Catching Up to the Past, Part IV (Civil Discourse)
Scott's had a lot on his mind, this quiet Wednesday afternoon. His title shot verse Vizier ta Seti, the mysterious return of Courtney's older brother Derrick Allen, and his own past transgressions coming back to haunt his personal life.
He and Courtney's communication had all but broken down over the past week and the tension in their household had driven him to the street. The street, however, led him directly to the bar and the bar ... to the drink.
"I, honestly, don't know what she wants from me." Scott tells the bar tender. "I provide, hell I got her in, we are back together and everything was going just fine. That is, of course, until Derrick, showed up."
The bartender keeps himself busy behind the bar while half heartedly listening to Scott essentially whine. Scott parts his lips and gulps down a large portion of the alcoholic drink housed in a high ball glass.
"I did what I had to do... Well, at least what I thought I had to do." Scott continues.
He finishes the glass and slides it forward to signal he is ready for another. The bartender swoops the glass from the bar, dumping a healthy scoop of ice inside and replenishes the spirits.
"This one's on the fellow down the bar." The bartender informs Scott.
Scott twists his neck about to see who the bartender spoke of. The afternoon sun shined brightly threw the storefront style windows and left the man backlit and hard to make out.
The man raises his glass and shouts to Scott in a familiar voice, "To the next Emerald City Champion!"
The man's impromptu toast elicits a small reaction from the handful of patrons scattered amongst the bar. Scott raises his glass toward the dark figure and nods in a show of gratitude. He turns his attention back toward the bar tender to continue his rhetorical conversation; only to find the bar tender has slipped off to the back momentarily.
The man at the end of the bar rises from his seat, tucks it away politely underneath the bar and makes his way down to where Scott is seated.
"A few more and you'll be less Sup Pop... more Mateo, sir."
Scott pin points the familiar voice void of the facial recognition instantly with the sarcastically spun honorific address.
Derrick and Scott had always talked a little different to each other than anyone else. It was almost a contest of who could sound more intelligent and eloquent then the other. If points were kept, insults cleverly disguised as
empty rhetoric would be worth two. Sir, would commonly punctuate the end of most sentences or statements almost as a sarcastic exclamation point. Although their connection and subsequent friendship had seemingly feel victim to past events ... they're parlance amongst once another remained the constant.
Scott raises his glass toward his lips and snidely greets the generous gift giver just before sipping from his cup causing his words to muffle in the short glass. "Derrick."
The man formally shrouded in a backlight blackness takes a seat at the bar next to Scott. He responds in the same manor just before finishing off his glass. "Scott." Derrick holds his glass out toward the returning bartender who sets out to refill its contents.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, sir?" Scott asks of his defacto drinking partner.
Derrick, retrieves his full glass from the bartender, and responds. "Sir, your current tone ... and more recent assumptions outside the event center; infer my motives to be clandestine in nature. Nothing... could be further from the truth... Sir."
Scott's tone changes swiftly and now denotes a more definitive and direct line of questioning. "What are you doing here, Derrick?"
"If, by which, you are referring to Seattle, I believe we have had this discourse once before, sir." Derrick answers.
Scott sets his glass down on the bar with a heavy thud. "I mean; in this bar."
"Well, I assume, sir ... for the same reason you are. The haunts of our misguided youth. What better place to be received after a home ward sojourn." Derrick responds.
Scott, slides his glass to the edge of the bar once again. "So, am I to believe your time here playing prodigal son... is one of temporary standings, sir."
"By design... but who knows what the coming days could possibly bring a young out of work athlete of my candor and unbridled talent... Sir." Derrick responds.
Scott downs his current drinks and slams the glass back down on the warped beer sponsored paper coaster. "Either way, I think I'll find another establishment to patronize while you ponder your prospects and plan you inevitable departure. Thanks for the drink, sir."
With a chuckle, Derrick tips his glass. "Anytime, sir."
Scott pushes his seat back in and snatches his jacket from its back. He tosses a few bills up on the bar and exits; disappearing into the late afternoon glare as he approaches and passes through the door.