ArchivedLogs:Happy Hour

Happy Hour
Dramatis Personae Billy and Rictor	2015-09-29 '
Location <WES> Harry's Hideaway - Salem Center
A cozy nook of a bar, Harry's has been run by the same grizzled proprietor for decades. The fare they serve is plain and typical bar food, but solid and well-prepared, and what the alcohol lacks in variety it makes up for in quality. Close proximity and long-developed relationships with the staff at Xavier's means they turn a blind eye to the mutants who frequent the bar. “No, that’s fine,” Professor Sharpe chirps into his phone, a white iPhone 6. With his voice raising an octave, it might be easy enough for anyone with any sort of social grace to establish that it /isn’t/ fine. “Yeah, I’ll see you then. Okay. Bye-bye.” Wrapping up the call, the young man brings his phone down to look at the screen, tapping a gloved finger against the shiny glass screen. He’s dressed smartly as always in a fitted white dress shirt, straight-leg white trousers, and white brouged oxfords. A white umbrella hangs off of the back of his bar stool and the sound of rain on the dive’s roof makes the place feel all the cozier. Billy’s other hand, also gloved, rests at the base of a cocktail glass. (Yes, Harry’s has them.) The glass’s liquid contents are, well, pink. The door to Harry's swings open and for a moment the doorway frames Rictor against a backdrop dark sky and rain. It might appear menacing if the man didn't immediately close the door behind him to reveal something of grin on his face. He closes his umbrella, nods a quick hello to bartender, and makes his way to the young man in white. "Billy," he says almost emphatically, though in a Rictor kind of way, so still leaning toward mild. "How's it going? Good to see you off campus for once." Setting his phone down on the table, Billy turns in his seat. Surprised to be addressed, his eyes go wide at first, before he eases into a polite smile. “Hey, you,” he leans into the back of his barstool, “How are you? -- Do you go by ‘Rictor’?” His nose wrinkles up rabbit-like, and he lets out a nervous chuckle, “People call you that. I was about to b-but wasn’t sure.” Rictor's own nose wrinkles at the mention of his nickname. He leans his umbrella against the bar and takes a seat next to Billy, then says, "Call me what you want. Some people think Rictor is funny given my last name and my...special skills. Friends stick to Julio." He winks and turns to acknowledge the bartender, ordering one of the craft beers that are making their way on tap these days. Turning back to Billy, he asks, "What do you like to be called?" In lieu of a blush, Billy pales at the wink. "Julio," Billy decides warmly, turning away as Rictor orders a beer to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Oh, I'm just Billy," he laughs, shrugging inwardly, "Just don't call me Clorox and we'll be just fine." He brings his glass to his mouth and submerges his upper lip in the cocktail, taking a sip. When he sets it back down, he does so carefully, even inching the glass over a little to fit back on the ring it had already made on the coaster. As if the liquor might be separating, the liquid goes transparent where his saliva made contact with it for more than a moment, "I've been trying to shake that one for a while." "Right then," Rictor says in response, looking briefly nostalgic at the mention of the nickname. "I hope I didn't perpetuate that at all. You know, back in the day. I guess we didn't talk much, but I knew who you were." His smile is paper thin, but fluffs a bit when beer is set in front of him. He lifts the glass and takes a sip of the drink, licking some froth from his upper lip before setting it back down. "Anyway, sorry, here's to crappy nicknames." He lifts the glass toward Billy and seeks eye contact. “You did?” Billy seems genuinely surprised at being remembered at all, but doesn’t make a thing out of it. He holds up his glass to tap Rictor’s pint, “And to like, finding better things to cheers over.” He adds on to the toast at the last minute, a brighter smile peeking through his demure facade. Drinking, the blonde holds up a finger as a thought jumps out at him. “Mmf,” he pulls away from his glass, pressing a gloved hand to his mouth to make sure he didn’t spill anything. “/Rictor/, i.e. the Richter Scale.” He gestures loosely at his temple, rolling his eyes, “Give me a few minutes and I’ll catch up to anything. Or just about anything.” Rictor laughs, drinks some more, and sets his beer back down. "We'll look fondly on them someday I'm sure." He shifts his weight to turn more toward Billy and rest an arm sidelong across the bar. "And sure I did. It's a small school, you know. I was just so focused on graduating to ever get around to meeting much of the new class." “Maybe you will,” Billy says darkly, but jokingly. Though opting to take up less space than Rictor, he turns in his seat as well. “So, what have you been up to since then and now? You came back here from like, Spain, right?” He shakes his head, looking up into the corners of his eyes, “I’d love to go to Spain.” “Or anywhere.” "Yeah, I was studying over there," Rictor tells Billy, hand wrapping around his beer glass, but not lifting it. "I wanted to be far away. From Mexico, not here." Now he lifts the glass and drinks a bit more. "Plus I wanted to see Europe, which is well worth visiting. Have you been?" He lowers his glass once against, turning idly against the grain of the bartop. Billy’s eyes widen helplessly, “No, no,” he shakes his head, “I could never go so far alone. For one, I don’t speak any other languages. And flying makes me anxious, I can’t help it.” He tilts his head, turning to look back down to his glass and take a sip, “Why did you want to be far away from Mexico?” Of course, he’s just asking conversationally. "Oh, it's just complicated family stuff. You know how it can be," Rictor answers quickly, literally waving the topic away before it can be dug into. "You know, so many speak English over there, you'll be fine." He smiles and straightens up a bit. "What about you? What have you been doing with yourself these past few years?" Billy ohs knowingly, adjusting his glasses as a tell that perhaps, he /doesn't/ know how it can be, "I've just been like, living in the city," He motions behind them with a thumb, as if to the city. "Studied, there. Didn't ever get very far from the school, I guess." He smiles, "Brooklyn is-" His phone interrupts him, it's vibration buzzing along the surface of the bar as the screen lights up. Billy turns to look at it and only hesitates a moment before reaching out and side-buttoning. The screen goes black again, and he turns back to Rictor with a blink and a dumb smile, "-is, uhm, a big enough adventure for me." "Yeah, I hear Brooklyn can be pretty wild. Honestly, I haven't explored it much since I've been back. There's just been so much going on. I did go on a date there recently. Actually, maybe not so recently." Rictor eyes Billy's phone for a moment, but doesn't make a comment, because these days people get texts all the time, of course. "Anyway, you can be called a New Yorker now, and that counts for something." "I didn't even think of that!" Billy offers a large, white-toothed smile and laughs, shaking his head, "I guess there's no going back, now." He perks up, "Oh, yeah? Where'd you go-" As his phone buzzes again, doubling up with multiple messages, he sighs. Reaching for it, he looks at the screen before turning off the vibrate feature and sliding it into his pocket, "Sorry." Again, he pales in place of reddening, "Where'd you go?" "Just some bar with a band playing. The guy wasn't so much into seeing music, so I think I dragged him, but it was worth it." Rictor chuckles and this time eyes the messaging with some interest. He waits until Billy finishes fiddling with the device, drinking a bit more in the meantime, before asking, "Everything ok? You look a little rattled." “I-” Billy starts, and then stops to formulate his words, “My schedule is just so different, now. And more demanding. It’s harder sync up. I was supposed to see him last night but one of my kids’ mothers is a housekeeper who has to get a ride from a friend straight from work to pick them up, because it’s just a day program, and she was running late so I wanted to wait for her and had to cancel and- well, it’s just been a lot of things like that piling up.” He tilts his head, bringing his glass back up to his lips, “So, I decided I deserved a drink.” Rictor looks pensive as he listens to Billy's scheduling nightmare and nods as he does. "I think he just needs to get used to your schedule, too. Doesn't sound like you did anything wrong." He shrugs, though, as if he's not one to talk about these kinds of things. "I'm glad you did in the end. It's nice to catch up with you." “Oh, he’s not like that,” Billy pouts, raising his pale eyebrows high into his forehead, “He’s actually really patient. I’m just, all over the place.” He sighs, flattening his mouth and slumping his shoulders for a moment. “But yeah, I’m glad I came out,” the blonde straightens up, clearing his throat as he raises his glass, “Cheers to that. That’s a better one than before.” The pensive look on Rictor's face doesn't leave him as Billy talks about his assumed significant other. He does still smile and lift his glass, pinging it against Billy's smaller one. "Yes," agrees, "That one is better all-around."