Ford was drunk. There was really no way around that. But he wasn't too drunk, or so he at least thought. But, he was drunk enough that he would most likely end up spending the night on the couch once he got back home
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In the back of the bar, in one of those conveniently dimmed corners, sat a man who was also sitting, staring at his ring finger. An anniversary of sorts was coming up, though it was not one that most folk would celebrate. Not in this century. Rochefort leaned back and closed his eye, his mind going back to that day so many eons ago when he stood on a field of honor, and committed just one more of so many dishonorable deeds. Just one in the list. Possibly not the most damnable exploit of a life filled with so many. Still
( ... )
Ford had not expected anyone to respond to that. Hell, he'd barely been aware that he'd spoken out loud. He looked over and spotted the man who had spoken. Hell, he looked about as grim as he himself did.
"Well, fuck man, ain't that poetic?" He said, giving up a snort and took a swallow of beer. "Don't mean you're any less right, though." In fact, he was absolutely right. He loved Darcy, madly so. But he thought that he would never for the life of him understand her.
Rochefort simply nodded. Of course he was right, he'd had a long time to study them, and still - STILL - he couldn't for the life of him begin to plot out the thought process behind their moves. Which was why, even now, his wife could come up with a strategy out of nowhere and beat him at his own games of intrigue. He loved her all the more just just for that purpose.
The ring was gold, new gold and shiny. New gold, new husband perhaps? Rochefort gestured for the barkeep and offered to buy him a round of drinks as well.
"My wife, she has a way... " Rochefort hesitated, gulped back the shot of bourbon. "But then all wive's have that special skill of driving their husband's to distraction and beyond I am sure."
Last call had just come and gone, but maybe the barman picked up that both men had an aura of something that wasn't very nice. So more bourbon, more beer were placed on the bar in front of them.
"I'm sure they do," Ford agreed, nodding his thanks for the drinks. "Mine sure as hell does." In many ways, life was easier for them these days. They had managed to work through many of the issues they had initially had. But she was no less of a mystery. And, vulnerable. That tugged on Ford's desire to protect, and at the same time it scared him.
Now, since the guy was buying him a round, maybe introductions were in order. He leaned over, extending his hand for a shake. "Ford." First name? Last name? He didn't say.
Rochefort looked at the extended hand, then slowly drew his own hand forth to shake the other's. Pausing for a moment, the one-eyed man twisted his own ring so that the brilliant green stone that was set in the heavy gold ring gathered the light and flung it in sparkles about the room before shaking the hand of the other
( ... )
It was the movement that drew Ford's attention to that shining green emerald. If the guy hadn't twisted the ring, he hadn't even bothered to notice. He didn't inquire about it, but he thought it odd that he would twist it into view only to twist it back again
( ... )
There was a quick grin in response to that first comment, but it quickly faded as clouds crossed his face and his expression darkened. Normally Ford wouldn't be so open about his problems and fears, and he had many fears. Many doubts. But on this night he was drunk, and so he found himself talking. "She wants kids, my wife. Which makes me wonder if she's fully aware of what kind of man she married."
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"Well, fuck man, ain't that poetic?" He said, giving up a snort and took a swallow of beer. "Don't mean you're any less right, though." In fact, he was absolutely right. He loved Darcy, madly so. But he thought that he would never for the life of him understand her.
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The ring was gold, new gold and shiny. New gold, new husband perhaps? Rochefort gestured for the barkeep and offered to buy him a round of drinks as well.
"My wife, she has a way... " Rochefort hesitated, gulped back the shot of bourbon. "But then all wive's have that special skill of driving their husband's to distraction and beyond I am sure."
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"I'm sure they do," Ford agreed, nodding his thanks for the drinks. "Mine sure as hell does." In many ways, life was easier for them these days. They had managed to work through many of the issues they had initially had. But she was no less of a mystery. And, vulnerable. That tugged on Ford's desire to protect, and at the same time it scared him.
Now, since the guy was buying him a round, maybe introductions were in order. He leaned over, extending his hand for a shake. "Ford." First name? Last name? He didn't say.
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"In fact, were it not for my children, I know not where we would be, Faelyn and I."
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