01-15-2023, 04:48 AM
A rounding of one finger in the air promptly resulted in the deposition of a second pair of shots. The tequila was actually delicious. Maybe after another one or two he’d start to give it the sipping it was due. For now, he clunked the glass on the stone and downed it in the kind of swallow that made him stare at the ceiling as it went down. He was already feeling more relaxed, if that was possible. Seven’s foreign salute was met with a grin. Jay had been around Moscow long enough to learn the Russian toasts. And he knew half a dozen different ones in Spanish and French. This was the first time to try Seven’s version. His attempt was in something of a shit mockery, but by Seven’s easy grin, he didn’t think the man would be offended. If anything could offend the guy.
He laughed at his poor attempt. “We sound like vikings,” he laughed, followed quickly by a serious drawing of the brow and far-away intensity to his expression. Maybe even the fake swing of a sword. Shit but that was a cool look. Jay had a ceremonial sword as part of the dress blues once he reached corporal rank. He really only learned a few ceremonial moves. Most guys, even the higher officers, never put even a cutting edge on the blades. And nobody really learned how to fight with one like in some old movie. But the Viking imitation was fun anyway. Even if he didn’t know if Stockholm counted as old Viking or not. It was north. Close enough, he figured. And for a moment, Jay forgot about the hellhole that were these last few weeks.
His gaze was pulled aside. Screens flickered. Lights flashed and video cuts snapped. Stats and odds rolled through information about the upcoming fighters. He watched curious to interpret what was happening. He could put the same info into his preferred apps. Calculate his own odds and decide whether or not he liked the risk. It was the kind of thing you did on football games right before kickoff. It’d been a while. Interesting idea. He used to be pretty fucking good when it came to big bets. And money wasn’t always on the line. Those were the best wagers. But he was better at cards. Take the apps out of the picture and put it man to man. More fun that way too.
As the timer ticked down, people began to take stairs downward. Jay looked around. The same walls of the video background surrounded them now. The light scheme matched. The bar had filled in anticipation of the next fight. People wanting refills just in the knick of time. Like the half at a basketball game.
“This isn’t live-streamed is it?” he smirked. “Huh. Definitely interesting ‘entertainment’ you had in mind. And you still owe me a juicy cut of meat,” his gaze held, remembering the way it lingered over that last toast. He wondered how old the other guy was. They had to be fairly close in age. But he definitely had the look of one who hadn't had too hard of a life. Then he clapped Seven on the shoulder and added with a laugh, “At least that fucking cheeseburger.”
About to order, he saw him from the corner of his eye. Dark hair. Swagger. Oblivious to the world. Rising from the level below. And in that moment, contentment vanished. The flex of his jaw clamped till he was near choking. Teeth grinding to pain. The grip of anger crawled up from his fists. Settling in his chest. It felt like concrete was poured down his throat. Crushed his lungs from the inside. Nox hadn’t noticed yet. It was Seven that gave him away. But he barely heard the question.
”You a betting man, Jay?”
Why yes. Yes he was. He just stared. Stared over Seven’s shoulder. Tracking Nox. Surely he felt the heat of stalking eyes.
He watched the slow burn of recognition come over the other man. Twisting into a mixture of horror and contempt. Anger Jay could handle. Fuck but he’d been caught in a blind rage with others before. Axel for one. Only to be friends again later. But it wasn’t the heat inside that poured fuel to the fire.
“Fucking hell,” Nox growled, looking ready to bolt.
He knew what running looked like. Jay did nothing but run these days. But not today. He was done running. His heart pound drums inside. This time, he was going to walk right into the fire - not like it was his first time - and grab it by the balls.
“Are you fucking kidding me? The fuck is your problem?” he pushed from the bar, rounded Seven in a step and was in Nox’s face before he even realized it.
He laughed at his poor attempt. “We sound like vikings,” he laughed, followed quickly by a serious drawing of the brow and far-away intensity to his expression. Maybe even the fake swing of a sword. Shit but that was a cool look. Jay had a ceremonial sword as part of the dress blues once he reached corporal rank. He really only learned a few ceremonial moves. Most guys, even the higher officers, never put even a cutting edge on the blades. And nobody really learned how to fight with one like in some old movie. But the Viking imitation was fun anyway. Even if he didn’t know if Stockholm counted as old Viking or not. It was north. Close enough, he figured. And for a moment, Jay forgot about the hellhole that were these last few weeks.
His gaze was pulled aside. Screens flickered. Lights flashed and video cuts snapped. Stats and odds rolled through information about the upcoming fighters. He watched curious to interpret what was happening. He could put the same info into his preferred apps. Calculate his own odds and decide whether or not he liked the risk. It was the kind of thing you did on football games right before kickoff. It’d been a while. Interesting idea. He used to be pretty fucking good when it came to big bets. And money wasn’t always on the line. Those were the best wagers. But he was better at cards. Take the apps out of the picture and put it man to man. More fun that way too.
As the timer ticked down, people began to take stairs downward. Jay looked around. The same walls of the video background surrounded them now. The light scheme matched. The bar had filled in anticipation of the next fight. People wanting refills just in the knick of time. Like the half at a basketball game.
“This isn’t live-streamed is it?” he smirked. “Huh. Definitely interesting ‘entertainment’ you had in mind. And you still owe me a juicy cut of meat,” his gaze held, remembering the way it lingered over that last toast. He wondered how old the other guy was. They had to be fairly close in age. But he definitely had the look of one who hadn't had too hard of a life. Then he clapped Seven on the shoulder and added with a laugh, “At least that fucking cheeseburger.”
About to order, he saw him from the corner of his eye. Dark hair. Swagger. Oblivious to the world. Rising from the level below. And in that moment, contentment vanished. The flex of his jaw clamped till he was near choking. Teeth grinding to pain. The grip of anger crawled up from his fists. Settling in his chest. It felt like concrete was poured down his throat. Crushed his lungs from the inside. Nox hadn’t noticed yet. It was Seven that gave him away. But he barely heard the question.
”You a betting man, Jay?”
Why yes. Yes he was. He just stared. Stared over Seven’s shoulder. Tracking Nox. Surely he felt the heat of stalking eyes.
He watched the slow burn of recognition come over the other man. Twisting into a mixture of horror and contempt. Anger Jay could handle. Fuck but he’d been caught in a blind rage with others before. Axel for one. Only to be friends again later. But it wasn’t the heat inside that poured fuel to the fire.
“Fucking hell,” Nox growled, looking ready to bolt.
He knew what running looked like. Jay did nothing but run these days. But not today. He was done running. His heart pound drums inside. This time, he was going to walk right into the fire - not like it was his first time - and grab it by the balls.
“Are you fucking kidding me? The fuck is your problem?” he pushed from the bar, rounded Seven in a step and was in Nox’s face before he even realized it.
Only darkness shows you the light.