YEET

Doug chuckled, looking over his shoulder at Quentin. “Damn, yeah. I can imagine that’s not the best place to stay.” He wondered what led Quentin to that point and place, but he doesn’t want to pry. He led the other man to his apartment, unlocking the door. His place wasn’t that big, just one bedroom. All he needed, really. It wasn’t dirty, but it was cluttered. More stuff than there really was space. He wasn’t a hoarder, but some of his furniture was definitely a little big for the space. Most of it was old, his grandparents that he’d inherited. He flipped the light switch, putting his keys and wallet down on the table as he walked to the kitchen. “So what’d you want to drink? I’ve got beer, scotch, bourbon, vodka… I’ve got a lot,” he looked back to Quentin. “Or did you want something else?”

A home was always so much different to a motel room. Whenever he’d crashed in one, it definitely felt... safer in many ways. As though the home was protecting its occupants in more ways than just physically. He couldn’t help but look around, taking in the surroundings and noting the unexpected decor. He’d built the image of a whitewashed place with modern furnishings. No doubt Douglas had money behind him, and that was the general site he was used to when he went to the homes of his bosses kind of men. But it wasn’t a jarring difference. It was a welcome one. He liked to be surprised. He barely missed a beat upon the question, as he continued further into the home. “Uh, beer, please. Scotch is too mature for me, don’t ya think?” 

It had been a long day of rehearsals and Vixey was glad to have a bit of a break. She loved working hard and she would do anything for her role. But, she did like to take a walk around the city from time to time, and get some fresh air and just think about things. She’d stopped and gotten some hot tea to sooth her voice after having used it all day and was currently walking through the park. It was chilly out. But, she was bundled up and her tea was keeping her warm. She found a bench on her travels and found someone sitting on it already. “Is it alright if it sit?” She asked.

Clown had to remind himself to go out during the day, a walk at least, to ensure he was getting his daily dose of sunshine. Admittedly, he was becoming more aware of his physical health and what he should be doing to maintain it. Much more so than during his self destruction years, anyway. He was watching a flock of birds being fed by a trio of small children, when his mind was being drawn elsewhere, to a voice close besides him. He glanced up to it, her, smiling politely. “Sure, it’s not taken.”

“Yeah, I’m not really here for a conversation, alright?”

“The less, the better.”

Nathan snorted. “Well, you’re going to want to give me one you don’t mind throwing out. The amount of cleaning you’ll have to do to it to avoid making someone really fuckin’ sick isn’t worth it, so…”

“Don’t worry about it.” The man shrugged, heading back up the hallway and in the direction of the bar area. “They’re always getting broken or smashed and thrown out.” He spoke louder as he was calling back to him.

He felt weird about this, and he knew if Devan knew, he’d probably be pissed. Jack nodded. “Alright. Thanks, man. And, that’s good to hear. That he has good people there. I mean, I figured he did, it’s just… it’s nice to hear that.”

“Of course. And,” He held his hand over his chest for a second. “Scouts honour I won’t say a thing to him. He certainly seems like the type that would yell at you for worrying about him.”

Doug nodded. He listened to that. And he figured that was something most bosses should worry about, but Quentin was always good. Always did his work and did it well. And there were plenty of reasons people lost their licences. He was pretty sure there were times he got close to that too. If he thought about it, he was probably a strike away from it. Probably why he didn’t drive much anymore; just didn’t want to risk it. “Yeah, walking to work can be pretty nice. But, if you ever need a ride or anything, just let me know, alright?” he said anything, and he was pretty sure he meant it as in anything. He noticed the cab coming to a stop. “Here we are,” he said, pulling out his wallet to pay the driver. He looked over to Quentin. He walked with him to the apartment. “It’s not much, but it’s home, so don’t judge it too much, alright,” he joked, looking over to him as he fished his keys from his pocket.

Was that a boss ‘need anything’ or a ‘need anything’ in literal ‘ride to work’ sense? He wasn’t sure what to say, as usually he’d just say ‘thanks’, but that’s when he didn’t really mean it or didn’t really expect to ever see someone who offered help ever again. Thankfully, they were interrupted, and he could just offer a smile in acknowledgment of his offer. “Alright. Trust me I won’t judge. I’ve slept in a Reno motel, so quite literally anything is better.” He followed Jim out of the cab, glancing up at the building and wondering in his mind what kind of place the inside would be. What kind of house did a man like Douglas own? He’d seen a lot of people’s places, and a lot of hotel rooms, and he always liked to analyse them a little. You noticed certain traits among certain types of people, and more often than not there was always something that was a surprise, or unusual.

Nathan snorted, and looked over the cleaning supplies. Good, everything he needed was here. And by that, it meant that there was toilet bowl cleaner. Just needed something to put it in… “Do you have like. A bucket or a pitcher or something?” he asked, picking it up.

“No, sorry. We don’t have any pitchers one might use for a cocktail or large drink in this alcoholic bar.” He answered him in a deadpan tone, a quirk to his lips. “You can take one from the bar - under where we keep the shot glasses.”

He nodded. “Alright. Should wear a coat sometimes, though; don’t want my best barman gettin’ sick,” he said with a smirk. Doug shrugged. “Eh, I mean, it’s only a couple blocks away, not too far. Just didn’t feel like walking tonight,” he looked over to Quentin, relaxing into the seat a bit, one arm across the back of the seats, not quite reaching Quentin, but he was getting closer into his space. Not even really thinking about it. Just sort of relaxing himself. “How far do you live? Commute’s not too bad, I hope.”

Get sick? Sick? If only you knew, he thought to himself. “I’ll think hard about it.” Quentin chuckled, lips quirked in a smirk directed at himself. “Nah, just a couple streets South of the bar. It’s a nice walk, so I don’t really mind too much. I’d drive, but-” Oh shit, was he alright or even supposed to tell his boss this? “Lost my licence.” Not the physical copy a driver was granted with, but his actual licence to drive. Who needed one in the city anyway? He adjusted his seat, thankful of the open space taxi’s provided that standard cars did not, legs crossing habitually. “Anyway.. ”

Jack nodded. He did feel bad about asking about that. He felt weird that he was at such a place with Devan that he couldn’t just ask him about it. Ask him was was up. “Okay. I get that. I mean, I don’t want you do go out of your way or anything. But, I mean, I guess… if you didn’t mind doing that? It would mean a lot. Since like. He’s more like a little brother than a cousin to me; he’s my best friend even if I’m not his right now. And I… I just want to make sure he’s doing alright.”

Quentin was familiar with people oversharing - drunk people really knew no boundaries -  and though Jack wasn’t particularly doing this, he did feel a little more privy to their relationship that he had planned on. Or maybe this was just what getting to know people and form circles was actually like? He couldn’t recall his high school circles very well. Probably purged them with vodka. “It’s no skin off my nose. It’s nice to see he has people looking out for him.” He nodded to no one in particular, and offered an assuring smile to Jack. “Totally. I can be an eye in the club for you. He has a couple good people round him there.” 

“Well yeah, but you run out of ‘em after a while. At least the hot ones.” He shrugged, eyes hungry as he watched the generous pour on his next drink. “God bless,” Devan murmured, pulling the straw and downing a few gulps. Attacking work with a clear head was proving to be a whole lot harder than he’d expected, and being easy didn’t mean being sloppy. He found the rhythm faster, gave a lot less of a care about who was watching, and most of their clientele would be lying if they said they didn’t like them drunk if his own interactions were any indication. He laughed when half was down, shaking his head briskly. “Still stand? How much of a lightweight do you think I am?” He licked a few drops from his lips and beamed. “You gotta stick around to see now. At least to let me pay you off for this.”

His rolled his eyes at the accusation, lips quirked in a smirk. “I’m not calling you a lightweight; I wouldn’t dare. But I get tired just from watching you guys up there.” Quentin eyed over him, noting the glean of skin already and the contour of his body. He chuckled lightly, straightening his back up - standing all evening was a little annoying - and stretching his arms out. “Alright, alright. Go do your thing, and I’ll be here when you’re done. Swear.” He offered him a wink, before stacking up a row of used glasses and dumping them onto one of the trays for whoever’s job it was to clean them.

Nathan made a face, but followed anyway. He’d copy the keys off Doug later, and not because he needed them, but out of spite. He could pick the locks but now he wanted to wave keys in people’s faces. “You know I don’t cook meth or anything, right? I know what I’m doing.”

“I shared a room with a guy that cooked meth for a weekend.” He flicked through the keys, finding the correct one and slotting it into the lock. With a click, he opened the door, and left the room open ready before looking back to him. “Do your thing. But you only got an hour till everyone starts getting here.”

She supposed he was right about the strip club bit. Honestly she knew she picked a weird place considering the fact that she didn’t give a single fuck about the strippers. “I’m not. I was just interested in a change of scenery. I don’t really…care for some of the other bars right now. Boring me to death, to be honest. I just want to know what makes this one different? Aside from the male strippers.”

“That’s as good a reason as any. New York has some hidden treasures if you know where to look.” Quentin had his fair share of ‘change of scenery’ moments. Probably more than a lifetime ever needed, actually, but sometimes those changes brought about the best stories. His head cocked at the question, and he pursed his lips in a moments thought. “Well obviously there’s me, so that’s one thing the other bars don’t have that makes this one so good. The music’s pretty good, but that’s all taste, ain’t it?”

Nathan grinned. “Good. Do I need a key or is the cleaning stuff just a free grab? Because I can start now.” He was a pretty fast chemist, but time didn’t hurt, especially when there would be people around soonish. Didn’t want the target to see him brewing stuff up, either.

“I’ll open the cupboard for you.” Maybe he was showing his small distrust of him again, or maybe he was actually being responsible and not letting Nathan off with the set of keys, or into a cupboard full of potentially dangerous chemicals. He headed down through the slim corridor behind the bar, glancing back to ensure he was following.