"good thing I'm crazy too, maybe that's why he and I get along so well." javi used to have a hard time admitting that he was crazy. he found the word insulting. many people had a hard time chewing or swallowing after calling him that in the past. now, however... it doesn't fucking matter, does it? it's the truth.
"yes, but... you ain't see me complainin' about it, do ya?" rahi has a tendency to be difficult whenever he's out of his comfort zone. everything is boring and uncomfortable unless it's about his work. javi knows this, but he also knows that it is not his job to deal with that anymore.
he smiles, "look around. count how many boring old black suits and ties you see. that's how many shots we starts out with. then, we watch for anyone tripping on the carpet. anyone doing an awkward pose. anyone embarrassingly high. wardrobe malfunction. anything, really."
"You're not crazy," Rahi says, knee-jerk — too used to saying it in rebutal to Javi's episodic questionings. Truth be told, he'd never truly been sure. "You have..." His voice trails. "Real, medical challenges happening. He's just a dick."
You ain't see me complainin' about it, do ya? A laugh then, and a shake of the head. "So I'm difficult?" It'd be true, anyway. He is.
Then—
Look around.
Rahi does. How many boring old black suits and ties you see. That's how many shots we starts out with. "You know you don't have to get me drunk, right?" Javi goes on with the rules. "Fine. If it's a game, then there's a winner. How do we know who wins?"















