File #17: Relearning what we already know (open commentlog)
Gunn knew that he was going to have issues after the loss of his eye. He was a rational man; he knew about the loss of depth perception, that things were going to be different. It didn't help, though, when he started walking around and accidentally clipping walls with his left shoulder, with grabbing things and missing them, having to shift his
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He was also discovering that drunkenness was a good way to explore the ship with new eyes, which was what led him to Deck 13. And to unwanted memories. Memories which led to a heavy swig of whiskey.
A gunshot was unexpected and caused him to choke on the drink before spotting Gunn. Great. That was the guy he wanted to see. The dude who was a hefty part of why he was so drunk right now. Oh, well. Sal didn't hate Gunn. He kind of wanted to, but he couldn't. So he might as well talk to him.
Almost begrudgingly, Sal shuffled to the other man. He wasn't quite drunk enough to stumble. "Hey. What happened t'yer eye?"
He was, however, drunk enough to be completely tactless.
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They're all in the same boat now anyway.
"One of the birds," he says finally, looking at Sal but rubbing a thumb over the grip of the gun. "Tore out my eye at the party."
Gunn glances at the bottle and asks, casually, "What's with the whiskey?"
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On top of that, he hadn't had the balls to talk to Mikaela since the party and he was kind of hating himself for it. Sal had sort of settled with being lonely and sad and drunk. And hated himself more for that.
He offers the bottle to Gunn. "Wanna drink? Y'could prolly use it. Yer shot ain' gonna get any worse from it." He smiles just a little, hoping that his comment isn't taken hard, but not particularly worried if it is.
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When Sal offers the bottle, he looks up at him before he slides the gun into the back of his pants and takes it. He raises it to his mouth slowly, and once he's sure he's gotten it, he takes a sip, and then lowers the bottle again, handing it back to Sal.
"Probably not," He agrees after a moment. "You don't really appreciate depth perception until you don't have it anymore."
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So now Sal is to the point of saying things without thinking. He takes another drink. If he's going to say stupid things, he doesn't want to remember them later.
He's silent for a second, then thinks of something. "How's Riley?" Speaking of stupid things to say...
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"It's something to say, I guess," he mutters, glancing back to the line of cans. When he asks about Riley, he tenses, and then figures that telling him isn't the end of the world.
"She's... okay. I think she's a little shook up about the crew, like everyone else. She's been helping me with my eye," he says, not really knowing what to say. Riley was Riley. She was sticking around more, but he wasn't sure if that was the eye or a change of heart.
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Then he sighs and shakes his head at himself. Gunn isn't a bad dude. He's not bad at all. In fact, he's probably better for Riley than Sal is. Sal is obviously far too out of control of his emotions and not mature enough for her. He knows that. Surely Gunn is better for her. He's much better in control of himself and certainly more of a man. He's not crying over bygones. And he lost something much more important than a not-girlfriend.
Sal doesn't notice that he's staring at Gunn during this long, deep train of thought. But if he were to notice, he probably wouldn't care too much. He's busy being drunk and thinking hard.
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At least, not at first. She and Gunn have shared quieter moments already, but their first encounters were harsh and rough, clawing for every bit of leverage with each other. Only when they'd been put through the grinder did they seem to start enjoying the quieter things.
Lost in this thought, Gunn doesn't register the staring until he comes back to himself. He looks at Sal a little bit longer before he asks, "Something on my face?"
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He should probably care that Gunn doesn't know him extremely well and as drunk as he is, he's probably coming off as kind of a dick. An apology for his behavior is certainly in order, but at this moment, a long drink from his bottle is more important. The liquor burns and his stomach gives a very weak protest. By this point, Sal's body has given up telling him to stop drinking, and he's pretty sure his liver has all but liquified at this point. But he'll care when he sobers up. If he decides to.
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