Roger Linus / LOST / Ze bar

[mm_rae]

A bar? Roger likes it already. In the course of his lifetime he has heard many things about the probabilities of what happens to a person once they die. He can't say he ever heard this one before. It's fairly crowded- not overly...just right. He hasn't been to a bar since he left Oregon. Come to think of it he hadn't enjoyed himself since he left

Comments

[bythatmuch]

The Max that stumbles into the bar this evening is jet lagged, just short of sporting a 5 o'clock shadow, and can't get his mind off his mission. He's got so much intel to go over before dawn breaks, and hell, if it was up to him, he'd be out combing the streets right now for signs of KAOS - but Ben's asleep, and he's not stupid enough to go out there on his own. He's almost 100% certain that someone'll be keeping an eye out for him.

So here he is, at the bar with a few file folders, (politely) demanding coffee.

[bythatmuch]

"That actually happens more often than you'd imagine. People dying and coming here, I mean - and it seems that for a lot of people, this place is a lot better than where they would have otherwise wound up."

Not that he means anything by that, of course.

Max eyes his coffee for a second, then looks over at Roger. "Mind if I ask how you died?"

[notajanitor]

He frowns as if considering this. He hadn't lived his life so badly...if anything the odds were just stacked against him. After his wife he hadn't even dated. He spent time with Ben (well, what time he could when he wasn't working or in a bad mood) and worked constantly for decades. If God had a problem with that...

That really wasn't the point. He was here.

"Long story." He says shortly. "My son did me in."

[bythatmuch]

"Damn."

...

"That sucks."

[notajanitor]

"...Yeah," he adds on low note.

[bythatmuch]

AWK-WAAAAAAAAAAARD.

"... you must've done something to really piss him off, eh?"

[notajanitor]

"Done something to him?" He raises his eyebrows and looks to Max. "I forgot the kid's birthday every year. It was the day his mom died. It's a hard day to remember."

He drinks a little more of his beer, "The one day I promise to do better and remember his birthday the next year he says it's not enough." He hits the bottle again. "I give him a home, work my ass off and even let him keep his rabbit in the house. Then that. Over a few birthdays."

[bythatmuch]

"I'd be pretty pissed if my parents forgot my birthday every year," he mutters into his coffee cup.

He's got nothing more to add to that.

[notajanitor]

Moving his eyes from the beer to Max he frowns. "Well I didn't ask you."

He probably didn't deserve that.

"But what's done is done. He doesn't have to see me anymore. Thought if I'd died I'd at least get to see my wife again, but it doesn't look like much is gonna go my way again."

He really had been cheated.

[bythatmuch]

... well, damn. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"You still might. You never know. I mean, people show up here all the time..."

On one hand, he'd like nothing more than to punch this guy in the face.

On the other hand, he's starting to feel bad for him, and this is the first time he's ever felt guilty about being sympathetic.

[notajanitor]

"Anyway," the rest of his sentence is forgotten as he takes a swig. "I'm not keeping my hopes up or anything."

Though he will wish everyday she might at least come through that door. Even if he wasn't there no one could forget her face and if he at least heard about her he could allow himself some hope.

[bythatmuch]

"... I'll keep my fingers crossed for you," Max says, after a moment of slightly awkward silence.

[notajanitor]

"...Thanks." He sounds at least a little genuine.

[bythatmuch]

"Yeah. No problem."

... he should go, before the topic of this conversation shifts elsewhere.

"I've got some work to do," he says, nodding to the folders he brought in with him. "It was nice meeting you, though."