Story scrap
I found an unfamiliar text file when I was clearing out my temp folder, and it took me a minute to figure out where it came from: I'd originally planned to lead off November with this scene. It didn't seem quite right, though, and eventually November led off in a more conventional manner, and I left the scrap to molder in my temp folder until such time as I might find it again, which proved to be... today.
I threw about half an hour of finish and polish on it (because why not) and so, hey, bonus scene. Why is it titled that? I have no idea! Seriously, I don't remember why. But it's the name on the text file, so I must have had a reason at some point.
Shadow of the Templar: One Up One Down
"See, it's my theory that Texas here is the perfect wingman," Mike said, slapping Johnny on the back so hard that Johnny's coffee slopped over on the conference table. Mike only cackled. "Whoops."
"Yeah, whoops," said Johnny. "Two, you got--"
He was interrupted by the sound of Rich kicking open a drawer. "Here," Rich said, fetching out a fistful of paper towels.
Simon, lounging in the doorway to his office with his own coffee, watched the mop-up efforts equably. "So, wingman, you were saying," he said, making a little 'go on' gesture at Mike.
"Yeah, a'ight, so, for your basic wingman, you want somebody who's less attractive than you are, but not such a loser that he makes you look bad, right?"
Simon glanced at Johnny. Johnny seemed unconcerned by this description. Simon looked back at Mike. "Right."
"And he's gotta be interesting to talk to, in case there aren't any hot ladies around, but he's gotta know when to let you go get your mack on," Mike went on. "Plus he's gotta be willing to take one for the team."
"Take one for the team?" Simon couldn't resist. "You mean he's got to be willing to sleep with you if you strike out?"
Mike yelped in horror. "Naw! Aw, God, boss, way to put me off my feed."
"I was gonna say, I don't think that's really Johnny's thing," said Simon.
Johnny pitched a wad of coffee-soaked paper towels into the trashcan beside Rich's lair. "Nah."
Mike dismissed the whole question of Johnny's sexuality with an impatient gesture. "No, like, you know how ladies like to go to bars in pairs, right? Like, for company or protection or something."
"Wingwomen," Simon said, nodding.
"Yeah! Wait, no. Well... yeah, okay," said Mike. "Anyway, so, when you got two ladies, one of 'em's always gonna be less choice, you know what I'm sayin', so a good wingman'll step up and distract that lady, 'cause otherwise the hot one ain't gonna go home with you. 'Cause she's worried about leaving her friend and all."
Simon pretended to consider this. "Well, okay," he finally said. "So... leaving aside the part where that's total sexist bullshit and all, how do you decide which one of you's got to be the wingman?"
"Aw, that's easy. Gotta be the ugly one." Mike slapped Johnny on the shoulder. Johnny, having learned, steadied his mug with both hands.
"And... how do you decide which one that is?"
Mike gaped at Simon. "Boss, are you blind?" As if to illustrate his theory, he gestured wildly at Johnny with both hands, framing Johnny's (admittedly plug-ugly) face like he was lining up a photograph. Johnny snickered and batted at Mike's hands, pushing them away from his coffee.
"We-ell," Simon said, drawing out the word. He glanced at the saferoom door, wondering when Sandra was going to get back and how many of them she'd have to kill when she did. "I'm just saying, you know, I think Texas gets more play than you do, overall."
"That's 'cause he ain't picky," Mike said, beaming. "Me, I got these refined aesthetic sensibilities, you know?"
"Ain't picky," Johnny said, with what passed for heavy sarcasm, for him.
"He's pretty picky," said Simon. He paused long enough to take a long pull on his own coffee. "I mean, he only dates women, that I know of. Cuts his chances of getting laid in half--you don't do that if you're really not picky."
Mike opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. "Boss, no offense, but that is so fuckin' stupid that I can't even figure out how to argue with it."
"It is, isn't it?" Simon shut his eyes and hid his smile behind his mug. "But it's stupid for a different reason than you think."
"Ain't sure a guy with aesthetics would be wearin' that shirt anyway," Johnny added. Mike yowled happily and went for him, and Simon finished off his coffee and left them to their fistfight.
I threw about half an hour of finish and polish on it (because why not) and so, hey, bonus scene. Why is it titled that? I have no idea! Seriously, I don't remember why. But it's the name on the text file, so I must have had a reason at some point.
Shadow of the Templar: One Up One Down
"See, it's my theory that Texas here is the perfect wingman," Mike said, slapping Johnny on the back so hard that Johnny's coffee slopped over on the conference table. Mike only cackled. "Whoops."
"Yeah, whoops," said Johnny. "Two, you got--"
He was interrupted by the sound of Rich kicking open a drawer. "Here," Rich said, fetching out a fistful of paper towels.
Simon, lounging in the doorway to his office with his own coffee, watched the mop-up efforts equably. "So, wingman, you were saying," he said, making a little 'go on' gesture at Mike.
"Yeah, a'ight, so, for your basic wingman, you want somebody who's less attractive than you are, but not such a loser that he makes you look bad, right?"
Simon glanced at Johnny. Johnny seemed unconcerned by this description. Simon looked back at Mike. "Right."
"And he's gotta be interesting to talk to, in case there aren't any hot ladies around, but he's gotta know when to let you go get your mack on," Mike went on. "Plus he's gotta be willing to take one for the team."
"Take one for the team?" Simon couldn't resist. "You mean he's got to be willing to sleep with you if you strike out?"
Mike yelped in horror. "Naw! Aw, God, boss, way to put me off my feed."
"I was gonna say, I don't think that's really Johnny's thing," said Simon.
Johnny pitched a wad of coffee-soaked paper towels into the trashcan beside Rich's lair. "Nah."
Mike dismissed the whole question of Johnny's sexuality with an impatient gesture. "No, like, you know how ladies like to go to bars in pairs, right? Like, for company or protection or something."
"Wingwomen," Simon said, nodding.
"Yeah! Wait, no. Well... yeah, okay," said Mike. "Anyway, so, when you got two ladies, one of 'em's always gonna be less choice, you know what I'm sayin', so a good wingman'll step up and distract that lady, 'cause otherwise the hot one ain't gonna go home with you. 'Cause she's worried about leaving her friend and all."
Simon pretended to consider this. "Well, okay," he finally said. "So... leaving aside the part where that's total sexist bullshit and all, how do you decide which one of you's got to be the wingman?"
"Aw, that's easy. Gotta be the ugly one." Mike slapped Johnny on the shoulder. Johnny, having learned, steadied his mug with both hands.
"And... how do you decide which one that is?"
Mike gaped at Simon. "Boss, are you blind?" As if to illustrate his theory, he gestured wildly at Johnny with both hands, framing Johnny's (admittedly plug-ugly) face like he was lining up a photograph. Johnny snickered and batted at Mike's hands, pushing them away from his coffee.
"We-ell," Simon said, drawing out the word. He glanced at the saferoom door, wondering when Sandra was going to get back and how many of them she'd have to kill when she did. "I'm just saying, you know, I think Texas gets more play than you do, overall."
"That's 'cause he ain't picky," Mike said, beaming. "Me, I got these refined aesthetic sensibilities, you know?"
"Ain't picky," Johnny said, with what passed for heavy sarcasm, for him.
"He's pretty picky," said Simon. He paused long enough to take a long pull on his own coffee. "I mean, he only dates women, that I know of. Cuts his chances of getting laid in half--you don't do that if you're really not picky."
Mike opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. "Boss, no offense, but that is so fuckin' stupid that I can't even figure out how to argue with it."
"It is, isn't it?" Simon shut his eyes and hid his smile behind his mug. "But it's stupid for a different reason than you think."
"Ain't sure a guy with aesthetics would be wearin' that shirt anyway," Johnny added. Mike yowled happily and went for him, and Simon finished off his coffee and left them to their fistfight.