Darrow - Goodnight @ Bar

[quinientos]

It's becoming a habit to go to a bar when the day is done. Vasquez has a somewhat regular job now on weekdays, between the gun range and then the odd jobs he picks up in the fields. It affords him the money to spend on liquor and fine clothes and cigarettes, playing to all of his vices. He's been learning about the future, too, and he's starting to get better at it. Not perfect, but better. When he comes into the bar for a drink (maybe hoping to see a familiar face), he does end up finding that.

It's not the one he expects, but he still finds one. Vasquez tempers his disappointment, because Goodnight is still a decent man to drink with and he's becoming closer with him and Billy both (Billy is being helpful teaching him knives, there's no closer you can get than a man teaching you how to kill). He slides into the seat beside him and raises a hand to the bartender, then gestures to Goodnight. "Another for him, and one for me of whatever he's drinking," he says, giving Goodnight a nod of greeting as he settles into the seat beside him.

He's wearing modern clothes, but one of the pair of jeans Sweeney had picked out for him and one of the cardigans he'd found for himself, over a plain t-shirt. He's starting to enjoy those, sadly, maybe because of how comfortable they always are and look. "Where's your deadly half?"

Comments

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Billy had taken a night shift, so Goodnight took himself to a bar that he liked. He'd had a mind to just stay there until Billy's shift was up, maybe insist that he come get him because he would likely be too pickled by then to even walk home.

But, maybe he should pace himself and send himself home earlier than that. He hadn't really made a decision yet, though he was a few drinks in when someone joined him at the bar and ordered him another. Vasquez.

"Gin and tonic," he reminded the bar tender. "Billy's working tonight, so I've taken myself out for the evening."

As always, he made sure he looked put together before leaving the house, though tonight he was rather casual: a dark sweater, with the collar of a lighter shirt neatly cuffed over the top, and black jeans.

[quinientos]

Vasquez gives a hum of acknowledgment as he looks Goodnight over briefly. Vasquez has dressed himself decently, because he'd been hoping to see someone familiar, which means that he's in a pair of very tight jeans, but it's still nothing like Goodnight. He eyes him up and down, settling in the booth beside him.

"You do this every time he works?" he asks. "If I'd known that, I would've come out to the bar more often." Which is a lie, he comes plenty enough, but it's for very different reasons.

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"Not every time," he answered. "But often enough. This is my regular haunt. You check by here and you'll probably find me on the nights he's out."

Billy didn't take many night shifts, but he was new and he didn't always get a choice in the matter. And sometimes, Goodnight was well enough on his own. Other times he just felt better sitting in a bar.

"You ever go out with whoever you were gettin' all dressed up for?"

Goodnight relished a chance to talk about anything but himself.

[quinientos]

It's not that Vasquez is embarrassed to talk about this, but part of him hadn't thought that Goodnight would ever care. Still, a part of him has been sitting on this secret long enough that he's almost bursting to tell. He still plays it cool, careful, keeps his face passive.

"At least once," he admits, because that first drink has been very successful. "I don't think I made the right choice with the sweater. I kept pulling and tugging on it all night." He grins though, after. "Of course, that just made him pull it off, do maybe a perfect choice, hmm?"

He makes no show if the fact that he said 'he', knowing that Goodnight won't care.

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight lifted an eyebrow at the mention of pulling off sweaters.

"Did all those fine clothes end up in a pile on the floor? Tsk. I hope someone had the decency to drape them over a chair," he drawled, smirking behind his glass before he took another drink from it.

[quinientos]

Vasquez thinks that it's a sign of the night and the talent Sweeney has that he can't even remember anything about the clothes, seeing as his memory of the night boils mostly down to what that giant of a man had done to him, in such beautiful, perfect ways. "I think they might have wound up in a trail to the bedroom. He's not the type to sit there and fold clothes," he says, arching his brow. "Neither am I."

In fact, they might still be a touch wrinkled, sitting in a chair seeing as he hasn't had a need to wear them again, what with his second shopping trip. "Do you do that with Billy?" he challenges. "Make him stop everything to fold? Or is the fucking not good enough that you have energy to after?"

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"We were havin' a nice conversation, don't tempt me to shoot you 'cause you run your mouth in the wrong direction," he drawled, lifting an eyebrow at Vasquez as he dared to impugn their sex life.

"It was a joke, not a judgment, son."

[quinientos]

Vasquez gives Goodnight a faintly amused look, remembering now that they're not close friends and Goodnight isn't Faraday. He can't just be mean and have it laughed off and have something mean said back. "I was poking fun," he says. Mostly, there might have been a sliver of him that had meant it, but really, for the most part, he'd also been teasing.

"My clothes were wrinkled, but in a good way," he says, lifting his drink to sip it as he gives Goodnight a mischievous sparkle of a look, knowing that they're only approaching the part of this conversation where the tables are bound to turn on him. "Go on, ask your questions, so I don't run my mouth into the barrel of your gun."

He knows there'll be questions, might as well get them over with.

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"Lucky you I am not so much a violent man these days."

Truth be told, Goodnight had never been a violent man, but in war he had become good at killing. "Dare I ask about the man in question?"

He was, maybe, a little surprised that Vasquez had so openly admitted to falling into bed with another man, given the shows of macho heterosexuality both he and Faraday put on for as long as Goodnight had known either of them. I have three Marias!

[quinientos]

"I can still be plenty violent," Vasquez promises, with a glimmer in his eye. He remains steady, even though he's the one who offered the information to Goodnight, now that it comes time to provide it, there are some tricks to not being completely transparent.

"His name is Sweeney," Vasquez says, and when he takes a long sip of his drink, he waits until Goodnight has taken one of his, so that way, he can time it to exactly the moment the liquid hits his lips to say, "He's a leprechaun."

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight's eyebrow slid up at the use of leprechaun. "Another drunk Irishman? You have a type," he said with a faint smirk. "Suppose you could do worse for yourself, but you could probably do better."

He knew it sounded catty, but they were gossiping and that was as good a time as any for it.

[quinientos]

"No, I mean a leprechaun," Vasquez says firmly, digging out his phone to show the picture he'd taken of Sweeney, all seven foot drunken looming of him, while he'd flipped off Vasquez while he was taking the picture. He can't help his snort at the comment that he could do better, because it might be true, but irresponsible outlaws with issues with attachment don't want to do better.

Showing off the picture of a tall, broad, redheaded bearded man who's Irish may not exactly help his case about the 'type' part, though. "So what if I have a type?" he decides best to lean into it. "Not like I know how Faraday would've fucked, but this one..." He whistles, low and approving. "Makes me willing to put out his offerings."

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight's eyebrow slid up when he saw the picture, and he decided right then and there that he didn't really want to know about the offerings part, whether the man was actually a leprechaun or not. He rolled his eyes at Vasquez's low whistle.

"Whatever fills your sail, mon bon homme."

Far be it from him to judge what two men did behind closed doors.

[quinientos]

"Not filling my sails so much as me," is his lewd retort back, chuckling under his breath because he finds it very clever. He smirks at Goodnight and tips his drink back, but he wants to go back to what Goodnight had said before.

"I'm an outlaw, even if it's former. You think I could do better? Than Faraday?" he says, because he thinks that's what they're actually discussing, to a point.