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Entry tags:

alec,
sally

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Despite working in a bar, Alec's never really been much of the drinking sort. He'll drink, of course, but never really into horrid excess. It's more of a 'if I get drunk then I might do something that will get me hurt/arrested/sent back to my family' sort of thing. Which is why it was more than unusual for him to be humming some what drunkenly in the bar before opening as he's trying to clean glasses.

He drops one.

Stares at it.

And then proceeds to laugh hysterically.

Because that's clearly the funniest thing ever.

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Oh wonderful. It's the sound of the glass breaking that draws her out from the back room where she's been fighting with the accounting books for the last couple of hours. She really needs to hire someone to do her books, but the last guy who she'd hired had tried to scam her out of money, and she'd had to chase him off the property with her shotgun. Rumor had it he'd ended up in a swamp somewhere. She didn't know anything about that, but she kind of hoped so.

"What's going on in here?"

She can guess. Alec's dropping things. Although, as she comes around the corner, she starts to get the distinct impression that he's also...

"Have you been drinking, kid?"

He's good at books.

Except right now.

Now he's good at dropping things.

He stares at the broken glass and then at Sally and cracks a manic grin. "Probably! Either that or my fingers are covered in swamp grease."

The fingers are given due consideration for that.

"Should I even ask why you've been drinking, or should I pour myself a drink and join you?"

She eyes the floor, shaking her head.

"Just as soon as you get all that cleaned up, that is."

"Mother said that it's never good to drink alone," he says and goes to look for the broom. Upon finding it, he dances it over and continues to dance as he sweeps.

"Well, in that case, I guess I'll be having a drink."

She steps over to the bar, making sure to avoid any broken glass that may have scattered, and pours herself a fairly large drink, then gives him a look.

"Just make sure you don't break that broom, too."

"...Oops."

Pause.

"Kidding." And more laughter.

He eventually dances the broken pieces into the trash and the broom back to its corner, before dancing himself back to Sally. Plopping himself down on a bar stool he drops his chin into his palm and stares at her.

She just continues to look at him, then cracks a slight smile at his laughter. He's a strange kid, but he's growing on her. As long as he doesn't break any more brooms, that is.

"You having another drink, or are you drunk enough for now?"

Bah. Brooms are replaceable.

"I dunno." Another pause. "You've got nice boobs."

"Well."

She'll pour him another drink, and, hell, top up her own. It sounds like she's going to need it.

"Thanks, kid. Didn't figure you spent much time looking at them."

"I don't. But I've got practice. I had to practice a lot in Boston, you know. Lots of discussion about these things among boys my age. But not where anyone could hear us. So, I've gotten pretty good at it. And yours are very nice and round and squishy looking."

He takes his drink and downs about half of it.

"I won't argue with that -- I know they're not half bad."

She knows they distract the hell out of a lot of guys, as young as Alec and much, much older, too. It's always struck her as kind of funny, just how enamored guys seemed to be of them. Amazing, what she could convince someone to do just with a little flash of cleavage.

"Nope. Not at all." He reaches over to pat one of them. Like he'd pat a dog.

She looks down at his hand, then back up at his face.

"Mmhmm."

She's just waiting to see whether he notices how absolutely ridiculous this is, or whether he keeps up with it much longer.

Doesn't seem to realize it just yet.

"Veerrah squishy. Mary's were about half the size... and less squishy."

"Kid..."

Her eyebrow is very slowly raising, and she's not sure whether to find this amusing or somewhat disturbing.

"... you're groping me."

Annnnd he goes to this dead. Still statue halt. The wheels are trying to sluggishly turn in his head but all the alcohol has made that very, very, very hard.

Slowly, he withdraws the hand and places it very deliberately on the bar top.

"No, I'm not."

"Well, now you're not."

She takes a long drink from her own drink, shaking her head, and then she just starts laughing.

"If you wanted to touch 'em, all you'd've had to do was ask."

"But they're squishy, like gelatin."

This is apparently a bad thing or he's just kinda wandering off somewhere.

"Not like melons."

"Are you... disappointed by them being squishy? What did you expect? What, you've never touched a pair of tits before?"

She knows he's not exactly interested in them, but she still finds it hard to believe he's never had the chance before.

"Oh... no... once or twice... it's just... they wobble weirdly."

He's been put in a few situations where such things were necessary.

"Even small ones. And they look... saggy like you've got bags on your bodies."

"Careful now," she says, pointing her glass at him warningly, "There're some unfortunate things I could say about what you fellows have going on, too, when it comes to saggy body parts."

"But they don't always stay saggy..." he protests. "Though they are kinda weird too. Wiggly."

"Last time I checked, kid, cocks didn't always stay saggy, but balls did. And trust me, I've seen plenty of 'em."

Probably more than you, Alec, even though you've got the equipment yourself.

Yes. Well, it's expected for her to see lots of dicks and balls. Not him. Jealous? A little.

"Mm... true... they kinda hang there too, waiting to get hurt badly..." He mimes a punch with the hand holding the glass and it sloshes a little.

"That's exactly right. Makes a guy real easy to control, I'll tell you that. You can lead 'em around by their cocks, metaphorically speaking, and then if they get irritating, well..."

She mimes his punching motion, too, although the liquid in her glass doesn't slosh nearly so much.

"Some of us... well... maybe..." he tries to think this one over a bit and fails somewhat, so he just drops his head on the counter.

"I hate it sometimes. Lots of times."

"You hate what? Being a guy? Well, you better get used to it. It's not like being a woman's a walk in the park, either."

Although she wouldn't trade in her tits for just about anything, but still. She's just trying to commiserate with him.

"Noo.... not that but having to pretend that I like women.... like that... with all their squishy boobs... lack of dicks... and then they go and get married I feel horrid for some reason even though I didn't want to and it's stupid and dumb and I hate it."

"You don't necessarily have to pretend you like them. I sure wouldn't recommend letting people know you like guys instead, but you could say you didn't like anyone. I've met people like that. Nobody'd find that too hard to believe."

"No. No. No. No... I'm too drunk to explain. Give me a second."

He pulls himself up and takes a deep breath. Then he gets off his stool and wobbles off t where he'd hung up his poor jacket. It just keeps on getting more and more tattered.

He comes back with a newspaper and drops it onto the bar. It's folded open to a wedding announcement thing happening in Boston with a girl named Mary.

She looks down at it, nodding slowly. Now his drunken ramblings and insecurities make a little more sense.

"This the girl you were supposed to marry, kiddo?"

"Yes'm." He waves his glass around some more. "I did try... I did..."

Occasionally he does make sense, even if it takes a little bit of digging.

"Very, very hard but nothing did get hard..."

And a bit of a demented laugh.

She can't help but laugh, too, even if the situation isn't exactly funny.

"Here's what I'd say, straight ahead, no bullshit: it's good for the both of you that you didn't get married. You didn't have to feel like a disappointment, and she didn't have to be married to a guy who felt like fucking her was a job. Count yourself lucky."

"Yeah... but she's not. He's not a nice guy." He taps the name of the guy... William. "I know him. He's not nice to women."

"In that case..."

Her brow furrows, and she looks a lot more serious for a moment.

"I could get someone to do something about that, if you wanted me to."

"What kind of something...?" he asks warily.

Yeees... let's get him spun a bit more into a hole of dirty dealings.

"I know some guys who could put the fear of god into him, get him to stop being so mean to women."

She's not saying anyone would get murdered, but...

He bites his lip uncertainly. He's trying to think rationally, but his brain is too sloshed to so do.

"D'you think it would work?"

No, of course not.

"I don't see why not. Like I said, the guys I know're pretty convincing."

Maybe just a little roughing the guy up...

"And she wouldn't get hurt?" he asks. "I mean, like... it wouldn't be like he gets ... convinced... and then later takes it out on her because someone did that to him?"

"Not if we put a stop to him being able to hurt anyone ever again. I can't stand the kind of guy that'd hurt a defenseless person."

"Neither can I! Which was sort of one of the reasons I was maybe going to marry her until I decided to run away..."

He kinda misses the whole permanent sounding bit there.

"Well, that was nice of you."

She pours herself more liquor. She's pretty sure she needs it. This conversation has unexpectedly taken a turn for the darker.

"Still, she'd be better off not married to anyone at all."

"I try to be nice. Really, I do. I mean, I'm a total screw up in a lot of things... but I do try to do the right thing and be nice and everything."

He finishes his drink and then pours himself some more.

"Well, given the choice between me and him, definitely. Peersonally I thinks she'd like Dorthy."

"I know you try, kiddo."

She sighs, shakes her head, takes a long drink from her glass, then moving the bottle away from him.

"Look. I'm cutting you off. You've had enough, and you're just going to start pitying yourself."

"Start?" He laughs a bit. "Fine. Fine. All right. You... talk to your friends about William and I will stop pitying myself."

"I'll do that, you can count on it."

And she will. That's why she's going to be taking this newspaper now, so that she has as much vital information about William as she can. And before she gets up from the bar, she's patting him on the back comfortingly.

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