xp_logs | Nathan and Cain, Monday night (Reply)

Nathan, rather out of sorts, heads down to Harry's with some paperwork, seeking a bottle of tequila. Cain's already down there watching a football game.

Harry had given him a moderately alarmed look when he'd walked in and ordered a bottle of tequila. He knows. On the other hand, Nathan reasoned, he'd also brought a stack of paperwork, so it wasn't as if he was planning to get drunk, lose his temper, and bust up the place. As if he'd ever actually done that, anyway. I am a morose drunk, not a violent one. Except on special occasions.

"Now don't spill that, might constitute an en-vi-ro-mental hazard." Cain's voice rang out from the back room of the bar, which was lit by the flickering light of the wide-screen television he'd bought for the bar years ago. "What, Moira finally give you too much shit about bringing work home, you decided to open a field office down here?"

"Moira's headed back to Muir a bit early with the munchkin. New patients," Nathan said somewhat curtly, picking up his bottle and his glass. The pile of paperwork obediently floated along behind him as he went over to join Cain. It drew a couple of odd looks from some of Harry's patrons, but Nathan couldn't convince himself to give a shit. "It was either come down here or listen to my secretary, who for some reason has decided to work late, plotting my gory demise. She's always doing that, you know."

"Well, you drag her along to the ass-end of Europe and almost get her killed, you're lucky she hasn't given you two weeks' notice yet," Cain quipped, downing the last of his beer and adding the empty bottle to an impressive line of its mates. He swore under his breath as the football game on the television showed a replay of a penalty, then shook his head. "Either that or everyone who works in that boathouse turns into an idealist within a month."

Nathan made a choked noise that was half-laugh, half-snort. "I think Juliette's in for the long haul. I'll be damned if I know why, but she gives the definite impression of not planning to go anywhere anytime in the foreseeable future." He filled up his glass. "To all the women in my life," he said sourly, raising the glass before knocking a good half of the contents back at once.

"And you're welcome to them," Cain toasted back, popping the cap off another bottle with one huge thumb and taking a long swig. "Of course, we're going to have to watch out as time goes by. Rumor has it that when one of yours gets old enough to move out, you just go and buy yourself another one."

If it had been coming from anyone but Cain, it would have gotten a growl at the very least. Instead, Nathan just shrugged. "At least Sooraya's not showing any signs of wanting to blow shit up," he said, finishing off what was in his glass. "Maybe practice makes perfect. Although you should have seen Dom coming back from the UN with Joel the week she was here in a goddamned business suit. I nearly swallowed my tongue."

Cain chuckled lowly. "Well, so long as Moira ain't chasing after you with a shotgun, dirty old man. Send her on up my way next time." Another chuckle followed, then a restrained whoop at Cain's team took the lead with a field goal. "You know, I was talkin' the other week with Sam - what with Summers still on the bench and Ororo off doin' who knows what. An' he had me goin' over the training logs with him, and you know what struck me as odd?"

He paused a moment, letting the rhetorical question hang while he took another pull off his beer. "Your name listed by all your scheduled Danger Room sessions. No off-hours extra ones, nothing missed 'cause of a broken skull or nothin'. Had to check and make sure the damn computer wasn't on the fritz."

Nathan didn't feel the need to let Cain know that Ororo was back. If he'd been out working on the grounds today and hadn't heard yet, well... lucky him. Although, that was unfair. He himself was very glad that Ororo was back. Just not happy at all about what her return had entailed.

He made himself pay attention to what Cain was saying, instead. "Well, I did miss sessions the week I was in Prague," he pointed out, "but you're right - otherwise I've been keeping up with things. And I can't overdo it with extra sessions, because I don't really have the time." He could have, on his 'vacation', but then Moira would have been after him for overcompensating.

"Point I was makin'," Cain insisted with a gesture of his bottle, "was that y're finding a balance. Like we talked about, y'know? Ain't running around the world chasin' after your old man, ain't running off to pull your old friends' asses out of the fire. Y'got the team, y'got your work, and y'got your family. 's a good life, yeah."

Finishing the last of the bottle, Cain set it down somewhat awkwardly. "Holy kee-rist," he drawled, laughing quietly. "I think I've found my limit..."

Nathan was very quiet for a long moment. He refilled his glass, and took a more measured sip of tequila. "I'm... having some trouble, Cain," he finally said, part of him marveling at how difficult it was to say that. "I've got the team, I'm got my work, which is... good, stupid bureaucrats and idiot Czechs aside. I've got Moira and Ray." He took another sip. "But it was almost easier to be running around chasing Saul or rescuing Dom."

He wasn't explaining it well. "Being in Prague," he said tightly, "was easier than coming back from Prague. I know that doesn't make any damned sense at all. I just can't..." Nathan shook his head suddenly. "This is stupid," he muttered.

"S'what you're used to," Cain said, stifling a belch. While he didn't feel drunk in the slightest, after downing over two dozen bottles in a little over two hours, he'd started to lose his taste for it. "Sounds like a... whadda they call it, midlife crisis? When you start datin' younger women, buyin' sports cars, dyeing your hair... hold on, come to think of it, are we sure that's Summers' normal hair color? I'm just sayin'."

He mused for a moment, the football game forgotten. "Used to be that all I ever wanted was to have this place to myself, you know? Send all these kids home, let Chuck take the team somewhere else, just gimme my home for some peace and quiet. And someday, I know I'll get that. But that ain't how things are for the moment. You? You go the other way. You're gettin' a chance for that down time, that peace. And when you get it, you wish you were out risking your neck again. What's all that about?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's just 2006 catching up with me. Best friends dying in my arms, kidnappings by my insane family, self-lobotomies... I know it doesn't make any sense. I've got the chance to kick back at least a little, enjoy what I have, and instead I just seem to be getting wound tighter and tighter." Nathan took another sip of his tequila. "Here's to perversity."

Cain nodded, opting not to go for another beer at this stage. "And here's to... holding? Like hell! Gotta be kidding me!" he barked at the television, throwing a beer-soaked rag at the screen in frustration.

"I'd mock football fans, but I used to get just as fanatical about hockey back when I lived in Europe," Nathan muttered in amusement, then tilted his head. "I ought to go see games here," he said after a moment. "I think the Rangers are supposed to be good this year."

"Take the wife," Cain suggested, somewhat sheepishly as he watched the game wind down to halftime. "I'm sure you can find someone to watch Little Miss Satan for a few hours. There's a world out past those gates that doesn't involve getting yourself shot at, I hear."

"Moira at a hockey game. There's a thought." It tickled him, strangely enough. "I haven't done enough that you could classify as 'fun', I suppose. I might have been keeping up with all my responsibilities but there hasn't been much time other than that to do much else than ride herd on my daughter, who is not Satanic in any way, shape, or form, you old grouch..."

"Right. Just ask the squirrels."