patience & time

     “Yes, but I don’t think the man has the heart to get rid of me. And I’m thinking a distant disaster is more interesting than seeing to someone’s rash. I can’t blame you.” “It’s significantly less interesting than tanks. Tanks I worked on while they were revving up to get moving. Cars…” He enjoyed his job to a degree, the bittersweetness of it was bearable many days and on the occasion put a smile to his tiers. But to explain it to someone else, he didn’t want to complain as much as he didn’t want to put it in good light. “Cars mean some man hovering over me, monitoring my with folded arms like he could do better or some woman waving away my explanations until she sees the bill and then wants to understand everything. Any other time it’s fixing and sending it off. I don’t mind it, nice to have the work but nothing to brag about.” And as if he forgot about hiding himself from prying eyes and questions, Felix was grinning wildly and using only three fingers to finish off another drink. “You could do that by getting me more drunk and then escorting me home. You up for that, Doc?”

         “Why would he have a hard time getting rid of you? You’re clearly still a pain in the ass.” The obvious jest in her tone was punctuated with a smirk and the doctor’s attention was still fully on her compatriot. It took her a moment to remember she even had a drink in her peripheral vision, and when she recalled it she took a giant swig and set it back where it had been before. “So you don’t own the garage? Or you do and you’re referencing the customer. I try not to be around when I have to get my car serviced. I know I don’t understand the mechanics of it and being in the way seems like it’s more detrimental than not.” She shrugged, then brushed a strand of loose hair from her eyes. Of course she noted the use of only a few fingers on his right hand, but Sabine kept her mouth shut for the time being --- even her eyes flicked only momentarily to the injury before settling back on his face. “How about I drive you home after you’re sloppy drunk. You seem a little more than half way there? Order me a shot and you have a deal.”

      “He’ll complain about how I shout and disturb the neighbors,, and give me another warning. Honestly, I go right to bed for a cozy sleep, though I might laugh loudly on my way there.” Though it probably wasn’t the drunkenness the man was actually complaining about. Whatever it was– Felix acting as if he was oblivious to putting a name to it, pretending it didn’t happen– no one needed to concern themselves with it. “Why not stay a doctor? Not fast paced enough?” He felt as if he already knew the answer to it, asking the question more to relate than to know the answer itself. It was silly, wasn’t it, to want to know he wasn’t the only to be affected by the past. To know he wasn’t the only who craved a certain way of living. “Yeah, I still do though. I work on cars mostly. Not a bad business.”

         “Another warning? As in, this is not the first warning you’ve gotten?” A grin illuminated her face, something that might have been construed as wicked if it wasn’t so amused or nosy. Sabine leaned further into her palm and nodded, ushering him to wordlessly continue. “I’m still a doctor. I just didn’t want to be stuck in an emergency room. It’s not like they revoked my license or anything ... but I like the moving, too. There’s always something different and I don’t have to fill out hospital paperwork as much.” She shrugged, bobbing her head slightly in her chin, “Anything fun about cars? Or are they significantly less interesting than tanks and humvees?” Teeth pillowed themselves into her lower lip before she couldn’t stop from grinning again. “I kind of want you to get yelled at again, Speccy.”

      “A few here and there but they’re not that soft.” And as the bartender swung around for hers, Felix’s order became heavier than the glass of beer he finished off, with a thanks murmured off his lips. Any dents to his head only had psychological effects, haunting his head when the air around him was too still and there wasn’t enough noise to occupy his thoughts, identifying each and their proximity to him. That was the blessing in a bar, the crowd of multiples gathered for their own purpose, unified over their legal drug of choice. Felix was in the middle, listening to the hum of it buzzing. Coupled with a few drinks meant a restful sleep in the solitude of his apartment. “You’re right, it is past my bed time but don’t tell my landlord. I, too, came for the drinks and I’ll show up inebriated, tripping over my feet.” He sounded too satisfied with his explanation, smiled a little too wide at the thought as the drinks were presented to him, smaller glasses, higher kick. “But I’m not a doc who needs to mind my liquor. You’re still a doc, right?”

         “And if I tell your land lord? What happens then?” As if she could actually do it. Of course Sabine had no idea where he even lived, considering she had just discovered he was in town. “Paramedic actually, but I still have my degree, yes. I mean ... I’m still a doctor.” Cheek pressed into the palm of her hand, elbow resting on the bar to support herself --- though her attention was on Felix wholly. Her new drink, for now, forgotten until he drank again to remind her. “Do you still fix things?”

      “Yeah, something like that. One knock was bound to make an impact of some sort,” he replied, though the ending words trailed off into a mumble with the same poor temper of leaving his service looming behind them. There was a blast strong enough to impact his head, but instead of his thick skull taking the damage, his arm did and ultimately used up his usefulness. It brought a stale taste to his pallet– unsatisfied and fully displeased– the same that came with each realization, each time he remembered he missed the action and wasn’t permitted back. If it had been his head… who knew what would have happened. His drink began its disappearing act quickly after hers, washing away the taste and swallowing the thoughts for the sake of enjoying her company. “You’re allowed to grumble, and drink while you grumble instead of grumbling into the bed you’re grumbling for. Came out for socializing, or the drink? Which one was better than your bed?”

         “Any dents left over? Soft spots tend to be quite soft.” The bartender gave a small nod once he passed her drink over and Sabine returned it in thanks. She came her regularly after shifts that she was sure she wouldn’t be called immediately back ( there was a strict rule about drinking on the job, obvious with her field ), and the face of this particular tender was more familiar than not. She’d never bothered to get a name but it was enough that they’d seen each other nearly every time she came by. “The drink. I usually keep to myself when I do it.” Which wasn’t any form of admonishment toward him --- instead she remained facing him, more intrigued in his presence than anything else. The familiarity was oddly calming. “The drink was better than the bed. Still is, but the bed ultimately wins every time. And you? Why specifically here? It is late, why aren’t you in bed?”

       And what started as a lazy greeting of a grin turned into a full toothed smile, with a cascading glance from her, his drink and then to the floor with amusement. Without mind to it, his right hand hid into his lap and left hand took over for lifting his drink: his left wrist that bore her existence into his skin when he had purposely made faces for her benefit, when he hissed and moaned about his injuries for more attention than they were worth and her first words to him came to clean up his act. “Then your memory is failing you in more than one way. Don’t worry, mine is too,” he gleamed, glass hovering near his lips while he spoke and fulfill the deed when he was finished. Glass settled once more to the wood top, Felix leaned into it, cozying himself in his seat. He couldn’t say he did that much for any place– his feet were always ready to move, antsy if they remained still for too long. Even bars couldn’t keep him long for wanting to move onto the next. For the woman with whom he made a ‘what-if’ deal, he was settling himself to comfortably stay. “No, I learned how to nap while on my feet. More or less, I cheated. Here I’d think you’d know how to handle forty-eight hours, and a little bit more than that.”

         With a few good gulps her drink was gone. Somewhere along the line, maybe it was always in her Irish blood, Sabine had learned to drink as hearty as her grandfather had ... and as quickly, too. A tap to the bar let the tender know she was ready for the next drink, though her attention was still more fully on the Specialist. “Took one too many knocks on the head? I thought you were thick-skulled, but I suppose it makes sense that something would eventually find the soft spot that does the trick.” A wise smirk tipped the corner of her lips, but the Lieutenant was jesting. It was evident in her tone, more lively than it had been the past few days. “I’m not saying I can’t handle the forty-eight. Just grumbling about missing my bed doing it. I’m allowed to grumble. Just like you’re allowed to pretend you can sleep while you’re standing up without someone noticing ... or without falling over.”

       “You’re sure about that, Lieutenant?” His glass landed on the bar top harder than intended, near slipping out of his hand as he seated himself next to the familiar face that seemed near a ghost of a memory, or a ghost from his memories returned. His fingers rapped against the wooden counter as he shifted into the accompanying seat beside her, smile too proud and too revealing despite the closed lips. “Here I thought there was something worse than that. Can’t I know what it’s like though.”

         There was something about her title that always had Sabine snapping-to attention. Though now ... now it wasn’t quite right, was it? She was former military, and being called Lieutenant was just out of respect for the position she was released at. Few civilians knew what she was there, she never really spoke about it, after all ... but tired eyes found the hands that smacked the glass almost too-hard into the bar counter and traced them up to the face. Familiarity rang a bell like a gong, one that pulled the corners of her lips into an easy, if not lazy, smile. A pact honored. “I don’t remember you being so cheeky, Specialist.” Immediately she shifted to turn her body toward him more, curled into the bar stool in such a way that gave him more full attention. Familiar. Their words matched --- phrases uttered about one-another the first time they had spoken. He was mostly a stranger, but oddly apart of her from birth. “You have no ideas? About what it’s like to be up for forty-eight hours straight?”

➥Birth Name: Sabine Anne Blake. ➥Nickname/Alias: None. ➥Title(s): Doctor. ➥Birthday: October 2, 1981 (36). ➥Birthplace: Brooklyn, New York. ➥Occupation: Paramedic, former Military. ➥Sex | Gender | Species: Cisfemale, Human. ➥Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual. ➥Spoken Languages: English.