ArchivedLogs:Vignette - Delete Contact?

Vignette - Delete Contact?
Dramatis Personae Dan
In Absentia	10 February, 2013 Dan regrets getting drunk the night before. It's not a new emotion.
Location <NYC> 201 {Dan} - Sunrise Apartments - Clinton
Delete Contact? The words hung on Dan's phone's screen, probably burning themselves in. He'd left them sitting there long enough – all day, practically. He'd originally attempted to delete the number when he'd woken up that morning, but something in the way Fred had spoken to him about the night before had made him pause. Had he really been drunk enough to flirt with a girl, even clumsily? He didn't even know that part of him still existed. He would have thought it buried long ago, with Ellie and the white dress her sisters had chosen for her. But, Fred said he'd been smiling, and /laughing/. When the fuck did he remember how to laugh? He could vaguely recall the girl. Mel, something. Was that short for Melissa? Melinda? Melanie? His phone offered no help in that regard, just the three letters and the ten numbers to mark that he'd even met a real person the night before. Her feature swam blearily before his vision the whole of that day. Every time he'd go to delete the number and spare himself the painful moment when he'd call her and be unable to speak, a hazy image of dark hair and blue eyes and a face just a little too long to be classically pretty would pause his finger before he could eliminate it. Delete Contact? What the fuck had he been thinking? He wasn't ready to date again. Even if he were, that girl was too young for him. Even if she could drink and eat like one of his platoon buddies. And she hadn't pressed him for more information on those subjects Fred said he'd brought up. Subjects he didn't even talk to /Fred/ about. Or his sister. Or anyone. That he'd even skirted them told him he'd been too drunk when he'd met her. Why would he do that? Was he that lonely? Something nagged at the back of his brain; something Fred had said the night before that swam just out of recollection's reach. Something about wanting loneliness. That was...sort of true. He didn't /want/ to be around a lot of people. That's why he liked Molly's so much. At most, there were ten people in there on a given night (not counting St. Patrick's Day, or Playoffs), and he could drink in peace. Not sit and laugh and flirt with a girl over Mexican food. That had been perilously close to an actual date. Dinner and drinks. And dating could lead to something more. And, eventually, she would learn about Colleen, and want to meet her. Delete Contact? What would she say, when she met his daughter? What might she say when she saw that purple skin and deep violet hair? How might she react to such an obviously mutant mutant? Dan winced inwardly as he pictured the hazy woman of his memory recoiling from his daughter's touch, and the hurt, moist stare that Colleen would offer at such a rebuffing. He knew that look. He'd caused it often enough. He couldn't do that to Colleen. As much as he might possibly maybe like the idea of going on a date and having a new relationship, he couldn't take the risk. He loved his daughter, and even though he might shy away from her affections, and avoid her as much as he could, he would be damned if he would allow anyone else to treat her like that. Especially not someone who might potentially stick around forever. Then there was the other side. What if she /wasn't/ repulsed by his daughter? They hadn't discussed current affairs, as far as he could recall, so he wasn't sure if she was a mutie lover or not. He would hope that he wouldn't have asked for her number, were that the case. At least, he didn't /think/ he could get that drunk. Delete Contact? He couldn't handle being with a mutie lover. Those people tended to hang around with mutants, attempted to surround themselves with them, and the more mutant-y the better. People like that shark kid that attacked him in the park. Or some of those freaks people claimed haunted the subways and sewers. Whatever the case, he couldn't be around that. It was crossing a line, and he refused to give in on that point. It would be admitting something he just...wasn't sure he was ready to, if he ever would be. Better to just forget it. Just never call, and hope she forgets about Molly's. That way, he'd be just some random guy in a bar, and she'd get to talk about her nice night hiding out from the storm. It could be a nice memory for both of them. Calling her and doing something else would fuck that up, sure as shit stinks. Delete Contact? He'd never forgive Fred for pressuring him to pursue the matter while she'd been in the john. But, the old man had known him his whole life, practically, and he knew exactly what buttons to push on a drunken Daniel to get him to capitulate. Clearly, because here was the number, staring at him through the translucent haze of the prompt window. Delete Contact? Dan stared at the prompt with a tug in his chest that was odd and unsettling. Goddamned Fred. He'd been just fine, until that girl. Then, with a sigh, he jabbed his thumb at the screen, closing the window and whatever future it might have held. Contact Deleted. God damn it.