>>5353358After a few minutes of kicking each other’s shins later, the two of you pause your feud as another round of beers is placed next to you on the counter.
“Man, could you imagine if you could get booze everywhere like at this party?” The janitor muses as the two of you clink the glasses together. “Like you’d just walk along the street and boom: Booze Stand!”
You <span class="mu-i">can</span> imagine it, moron–it’s called a <span class="mu-i">GAS STATION</span>.
“Yea, but they always get pissed off when you sit down and drink it right there…” Talbot retorts with a furrowed brow. He ain’t wrong…
Taking a particularly long swig, the tracksuited terror exhales with glee. “This is nice, huh?”
Yea, you reply with a crooked smile forming on your face, it kinda is, isn’t it? Stretching your back as a long yawn escapes your lips, your grin sinks a bit. Too bad <span class="mu-i">tomorrow</span> has to happen, huh?
“Yea, about that…” Talbot sighs as a more serious expression clouds his face, “You… you mind doing me a favor, Stan?”
Err, you stammer, taken off-guard by his sudden seriousness, depends on what it is…
“Can we uh…” He begins, trailing off into a sigh, “Can we talk about tomorrow and all of that stuff, like… later?”
Uh, Earth to Talbot: tomorrow <span class="mu-i">IS</span> later! Duh-DOI!
“I know, dumbass, I meant later <span class="mu-i">TONIGHT</span>.” He groans. Despite his usual abrasiveness, you can’t help but sense a genuine weariness in his request. Why uh, you mutter, still flatfooted, why not now?
“Lessee… because I’m trying to have a good time?” He replies, counting his reasons off on his fingers. “Because I’ve got a fight in like, half a minute? Because there’s skeletons everywhere? Take your pick, Stan.”
Okay, <span class="mu-i">okay</span>, you huff, simmer down a little, alright? Seeing something in your expression, your ex-bodyguard takes a breath before adopting a softer tone.
“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I uh… there’s just a lot to say, y’know? About… a lot of stuff.”
And he doesn’t wanna talk about it now, you conclude, or out in the open at a booze stand.
“Don’t pay me no mind, chillun’,” Interrupts a skeleton in a grey Civil War uniform as the bartender deposits a fruity-looking drink with a cocktail umbrella into his outstretched hand, “Mother dearest didn’t raise an eavesdropper, no suh…”
Departing with a jaunty tip of his weathered hat, you and Talbot are left to your own devices when the bartender starts to take orders from the far end of the bar.
>CONTD. 