One last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer
Who: Dick and Roy.
What: Last call.
Where: Some bar.
When: After Dick's back.
((Lina: Roy all showing up late at the bar?
Sho: Sure! Might find himself a Dick on his own in said bar! Drinking, even! Gasp what is this! (just...ignore the headbandage okay) He's celebrating a quiet moment. Bruce is alive. Life back home is good. 'cept things with Roy that might ...yeah :S
Sho: Should be interesting!))
Roy: ... Should he be drinking with a head wound? Not ALONE, that's for sure. So have another beer plonked down at your elbow, Dick, cause Roy's just gonna land his ass on that stool beside. Ignore the buzzcut. He's not sure it works for him.
Dick: Healing head wound! That's the important thing to remember here. Cue a double take. Short hair. Not what he left you with. Or rather, it's exactly what he left you with. Back home. Where you're not talking to him. Soooo what this? A truce? Cautious look is cautious. And skeptical. And surprised. Hn.
Roy: Well if it helps, a little closer look will reveal him as still Titans-young. The look back is guileless, if a little unnerved. What'd he do? "You don't like it, huh."
Dick: Well, it was kinda hard to tell. Low lighting and all. But yeah, he sees that now, and a WAVE of relief washes over him. Thank God. A sigh of self same relief passes his lips while he bows his head towards the old fashioned whiskey glass that's sitting on the bar top. He smiles then, and turns back to his old friend, first to clap him on the shoulder, then second to pull him into bear's strength of a hug. "Man, it's good to see you."
Roy: Fgsfds what. "Uh, yeah." A cautious backpat? "You, too." There's really only one explanation for this kind of bs, of course, but whatever happens to Home-Timeline-Roy is so far removed from him now he's not sure he even wants to ask. "I thought you'd been kinda quiet."
Roy: ... No, who is he kidding, he's damn curious. "You not expecting to see me or something?"
Dick: "Kind of quiet?" Shoves at, lightly, too happy at seeing his friend to be offended in the least. "Last I heard, I'd been gone a whole month." Incredible. This guy just never changes, does he? ...or so Dick had once thought, but teaming up with your arch nemesis and evil, mass genocide causing, mother of your child goes a long way to change a guy's mind. "You're a sight for sore eyes, is all. Bad haircut notwithstanding."
Roy: An immediate snerk. "Oh is that what happened. Here I figured you were just sulking." A shove back, and he gestures for a beer of his own. "Glad to know it passes the Dick test. Where the hell have you been that I'M easy on the eyes?"
Dick: "Home." You know, Gotham? Hell on Earth's (that'd be Bludhaven Bee-Tee-Dubs) ugly sister. Now, because Dick is like an excitable puppy, and because he can't contain himself any longer without risking the possibility of permanently breaking something - like his face, which is beaming so much I don't even - he has to tell somebody the good news. Guess what, Roy, aren't you a lucky man? "He's alive, Roy. Bruce," like he could ever be talking about anyone else, really "he's-" He shakes his head, smiling from ear to ear. It's old news to him by now, but at times it still feels so surreal. "I couldn't believe it."
Roy: Roy can't help but smile back. There's an impulse to look down or away- to deflect, somehow, the almost physical waves of cheer rolling off of his best friend. Instead he just grins back, and reflects a little bit of that glow. "Feels good, huh?" Now it makes sense. Well. Everything but the head wound. "You get that finding out?" With a gesture, amused smile and all.
Dick: This nod would be more enthusiastic were it not for the bandaged bullet wound to the back of said friend's skull. "Aha," he laughs, "it's a long story." Oh man, Roy, you have no idea.
Roy: "In that case, we're gonna need another drink." Which will require finishing the ones they have, which goes without saying. Roy raises his glass. "Cheers."
Dick: "I'll drink to that." Dick lifts his own glass and clinks it to the side of Roy's. "And to a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year," which, he realizes, he completely missed.
Roy: "Oh yeah. Those." Shrug. "Here's another year." ... That may have come out more resigned than he'd shot for.
Dick: Talk about killing the mood. Dick casts a concerned look over his friend, "you okay, buddy?"
Roy: Roy shrugs, scrubs his free hand over his head - still feels weird. "Tired, maybe." A rakish grin, changing the subject with a leer. "Haven't been sleeping much."
Dick: Oh, of course. Dick grins. What else? "So what's her name?"
Roy: "Xena. And, uh- " he braces himself a little, coughs. "Babs." Some part of him expects to get punched off the stool, loss or no loss. In your cave, poachin' ur Batgirl.
Dick: Oh he disapproves alright, but not because Babs just so happens to be the forgotten love of his life, but because two-timing is Wrong. Of course it doesn't occur to him that both ladies may be A.OKAY with this arrangement, or even that they're in on this arrangement together, because no man is that deserving and/or lucky. Dick fixes Roy with a level look, "I hope it's not the guilt that's keeping you up."
Roy: Roy slowly raises an eyebrow. "Guilt?" Oh, he gets what Dick means, of course, and for once it's just so damn good to exceed the worst that's expected of him. "Hey man, it was their idea." Actually it was Cupid's idea. But they were pretty good with it once THAT was over, and besides he's just gonna enjoy watching Dick's face.
Dick: Roy, I'd have gone with Cupid. You'd have both his understanding and sympathy. "Okaay, so I'm starting to better understand how you didn't notice I'd been missing for an entire month, but ah-" in all seriousness "both Barbara and Xena? Their idea or not, are you sure it's a good idea?"
Roy: Yes, but that wouldn't hardly explain why they're still together, and he's not in the habit of excusing his idiocy with outside factors. Even reasonably understandable ones. "... Mm. No." He goes back to contemplating his drink, a little smile playing about his mouth. "That's one reason it's so damn fun."
Dick: He will never understand this. Sorry Roy; Dick's a serial monogamist. He shakes his head, and like any good friend, makes a solemn vow to be there at the fallout. "So how long's this whole sordid affair been going on?"
Dick: He says that only half-joking.
Roy: The response is equally light, careless. "Ahh... while now. Remember Cupid?" He takes another pull at his beer.
Dick: Dick makes a noise into his glass. Oh yeah, he remembers Cupid. He has a wedding band to thankfully remind him about Cupid. ...why hadn't he taken that off again? Dick's eyes shift to the gold ring on his finger, and he - as non-suspicion raising as possible - moves his left hand from the bar to down by his side. He may be about to ask a stupid question here, but he feels the seemingly stupid man in front of him needs to hear it. "Roy, don't you think you should ask Cupid to remove his spell?"
Roy: This keen-eyed archer flicks out a hand, to pin Dick's beringed one to the bar. "He did. The first week." His look is a little dark, and he skewers Dick with it. "Should I be asking you the same thing?"
Dick: God dammit. "Ah, that. It's nothing. Forgot I had it on." Also, it turns out that the ladies really had suggested it, so colour him surprised.
Roy: "Sure you did." Heavy skepticism; how's it feel to be on the getting end? "Bet it's a real conversation piece."
Dick: Frankly? It blows. "Not really." Can he has hand back now? Thanks. Dick twirls the band around his finger. "Cupid. And apparently Paradisa doesn't condone divorce."
Roy: "Damn." Alright, now he might be smirking a bit into the dregs of his beer. "Good thing mine aren't really the marrying type." And hot damn, that felt good. So good, in fact, that it's time for another round.
Dick: And once again Roy dodges a bullet - or a fist, at least - thanks to Dicks loss. Dick's comment is lost as he drains the last of his glass, and it's probably a good thing; he still doesn't approve. "Seriously though, do you honestly see this relationship going anywhere?" He asks once the bar tender puts down their fresh drinks.
Roy: Roy promptly rolls his eyes, completely oblivious to the landmine he just stepped over. "God forbid. Where the hell would it go?" Seriously, since when had he had a girlfriend he was supposed to GO somewhere with? He's not looking at Dick, though, fiddling with his glass as he attempts to dig out words. "Seriously, man. We have... stuff in common, we talk, it's - it's good." There's an unaccustomed note of gladness, there, something he's not sure he deserves but will fight to the death to keep. Fulfillment.
He sucks in a breath, a little lightheaded, and goes for the new beer.
What: Last call.
Where: Some bar.
When: After Dick's back.
((Lina: Roy all showing up late at the bar?
Sho: Sure! Might find himself a Dick on his own in said bar! Drinking, even! Gasp what is this! (just...ignore the headbandage okay) He's celebrating a quiet moment. Bruce is alive. Life back home is good. 'cept things with Roy that might ...yeah :S
Sho: Should be interesting!))
Roy: ... Should he be drinking with a head wound? Not ALONE, that's for sure. So have another beer plonked down at your elbow, Dick, cause Roy's just gonna land his ass on that stool beside. Ignore the buzzcut. He's not sure it works for him.
Dick: Healing head wound! That's the important thing to remember here. Cue a double take. Short hair. Not what he left you with. Or rather, it's exactly what he left you with. Back home. Where you're not talking to him. Soooo what this? A truce? Cautious look is cautious. And skeptical. And surprised. Hn.
Roy: Well if it helps, a little closer look will reveal him as still Titans-young. The look back is guileless, if a little unnerved. What'd he do? "You don't like it, huh."
Dick: Well, it was kinda hard to tell. Low lighting and all. But yeah, he sees that now, and a WAVE of relief washes over him. Thank God. A sigh of self same relief passes his lips while he bows his head towards the old fashioned whiskey glass that's sitting on the bar top. He smiles then, and turns back to his old friend, first to clap him on the shoulder, then second to pull him into bear's strength of a hug. "Man, it's good to see you."
Roy: Fgsfds what. "Uh, yeah." A cautious backpat? "You, too." There's really only one explanation for this kind of bs, of course, but whatever happens to Home-Timeline-Roy is so far removed from him now he's not sure he even wants to ask. "I thought you'd been kinda quiet."
Roy: ... No, who is he kidding, he's damn curious. "You not expecting to see me or something?"
Dick: "Kind of quiet?" Shoves at, lightly, too happy at seeing his friend to be offended in the least. "Last I heard, I'd been gone a whole month." Incredible. This guy just never changes, does he? ...or so Dick had once thought, but teaming up with your arch nemesis and evil, mass genocide causing, mother of your child goes a long way to change a guy's mind. "You're a sight for sore eyes, is all. Bad haircut notwithstanding."
Roy: An immediate snerk. "Oh is that what happened. Here I figured you were just sulking." A shove back, and he gestures for a beer of his own. "Glad to know it passes the Dick test. Where the hell have you been that I'M easy on the eyes?"
Dick: "Home." You know, Gotham? Hell on Earth's (that'd be Bludhaven Bee-Tee-Dubs) ugly sister. Now, because Dick is like an excitable puppy, and because he can't contain himself any longer without risking the possibility of permanently breaking something - like his face, which is beaming so much I don't even - he has to tell somebody the good news. Guess what, Roy, aren't you a lucky man? "He's alive, Roy. Bruce," like he could ever be talking about anyone else, really "he's-" He shakes his head, smiling from ear to ear. It's old news to him by now, but at times it still feels so surreal. "I couldn't believe it."
Roy: Roy can't help but smile back. There's an impulse to look down or away- to deflect, somehow, the almost physical waves of cheer rolling off of his best friend. Instead he just grins back, and reflects a little bit of that glow. "Feels good, huh?" Now it makes sense. Well. Everything but the head wound. "You get that finding out?" With a gesture, amused smile and all.
Dick: This nod would be more enthusiastic were it not for the bandaged bullet wound to the back of said friend's skull. "Aha," he laughs, "it's a long story." Oh man, Roy, you have no idea.
Roy: "In that case, we're gonna need another drink." Which will require finishing the ones they have, which goes without saying. Roy raises his glass. "Cheers."
Dick: "I'll drink to that." Dick lifts his own glass and clinks it to the side of Roy's. "And to a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year," which, he realizes, he completely missed.
Roy: "Oh yeah. Those." Shrug. "Here's another year." ... That may have come out more resigned than he'd shot for.
Dick: Talk about killing the mood. Dick casts a concerned look over his friend, "you okay, buddy?"
Roy: Roy shrugs, scrubs his free hand over his head - still feels weird. "Tired, maybe." A rakish grin, changing the subject with a leer. "Haven't been sleeping much."
Dick: Oh, of course. Dick grins. What else? "So what's her name?"
Roy: "Xena. And, uh- " he braces himself a little, coughs. "Babs." Some part of him expects to get punched off the stool, loss or no loss. In your cave, poachin' ur Batgirl.
Dick: Oh he disapproves alright, but not because Babs just so happens to be the forgotten love of his life, but because two-timing is Wrong. Of course it doesn't occur to him that both ladies may be A.OKAY with this arrangement, or even that they're in on this arrangement together, because no man is that deserving and/or lucky. Dick fixes Roy with a level look, "I hope it's not the guilt that's keeping you up."
Roy: Roy slowly raises an eyebrow. "Guilt?" Oh, he gets what Dick means, of course, and for once it's just so damn good to exceed the worst that's expected of him. "Hey man, it was their idea." Actually it was Cupid's idea. But they were pretty good with it once THAT was over, and besides he's just gonna enjoy watching Dick's face.
Dick: Roy, I'd have gone with Cupid. You'd have both his understanding and sympathy. "Okaay, so I'm starting to better understand how you didn't notice I'd been missing for an entire month, but ah-" in all seriousness "both Barbara and Xena? Their idea or not, are you sure it's a good idea?"
Roy: Yes, but that wouldn't hardly explain why they're still together, and he's not in the habit of excusing his idiocy with outside factors. Even reasonably understandable ones. "... Mm. No." He goes back to contemplating his drink, a little smile playing about his mouth. "That's one reason it's so damn fun."
Dick: He will never understand this. Sorry Roy; Dick's a serial monogamist. He shakes his head, and like any good friend, makes a solemn vow to be there at the fallout. "So how long's this whole sordid affair been going on?"
Dick: He says that only half-joking.
Roy: The response is equally light, careless. "Ahh... while now. Remember Cupid?" He takes another pull at his beer.
Dick: Dick makes a noise into his glass. Oh yeah, he remembers Cupid. He has a wedding band to thankfully remind him about Cupid. ...why hadn't he taken that off again? Dick's eyes shift to the gold ring on his finger, and he - as non-suspicion raising as possible - moves his left hand from the bar to down by his side. He may be about to ask a stupid question here, but he feels the seemingly stupid man in front of him needs to hear it. "Roy, don't you think you should ask Cupid to remove his spell?"
Roy: This keen-eyed archer flicks out a hand, to pin Dick's beringed one to the bar. "He did. The first week." His look is a little dark, and he skewers Dick with it. "Should I be asking you the same thing?"
Dick: God dammit. "Ah, that. It's nothing. Forgot I had it on." Also, it turns out that the ladies really had suggested it, so colour him surprised.
Roy: "Sure you did." Heavy skepticism; how's it feel to be on the getting end? "Bet it's a real conversation piece."
Dick: Frankly? It blows. "Not really." Can he has hand back now? Thanks. Dick twirls the band around his finger. "Cupid. And apparently Paradisa doesn't condone divorce."
Roy: "Damn." Alright, now he might be smirking a bit into the dregs of his beer. "Good thing mine aren't really the marrying type." And hot damn, that felt good. So good, in fact, that it's time for another round.
Dick: And once again Roy dodges a bullet - or a fist, at least - thanks to Dicks loss. Dick's comment is lost as he drains the last of his glass, and it's probably a good thing; he still doesn't approve. "Seriously though, do you honestly see this relationship going anywhere?" He asks once the bar tender puts down their fresh drinks.
Roy: Roy promptly rolls his eyes, completely oblivious to the landmine he just stepped over. "God forbid. Where the hell would it go?" Seriously, since when had he had a girlfriend he was supposed to GO somewhere with? He's not looking at Dick, though, fiddling with his glass as he attempts to dig out words. "Seriously, man. We have... stuff in common, we talk, it's - it's good." There's an unaccustomed note of gladness, there, something he's not sure he deserves but will fight to the death to keep. Fulfillment.
He sucks in a breath, a little lightheaded, and goes for the new beer.