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xp_logsClint stops in at Hooligan's on the off chance that Billy might show up. He does.
"You vanished on me," Billy said, the accusation heavy in his voice.
Setting down the pint he'd been working on, Clint turned to face his accuser and offered him a rueful smile. "I gave you all the contact info you could possibly want. And then I got shipped to Alaska for, y'know, keeping you from getting shot by my asshole partner. So. You don't call, you don't write... what's a guy to think?"
"Contact info for your 'bff.' Not for you. 'The number you have dialed is no longer in service.' Alaska? That's your excuse? Not Ukraine, not Moscow, but 'can kinda see Russia from my living room?'" Billy sat down in a huff, upset but without the 'I'm outta here' attitude.'"
"For my brother," Clint corrected. "Who, logic would imply, has my personal phone number. I didn't know they were going to cut off my work phone until I landed and it didn't work anymore. And yes, Alaska is definitely my excuse. Also, more like 'I can totally see the arctic circle from here' and not Russia. Because I was stuck in the US's tiniest, most northern town. Seriously, there was a pizzeria. And it was the only place more interesting than the airport."
Clint'd been hopeful, having realized SWORD had shut his work mobile off, that if he hung out here at Hooligan's long enough, his precariously positioned friend might turn up again.
"Wait, they sent you there for keeping your trigger-happy partner in line? How do you work for these guys again?" Billy asked, the remark finally registering. "And I guess I should says thanks. Or I'm sorry."
"Yeah, they did. And actually, I don't work for them anymore. So no apologies necessary," Clint said, offering a small salute with his pint glass to the younger man. "But I'm glad you're here - I wasn't sure if you'd be coming back to Hooligan's after our last conversation."
"Eh, I got tired of laying low," Billy answered, catching the bartender's attention and motioning for a beer of his own. "Not that I'm saying I'm going to sign up for whatever, but I figured I should at least hear you out. Well, if I caught you here again."
"Great minds," Clint muttered, then he shook his head a little. Quirking a smile, he said, "I've been staying at this place on and off for the last few weeks - half in the city, half out there. It's good. You should at least come check it out."
"It's not in the city?" Billy asked, settling back onto his stool. "Where is 'out there?'"
"Westchester," Clint answered. "About an hour outside the city. Old money estate. Lots of room. Some pretty decent luxury housing options."
"Maybe an hour for you," Billy said, looking around for any potential listeners. "Some of us know....shortcuts."
Eyes cutting to the side, Clint gave the younger man a vaguely suspicious look. "Right, your... thing." Taking a sip of his beer, he shrugged. "Do you need like. I dunno, GPS coords or something? To've like, seen the place you're going to?"
"I might have grown up in Manhattan, but I've been to Westchester. Some of us have ventured more than 20 miles in our lives." Billy shook his head with a laugh. He looked thoughtful a moment, then replied. "GPS. No idea if that would work or not. Maybe, but I doubt it. It's kinda hard to explain. I have to....to know the place. At least it works better when I do. Like my bedroom at my folks' place is easy. Or someplace like....Disneyland. Or if I have a picture of someplace, that works. Well, sometimes."
"Only sometimes?" Clint asked, one eyebrow raised. "Sounds like there's a story there."
"Sometimes...things don't go exactly as planned," Billy said, fishing out a few bills as his drink appeared.
Clint snorted softly. "Uh huh." He finished off his pint and asked for another as the bartender accepted Billy's money. "Anyway, your potential snafus aside, I'm heading back out there for the weekend with my brother. A few people you know should be there, too. So if you'd like, you can tag along."
"Right, the bugboys," Billy recalled. "Well, now that the semester's wrapped up, I'm pretty free, so sure, consider me tagging along."
"You vanished on me," Billy said, the accusation heavy in his voice.
Setting down the pint he'd been working on, Clint turned to face his accuser and offered him a rueful smile. "I gave you all the contact info you could possibly want. And then I got shipped to Alaska for, y'know, keeping you from getting shot by my asshole partner. So. You don't call, you don't write... what's a guy to think?"
"Contact info for your 'bff.' Not for you. 'The number you have dialed is no longer in service.' Alaska? That's your excuse? Not Ukraine, not Moscow, but 'can kinda see Russia from my living room?'" Billy sat down in a huff, upset but without the 'I'm outta here' attitude.'"
"For my brother," Clint corrected. "Who, logic would imply, has my personal phone number. I didn't know they were going to cut off my work phone until I landed and it didn't work anymore. And yes, Alaska is definitely my excuse. Also, more like 'I can totally see the arctic circle from here' and not Russia. Because I was stuck in the US's tiniest, most northern town. Seriously, there was a pizzeria. And it was the only place more interesting than the airport."
Clint'd been hopeful, having realized SWORD had shut his work mobile off, that if he hung out here at Hooligan's long enough, his precariously positioned friend might turn up again.
"Wait, they sent you there for keeping your trigger-happy partner in line? How do you work for these guys again?" Billy asked, the remark finally registering. "And I guess I should says thanks. Or I'm sorry."
"Yeah, they did. And actually, I don't work for them anymore. So no apologies necessary," Clint said, offering a small salute with his pint glass to the younger man. "But I'm glad you're here - I wasn't sure if you'd be coming back to Hooligan's after our last conversation."
"Eh, I got tired of laying low," Billy answered, catching the bartender's attention and motioning for a beer of his own. "Not that I'm saying I'm going to sign up for whatever, but I figured I should at least hear you out. Well, if I caught you here again."
"Great minds," Clint muttered, then he shook his head a little. Quirking a smile, he said, "I've been staying at this place on and off for the last few weeks - half in the city, half out there. It's good. You should at least come check it out."
"It's not in the city?" Billy asked, settling back onto his stool. "Where is 'out there?'"
"Westchester," Clint answered. "About an hour outside the city. Old money estate. Lots of room. Some pretty decent luxury housing options."
"Maybe an hour for you," Billy said, looking around for any potential listeners. "Some of us know....shortcuts."
Eyes cutting to the side, Clint gave the younger man a vaguely suspicious look. "Right, your... thing." Taking a sip of his beer, he shrugged. "Do you need like. I dunno, GPS coords or something? To've like, seen the place you're going to?"
"I might have grown up in Manhattan, but I've been to Westchester. Some of us have ventured more than 20 miles in our lives." Billy shook his head with a laugh. He looked thoughtful a moment, then replied. "GPS. No idea if that would work or not. Maybe, but I doubt it. It's kinda hard to explain. I have to....to know the place. At least it works better when I do. Like my bedroom at my folks' place is easy. Or someplace like....Disneyland. Or if I have a picture of someplace, that works. Well, sometimes."
"Only sometimes?" Clint asked, one eyebrow raised. "Sounds like there's a story there."
"Sometimes...things don't go exactly as planned," Billy said, fishing out a few bills as his drink appeared.
Clint snorted softly. "Uh huh." He finished off his pint and asked for another as the bartender accepted Billy's money. "Anyway, your potential snafus aside, I'm heading back out there for the weekend with my brother. A few people you know should be there, too. So if you'd like, you can tag along."
"Right, the bugboys," Billy recalled. "Well, now that the semester's wrapped up, I'm pretty free, so sure, consider me tagging along."
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