always tired

“You should save me a ticket. Maybe I can pop in one of these days when I’m not working.” It was an empty promise, unfortunately, similar to ones he’d made to his son over the years in favor of his demanding career. The situation wasn’t ideal, but Ethan was just trying to do what was best for Matti, which to him meant keeping a roof over his head. “Juliard. One of those conservatory kids, huh?” he teased, taking another long sip of his beer. It was impressive, he had to admit, but that didn’t mean he was above busting her balls. He could dish it out just as well as he could take it. A laugh escaped his lips when Fiona went on what appeared to be a mini-rant over her own reproductive system, unable to help himself at that point in his intoxicated state. “You really got a mouth on you, don’t ya? Shit, my ma would’ve slapped me into next year if she heard me talkin’ like that.” He shook his head, brows narrowing. “Only twenty-five? You seem bitter for your age.” Ethan leaned his elbow against the bar top, letting out a quiet breath. It was always tricky, the topic of why he was still single never failing to throw him for a loop even after all of these years, “Well, thank you for that very crass compliment,” he smirked. “Why is that surprising? Some people like bein’ alone.”

“No need for a ticket, just call me a few hours before the play, I’ll tell assistants to save a spot for you.” Fiona just remembered she’d something similar to someone else recently. “Mhmm,” Fiona confirmed with a nod. This was the best thing about Seattle, no one knew her parents, so no one brought up nepotism. Back in New York though, it was the opposite, wherever Fiona went, her dad’s fame followed her. She shrugged at his remark, snorting a laugh. “I have been told that before. My mom was the exact opposite, she kept telling me to speak my mind no matter how ugly my words could get. She’s all about that self-expression.” Her mother was more of a friend than a parent, she had to admit. “I am a millennial, I am supposed to be bitter.” Fiona muttered, letting out another chuckle before taking a long sip from her drink, she was about to finish it. “No problem.” She smirked as well. “Is that so? Hmm...” She paused to tap her index finger against her chin. “Then, maybe I should leave you alone.”

“Gotcha. That sounds cool — have you ever written anything yourself?” He asked, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. “I could see you doin’ a one woman show. ‘Fiona: Uncut’. I could help you write it.” He teased, shrugging his shoulders then. Uriah had never been one to judge what people did or didn’t want to believe, despite whatever his own opinions may be. “Okay, but do you know that for sure?” A chuckle escaped his lips, knowing that he wasn’t about to win this uphill battle. “Not if you don’t want me to. Though, I would bring you the biggest bouquet of flowers you’ve ever seen.”

“No. Writing is not my forte.” Even if she was interested in writing, Fiona wouldn’t want to pursue it. Her dad set the bar too high, she wouldn’t want her work to be compared to her own father, it was too much pressure for her liking. “Phoebe Waller-Bridge already that. No one needs another Fleabag.” She chuckled, shifting in her seat. “I do, however, want to play that character. She’s great.” Fiona added with another chuckle. “Because if there was, it would be so unfair. I refuse to believe some people were just born unlucky. Besides, I hate the idea of not being in charge of my own life.” They could argue about it all day long, yet there wouldn’t be an answer. “Why wouldn’t I?” Judging from her past behavior, it was only fair for Uriah to think that, however Fiona enjoyed his attention, that’s why she kept him around. He was like a little puppy, always there to shower her with attention. “That would make my cast mates jealous, so you should come and bring me a giant bouquet of flowers.” 

“How bad could it really have been?” He leveled a gaze on Fiona, clearly thinking she was exaggerating. “Did you forget your lines? Did the set fall apart? Did somebody say Mac–”  He purposefully kept himself from finishing the title, recalling the old superstition surrounding “The Scottish Play.”

No, no. It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t really present and I think that’s a big problem. Audience catches that shit right away.” She snapped her fingers, shaking her head. “Don’t tell me you believe in that superstition.”

Her bluntness caused a smile to tug at the corner of his lips, a quiet chuckle leaving his lips as he nodded along to her reasoning. “I forgot how blunt you could be,” he noted aloud. It was a quality he appreciated about Fiona, especially when she kicked him out immediately after having sex with him. “All right, I’ll bite. It’s never too late to be friends, right?” he said as he took a step to her table and sat himself across from her, “You wanna know what I’m interested in? I like TV shows like It’s Always Sunny. Actually, I never really watched it until you told me about it. What are you interested in, Walsh?”

“And here I am thinking that is the most memorable thing about me.” She nodded, chuckling. "Glad that you don’t have a problem with it. Because the other day some woman told me how hard it was for her to endure my presence and my blunt comments.” Fiona chuckled again. “Then I called her a cunt in return. Fun times.” No wonder she didn’t have many friends despite being an extrovert. “Not at all.” She said, watching him take a seat across from her. “So you enjoy comedy... You would like Arrested Development too, it’s a fucking classic.” His question made her sigh, she was interested in many things, it was a shame she didn’t have enough time to explore. “I enjoy comedy too, as long as it’s witty. I also like movies but I am very picky. I mean my mom is an actress and my dad is a playwright, I wasn’t allowed to watch shitty movies even when I was a kid.”

“Don’t worry, I’m no fucking Oprah either. I can’t give you advice or a free car,” she smirked, knowing Fiona shared the same sentiments as she did. As much as she cared about the people in her life and as much as she attempted to do for them, it didn’t mean that she should have been one doling out advice. Perhaps what was why many of her friends were as just a mess as she was. “Listen, I’m not the one payin’ you. Do whatever you want,” Avi smirked, shaking her head. “It’s fucking exhausting. I honestly don’t know how you’re not burnt out from it, with that on top of acting.”

“Thank you for your support.” She mirrored Avi’s smirk with a nod. “Oh come on, it’s almost impossible to get burnt out from acting.” At least for Fiona. “You get to portray different people all the time. Whenever you feel trapped, you just quit and look for a new job. Writing is different though.” From what she’s heard from her father and his friends, writing had a different process than acting. “So, I get why you would feel like that.”

“How good, though, remains to be seen. At least by me,” he teased. “One of the best, you say? Alright, which one?” Ethan’s alma mater was also considered one of the best universities in the country, something he often wore with pride. That didn’t mean, though, that he was an expert when it came to the theater or acting programs. Hell, he barely knew the first thing about either of them, hence why he went into medicine. “Oh, come on, that ain’t fair. We were already married when it happened – and, hate to break it to you, but condoms break.” He smirked, bringing the beer to his lips once more. “Dunno, my guy pretty much exclusively works on tired men earing forty. Not sure if you fall into that category.” Ethan furrowed his brows. “What, was I supposed to bring my kid to this shithole? He ain’t even old enough to drive yet, Walsh.”

“Well, I perform twice in a week on stage, so...” She shrugged her shoulders. Despite the director’s poor execution, Fiona was very confident of her performance most of the days. Of course there were days she felt like she tanked the every dialogue she’d had on stage, after all she wasn’t delusional. “Juilliard.” She said, very proud. “You know, where Viola Davis went.” If he ever dared to ask who she was, then Fiona would end the conversation without any hesitation. She might’ve not have many deal breakers but that would be one of them. “Hell yeah they do. That’s why I am always on a pill. If I forgot to take it, then there’s always morning after pill. And if that fails me, there’s always abortion.” That’s how much Fiona didn’t want to have kids before thirty. Maybe she wouldn’t even want them after thirty too, it was too early to tell. “Absolutely not. I am only twenty five.” She shrugged, taking a generous sip from her drink. “God no. I meant like women.” She paused for a brief moment. “Or men. You never know in these days, so I was told that I shouldn’t assume.” It was getting harder and harder to keep up with politically corrected terms. “But yeah, you are a DILF as the kids say.” Fiona snorted a laugh. Okay, she was definitely drunk. “It’s surprising that you are here all alone.”

“Thank you for your frank direction, it’s exactly what I needed right now.” Casey replied sarcastically, taking a sip of the coffee, not because the other had told her to but because…well she had come here partially to get one, it would make no sense to let it go stone cold for no reason. “I would if I could but that’s not an option, my boss is meeting me here before we go over to the courthouse, hence why I’m sat here enduring the chaos that is this coffee shop, not to mention your blunt comments, rather than sitting in my office doing something actually genuinely productive.”

“You are welcome.” Fiona said dryly, nodding. She almost winced when the other woman said the word courthouse. Of course she was a lawyer or worse; she could be a prosecutor. Fiona scoffed as the woman continued, god she was something, wasn’t she? “If it’s going to make you feel any better, you should know you are not the only one who is enduring something unpleasant. Take me for an example, I am enduring this cuntfest.”

As Fiona began to explain the different plays she was apart of, Chris could feel his vision start to blur as he lost focus. He had no interest in her work, especially when it came to plays, and he did his best to pretend he was listening. However, it was painfully obvious in his blank expression that he didn’t care until she finished. “Oh, now you’re curious,” he remarked, “Is that ‘cause you realized you missed me after all?” He lifted his shoulder up into a half-shrug as he thought about his answer. “I don’t know,” he said, “Anything but plays, it seems. I mean, do you really care?”

Victor’s eyebrows remained raised until the truth was admitted, a chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head. “I knew it.” He wasn’t offended, however, and truthfully, he was getting a bit bored listening to himself speak. “Hey, it just means that I think very highly of your talent.” He pointed out, raising his drink to his lips to take a sip. “Disastrous? You? No way. You’re just being hard on yourself.”

“As you should.” Fiona teased, chuckling. “No, trust me. There are moments I am being hard on myself but this is not one of them.” She sighed, shifting in her seat. “It was a literal shit show. You should’ve been there, you would find it amusing probably.”

“We all have friends in bands, Fiona,” he said, ironically, exaggerating the annoyance in his tone, but the curve one his lips that looked like a repressed smile was giving him away. “But yeah, I might know a place. Dunno who’s on tonight, but I’m sure they’ll have to do.” By this time, Gibby didn’t bother lighting the joint anymore, leaving it in the center console, as he started the engine back up and pulled away from the curb. “So, who’s this… friend?” he asked, both hands on the wheel now, the pause making the thought sound more provocative than it might have been. He just hasn’t heard anything about Fiona’s love life lately, though he doubted he was in any place to breach the subject when his own was a disaster.

“Do we really?” Her brow raised, she couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Let’s go then and meet this friend of yours.” Was it Uriah? Fiona was tempted to ask. But before she could get there, Gabe asked and Fiona didn’t have any reservations to answer. “His name is Uriah. He’s a drummer, we kinda dated back in New York.” She said nonchalantly, her shoulders shrugged. “He is a friend now.” She added, turning to him. “Do you know him?” Seattle’s art scene wasn’t the biggest, it wouldn’t be such a surprise if Gabe’d met him before.

Chris couldn’t help as a hint of a smirk threatened to break through his expression. She had been so quick to answer that he briefly wondered if she was trying to compensate for something, but that was mainly his ego settling in. Even if their relationship was strictly physical, Chris was able to pick up the few odd bits of information about Fiona, like how deadpan her humor was. “Actually, no,” he replied, “That was the only thing I watched you in. Everything else didn’t sound as interesting, like that play.” He eyed her for a second, realizing that although they didn’t know the regular details about each other like favorite book or food or color or Aunt’s middle name, they knew each other’s personality enough. “Should I bother to ask about the play? Do you want me to?” he asked.

“Not everybody appreciates theatre, I get that.” It required attention span, which most people were lack of. “The one play I did back in New York was interesting.” Now that was a understatement. “I mean it’s Angels in America, it’s the best ever written.” She shrugged. “The one I am doing right now is eh, not the best thing ever.” Uncle Vanya was a beloved play, most critics referred it as a masterpiece but it has never been Fiona’s favorite. “It’s about aimlessness and hopelessness but honestly? You wouldn’t want to hear about bunch of Russian people and their mundane lives.” Fiona rolled her eyes. “You got me curious. What would you consider interesting? Other than Sunny, of course.”

“Would you be interested in doing it then?” Acting was certainly a skillset that Uriah did not harbor, having tried out for the school musicals a couple years in a row only to be told he’d ‘ do a better job as the drummer in the pit’. Not that he’d ever complained — it was what he’d prefer to do anyway. “You’re not wrong, but you know what else doesn’t make sense? The fact that there may be a god, or there may not be, or that there could be something completely different goin’ on and we have no clue and no way to find out.” It was fascinating to him, hence the many books he had on the various subjects. “Oh, so you consider us friends but you’re not gonna let me come backstage?”

“If he is willing to rewrite some scenes, I might be interested.” When it came to plays, the bar has always been high for Fiona, considering how great her father’s plays were. She couldn’t help but compare. “Exactly. Which is why it’s useless to look for a guidance. Who cares if there’s a god or not. People are in charge of their own lives and that’s it. There’s no some cosmic power or energy to shape our lives.” She shrugged again. “Do you want to come backstage?”

“Pretty sure that was my point,” she retorted, voice laced with sarcasm. At Fiona’s next comment, the brunette simply rolled her eyes. “I was making a joke. Jesus, don’t worry. I’m not gonna try and make you my personal Dr. Phil.” As if he’d even be able to do anything to mend the relationship between her and her mother — though, to be fair, they’d never sought out anyone to try. “You act like that’s not my literal job. Except I don’t wait ‘til the last minute to do ‘em.”

“I would be the shittiest Dr. Phil you could ever have, let’s agree on that.” Advices have never been Fiona’s strongest suit, somehow she’s always ended up saying the wrong right. “Yup, that’s exactly what I have been doing.” She snorted. “Listen, I’ve been busy ---” Fiona started, then paused to sigh. “Ugh fine. I am not even gonna try to find an excuse. Yeah I leave everything till the last minute because I am a lazy bitch sometimes. Sue me.”

       “Yeah, maybe.” He was mostly joking anyway, though Louis had to admit he wasn’t the best at not getting hurt. It was something that had happened all throughout his life. “Wait, you have to memorize twenty pages? In a week? That sounds insane. Take three adderall if that helps.”

“Of course I brought fucking flowers. It’s what you deserve,” Kenzie grinned, wrapping her arms around her friend to tug the woman in for a tight hug. They hadn’t seen nearly enough of each other since they’d both landed in Seattle and Kenzie desperately needed some connection to the life she had previously held. As much as she swore up and down that she was moving on, letting go was entirely more difficult than it sounded. “I sat still and paid attention to at least half of it, so honestly I’d count that as a solid win. You didn’t bore me, which is basically a resounding success.” Kenzie didn’t know enough about the world of plays to know if Fiona had actually been any good, but she was the type of person that would go down for her friends no matter what and would always claim they did a good job. “But good, though, because same. I’m pretty sure the bitch that was sitting next to me was going to try and knife me over how loud my stomach was growling. What are you in the mood for? Star of the night’s choice, obviously.”

“You are too nice, I don’t deserve you.” She chuckled, returning the hug with a smile on her lips. Not that she knew the woman so well but judging from the moments they had together, Kenzie has always been nothing but nice. “I’ll take that as a success, I know plays aren’t for everybody.” She shrugged, still smiling. In a perfect world Fiona would be starring in a much more interesting play but Seattle’s theatre scene liked playing safe, so they usually went with classics. It wasn’t surprising though, when she moved here she knew this was going to be the case. “I wouldn’t have let that happen, don’t worry. I would knife the woman and we all would say it’s part of the play. Then you would have a new case to talk about. Unhinged actress killed an audience member.” Fiona laughed. “I’d kill for a cheeseburger. And fries too.”