back into place, the strands brushed against his jaw mostly concealing the bruise once more.
Inclining his head slightly in a gesture of inquiry, he muttered, "More riddles?" Taking a drink of his beer, frowning as he realized he was nearing the last of it, he pondered ordering another. Placing the mug back in its place as he leaned back against the bench, one hand idly reaching up to lightly rub the bruise on his jaw. He was still surprised at how hard that punch had been from Emile, and he vaguely wondered just how awful it would look in the morning.
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2007 10:04 pm
Brad grunted. "Stop playing with it, you're only going to make the blood surface more visibly." He watched Fiach out of the corner of his eye; even if he wasn't looking directly at the youth, he was still very aware of his presence. In response to the question, the older man shrugged his broad shoulders, replying, "I'm talking like you. In riddles." He, too, was not keen on confiding in anyone about his past, let alone Fiach, whom seemed as uncomfortable as a wet cat. He doubted the other man would ask any personal questions under fear of his guest returning the favor.
Truly, Brad was starting to wonder why the younger man had invited him over. "So let me ask. If you're weary of me, why'd you invite me over? To be polite?" He tilted his head to the side, the garish half light casting a heavy shadow over his angular face. That seemed both unnecessarily kind and laughably silly, although he would try not to express either of those thoughts to spare insulting Fiach further.
"Y'want another?" he indicated the empty mug, "I'll get you one. On me. For being polite." Damnit all, but he did it anyway! He couldn't help but smile a little, a strange motion that wasn't exactly friendly, but was warm and nearly playful. Oh yeah, the drink was definitely starting to settle.
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2007 10:23 pm
Hand snapping down from his jaw quickly, he ducked his head and blushed lightly. He couldn't help it - it was like when you lost a tooth and your tongue just had to poke the area, even though it hurt. Frowning slightly at the man's question, Fiach shrugged. "Isn't there a saying about confronting your fears?" Waving his hand around them before tipping his mug a little in Brad's direction, he continued, "What better place than a bar, with plenty of liquid courage to go round?"
Hoping that answer would satisfy, he glanced in his mug again before nodding politely. "I...would appreciate it." Sighing, he realized that now he would owe Brad doubly. Once for the food, and now for the booze. The strange smile Brad gave him made Fiach slightly weary, the man wasn't quite acting like he had in their previous two meetings.
Playing with the sleeves of his hoodie once more, he glanced around the bar, wondering at his luck. Frowning in thought as his gaze returned to Brad, he decided that since they were in a bar, and he had already downed four beers and a jager bomb...he could always blame the drink later if he asked too many questions. Gathering up his courage, he took a deep breath before finally asking, "So what are you here to forget?" Wincing slightly he added a stuttered, "I mean...besides...running from the past..."
Oh God, please don't let him ask me any questions.
Fiach honestly wanted to understand this apparently volatile man and figured the only way to confront his fears of him...was to talk to him and get to know him.
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2007 10:37 pm
The smile shifted into a grin, shaking his shaggy head. "I wasn't aware I was a force to be feared," he drawled, chuckling as he added, "Who needs courage like that. I just need a distraction." Brad took an unhealthy swig of his mixed drink, setting it down and wincing at the lack of burn. He'd have to start slowing down here pretty soon. At Fiach's approval, the older man sat up again, leaning on the table. He made a circular motion with his hand, pointing at the empty mug to make sure the bartender didn't bring one of Brad's drinks to the youth. That probably wouldn't end well.
Of course, the man was merely acting out as he normally did, when he wasn't in a foul mood from Hackers eating his work. Brad wasn't what one would consider charitable, but his heart was in the right place, even if his grumpiness was not.
Leaning back with a soft sigh, his indigo eyes snapped to Fiach as he asked the question Brad had been so certain he would not. Maybe he had underestimated him...at least while inebriated. Brad's neutral mask was firmly in place, his jaw clenched as he regarded the uncertain youth. He was a curious young man; perhaps it was the drink, or perhaps he was just curious himself, prompting him to lean on the table and look at Fiach with all the seriousness of a businessman. If Brad was anything, he was shrewd, and good at what he did; bartering was just one of his many services.
"I don't mind answering questions, but that one is a little touchy. I'll answer any of 'em as long as you agree to answer one of mine for each of yours."
That old song, Getting To Know You started to play absurdly in Brad's mind, and it was a near struggle to keep from bursting into laughter. That would have REALLY been bad after such a heavy statement. Regardless, he was suddenly grinning, a lopsided motion that made the offer a little less serious than he intended.
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2007 10:54 pm
Wincing slightly as Brad said what Fiach had been afraid of, Fiach leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes as Brad looked him over. That was a lot of pain that could be uncovered, but Fiach couldn't very well fall back now. Accepting the fresh mug as it came, he took a large swallow before nodding. If he was ever going to stop running, any time was as good as another, he supposed.
Besides, there was no guarantee Brad would ask the questions Fiach was most afraid of. Schooling his features to a calm look, he gave his consent, "All right, its a deal." Pulling his legs under the table, crossing one over the other, he folded his arms in front of his chest. Though his mind was racing a million miles a minute, he hoped none of it would show on his face. Feeling the beginnings of a buzz come on as he took another sip of his fifth beer, he made a mental note to take his time with this one. He really was getting to be a lightweight, after all.
That'd be a great end to the night - get wasted and get careless. Superb.
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