ArchivedLogs:The Break-Up

The Break-Up
Dramatis Personae Cage, Trib
In Absentia	2013-08-01 :-(
Location <NYC> Some dive bar
It had been days since the incident at SPIN, and Cage has been wracking his brain about what to do with Trib. Most recently he's been up for two nights straight, and the tough guy is actually starting show some wear around the edges. His eyes look raw, and his whole demeanor looks tired. These last couple of days have been the worst because he's known what to do the whole time. He keeps trying to think of someone he can turn to for advice, but he only hear's his momma, "Advice is what you ask for when you already know the answer, and wish you didn't." Godammit, why was she always right? "Whazzat?" The bartender raises an eyebrow still wiping at a glass with an old towel when he looks over at Cage. "Oh, sorry, nothin," Cage says. He must have muttered some of that out loud. He's in a faded, pale yellow t-shirt, dark jeans, and biker boots. He texted the address of this dive bar to Trib a couple hours ago, along with an approximate time. That time approaches, and Cage finishes off another beer. When he gets the bartender's eye again, he taps the bar next to the empty bottle, and the guy nods, popping the top off another Corona and setting it down. Dive bars are not Trib's domain, and it shows on the big man's face when he walks in. Dressed in a sleeveless blue t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans with hiking boots, he doesn't /look/ out of place, apart from his stiff spine and slow, panther-like approach through the small tabled area. He pauses behind Cage for a long moment, studying the man carefully and taking in his general demeanor. Then he's moving to drop onto the stool next to Luke, folding his arms on the bar. "You know," he rumbles in a voice devoid of humor, "it's generally customary to take someone to a /nice/ place before you shit-can them." He shrugs. "At least, that's the way I understand it." "It ain't like that, Trib." Not chief, man, bro, or dude. "Or shit. I mean, it sort of is. But you know I wouldn't do you like that. I'm in a tight spot here." He gestures to show he means the tight spot is between Cage and Trib, not the bar itself. Then he shrugs in a 'what can anyone do' kind of move. "Besides, they got some kinda home made lemonade here. Everyone says its good. Unless you want something else tonight." Cage holds up a hand, obviously aware of his rambling. "I know, just, let me get the worst out. I hope you'll sit with me after though." Cage glances down at the bar, and then turns on his stool to be able to face Trib properly. The bloodshot eyes and haggard expression say a lot about difficult it was to come to this point. He takes a deep breath and says, "Yeah man, you were right. I gotta let you go. But I'm still your /friend/. Ok? I just can't be your boss anymore. I'm sorry." Trib shakes his head at the offer of a drink, his gaze narrowing as Cage begins to ramble. He doesn't look particularly surprised by the words that tumble out of the detective. Instead he leans against the bar, watching Cage with an unreadable look. "I figured," he says, when Cage is done talking. "I know how this shit goes. Kid's /story/ trumps the fuckin' /truth/." He lifts a shoulder, his expression getting a bit of chill flint around the edges as he turns back to lean on the bar, staring at the wood like he might bite it. "Let me ask you one question, though. Before I fuck off out of your life." He turns, and lifts his eyebrows. "If I was goin' to do what them shark kids said -- do I look like the kind of guy who'd /say/ he was goin' to do it to a crowd of people? Wouldn't I have just /done/ it /before/ the guy was hip-deep in shark-toothed friends?" "No," Cage says, "The story doesn't trump the truth." Cage stops and takes a breath. He was starting to get amped up a little, and takes a moment to calm down. He puts a hand flat on the bar, with the other on his own knee, still facing Trib. "If I thought the story were true, we wouldn't be here right now. Shit gets twisted in /regular/ prison, and I can't even imagine what is was like for you all in there. And I get how you feel. I /am/ still your friend. But I can't be your boss purely because of how that whole scene went down at SPIN, man. Do you know the shit I get accused of on a weekly basis?" He holds up a hand. "Doesn't matter. It's just... I /get/ why this whole thing is so shitty. And I'm sorry as /hell/ to do this. But, if not right now, I hope you'll be able to think of me as a friend again some day." "Okay." Trib's tone is a bit flat as he begins to push to his feet. "It ain't like I ain't thought about all of this. Even thought about savin' you the time." He snorts, and digs in his pocket, fishing out a ten and slapping it down on the bar. "Wish now I had." He claps Luke on the shoulder, and while the big man might not /feel/ it, the sound of it indicates that there's a bit of weight behind it. "Have the next round on me," he says with a wide, hard-edged smile, crinkling his eyes at the corners. "You can raise your glass to the fact that your fuckin' reputation will remain intact, an' my life just went in the fuckin' shitter." There's another clap on the shoulder, and Trib begins heading for the door. "See you around, /friend/. You've been a big fuckin' help." He pauses, remembering something. "I'll send someone around to the office with your fuckin' computer." Luke stands and takes a couple steps, but doesn't really follow Trib. The money is left on the bar. It's unlikely Luke is going back for it, so it probably just belongs to the bar now. Luke has never been good about playing his cards close to the chest, and his broken heart is right out there on his sleeve tonight. He had come to have real affection for Trib, in the midst of having trouble making real friends himself. "Just keep it..." But he trails off. There's nothing he can say to fix this, no way he can make it right. He watches as the man goes and repeats one more time, "I'm sorry, Trib." "Appreciate that," Trib grunts. "I'll pay you back." The last apology stops him, his shoulders stiffening for a moment before they slump and he continues walking. There's no panther grace, now. Just aimless lumbering. "Yeah. Me, too." And then he's gone.