ArchivedLogs:No Games

No Games
Dramatis Personae Alexandrine, Dan, Logan
In Absentia	2013-03-19 Alex does some lashing out. Dan isn't taking it. Logan's along for the ride.
Location Molly's Pub, Lower East Side.
This bar is literally a hole in the wall that is the Lower East Side. Grimy tables litter the small common room, nearly pushed up against the small bar in the corner. On the mirror behind the bar, a greasy menu has been taped, with a small offering of pub food to purchase. A jukebox, at least forty years old, sits in the corner, an 'out of order' sign on its cracked glass face. This is a bar to come to when you want to drink to forget, or maybe pick a fight. Certainly the crowd looks rough enough to oblige the latter, and the booze is cheap enough to indulge the former. A couple of days after St. Patrick's Day, and Molly's has reverted back to its usual slow crowd -- which is to say, the same four palookas who generally comprise the evening's clientele are in attendance, playing a game of Spades at one of the battered tables, and discussing the recent tabloid headlines and the fate of New York's rising rock star. (How they've heard about it is anyone's guess. Maybe one or more of them have teenage daughters.) "Aw, kids like that are trouble," a big red-haired fellow guffaws. "They're always smokin' shit and shootin' up shit like toad poison." "What the fuck is 'toad poison', Eddie?" an even larger black-haired guy says, scowling deeply through his heavy stubble and squinting at the redhead. "Who the fuck shoots up /poison/?" "I'm just sayin' what I read, Frankie," Eddie responds, shaking his head. "I guess they dilute it with heroin or something." Frankie looks largely unconvinced. "That's the dumbest shit I ever heard. /You/. /Readin'/." The argument escalates from there, in good-natured name calling and insults about respective mothers, all while cards are played, beer is drunk, and cigars are chomped and smoked without regard for city ordinance. Through it all, Dan rides bartender, albeit in a sort of dull shuffle. He's not dressed for the cold weather, in snug-fitting jeans and a white tank that shows off the two bullet wounds in his right shoulder, but it's warm enough in his spot behind the bar. He sits on a stool, a cigar held loosely in the hand that dangles at his side, the other occupied with holding a book -- 'Coraline' -- that he's reading intently, his eyes bright despite the heavy shadows that line them and add about five years to his appearance. Somewhere, a tinny sound system plays in lieu of the battered jukebox. Tonight it's working its way through Warrant's 'Cherry Pie', It's been a while since Alex saw Dan...or talked to him. Or texted him. Regardless, she's easing her way in out of the weather that's turned back towards winter instead of leaping towards spring. Red hair is loose, melting snowflakes catching what light there is to sparkle. She's slipping out of her short black leather trench styled coat, to expose an equally short black dress that leaves little to the imagination. Legs end in neck-risking high heels, black with silver heels. Makeup is less than subtle, eyes touched with warm browns and a touch of gold, lips painted a deep cherry red color. There's a glance behind her back towards the door, before she's crossing to the bar with a sway to her strut. "Hello, Dan. Two shots of bourbon, and two beers, please." "...dunno why I let you talk me into this shit," comes a voice from behind Alex - muffled, partly, since it's spoken through the door to begin with. Logan follows through, grumbling and glaring about himself, as though daring anyone in the room to try and look at him. "I was doin'... important stuff back at the school, ya know. Important 'school' stuff." He closes the door behind himself and takes a few steps inside, still scowling. "When're ya gonna tell me why we had t'come here--oh." His nostrils flare with a familiar - and not very likeable - scent and his scowl deepens as his eyes track across to gaze at Dan. "You." The door opening is enough to stall the argument, all four heads swiveling to take in the redhead as she enters, and a few catcalling whistles are offered. A couple of the guys even lift a hand as they recognize Alex (Frankie and Eddie, for the record). The stall and the resultant commotion are enough to draw Dan's attention, and he regards Alex with a glint of hungry appreciation that's coupled with a wash of guilt that is clear on his face as he pushes to his feet, offering a weak smile in greeting. The request gets a curious quirk of eyebrow -- until Logan appears. Then hard flint replaces any other expression in the ex-soldier's face, and he moves to fill the order. "Yeah, it's me," he grunts in response to Logan, thumping the whiskey glasses down in front of Alex hard enough to make them bang. Then he's uncapping a bottle of (surprisingly very nice) bourbon and pouring out with no real finesse. He sort of tosses the liquid at the glasses before recapping the bottle and moving to get the beers. His shoulders are rigid as he leans over the cooler, broadcasting one very plain message: What. The. Fuck. "Gawd forbid Ah talk you into takin' some time off and going out for a drink before the next semester begins." Alex drawls in Logan's direction, her chin lifting just a touch. Blue eyes lock onto Logan's face a moment, and he might feel something like a telepathic nudge. Almost like she's asking permission to use the brain phone. She waggles fingers towards the boys playing cards, draping her jacket over the back of a stool at the bar. She slides cash onto the bar. "Ah had enough crowded bars over the weekend, that's why here." She murmurs, as if to Logan. Eyes shift to watch Dan, resisting the temptation to tap into his head as she picks up her bourbon, and despite how it was poured, smoothly knocks it back. There's an expression of pure mischief as the title track kicks on, the redhead humming along for a moment, singing under her breath. Of course, it's too much of a fun song to just stand there, her hips shifting side to side at first, then her shoulders, before she dancing like one of the girls in the video, whipping red hair around. "Well the view ain't too bad," Logan agrees - watching Alex dance, a smirk of undisguised mischief on his face. He knows full well Dan is nearby and can probably see him. Still smirking, he reaches the bar and picks up the beer ordered for him, turning about to lean his elbows on the counter and still watch the red-head. "She's got somethin' planned, I can smell it," he mutters under his breath. Then he snorts. "Women." Down goes the beer again, and he smacks his lips. "Funny taste in music too. What is that?" he casts a glance at Dan as if expecting the other man to know the song. The boys playing cards are well appreciative of the sudden dance show. Cards are forgotten as heads swivel to watch as Alex launches into her dance, grins widening into something inappropriate. "She sure can move," mutters Eddie, nudging Frankie in the ribs. "Wish my old lady could move like that. Bet she's a tiger in the sack." Dan watches the dancing with darkening eyes, slapping the beer bottles into place and folding his arms over his chest. His jaw sets, and there is palpable heat rising from his skin as the music goes on. Logan's question gets that dark gaze flicked his way. "Warrant," he grunts, his lips pressing into a tight line as he spies the four moving their chairs closer to the show. "All right, assholes, time to go," he growls, moving out from behind the bar and beginning to actually shift the men physically. There is much complaining at this, and some mild resistance. It doesn't last, though, and in a moment the bar is empty, and Dan leans out the door after the last guy. "Fucking act like you're men with wives and children, for Christ's sake." Then he's SLAMMING the door, and throwing the lock. It's a long moment before he turns around, dark fury boiling off of him. "What the fuck, Alex?" It's loud enough to be heard over the music -- not that music is all that loud. But Dan is /definitely/ louder. << You should see the after hours show, darlin'. >> Alex teases Logan silently. << As for planned..well, be a shame not to show a man what he's missin' when he blows a girl off.. especially after he had a pissin' contest, tryin' to prove she's his! He wants to blow it, that's his problem. Ah'm just pointin' out the mistake. >> Alex keeps dancing, biting down on the laughter bubbling up at the talk about her being able to move. She can't stop the blushing at the mention of how she must be in the sack, though. It does surprise her when Dan boots out the regulars, though she keeps dancing, even shifting to dance up on Logan, though there's no grinding. She turns and gives Dan an innocent look, all wide blue eyes and mussed red hair. "What, shouldn't dance to a good old hair band song? Could even be my theme song. Well,.. for a little longer, anyhow. Depends on how much Ah drink." There's just an edge of pissed off in her voice. "Ah could ask you what the fuck too. Who are you to act all snarly at me?" "Yeah, I been wonderin' that too," Logan pipes up, looking around at both Dan and Alex. From the expression on his face (not to mention the emotions Lex can sense) he appears to be torn between protecting Alex from whatever beef Dan has with her, and also ENJOYING the 'lovers' quarrel', given that he too is a bit put out at having been dragged along to the bar when this... poseur named Dan happens to work. "Don't mind me, Bub," he remarks in a bland tone of voice to Dan. Down goes another mouthful of beer. "Fly on the wall. Fly on the wall." He looks meaningfully at Alex as if to say, << Well? >> Dan mouth tightens at that innocent look, and his eyebrows clench hard enough that it actually pulls at the scar under his left eye, forcing it into a narrow. His gaze flicks at Logan, but there's something in it that recognizes that Logan is merely a pawn in whatever game this is. Maybe it's a guy thing. Then his gaze is swiveling back to Alex, and this time both eyes narrow. "I'm the guy watchin' his girl treat Logan here like he's a Camaro in a music video." He shifts his weight, his brow furrowing further. "An' I want to know /why/." Alex would tell Logan she doesn't need to be protected, she can handle Dan all on her own. "Logan was nice enough to come out for a drink with me, even after you pushed him into a pissin' match over me." There's a laugh that holds no humor, blue eyes glaring. "Your girl? Is this how ya treat 'your girl' up here in Yankee country? Disappear, no text, no call, no note, nothin'? Bein' an asshole because I was hanging out with a guy Ah'm gonna be workin' with?" She takes a step closer to Dan, chin lifting as her jaw clenches. << Well what? >> "Ah can dance with anyone Ah damn well please. Ah don't need your permission, an' he sure didn't seem ta mind." Logan waves a hand nonchalantly toward Alex and Dan, whilst sipping his beer. << Whatever blows yer skirt up, Lexi. >> he projects toward her with no small about of wryness. "Camaro in a music video - Bub, you gotta get out more. After ya pour me another." He drains his beer and pushes the glass across the counter meaningfully, along with several notes of cash to pay for it. "'Sgotta hurt, watchin' yer girl come back ta me so quick. Not doin' it for her, huh? Though I gotta admit I'm a little curious why she wanted me here, too." He waves his hand for the little drama to continue. "Fly on the wall, yeah." "Probably 'cause you didn't tell him where you were headed," Dan shoots back in defense of Logan, just before the man chimes in. Then /he/ is included in the dark look before it's turned back on Alex. "I didn't fuckin' disappear," he growls, his eyes sparking. "I was in my apartment the whole weekend." He narrows his eyes, and moves past. "But you didn't come by, did you? Just assumed I was bein' an asshole, and took off to your school without even checkin'?" He throws his hands up in the air as he heads back behind the bar to find the bottle of bourbon. "Is that what you do in Louisiana? You don't hear from someone and you just assume it's them bein' shitty?" He lifts his eyebrows. "'Cause they should put that in the ads." "You haven't called or texted since you felt the need to whip it out against Logan and measure." Alex snaps back. "Ah've been to your apartment once, Dan. No, Ah don't feel like Ah can jus' drop by. It ain't my place to do that. And Ah didn't head to the school until Monday mornin', since you feel the need to toss that in my face. And when a girl sees the guy she's been datin' bein' a dick to another guy for no good reason, and then goin' incommunicado...yeah. Ah assumed you were bein' a pissy dickhead. Why should Ah go lookin' for you, when you came into /my house/ and were rude to /my guest/? Didn't anyone smack some manners into you? Or are you just into that whole asshole New Yorker stereotype." "Got anything to eat back here?" Logan asks, whilst leaning OVER the bar counter and peering down behind it to see whatever is UNDER the counter. "Lovers' quarrels make me hungry... no popcorn, great. Hey, where's my beer?" He glances up at Dan and then at Alex, and just for a second a glare of displeasure takes the place of the wolfish smirk he'd been wearing... and then the glare is gone. << Fuck it, Alex. >> he snarls mentally. << Why did you want ME here? YOU hooked up with Captain Cocktail here, not me. Ya don't want my 'protection', so... what? >> He goes silent (verbally and mentally - aside from a low growl that doesn't seem to go away AT ALL in the back of his mind). "Love is fucked," he mutters under his breath. Dan is getting Logan's beer even as the man is leaning over the bar, and instinct has him pushing at the man's shoulder. He frowns at the unexpected weight of the man, abandoning the push even as Logan withdraws. He sets down the bottle, and leans on the bar with both hands. "You really /don't/ have any experience with guys, do you?" he says, his eyebrows lifting a bit. "Because /most/ guys would act like that when they find a good-looking guy in their good-looking girlfriend's apartment." He's on autopilot for bartending, it seems, because he opens a cabinet and extracts a bag of pork rinds that he flings at Logan casually. "And as for goin' incommunicado, I wasn't talkin' to any one. Not you, not Katie, not Collie...not even my doctor or pharmacist," he finishes by stressing the last two words with a tightening of his jaw. "Which, if I'd been able, I would have /told/ you." "An' now you're gonna throw that in my face?" That anger inside the redhead is skyrocketing, and connected to Logan as she is, he can probably feel it, like a low burning flame against skin, or thrum of an engine about to blow the head gasket. "Well sweet jesus on a cracker. Ah /do/ have a male roommate too, did you ever consider Ah'd have male guests from time to time?" There is barely a glance towards Logan, blue eyes bright in a flushed face. << If he wasn't here, Ah might have needed your protection. Ain't the safest place in town, sugar, even for me. Ah.. Ah don't know what Ah'm doin'. >> Then she's glaring at Dan again. "What, your thumbs broken, ya can't text?" "Sheesh." << What the fuck do I know about relationships? Give me Magneto, a world crisis, some bitch of a bad guy that needs bitchslapping... but this??? >> Logan glares daggers at Dan's attempt to push him off the counter, and sets himself down on a stool. "Don't try that again, Bub." It is a warning, but he is too bothered by the situation to put much bite into his bark. << C'mon, if he stopped talkin' to EVERYONE, then it's not about you. Kiss 'n make up or... whatever. >> The thought-projection seems to do it for Logan, too. A moment later he is up off the stool, beer bottle in hand, and walking toward the door. "You two sort this out; I'll be outside for the trip home. Protection, ya know. Fuck me..." The door opens and he disappears outside. Through the window, Logan can be observed lighting up a cigar and smoking it pensively. "Jesus save me from beautiful redheads!" Dan's voice rises as he throws his hands into the air. "It's the curse of the Rourke men to be surrounded by them, for sure." Logan's warning gets a flick of a gaze, and the heat drops out of his voice as he offers a tight smile. "Don't lean over my bar again." It's exactly the same kind of warning as was offered. There. Boundaries established. That settled, he turns his attention on Alex, ignoring Logan's exit, waiting until the door closes before glaring at the woman. "You said you'd worked with guys in my condition," he says, his tone too weary to inspire much heat. "Have you ever around any of us when we're /really/ losing it?" He waggles his fingers at his temple. "I couldn't text, because I couldn't /think/. I didn't know what was real, and I couldn't trust myself. And Doctor Samson was off on some advisory case in Nevada, and I was out of my meds, which he has to call in...." He reaches in his back pocket, and extracts his phone. "The last three texts are on Thursday," he says, holding it out. "And they're all to the Doc. After that, I was...gone." "No! Because when they were losing it, Ah knew! Ah got them to someone who could help!" Alex yells back, a hand waving in the air. "If you had texted me, Ah could have kept calling the doctor, telling him you needed help." She's crossing to the end of the bar, though she doesn't actually go behind it. "Good gawd, Dan.. Ah... well, after all the other stuff, Ah thought you were bein' pissy and didn't want me for your girl anymore. How was Ah to know?" "With some guys, it's a slow burn," Dan says, sighing deeply, and rubbing a hand over his face. "But it's more like a snap, with me. I'm just...right back there. All the smells and the sounds, and the hollow vision..." he shudders, and wobbles a moment before he lurches forward a step. "I can hold on for a couple of hours, maybe, before I'm gone completely. And when I was out of my meds, it just sped things up." There's a long, awkward moment while Dan looks at Alex with eyes that look as weary as he sounds. "I don't play games, Alex. If I'm not happy about something, I'll let you know. Believe me." He lifts a corner of his mouth in weak humor. "I'm Irish-Catholic. When we're unhappy, the whole world knows it." Alexandrine snorts. "Man, Ah was surrounded by Irishmen this weekend that did nothing but play games. An' lets not talk about Catholics." She steps forward, a hand out to touch his arm. "You need to tell me when it's happenin'. Ah can come watch over you. Maybe even help. Ah don't know. But at first Ah was worried, then Ah was pissed... then Ah was.. well, hurt an' wantin' to lash out." There's a glance towards the door. Dan ducks his head, closing one eye as he steps forward. "I know," he says to the mild admonishment. "It's just...new. It's not something I'm used to sharing, outside of my sessions." The touch on his arm gets a lift of the corners of his mouth, and he steps closer. "I didn't do any of that on purpose," he offers. "I don't know what happened. I met this chick in the park, and she was talking about some stuff that I couldn't get behind, and when I got home from the bar that night, it was like I was going over that hill again." He shivers, and it might be habit that loops his arms around her waist. It could be need. There's definite need radiating from him. Not sexual in nature, just a need for /her/, He follows that glance, and shakes his head. "I get it," he murmurs. "With eight sisters, I /get/ it. But that's a dangerous game to play, with men like me and Logan." "Ah know it's new. Ah'm so very aware of it that... Ah don't know how else to react, sometimes. Ah just... if you even think you are starting to slip, have a text ready, or have me on speed dial, damnit!" She sounds frustrated, even as she lets him pull her in. "Ah'm not playin' any games. Ah was mad an' hurt, an' was gonna rub it in your face that even if you didn't want me, there's another man, a good man, who did. " She swallows once, hard. "That whole..experience up till like second base, before you? That was Logan. Not allowed to do anything about it." Dan rumbles a laugh. "Baby, I want you. Believe me on that. An' if I have to fight every swingin' dick in the Lower East Side an' upstate to prove it, I'll be comin' home with a lot of bruises." His grin is a bit wider, now, and he presses his lips to the top of Alex's head, pulling her tight. "I promise I won't slip away like that again," he says, and swings his phone up over her shoulder, "You're number three already, babe. After Ma and Katie. I can't boost you any higher without igniting a new Holy War." There's amusement in his tone, now. And an easiness in his muscles that might just be the after effects of the tension draining away. "I don't care about what you /did/ with him, before we met," he says, looking at the door. "But I sure as fuck give a shit what you do with him, /now/. He seems like a nice enough bastard, but I'm not big on sharing." "Don't have to fight anyone. Just...don't leave me in the dark." Alex says quietly. "Ah... ya know Ah don't use what Ah have with you. Ah don't look, so Ah can't /know/ unless you tell me." There's a quiet sigh, glancing at his phone. "Ah haven't done anythin' with him. Just talkin' an..well, comin' here. He...He's probably pissed. He and Ah mighta had something... but he ended up buried in stuff he had to do at work, and Ah met you." Dan sighs, his arms tightening around Alex's slender form and a hand sliding low on her back. "I promise I'll let you know what I'm thinking," he says. "Like I said, I'm not interested in playing games. I /like/ you. More than like. But, I'm also going through stuff -- some of it's new," he says, nuzzling his lips into those fiery locks. "Some of it's...new /again/. Some of it's old. I wasn't kidding when I said I was messed up. But the doc says that's good. It means I'm 'engaging with the world' or something." He chuffs a laugh, and turns his head to watch Logan's silohuette and the glow of his cigar. "Can't say I blame him," he says softly. "I'd have been pretty pissed to have missed my chance with you." He scrunches his nose. "Still. You're probably going to have to bake him a cake." There's a brief, tight squeeze. "Ooh. Maybe one of those cream cakes. That one was good." "Dan... it's hard for me, you know. Ah..when Ah get nervous, usually...Ah listen. Ah.. Ah open myself up to how someone feels, at least." Alex says softly, before she looks up at him. "Ah want you to be happy, to be in the world. Ah don't want to see you like some of the veterans Ah've seen." She glances towards the window. "He's not you. He... he needs someone, someone to care about him and all, but.. Ah don't think it was ever s'posed to be me." When Alex looks up, she'll find Dan smiling down at her with a familiar, soft grin. "Baby, you are one of the things in my life that makes me happy," he says. "You've done more for me in a month than Doc Samson's done in five years, and I'll spend every Mass on my knees thanking God for that." It's sincere, and is followed by a sudden kiss, firm yet tender, that lingers a long moment. "You're probably right about Logan," he says, pressing a light kiss to the tip of her nose. "Though, if I know the type, you'd have a hell of a time getting him to admit it." He flashes a grin. "And I definitely know the type." "Ah want to make you happy." Alex whispers, looking at his smile, his face. "Don't tell your doc that. He might tell you to stop seein' me." There's a hint of a smile that is obliterated by that kiss, arms sliding up around his neck. "Ah don't have to make him admit anything. That's the fun of being me." She sasses him. "Ah seem to like the wounded bad boys. Who woulda guessed." There's a smirk. "So, what do you say to after you're done here, you come home with me, and we curl up on the couch?" Dan's face splits into a wide grin. "I'd say 'baby, watch how fast I can get this place cleaned up,'" he rumbles, and scoops Alex up to set her on the bar. "You just sit and watch." It's maybe fifteen minutes later that they're leaving the bar dark and closed for the night, a note on the register for Frank, explaining the early night. There might be an awkward moment when Logan is apologetically sent on his way. But, eventually they get back to Alex's, and that couch. Talk about happy.