2020-05-08 - Fighting Words

Easton has managed to get through the week, and right himself somewhat. He's not exactly back on the wagon but he's managed to stop himself (with a little help from his hubbie) from circling the drain. It also helps that he had a big surprise to plan for Bennie, it's good to have positive things to focus on. But tonight he's giving himself something of a break, a chance to just have a damn drink because he wants to, not because he's running away from anything. And thus he's kicked all of the patrons out right at closing time, and given his front of the house staff an early night. There's actually a chance that he'll do the proper closing procedures too. A chance anyway.

But right at close Easton pulls out two glasses and a bottle of scotch and waves goodnight as the last of the waitresses flips the 'closed' sign and heads out, leaving the door open. Easton pours himself a glass and considers it for a while.

The moment the sign is flipped and the door is closed, it opens again to admit the slender, dark-haired figure of Dr. Isabella Reede, fresh from a consult in Oregon where most of the members of the Pacific Northwest's chapter of the National Society of Marine Archaeologists are headquartered. She even looks like she's been traveling, given the worn reddish-brown leather jacket on her person, long-sleeved shirt, jeans and boots; as always, her style finds the comfortable median between fashionable and functional. Her long tresses are haphazardly bound back by a claw clip, wisps framing her face.

"Hey, E," she greets, pulling her satchel off her shoulders and setting it on the stool next to her, plunking herself upon her chosen perch and grinning faintly at the glasses in front of them. "What, you're actually drinking with me tonight? Everything okay?" Long fingers rub into the bridge of her nose before focusing her gold-shot green eyes towards the ex-marine.

Looking intently at the glass Easton doesn't notice that the door didn't just let the last waitress out. He looks up clearly not having expected her voice, but smiles brightly and calls "Hey! Iz!" He doesn't hesitate or need to be asked to pour her a glass. He sets down the bottle and nods, "Yea, yea. I'm good." His head tilts ever so slightly and he can't help but add, "Now." with some reluctance. He picks up the glass and attempts to clink toasting, "But welcome back! You were missed."

There's an eagerness to her when she pulls her tumbler towards her, watching the swirl of rich gold in the glass before she picks it up and gives him a toast, before taking a sip. "Now? So you weren't fine before?" Isabella wonders with a quiet frown. "What happened?" The soothing, warm burn is enough to encourage her to take another pull from her glass in short order, though her eyes don't stray away from her friend's. The last does put the usual brilliance to her expression, however, tilting her head back.

"Yeah, you better have missed me!" she exclaims with a laugh. "Was a long couple of weeks - did you know that the weather in Oregon was basically more of the same? I'm surprised I didn't just float away because of all the rain."

Easton takes a big sip, not a desperate gulp but also not a polite taste either. He closes his eyes, savoring it. He's held off for a few days and now it feels like he's earned this. "No, not before. This week..." He puts the glass down and gets a tight lipped smile as if considering saying something or not. "It was the anniversary of my accident. They didn't just let that slide." He is obviously reluctant to go into details about it but trying to find words to communicate about it. He's still not great at it.

"Seriously. I now own three rain jackets Isabella. Three. How does that even happen? I swear the whole rain jacket industry only exists because of these two states."

The anniversary of his accident. Green-gold eyes drop to the counter, as if she could see his leg through the wooden bartop and its foundations towards his injury. Her expression softens visibly at that. "I'm sorry, E," Isabella tells him quietly, jaw tightening at the hinge when he speaks of Them and Their magnificent timing when it comes to past traumas. "I didn't know. You want to talk about it?" The offer is there, of course it is, leaning forward against the edge to curl her fingers around her glass; her stare is alert and intent on Easton's face, however - but as always, she doesn't press. She simply waits.

Though the remark about the raincoats earns him a long sigh. "You know, that wouldn't surprise me at all. Can I tell you how much I'm looking forward to the summer?"

There's a nod as she looks down. Yeah, that accident. "Not really. At least not yet. Give me a couple and maybe I'll tell you all about how fucked up it was." He manages a smile, but it's not terribly funny to him, even with a few days space. He takes another drink and says, "Can we start with more fun things? Bennie and I got a place." Yea, not so subtle subject change but like he said, he's a little sober to talk about certain things.

"Are we sure there is a summer?" He asks in a conspiratorial tone, "I'm not sure if I remember if that was real or just a dream, like a mirage."

Her gaze finds his and holds - but otherwise, Isabella doesn't press. Instead, she seems content to move on with the other aspects of his life that clearly bring him joy. "One of those cute little cabins? How is she taking the move? And how has she been doing?" Isabella winces briefly. "Sorry I wasn't able to make her thirtieth, by the way. The timing was awful and I couldn't switch out my trip." Another drink of her scotch.

She makes a faint grimace at the last. "I'll be so mad if this god damn city decided to skip it," she grumbles. "I miss the water and I promised Alexander I'd take him diving. Yule, too."

It's clear from the look in Easton's eyes that he's cagey about the details of whatever happened. But he lights up when they start talking about the cabin. "Yes, one of the little A frames. It's charming as fuck." He narrows his eyes at the wince and shakes his head, "Aww no worries. She was a little.. she was worried that the whole deal with Frank might have been a bit much. But I didn't.." He looks at her, maybe just double checking that it wasn't a big deal. "But seriously, don't worry about it."

"Yea, still haven't met Yule.." He shakes his head. "But I'm having a hard time imagining Alexander diving for some reason."

"Trust me, Alexander and I've seen a lot worse - but you know how he is in large social gatherings, and I definitely would have made it if I could have. Really, it has nothing to do with the situation with Frank. It's just bad timing and circumstance, is all." Isabella's expression shifts into a more guilty look. "I'm sorry - but be assured that it's definitely not that. Not that at all. We're always happy to help whenever you guys need it."

There's a quiet frown. "I should check on him, I haven't heard from Yule in a while," she says. "And - you should have heard him when I suggested it to him in...about the second time we had an actual conversation? He was adamantly against it. But he wants to try, and there are ways to stave off the panic." She reaches up to tap her temple with a finger. "So we'll see how it goes. I told him a little bit about where I was taking him and he seemed eager."

"Yea, I wasn't that worried about Alexander." He smirks and says, "Something about the way he offered to carve up Frankie didn't exactly scream traumatized by it." He tries to suppress the smile but it's clear that he found that either a little bit amusing or charming or both. "And I'm sure. I promise I won't take advantage of it."

Easton shakes with quiet laughter before taking another drink, thinking about Alexander having a small freak out at the thought of it. "Can I come heckle? I mean.. lovingly."

There's a hint of a smile, but there's something both strained and sad at the corners of it, drawn out by Easton's observation. "He'll do what he has to in order to protect someone he cares about," Isabella tells him, glancing down at the scotch she has in her hands. After a moment's contemplation, she takes another swallow of it.

The remark about heckling gets him a wadded-up napkin tossed in his direction, followed by a small laugh. "Don't be mean," she chastizes. "You know he doesn't like getting laughed at. Plus he'll be nervous enough. How's Bennie doing? Not just the party and Frank but...with everything else? The two of you happy with the move?"

Easton's face darkens as he watches her, "Is there.. everything okay, there?" He asks in regards to her obvious concern. He doesn't want to pry and he has no legs to stand on (pun intended) when it comes to being willing to use violence to resolve situations and keep people safe. But he's willing to hear her out. That's how this works with them.

The napkin bounces off his face and gets a chuckle, he raises a hand at the chastising and assures her, "I wouldn't. And yea, I know.." He is glad to return to talk of Bennie, "She's great. I think, things might actually like fuckin' turn around for her. Getting out from under this, having a home. It's.. I think it's really good." And damn if it doesn't feel good to be providing those things. Being stable and capable in that way. "I do need to thank Alexander again for his help in getting her through the detox. I couldn't have done it." He would have broke so easily, despite all his macho mental fortitude, she would have snapped him like a twig in minutes flat. "And we still need to furnish the place, I'm leaving almost everything at the apartment and well... she was living out of garbage bags, so we're pretty minimalist right now." His upper class upbringing still reels a bit at the difference in how Bennie lived but usually it's not judgey. Usually.

It isn't her story to tell. Isabella's teeth worry gently over her lower lip before she exhales a breath and takes another solid swallow of her scotch, looking up at Easton and smirking faintly. "I hope so," she tells him, and that's the honest truth. "Just old wounds, E. Old predilections."

She's more than happy to listen to the state of affairs in Bennie's world also, propping her chin on both hands as she listens with rapt attention, unable to keep the smile from blossoming over her features. "I'm glad to hear it. I've never heard anyone just want to be with someone so completely as she does whenever she talks about you. So hearing the two of you making solid strides in that direction warms the heart." And she sounds like she genuinely means it. "Alexander mentioned it was rough going, here and there, but he's happy to have been able to make a difference in some way. But that's always the tricky part in moving into a new place, yeah? Comparatively, unpacking is easy. It's making everything pretty and how you want it that's hard."

Easton has always related to Alexander as if he were a veteran, someone scarred by a different type of war. He doesn't know much about it but the look that Alexander gets in his eyes is all too familiar sometimes. And thus Easton doesn't push it with Isabella, "Me too." He agrees and then just nods at the part of old wounds.

"Yea, she's.. she's amazing." He shakes his head considering everything she's had to put up with in their nearly year long relationship, depending on how you count. "I'm hopeful." About the possibility of him not fucking it up is what he means, but he leaves that part out for now and just pours another drink for the two of them. He laughs, "I don't know about making it pretty. Mostly I just want a place to sit, to eat and to sleep. I'm not so concerned about 'pretty'" Not that he doesn't have a certain taste, it's just quintessential modern bachelor masculine and less about pretty and more about leather, steel and dark wood competing to see who can look more angular.

There's a smile at Easton's own description of his lover. "Worth all the everything, I think," Isabella teases him. "Besides, it's all that stuff that makes a house a home. That's alright, I think Bennie's got that covered, too."

She pushes her tumbler forward for refill. "So what else is new? Are you still talking to the ex-fiancee? What happened after she texted you during your Alive Day?"

"She's worth everything." Easton readily agrees and finishes off his own drink. He's easing into it though, not the greedy panicked pace from earlier in the week. This is catching up with a friend drinking. "I am sure Bennie will fill the place if I let her." Their taste could not be more separate, but it's a battle he knows he's going to lose, so it's more of a strategic retreat.

Refilling her glass he lets out a breath that indicates it didn't go great. "Goodness. Do you have any exes? I seem to recall you pretending no one was interested in you, which is obviously a damn lie. Well anyway, I don't understand what she wants. Is she trying to make me feel more guilty? Less guilty?" He shakes his head, "She checked in. That was fine, the rest just got messy."

"That's sweet. You better tell her that," Isabella tells him, pointing a finger. "We may all have crazy psychic powers, but some things are definitely worthy of being said. That's one of them."

The exes question causes a brief blink, before she laughs. "I don't know about the lack of interest, but the lack of boyfriends? Alexander's my first." She waves a hand. "Not to say I didn't date or hook up or whatever, but I was always on the road, or in a plane, a train...on a ship, underwater. Haven't really marooned myself in a place long enough to develop anything serious. Seems like her intentions were good to start but the old wounds just got in the way. It happens, I think, in my grand total of zero experience in the realm of past relationships." She winks at him teasingly at that.

"Still, I'm glad things are going good. Now, we can move on and you can tell me when you're taking me up on my challenge for a go-kart race."

"I will" Easton promises solemnly to tell Bennie. And he's relatively good about being expressive there. Usually, at least the positive things.

He shakes his head still surprised at the fact that she managed to avoid romantic entanglement for that long. "Yea. It's not her fault, but still.. kind of want to scream at her. A lot. Especially-" He stops himself. His emotions and thoughts about all of that are still too jumbled up and he's still too sober. The Alive Day nonsense kicked up a hornets nest of things that he knows he needs to sort through, and he knows that it's not fair to take any of that out on Katherine, and yet? Here he is.

"Are you really that anxious to lose to a one legged drunk? Because there is no way you're winning Reede."

"I hope you know that them's fighting words," Isabella banters back, lifting her chin in a challenging fashion. "But since you're so sure, let's see if we can't try and make this a little more interesting."

And judging by that smile, and the way she swallows her drink and asks for another, whatever they end up wagering runs a very real and gigantic risk of being ridiculous the drunker she gets.