gunsforhire | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Church and everyone. Everyone else.
What: Drinks! Chats? Shenanigans. Tipping your bartender.
Where: Eagle & Asp
When: ~~whenever you want it baby~~ 5/21 through the evening
Warnings: surely I don't have to warn everyone about their language right

Church is a regular here. Not as a patron, hell no, but as a bartender. Usually, in fact almost always, in blue (especially his helmet), declaring his side the 'eagle' side. It's a themeing thing, okay? Don't question the theme.

And he really wishes the mercs would find other bars to hang out in, planning their whatevers and darkening doorsteps, but what's he gonna do, call security? So long as he gets paid, then whatever.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Because he doesn't remember her, can't tell if she's teasing or serious. "Florida told me to get it," he says. "I haven't drank since the accident."

"Don't take drink recommendations from Florida. Only thing he drinks are appletinis," she replies with a dismissive wave of her hands. The things those two must talk about during medic training.

"What accident are you talking about?"

"I don't even know what an appletini is," Omega says. "But when I was seventeen, a bunch of us got into one of their dad's bourbon, and the next morning I woke up with bilateral subconjunctival hemorrhages and the worst hangover of my life. I was walking home, got hit by a car, and was too drunk to remember it."

He laughs at the memory, without much amusement. "The doctor told Price I had a concussion, and that's why I didn't remember. Probably saved my life."

Was he serious? One look at him says he is and she can't help but laugh. He's alive and it was years ago, thankfully.

"I thought I had issues drinking, sounds like I'm doing just fine," she teases. "I'm not going to let you get black out drunk, so you don't have to worry about that this time."

Ten years later, it's hilarious. At the time it was pretty funny, too, though he swore off alcohol for a time after that, and never felt the need to go back.

"Oh, that's not even the dumbest thing I've done under the influence. Just the last."

"Care to share the rest of those stories? Or are you going to need a few drinks in you first?" She's more than happy to oblige if it means she gets to learn more about him even if it's through drunken escapades.

"I'm allowed some secrets," Omega says. Some of them are just embarrassing. Most of them. "Not even the others know about what I used to get up to." How he survived to eighteen sometimes not even Omega himself knows.

"You managed to keep that even from them?" She lets out a low whistle. "I'm impressed. I thought Delta would be the first one to ask a lot of questions if someone came home late."

"Just because he asked doesn't mean I answered," Omega says with a smirk. He has ways of deflecting questions. Many ways.

The smirk is returned in kind. That's a skill she can appreciate. "Watch out, the others might pick up your trade secrets and cause him to go permanently red in the face."

"That is only one tool in my arsenal," Omega says. "The newest, in fact. They're smart kids. Keep me on my toes."

"Yeah, they are. I'm glad I get to be around them more." There's a small smile on her face as she watches him out of the corner of her eyes. "You and Delta did well."

"Delta did most of the work; I was rarely home," Omega admits. "But yes. He does a good job."

"Either way." She bumps his shoulder with hers. "Thanks for holding down the fort for me."

Omega freezes for a second, then bumps her back. Had he really been holding them together for just Alpha all this time, or had he promised her, too. "No problem," he chokes out, unsure what emotion is clogging his throat.

And now he sounds off again. She frowns as she examines his face. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine. It's good." Omega scrambles for a change of subject. "I haven't been in a bar in five years now."

If he says he's fine, she's going to trust he is. "Stronger than I am. It's been only a few days for me. You were how old when you last went to a bar?"

"It was Delta's twenty-first birthday," Omega says. "He wanted to come out to a club, I went with him. We didn't like it too much." He shrugs. "Nothing bad happened. But nothing good."

The two of them at a club is an interesting image indeed. "I'm having a hard time imagining Delta at a club and enjoying himself. Did he even try to dance?"

Omega grins at her. "I'd like to invoke...whatever law gives me the right to not be compelled to commit a crime."

Delta would not appreciate him telling her such stories. Neither would Maine. Public humiliation is a crime, right?

She jabs his side lightly with her elbow. "You can't do that and not offer up at least a photo of it. It's a story I should know anyway, I would have been there if I were around."

Omega smiles a little. "There's no photos. Delta did dance, but there was a man who didn't understand that Delta didn't want to dance with him. Specifically. So I explained it to that man. He wore far too much cologne."

She snorts. Yeah, she knows that type of guy and they always seemed to be the one wearing too damn much cologne. It was like they were carrying around their own plague cloud.

"I hope you left a reminder for him so he though twice next time he tried to pull that stunt."

"Well, we went to a different bar after that," Omega continues. "And then Delta had a few drinks. And, well." He grins. "When he has his surgery, when they give him the stuff for the pain, you have to be there. It is unreal. And then imagine him in a club."

He thinks about this for a minute. "Actually, don't. We'll take him and Maine out, and you can see it first-hand."