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 Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2007 11:02 pm
"I'm here to forget the past, I thought I said that - snerk! - already." Oh god, he was starting to snicker in sentences. Brad put his drink down, trying to compose himself as the song whisked around in his brain like a butterfly on the wind. That was really annoying. Apparently he'd forgotten to eat before he started his little binge; he'd pay for that, sooner than later.
Feeling that his answer was a little unfair, he elaborated only in the slightest. "Y'know, women...more trouble than they're worth." The man took a deep breath, pausing as he ammended, "...erm, not all of them, but most."
Shaking his head sharply, he rubbed the back of his neck, forcing himself to sit up and face Fiach while talking. It seemed rude to chat while lounging for some reason. He regarded the young man thoughtfully, eyes skimming over his carefully reserved expression and posture. How interesting. "What happened this time?" he asked quietly, motioning to the bruise on his jaw that was still forming. He had almost asked about the last time, but...let bygones be bygones, or something like that. Brad didn't want to focus on the past, that was why he was at the bar to begin with.
"Mind you..." He hesitated. Brad had struck a deal, and he should stick to his guns, but... "...you don't have to answer if you don't want to. I don't deserve that type of honesty if you don't want to share."
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2007 11:19 pm
Raising an eyebrow at the man's snickering, Fiach wondered just how strong that drink was that Brad had been drinking. Nodding when Brad mentioned women, he glanced down at his wrists to ensure the sleeves were still safely covering up the scars. Briefly thankful that he hadn't gotten any scars from his last girlfriend as well.
"I...can understand that." Exhaling and relaxing a bit when Brad questioned about the bruise, he shrugged and waved a hand as if to dismiss it. "I gave my word. I'll keep it." Frowning slightly as he struggled to find a way to word his response without implicating Sionce and what his sister had done to him, he finally settled for, "I had a...disagreement with a former boxing champion." Motioning towards his jaw once more he gave a humorless chuckle, "And this is what I earned for it."
Staring at the table he picked at his mug a little, "I don't really like to fight...it just sort of happens." Clearing his throat and looking up at the man across from him once more, he stared at him thoughtfully as he formed a question to ask. He wasn't really sure how long he wanted to play this game, but he didn't want to be scared anymore, either.
Besides, he was getting a little curious. Brad had answered the question, but hadn't really told anything at all. "What sort of...trouble did you have with the woman you're here to forget?"
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2007 11:34 pm
The laughter Brad had been trying to restrain came free of him at the comment about the former boxing champion. It wasn't loud or obnoxious laughter, but a startled type that was deep and hearty. "Oh that's rich, Fiach, not the swiftest thing you coulda done." The man wrestled his laughter into a manageable grin, clearing his throat to try and keep it maintained. It was a funny statement, and given both of their strange and touchy situations, it was twice as amusing.
He was going to comment on the fighting bit, but when he glanced over, he was surprised to see Fiach looking directly at him, without any sign of embarrassment or hesitation. That shut the older man up rather quickly, swallowing the words as he waited with dutiful patience.
"Trouble," he echoed, more as a comment than a question. Brad rubbed the bridge of his nose, considering his words, carefully. "The trouble is that she wont stay in the past, where she belongs. It's not her fault though...but it's not her fault, either." His eyes unfocused a little as the memories tried to come back; he looked ragged, a little haunted, seeing things only his mind could fathom. Another rough shake of his head brought him back to the table with Fiach, all too aware of his strange comment lingering in the air.
Well, he started, there was no harm in finishing, was there. "Trouble is my ex-wife," he grunted, as though saying it out loud made it more real. If Fiach wanted to know more, he'd have to ask.
Brad could tell just by admitting that out loud that he was well on his way to becoming drunk. He took another deep drink to ensure he kept on that path. Turning his unusually clear eyes back onto the young man, he gave a tight-lipped smile. "My turn, huh." He mused over the possibilities, rubbing his stubbled chin with a large hand. Ah, he had one, and probably one the young man wasn't expecting! "What got you into the computer business?"
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2007 11:53 pm
Startled by the laughter, Fiach blinked a few times before blushing. It wasn't his fault Sionce hadn't warned him about his sister being a boxer before he got himself dragged off and tortured. He still wasn't even quite sure why he'd stepped in. If he'd known Emile had been a champion boxer, he would've been better prepared defensively. He wasn't that out of habit for fighting, was he?
Watching Brad's reaction, Fiach felt bad for asking so direct of a question. Nodding thoughtfully to himself, he decided he wouldn't pursue that line of question for the time being. Taking a sip of his own beer, he nearly choked on it at the randomness of Brad's next question. Openly staring at the man as he tried to fathom just what had made him ask that, Fiach found himself chewing his lower lip and turning his head away.
Wasn't expecting that question, to be sure. What an odd man...
The truth was, he'd sort of been thrust into the computer business. The old man had paid for his classes, given him a clean start at life, and the shop had sort of been thrust upon him. Turning his attention back to his mug, he stared into the drink it contained, looking at his wavering reflection in the amber liquid, thinking over his answer.
Taking a deep breath, he began in his deep, lilting voice, "An old man saw me...for what I was. He brought me here, from Ireland. Paid for my classes and the shop sort of fell into my lap." Shrugging, he waved a hand in the air, dismissing it. "I...pass this turn. But...you can ask me another question, if you like."
Maybe confronting the truth wasn't as hard as he'd thought after all. Taking another sip of his drink, he smiled at Brad. A true, genuine smile that said he was content to play this game a while longer.
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Posted: Tue Nov 27, 2007 5:25 pm
Brad was going to suggest not answering the question, watching Fiach's squirming when the youth managed to jumble out an answer. The older man stared at the younger one, his eyebrows raised as he tried to sort out the mess of a response he had received. "So...some...random old guy brought you from Ireland, knowing that you're..." he waved a hand, as if the gesture said everything, "...something that you're not showing anyone, shoved you into school and then into a job?"
He was torn between repremanding Fiach for being a brawling, drinking slouch when he was so lucky, and thinking that the situation was just plain creepy. Brad had a feeling that he wasn't getting the whole story, or at least, he hoped he wasn't, as that was a very strange way to explain one's life so far. Random act of freaky kindness? Pass.
This was harder than he had anticipated. Bruises were vague answers, work space was a bizarre one...getting a straight answer out of Fiach was like getting Nigh NOT to play Alliance in WoW; not only was it unlikely to happen, but Brad felt he was losing small bits of his sanity trying to play along. "So, ah. Ireland? Why'd you ever leave? I heard that's some beautiful country. Worked for a firm there, but never visited myself."
That wasn't so bad; innocent question with another small revelation about himself. Unless Ireland held things that caused drinking and fighting... Brad immediately regretted the question, but was unable to retract it while suffering foot-in-mouth syndrome, drinking from his mug deeply to make sure he couldn't spew something else insipid.
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Posted: Tue Nov 27, 2007 6:08 pm
Letting out a low whistle, Fiach stared dumbfounded at Brad. Did the man know what a loaded question that was? There were a lot of reasons he'd had to leave Ireland. With some of them more confusing than others. How to explain the old man had saved his life by bringing him over, without revealing just how much trouble he'd been in?
Hell. Maybe this game wasn't such a great idea after all.
But he had given his word, hadn't he? Fiach felt foolish for letting himself get into this trap. He was fairly sure that Brad wouldn't want to hear the truth - and that if Fiach told him, he'd probably freak out on him. Or maybe the man wouldn't believe the truth if he was told it. Sighing, Fiach realized he was talking himself in circles - a sign that he was getting buzzed...or that he was going insane and about to hit a sort of bottom again soon.
Glowering at the table before him, he tapped his fingers against its surface before looking up at Brad. His haunted blue eyes staring into Brad's pools of indigo, frowning as he tried to carefully form his thoughts, "I had met the man on several occasions - he wasn't a total stranger." Sighing, he paused briefly, "I was a bit of a troublemaker when I was younger." Gesturing towards the bruise on his face, he gave a little shrug, as if he might mean he got into a lot of fights as a kid. "So he brought me here, thinking new faces would solve the problem."
Frowning momentarily as he recalled his home - trying to avoid memories of his home life, and just what the land itself had looked like, he smiled briefly, and sadly muttered, "It is a beautiful country. You...should go there sometime. See it for yourself."
Fiach hoped he hadn't just given another convoluted answer to the question. He wasn't used to people asking him such seemingly innocent questions that were so loaded it took him some time to form his thoughts. He wasn't very good at this game, now that he thought of it. Lifting his half forgotten mug, he took another small drink, having lost interest in the thought of drinking for the moment.
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Posted: Tue Nov 27, 2007 6:36 pm
Brad exhaled quietly through his teeth; he really had to stop with this whole making Fiach uncomfortable gig. It wasn't his aim, but it seemed each innocent thing he asked...wasn't so innocent in theory. Well. There was one way to end the game, and while he didn't like it, he liked watching Fiach sink further into himself even less.
So, he started to talk about himself. "I'm from Italy," he said conversationally, trying to steer away from the questions. "Probably figured that out with our first meeting, huh?" He smiled, but there was a wince in it, a small amount of guilt still tacked on to the memory. "Came here shortly after I graduated college. I miss the motherland, but y'know...not all bad here. New faces, like you said. New beginnings." At least, it was new for the people he met here. Brad never forgot his past, he'd just learned to accept it and move on. Except when the past chewed on his ear for an hour. Strange how sixty minutes could tear down all those years.
"My sister, she loves Ireland. Said she should have been born Irish. Not half bad at the language...Celtic, is it?" A question, but it had precious little that could be tied to it in a bad way, or so he hoped. He took another long swig of his drink, feeling a little fuzzy, but still completely functional upstairs. That was a shame. Brad realized he was speaking in halting words, not forming full sentences, but he didn't exactly like talking about himself either. This is what he called a compromise, in which he made a bit of a fool of himself to make up for his behavior and bad taste in questions.
Watching Fiach drink his beer half heartedly, Brad felt a strange type of curiosity over come him. What had happened to this kid to make him so guarded? Why was his past such a mishmash of riddles and half truths? No, he wouldn't ask any more, but he couldn't wipe it off of his face, either. He breathed deeply through his nose, sighing his words, "I'm not a good drinking partner, m'fraid. I told you, I think too much, and it seems I'm making you do much of the same."
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Posted: Tue Nov 27, 2007 8:06 pm
Breathing a sigh of relief as Brad changed the subject to himself, Fiach silently willed as much gratitude as he could in the man's direction. Praying his intense relief and thanks didn't show on his face, as he did so. He didn't really want to look even more insane than he already did.
Biting his lip as he almost asked Brad why he'd left Italy, he smiled as the conversation turned to the Irish language. Shaking his head slightly, he rubbed the back of his head, partially in embarrassment from his behavior, and partially because he felt bad to have to correct the older man. "The language is officially called Irish-Gaelic. There are three types - Irish, Scottish, and Manx. Manx-Gaelic being spoken on the Isle of Mann."
Tilting his head slightly as Brad admitted to not being a good drinking partner, Fiach waved his hand to dismiss the idea. "You're not a bad drinking partner. Its just...we're both strangers and..." Trailing off at the last, not really sure what he should be saying. Not even sure why he felt like he should say anything at all. Maybe he was a bit buzzed.
Sighing to himself as he noted the questioning look on Brad's face, he briefly wondered if he should just leave. He remembered the last man who had told him you can't change the past. He couldn't bring himself to talk to that man - he was a link to the truth, and talking to him would bring the false reality he'd created crashing down.
Fiddling lightly with the cuffs of his hoodie, he quietly muttered, "Y Gwir Yn Erbyn Y Byd". Frowning slightly to himself, he muttered its translation, "the truth against the world". He wasn't very good at sticking to the truth anymore, and remembering that quote, it made him feel terrible.
Glancing back up at Brad, he said more clearly, "Thank you for not asking me the questions brewing behind your eyes. But...if you want to ask...I...won't hide behind riddles." Damn, but Brad made him think of that old man. Made him feel as if he should tell the truth before it swallowed him whole. Fiach wondered just how this rough man across from him managed to make him feel foolish for hiding from the past.
So much for not looking crazy.
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Posted: Wed Nov 28, 2007 9:47 am
A short, whuffled bit of chuckling was Brad's response to his correction. "Ah. I don't claim to know those types of things, I'm afraid. Just an architect, not an anthropologist." He smiled a little, a puzzled but fond expression as the young man spoke words he didn't understand, in a language he'd heard only a few times. He hadn't seen his sister in a long time, and Fiach reminded him a lot of her.
His brows arched in gentle surprise, mingling into a touch of loss, or perhaps a mere grim understanding. "Oh I'll ask," he said with an almost serious tone of voice, "but only when we aren't strangers anymore." The man leaned back, lacing his fingers over his stomach, eyes settling on his near empty glass. "If it helps you to keep it in, who am I to say otherwise?" Large shoulders rose and slumped in a shrug. "But, y'know...I'm a good listener, believe it or not. When I'm not drinking, anyway, 'cause I have a tendancy to ramble. Case in point.
You're welcome, all the same." He lifted his gaze back to Fiach, another faint smile on his face, almost wistful looking with his unshaven jaw and odd-colored eyes. "We all have a story, just...some of us have longer, tedious ones than others." Ah, he was rambling again. Brad caught the bartender's eye with a singular nod - one more should do it - before he shrugged off his jacket and crossed his blessedly bare arms behind his head. All that drinking was making him warm, and he was glad he'd worn a normal shirt under it.
"So what do you do outside of work, Fiach?" he asked cheerfully, really starting to feel the effects of all that mixed liquor. "Other than fight boxing champions and run into scruffy old men." Brad grinned, a broad one that almost would have been charming if not for the lop-sided buzzed quality.
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Posted: Wed Nov 28, 2007 11:04 pm
Tilting his head in silent surprise at the other man's chuckles, Fiach found he couldn't help but smile a little too. Even if Brad was becoming inebriated, he was still making an effort to be kind and respectful. It was hard for Fiach to get his head around that idea, having become so well accustomed to Adalia's pushy antics. Relaxing his posture so that it was more open, legs no longer crossed but one sprawled out the side of the booth, the other remaining under the table as Fiach continued to sit near the edge of his seat. One arm folded onto his stomach as the other's hand played idly with his mug of beer.
"Y gwir yn erbyn y byd means the truth against the world. It...is an old Irish quote about seeking the truth." Laughing a little hollowly, he gave a self depracating grin, "Guess its a lot harder than it sounds, huh? Easy to say the truth is the most important thing, harder to actually tell it." Scratching the back of his head, feeling a little awkward at his own mini ramble, before wondering how Brad could be so patient and understanding. He wondered, but wouldn't ask, if Brad had ever worked with troubled kids or had kids of his own. For all his gruff exterior, he seemed to really genuinely care and worry about people.
Shaking his head a little to wrap his mind around Brad's next question - and his behavior along with it, Fiach couldn't help himself as he arched an eyebrow in silent question. Just what was in that stuff Brad had been drinking? Pursing his lips slightly in thought, Fiach gave a small smile, touched with just a hint of sadness.
"I...play music and remember." Remembering his word that he'd not riddle at Brad anymore, Fiach adjusted his statement, "I remember the things that make me who I am today. Though...I guess that's really not healthy to spend the little free time I have doing that, now that I think of it." Feeling a bit embarrassed, he added a slightly chagrined, "It would seem I ramble, too." Pausing slightly, he grinned at how silly he felt as he returned the question, "So what do you do outside of your job in architecture, Brad?"
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Posted: Thu Nov 29, 2007 8:40 am
"Absolutely not," the older man agreed when Fiach suggested his hobbies may not be healthy. "It's good to remember, but don't miss the here and now because you're too busy in the past. You'll miss new things to define you if you're dwelling on the unhappy aspects." Really, Brad could take advice from his own words. He was a workaholic because of his ex and the things that had happened, but he had forgotten why he was the way he was, and now simply just accepted it for lack of anything else to do.
It was on this train of thought that the young man asked his next question, which earned another short bit of chuckling. "I, uh...I harass young men in computer shops." That did make him laugh, because it sounded so absurd (and vaguely childish) even to his own ears. Brad lowered his arms from behind his head, rubbing his jaw as his deep-chested laughter subsided into a quiet grin.
"Sorry," he scratched his forearm, chuckling, "I guess...I don't not work. I'm a chronic workaholic. Work, sleep, eat when I remember, work s'more. Pretty much only leave my home when I need to replenish the food supply, when I'm down on my luck...or when my work is threatened." His grin melted into a strained smile, knowing that Fiach had seen that ugly side of him that only one other person had seen.
Brad waved a hand in front of his face, as if dismissing an insistant memory. "Anyway. Music, huh? Mm, thanks," he glanced up as the bartender brought him what he hoped was his last drink. Indigo eyes turned back onto Fiach, an obvious curiosity lining his rough features, observing the youth with what one could call interest. "What do y'play? If you say rap, I'm walking away right now." He gave another lopsided, easy grin, snickering a little. Now he was amusing himself, this had better be his last drink!
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Posted: Thu Nov 29, 2007 2:20 pm
Nodding along thoughtfully as Brad went on about the past and missing new things, he smiled. Brad was right, even if he was just rambling. Though it made him wonder if the man was speaking from experience, or just wisdom.
Staring at the man across from him as the next question was answered, Fiach wasn't sure if he should laugh or leave. Judging by Brad's laughter, though, he'd meant it as a joke, so Fiach gave a small laugh of his own. His uncertainty spilling over into it, making him feel like an awkward child again. Wincing a little at Brad's strained smile, he felt bad for reacting that horribly to the man. He wasn't actually scared of Brad, not even so much his temper, as he was of people losing their tempers...and him losing his own in return. But how do I explain that to him without admitting I lied?
Fiddling with his drink while wrestling with his now guilty conscience, he gave a little chuckle at the rap comment. "No...not rap. I'm not even sure if we should count that as music, to be honest." Crossing his other arm near to his body like his other was, he smiled sadly, "Mostly I play Irish music. Traditional Irish music."
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Posted: Sun Dec 02, 2007 8:27 pm
"That's a relief. About the rap." He took a thoughtful drink, just a small gulp or two before he replaced his mug. "You seem to live by your past, Fiach. Not that I'm one to say this, but I'm quite on my way to bein' drunk and can blame that on it. You need to live by your here and now. You're just hurtin' yours'lf. And those," Brad lifted a hand, indicated the bruises, "I'd alm'st bet that has to do with the past too, huh. You're a smart guy, least, smarter than me if'n you deal with those Hacker things." The drink had more than settled, and he was right; he was quite on his way to be drunk. "You got more than you're lettin' yourself have."
He hiccuped, successfully shutting himself up for a moment. His eyes fell to his lap, as if suddenly thoughtful, before looking back to Fiach. Despite his drunken state, that indigo gaze was clear. "Unm. Will you 'scuse me for a second? I hafta make a phone call." Brad pushed himself up, wobbling a little before making his way down towards the bathroom for some privacy. There, in the hallway, he struggled with his phone for a moment, wrestling with it off his waist. Flipping it open, he pressed a few buttons, listening to the rings.
Why he was startled when the other person picked up, he wasn't sure, but he vaulted on with his intention, regardless. "'Lani? I need a savor. Ahah, f-favor, not savor. I'm...a little ineb...erm...inebriated, could use some kind comp'ny on the way home..." He talked with the woman a little more before replacing his phone with an expression of mixed satisfaction and hesitation. With a shrug, he walked back to Fiach, sliding into the booth heavily.
"Now. Where were we? Ah, mus-hic!" He nodded to himself, flipping some of his hair out of his eyes. "Tradishnal stuff, yes? What instum'nt do you play?"
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Posted: Sun Dec 02, 2007 8:53 pm
Fiach stared openly at Brad's drunken rambling. For a man who was well on his way to being drunk, he was a little too accurate and observant for Fiach's tastes. Merely shrugging at the man's words, before Brad excused himself to make a phone call. Staring blankly at the newly vacated seat, Fiach put his head in his hands, momentarily rubbing his temples.
Head snapping back up as Brad returned, Fiach gave a small smile, happy Brad had continued to a much nicer topic to talk about. Slightly worried about the man's condition, Fiach stuttered, "I...uh, play the flute...and the pennywhistle." Raising an eyebrow as he tilted his head, he couldn't help but satisfy his curiosity, "Are you...all right?"
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Posted: Sun Dec 02, 2007 9:03 pm
Brad scratched his jaw at the question - that beard was starting to drive him nuts - smiling a little thinly. "No," he answered quietly, "if I were, I wouldn't be here, mm?" Ah, it was too late to get into the details now. His mind was in that fuzzy place that couldn't focus on anything for more than a few moments, and that's exactly where he wanted to be. There was no worry, no concern...no memories. Not of what drove him here, anyway.
"Can I take a rain check on that...pennerwhistlin?" He quirked a brief grin, shrugging his jacket on with a little difficulty. It seemed the right sleeve was eluding his arm. "I think, for some reason, I'm gonna see you again. An', I prefer to talk when my mouth isn't loose enough to stick m' foot in, y'know?" He gave a triumphant laugh at getting the sleeve in place, pressing his hands against the table and standing. This, of course, resulting in him banging his knees and uttering a few explitives in Italian, before climbing out of the booth.
With a huff, he gave a lopsided smile to Fiach. "I have a ride comin' f' me. It was good to be seein' you, but take care, n'kay? I want happy news next time we run 'nto each other." Brad walked around the table, extending a hand slowly to clasp Fiach's shoulder. He was aware of the man's discomfort, but was really too far gone to be aware that he was encroaching on the other. "Thanks for listenin'. Be safe, m'friend."
Giving a nod of his shaggy head, the man left a few hefty bills underneath his half full mug, somehow managing to leave the bar without running into anyone or thing.
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