Kevin/Gabriel: A New Cocktail
Feb. 20th, 2025 11:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsKevin returns to the mansion and is found by Gabe.
Kevin had gotten back to the mansion a couple of days ago, but had been largely absent, in his room with the door very firmly closed or into the city early in the morning until late at night without any explanation. That's why it was surprising to catch him in the lounge, sitting quietly at the bar, nursing a drink with a newspaper folded up so he could read it one-handed.
"Oh!" Gabriel stopped in his tracks, almost dropping the glass in his right hand. "It's you," he said, trying to apprise what, exactly, he'd stumbled on. "I wasn't looking for you," he felt the need to add before resuming his walk to the bar. "I have this new cocktail in my head but can't quite get it right and thought maybe there might be some fancy bottle of something or other down here that I don't have in my stores." He gave Kevin a half-shrug, feeling a bit awkward. "But you're back so... here you are."
"Here I am." He said quietly, eyes flicking from the paper to Gabe and back before he paused to lay down the paper and take a drink. "Go make your drink. I'm always curious about a new cocktail."
"Yes, you famously embrace all things new and novel." Gabriel winced as soon as he'd finished being sardonic; it was a reflex. He was quiet as he set the glass down at the bar, then began looking through the bottles. "I'm sorry about Darcy," he said after a few seconds, pausing to turn and face Kevin. "How... are you?"
"I've been better. I suppose that's a good thing." Kevin said, taking a long sip. "I sent her on a mission. I gave her an objective. She found a way to accomplish it, but at the cost of her... well, at a cost. It's not the first time. It won't be the last time. But it still hurts. And it always makes me worried. That one day, it won't hurt." He still looked the same mid-thirties face he always did, but the voice and the look in his eye betrayed his age.
Gabriel studied Kevin's face as he considered this, then looked down at the man's glass. Without asking, he pulled the bottle of bourbon that would be necessary to pour him a refill. "You know, you've been at this long enough that I don't think you'll ever reach that day," he said. "I think you'd have lost your capacity to feel things by now. You're hardened to a lot of things that would make many people here freak out, but your emotional center hasn't been, like, hollowed out."
"Some days it feels a lot emptier than others," He paused, turning the crystal tumbler in a half circle as he stared into it. "It's a hell of a thing though. You train someone, send them out, and when they don't come back, you know that you'd make the same call again if you had to."
"And that's something you're wired for. Not everyone is. I'm sure that's a burden." Gabriel leaned over the bar to pour more bourbon into Kevin's glass. "You know, we all know the risks," he added, more softly. "Maybe there was a time here where they seemed more abstract. But I don't think that's been true for years. Not since M Day, for many of us."
He put the bottle of bourbon back in its place. "I always felt like Darcy might have followed you off a cliff in a way I certainly would never," he admitted. "But separate from that, we all know the job we signed up for."
Kevin nodded and took another sip. "Last I checked, you've never admitted falling for your teacher, which is one more bit of guilt to carry. I was just trying to be a good friend, especially when- I don't know, any of the half dozen things blew up over the last couple of years. She said I was clear that I couldn't be anything more than that but..." Kevin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I've been manipulating people into getting what I want or need for six decades. Maybe I did cross the line."
"No," Gabriel said fairly quickly. "I mean, if you made your feelings clear, then, you know..." He offered Kevin a shrug, then decided to revert to the original topic. "I think it's normal to feel guilty about something like this, especially when it's this fresh. But I think all of us, on some level, do this stuff because we think it's important." He grabbed a rocks glass and poured himself a finger of the bourbon, his craft cocktail ignored for the moment. "She and I were never particularly close, but I dunno." He searched for words that could be comforting. Actually, he wanted to tell Kevin that he'd been here long enough to know that most people weren't gone forever. But the anniversary of M Day was fresh in his head, and so he knew that wasn't true. "It's a hard loss," he finally said.
"There was a Jesuit priest who taught political science at Georgetown for thirty years; Father Andrew McTeigue. I swear, half of Foggy Bottom's diplomatic corps were in his class at some point. We were having a drink in his office one day and he said that belief in something greater than yourself was only a fundamental necessity to be successful in two types of jobs; the clergy and intelligence." He held the glass up, staring at the liquid through the distortion of the cut crystal for a moment. "It doesn't matter what. Faith, country, ideology... you just couldn't last unless there was something that you believed everything you had to do made it worthwhile. It has to matter." He finished, his voice getting quieter.
"And are you worried that you were that thing for her?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Or are you starting to worry that what we do doesn't matter enough?"
"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure which. Or either." He shook his head with a wry chuckle. "Or both. With this shop, I have the least distance from the rest of the people than I have in decades. I'm training people, mentoring people, sending them out and waiting for what comes back. They're friends now. That's something I haven't had to factor in for a long time. Hell, even when it was just Dom and I, it was us out together on every op." Kevin drained his drink and set it back down.
"I know listening to some old man bitch isn't your idea of a good time, but I appreciate the ear, Gabe. Despite my reputation as an open book happy to share my feelings with anyone who asks is well known... it's nice not to have to ask."
"Please." Gabriel waved him off with one hand, then downed the bourbon he'd poured himself with the other. He turned to root through the bottles, his original purpose suddenly remembered, "You've listened to me plenty. You'll probably keep doing it." He picked up a few bottles and frowned. "I really am sorry," he added. "But you know, if you ever need to talk about anything..."
Kevin held up his hand. "I appreciate it. And I promise I won't go off the rails without talking to you first." He sighed and laid his hands on the bar, palms down. "Catholics have the confessional. Me, I have a proper bar. So, tell me about this cocktail idea."
"Oh, I dunno, I just had this ... taste in my mind." Gabriel sighed. "I picked up this artichoke amaro – not Cynar, but kind of like it — and I mostly use it for spritzes. But I have this Scotch, and it kind of works, but it's just... missing something." He looked over his shoulder and nodded to the brown glass. "Not that I have to tell you, but a cocktail needs a third thing." He again faced the bottles in front of him. "I don't know," he said again., "I guess I needed a solvable puzzle."
"Mmm... maybe a play on the Old Fashioned. An aggressive twist or zest?" Kevin said, nodded as he applied his mind to something completely different. It was coping by focusing on something else, but that was Gabe's gift to him.
“A Old Fashioned with an aggressive twist?” Gabriel smirked as he picked up an unopened bottle of Applejack that he imagined had been sitting here for years. “I think we’d call that a Sydney.”
Kevin had gotten back to the mansion a couple of days ago, but had been largely absent, in his room with the door very firmly closed or into the city early in the morning until late at night without any explanation. That's why it was surprising to catch him in the lounge, sitting quietly at the bar, nursing a drink with a newspaper folded up so he could read it one-handed.
"Oh!" Gabriel stopped in his tracks, almost dropping the glass in his right hand. "It's you," he said, trying to apprise what, exactly, he'd stumbled on. "I wasn't looking for you," he felt the need to add before resuming his walk to the bar. "I have this new cocktail in my head but can't quite get it right and thought maybe there might be some fancy bottle of something or other down here that I don't have in my stores." He gave Kevin a half-shrug, feeling a bit awkward. "But you're back so... here you are."
"Here I am." He said quietly, eyes flicking from the paper to Gabe and back before he paused to lay down the paper and take a drink. "Go make your drink. I'm always curious about a new cocktail."
"Yes, you famously embrace all things new and novel." Gabriel winced as soon as he'd finished being sardonic; it was a reflex. He was quiet as he set the glass down at the bar, then began looking through the bottles. "I'm sorry about Darcy," he said after a few seconds, pausing to turn and face Kevin. "How... are you?"
"I've been better. I suppose that's a good thing." Kevin said, taking a long sip. "I sent her on a mission. I gave her an objective. She found a way to accomplish it, but at the cost of her... well, at a cost. It's not the first time. It won't be the last time. But it still hurts. And it always makes me worried. That one day, it won't hurt." He still looked the same mid-thirties face he always did, but the voice and the look in his eye betrayed his age.
Gabriel studied Kevin's face as he considered this, then looked down at the man's glass. Without asking, he pulled the bottle of bourbon that would be necessary to pour him a refill. "You know, you've been at this long enough that I don't think you'll ever reach that day," he said. "I think you'd have lost your capacity to feel things by now. You're hardened to a lot of things that would make many people here freak out, but your emotional center hasn't been, like, hollowed out."
"Some days it feels a lot emptier than others," He paused, turning the crystal tumbler in a half circle as he stared into it. "It's a hell of a thing though. You train someone, send them out, and when they don't come back, you know that you'd make the same call again if you had to."
"And that's something you're wired for. Not everyone is. I'm sure that's a burden." Gabriel leaned over the bar to pour more bourbon into Kevin's glass. "You know, we all know the risks," he added, more softly. "Maybe there was a time here where they seemed more abstract. But I don't think that's been true for years. Not since M Day, for many of us."
He put the bottle of bourbon back in its place. "I always felt like Darcy might have followed you off a cliff in a way I certainly would never," he admitted. "But separate from that, we all know the job we signed up for."
Kevin nodded and took another sip. "Last I checked, you've never admitted falling for your teacher, which is one more bit of guilt to carry. I was just trying to be a good friend, especially when- I don't know, any of the half dozen things blew up over the last couple of years. She said I was clear that I couldn't be anything more than that but..." Kevin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I've been manipulating people into getting what I want or need for six decades. Maybe I did cross the line."
"No," Gabriel said fairly quickly. "I mean, if you made your feelings clear, then, you know..." He offered Kevin a shrug, then decided to revert to the original topic. "I think it's normal to feel guilty about something like this, especially when it's this fresh. But I think all of us, on some level, do this stuff because we think it's important." He grabbed a rocks glass and poured himself a finger of the bourbon, his craft cocktail ignored for the moment. "She and I were never particularly close, but I dunno." He searched for words that could be comforting. Actually, he wanted to tell Kevin that he'd been here long enough to know that most people weren't gone forever. But the anniversary of M Day was fresh in his head, and so he knew that wasn't true. "It's a hard loss," he finally said.
"There was a Jesuit priest who taught political science at Georgetown for thirty years; Father Andrew McTeigue. I swear, half of Foggy Bottom's diplomatic corps were in his class at some point. We were having a drink in his office one day and he said that belief in something greater than yourself was only a fundamental necessity to be successful in two types of jobs; the clergy and intelligence." He held the glass up, staring at the liquid through the distortion of the cut crystal for a moment. "It doesn't matter what. Faith, country, ideology... you just couldn't last unless there was something that you believed everything you had to do made it worthwhile. It has to matter." He finished, his voice getting quieter.
"And are you worried that you were that thing for her?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Or are you starting to worry that what we do doesn't matter enough?"
"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure which. Or either." He shook his head with a wry chuckle. "Or both. With this shop, I have the least distance from the rest of the people than I have in decades. I'm training people, mentoring people, sending them out and waiting for what comes back. They're friends now. That's something I haven't had to factor in for a long time. Hell, even when it was just Dom and I, it was us out together on every op." Kevin drained his drink and set it back down.
"I know listening to some old man bitch isn't your idea of a good time, but I appreciate the ear, Gabe. Despite my reputation as an open book happy to share my feelings with anyone who asks is well known... it's nice not to have to ask."
"Please." Gabriel waved him off with one hand, then downed the bourbon he'd poured himself with the other. He turned to root through the bottles, his original purpose suddenly remembered, "You've listened to me plenty. You'll probably keep doing it." He picked up a few bottles and frowned. "I really am sorry," he added. "But you know, if you ever need to talk about anything..."
Kevin held up his hand. "I appreciate it. And I promise I won't go off the rails without talking to you first." He sighed and laid his hands on the bar, palms down. "Catholics have the confessional. Me, I have a proper bar. So, tell me about this cocktail idea."
"Oh, I dunno, I just had this ... taste in my mind." Gabriel sighed. "I picked up this artichoke amaro – not Cynar, but kind of like it — and I mostly use it for spritzes. But I have this Scotch, and it kind of works, but it's just... missing something." He looked over his shoulder and nodded to the brown glass. "Not that I have to tell you, but a cocktail needs a third thing." He again faced the bottles in front of him. "I don't know," he said again., "I guess I needed a solvable puzzle."
"Mmm... maybe a play on the Old Fashioned. An aggressive twist or zest?" Kevin said, nodded as he applied his mind to something completely different. It was coping by focusing on something else, but that was Gabe's gift to him.
“A Old Fashioned with an aggressive twist?” Gabriel smirked as he picked up an unopened bottle of Applejack that he imagined had been sitting here for years. “I think we’d call that a Sydney.”
