2020-01-10 - Futbol and Goals

It is a nice evening for being inside -- that is, it is quite cold, as is usual in the winter in Gray Harbor. Lalo, however, is wearing a bit more outerwear than would be usual for someone who is used to any sort of cold. In addition to a heavy jacket, he has gloves on, as well as a hat that is pulled down quite low on his head to cover his ears. Of course, he doesn't have any hair to mitigate the cold in any way, so maybe that stands to reason. But in any case, he seems happy to be in the warm, and he lets out a little contented sigh at the heat that hits him when he steps inside.

Ignacio is already sitting up at the bar. there's a heavier stadium jacket hanging off the back of Ignacio's chair and a pair of crutches next to it leaning up against the bar with the forearm loops rather than going under the arm. Odds are pretty great it had nothing to do with that snowball fight at least. He turns wearing his navy Real Madrid F.C. hooded sweatshirt pushed to the elbow arching one eyebrow as the brawny nurse makes it in from the cold.

A hand lifts from the chef-gone-author in greeting. "Heeeey, it's the Indominable Snowman. Diga, diga." What' up, talk to me! Blunt and direct, but hey, friendly enough.

Lalo looks up when he hears someone speaking, and when he sees who it is, the expression on his face that's probably just his default expression but looks a little bit angry shifts into an easy grin, making it clear that yeah, he probably just has a case of RBF. "Hey, guey!" he says, before the Real Madrid gear gets a once-over, and he lets out a loud -- if exaggerated and probably feigned -- sigh.

"No lo creo," he groans as he slides onto the stool next to Ignacio. "And I thought we were gonna be best friends, too." But he can't seem to keep a straight face, so he's probably joking.

This guy, this cocky SPanish peacock that kept lalo, his opponent, from getting defeated to preserve his own honor, just grins with the lop-sided smile of his in good nature. "Nací en Toledo. Tengo permiso porque es mi equipo local." He gestures to th tv, "Esa es mi gente!... and it's not Manchester or Chelsea." He thumbs to the chair with a mock look of disappointment, "Shame we ain't, Lalo cause I just told the bartender to get my new best friend a beer man." Oh dry humor? This he can trade all day without getting bored. "You look like you had a day man. Pull up a seat?"

"Hm." Lalo looks as though he's actually considering the pros and cons of being friends with a Real Madrid fan, before the expression dissolves into a laugh as he settles onto the seat. "I guess you get a pass. Pero esto es el único, sabes? Only 'cause I am a beer man." The grin tips a bit more wryly at the last words, however, and he nods. "Yeah," he says, "for a small town, you all sure have a lot of shit going on." He gestures to the crutches, "Qué pasó? That's not from throwing some snowballs." Since of course, that was a bit ago at this point, and Ignacio wasn't the one who was having problems when he left it.

Ignacio watches, face a serious expression but the amusement holding in the 26 year old's eyes. "Lo se." He agrees. "See? I knew you had the makings of being decent people." His lifts his beer that looks dark enough to pass for coffee, and pauses. There's a subtle shift in his mood as he drinks the beer. "Not from the snowballs. Just from loco shit being loco."

There's a pause as the dark bottle turns in his fingers making a small circle against the counter with the bottom of the bottle. "Aquí es diferente de otros lugares. La diferencia no siempre es amigable." He pauses, molars tapping together looking up. "Just when we think we get ahead something's always there to try to hold out head under water." He takes a deep breath sitting up shrugging a bit, "Two days ago I couldn't walk at all so what do I have to bitch about? Just thought I was past it. But, we have important shit to do like watch Chelsea get stomped." Curious he asks, "Who's your team anyways?"

"Well, I think I'm okay, but I guess I'm not the best judge." Lalo gestures for the bartender, and when he comes, orders one of the same that Ignacio has. It's probably just in time, considering the shift in mood -- but really, what did Lalo expect? His grin fades a little bit, too, and he nods once, taping his fingers on the table almost inaudibly as he watches his companion.

When Ignacio continues, he nods. "Sí, guey," he says, "me estoy dando cuenta." He takes the glass that comes to him with a murmured thanks before he turns back to Ignacio. "You getting PT? You can tell me to shut up, I'm just nosy as hell." He glances up to the TV just as a shot is taken, though it goes wide and he winces. "Actually I don't mind Real Madrid," he continues, "Now, if you said you were a Club America fan, we'd have a real problem 'cause I'm Cruz Azul por vida."

Ignacio arches an eyebrow, "Ah, La Maquina? That's like the primary religion in Mexico City right? And also some Catholics?" Futbol is still the primary religion. He knows. Oooooh he knows and the bit of humor working its way back in shows. There's a pause and he shakes his head, "Yeah I gotta start back on Monday. Really... not excited about it. After seven years of this shit I'd thought I'd be done." Shrugging he lifts his beer a quarter inch as a second is set down for him too. " Nah, I ain't gonna tell you to shut up, lalo." Looking to the tv as the ball goes out of bounds and cuts to replay and commercial he asks, "You ever play, yourself?"

"Sí, seńor," Lalo confirms as he lifts up the glass in a mock toast, letting out a little snort of amusement. "When they played on Sundays, you better believe my mom and dad had it out 'cause there was no way my dad was missing a game." He takes a sip from the glass, glancing up at the TV again with interest though not of the fanatical sort he would have if it was his team playing.

He looks back to Ignacio then, and he nods in sympathy. "Well," he says, "maybe I'll come in and hang out with you on my break. Give you a cheering section." Some of the smile returns, and while it's not quite as wide a grin as it was before, it's certainly genuine. As for whether he played at all, he nods. "Yeah," he confirms, "back in the day. I was never the best but it was fun."

Ignacio grins slowly and muses, "Mi mama? She was noooooot happy about putting their anniversary on hold because Real Madrid was playing Greece. He was so mad he missed that game. I keep telling him, oye, we'll record the game it'll be okay. He tells me noooo no es lo mismo. " The memory, bittersweet as his relationship is with his dad, manages an honest smile. The offer to visit him on PT? Well, he's not saying no to this as much as it is something that may make it suck less. "well if you're going to stand on the other side of the room and talk shit at me like Itzhak does until I am moved to get close enough to smack him with a crutch? I warn you I'm a good aim. But I wouldn't mind that at all."

Bemused he says "I played center and forward for a while. Weirdly these days everything I do is on back up and defense. It's so... it's weird how things change? You ever get that?"

Lalo has to laugh about the story of Ignacio's mother. "Menos mal que no la divorció," he comments once the laugh has faded somewhat, though his grin has not. "That's gotta be grounds for it." He takes another sip from his beer, and once he sets it down he keeps it in his hand, turning it around absently as another snort of laughter escapes him. "Oh, so he's had some nursing training too, then?" he says, though with plenty of amusement. "I'm pretty sure talking shit until the patient gets sick of it and gets better out of spite is the most recent best practice in medicine."

The amusement does eventually subside at the last question, however, and he takes a second to reply. "Yeah," he eventually concedes. "I feel like that sometimes. The rest of the time I wonder if anything's moving forward at all." The smile pulls upward a little, but it's wry again this time, and a little weary. Of course, he's significantly older than Ignacio, so maybe that's where that comes from.

Ignacio cracks a wry grinning, both eyebrows up and a tilt of his head; the bottle neck tipping out for a moment in agreement and support, "Yeaaaaaah that'd do it man." Turning with a laugh, earnest from the chest that uneven grin warms, "Yeah, and it works best when your patient doesn't have a really good arm and things in range too." Okay he's a little proud of that. Reasoning, "He should know better than to challenge a guy named de Santos on skills involving futbol or baseball man. You'd think he's learn." That grin lingers with a light in his eyes in spite of everything. Okay it works a bit.

Curious he asks, "When you get to Gray Harbor anyways, man? I know you know it's... weird. People living here all their life somehow gloss over that part. I just got here, hmmm, el pasado mayo. Still finding new things. Just makes me wonder how they do this all their life." Pausing he admits, all things being fair, "Not like it kept us from moving here though."

Lalo doesn't seem to mind the light tone -- in fact, considering the rest of what their conversation is, it's probably appreciated. "Right?" he says, shaking his head, though with another little snort of amusement. "I won't make that mistake, though. I'll bring some body armor." His grin widens as he says this, and it doesn't even fade when the other man goes on.

"Like, two months ago, maybe?" he says after a few moments' consideration. "No me acuerdo exactamente. Things kind of end up a blur with working weird-ass shifts at the hospital, you know? But something like that. It is kind of fucked up, though. And I haven't even seen anything really fucked up. You just hear shit, you know? Then you wonder si está cierto o no. Like, is it just small town gossip shit. It doesn't seem like that, though."

Ignacio swirls the bottle, "Si, si." There's a thoughtful pause and he looks up, eyes squinting thoughtfully while he idly chews on his lower lip. Alright there's the angle he wants. Setting the beer down he directs his attention to Lalo, "Few things you'll figure out. One?" His thumb comes up, "The place is legit weird and sometimes in a capital W sort of way, but the good news is while it can be scary as hell? No te estas volviendo loco." That's the good news. "Two? There's weirdly more goth girls per capita than anywhere else in the north west. I can't figure it out, but what iI think it means is if you need to know where to get some ink? There are a lot of people to ask." His next finger pops up as he counts, "And three? Just because things are messed up doesn't mean it's a bad lil town to live in. If you ever want to compare notes though, we can. I won't be one of these pedantic cabrons that sits around telling you how the world works. Anyone claiming to be an expert is clearly thinking way too highly of themselves cause even doctors of physics are like 'What we know so far', so...es lo que es." Now he drinks his beer. and considers all of that with a wry grin, "Sometimes it helps us cheat at snowball fights and still lose."

Lalo is quiet as Ignacio speaks, though he does let out a little snort of amusement at the assertion that Gray Harbor is, to put it mildly, weird as hell -- and another one at the mention of goth girls and tattoo parlors. The humor fades a little bit as the other man goes on, and he's clearly listening intently, resting an elbow on the table and turning a little bit more to face the other man. He reaches for his beer, taking a sip as he regards Ignacio over the top of the glass, and once the offer is made, he nods once, though he does take a moment to consider what's been said.

"Thanks," he replies eventually. "Feel like I'm gonna need all the help I can get here." He looks around briefly, and while the look does seem absent, eh lowers his voice as he turns back to Ignacio to continue. "I came here 'cause of all that shit that I heard about it," he admits after a moment. "I goes some stuff I'm, like...looking into." He waves vaguely, as though this would help explain what he means, and while it doesn't really...maybe it does a little bit. "So I appreciate the help, and I'll probably take you up on it. But you gotta learn to cheat better, guey." This gets a grin as he finishes off the beer. "Fuck. What time is it? I gotta get up early as hell tomorrow."

Ignacio shrugs and arches an eyebrow, "Well you got the right people around you you never need to cheat,. You just need to know who to pass the ball to in what scenario." And he's not been doing the best job of relying on his wingman lately. Pausing he looks to Lalo pulling out his phone, "It just so happens you are talking to one of the most fantastically self-employed people in the city with... an incredibly flexible part time job, and" He looks up holding a finger up as if really selling this point as some sort of intentional benefit. Look at the sincerity on that! "and who is on medical leave so... ya know... Maybe I break the shit out of myself for these reasons. I need to find a new M.O. Serioso. " Looking up he says, "Gimme your number. I'll text you. Ad if you wanna talk weird shit? I mean seriously look at some of the questions my readers send me some times. I think I heard it all or at least won't tell you you gone gonzo."

There's that impish half-grin forming. "We all come here for something, but...tu es de leche, guey. So if you want help getting answers? I'm in, and I will let you know when I get into the clinic Monday."

“Oh shit, who knew?” Lalo lets out a little chuckle at the other man’s admission about his employment. “No fucking wonder. Me volviría loco, si ya no estoy.“ He rattles off his number for Ignacio when he’s ready, before he adds, “I’ll for sure be talking to you about weird shit. There’s enough of it to fill a fucking book.”



His grin widens at Ignacio’s last words, though, and he reaches out to clap him on the shoulder. Gently, sure, but still. “Thanks, man. I’ll see you then. Cuidate, ey? No te vayas a quebrar algo más, Nachito.“ With that, he leaves some bills on the bar before he starts toward the exit.