A Heart Of Gold

Clint looked puzzled at the term. He’d never heard it before, nor had any clue what it could even mean… like, the only term he really knew was Thalassia. Oh, and Ted’s Talk. But that was a given.

He lifted his drink up and closed one eye as he whirled it around inside a little, as if it would help him see the volume inside with more clarity. It kinda didn’t, but he liked to do it anyway. Taking a glance at the guy’s face, he held it up afterwards towards him in an attempt to put a bit more cheer in the atmosphere.

He said that without hiding the exhaustion in his tone. Not really so much at the question, (though in hindsight he realized it could've been taken that way), but more at the predicament.

Elize blinked when she caught sight of the back of a familiar jacket farther up the street.

"It’s Alvin!"

Never mind the other people in the street, she and Teepo both rushed after the man, with the booster easily getting ahead of her while she tried to weave through bodies.

When she finally got to him, she didn’t hesitate to grab for his arm.

The surprise on his face was genuine, but the lazy grin that followed afterwards was practiced, masking a sudden wave of emotion that he frankly hadn't prepared himself to deal with. Wariness, concern, sadness, or something along those lines. After all, he had never had the chance to make amends with her. Maybe in another world, but not this one.

And Alvin hated surprises.

Barton looked around, mainly behind the counter. His eyes darted across, searching for… well, anything. Thankfully, the bartender moved a glass, which Hawkeye, living up to his namesake, managed to catch immediately, unblocking the view of a low-hung calendar.

"…Twenty… ninth. Yeah."

Still got it.

He was quite accustomed to random bar patrons being a little out of it, but this guy looked like he was definitely trying to either forget, or remember something. Maybe both. Could be bot- Probably both. Yeah.

…Ah, who knows.

In any case, the archer took a fairly sizeable sip of his drink. He was here just for a fun little quiet night out by himself, but he never minded a little company from others. Quick friends and quick exits were a common thing for him in his drinking days. Still holding his drink, he turned to look over at the guy again, a little concerned. After he settled his glass down, he turned his head to the guy, raising an eyebrow for a brief moment.

"You, uh, alright there, pal?" He asked with a grin and a gentle pat on the shoulder. "You seem shaken. And not necessarily just by the drink, heh."

He lifted his drink, but his face wasn't exactly cheery. "I think I'm as alright as I'll ever be." After swallowing some, he placed his glass on the counter, watching the liquid shift inside.

At some point, he figured his body finally gave out to the call of sleep, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up to the sight of Alvin standing nearby, an expression on his face he couldn’t quite read. The young man stared for a long time and opened his mouth to say something several times, but in the end, he simply turned back to stare at the ceiling at a loss. What was there he could say? Should he apologize? Explain? Both? 

A sigh finally escaped from him after he lay there for what seemed like ages. There was nothing else he could say except:

He stayed silent until the pair of them finally came to a stop outside a non-descript building in what Jude thought was the Inner City. The boy only managed a glance before the pain in his head had him groaning from the glow of the streetlights.

Now all of Thalassia is finding out about my finances… "Uhm, well… it’s fine, I should be able to handle most of it, ah…" I feel terrible. If Alvin pays for that, it’s a huge chunk out of their date money… wait, their relationship isn’t my business. And why am I so worried about dates? What?

It had only been hours since he’d set out, but you couldn’t tell from his appearance. His clothes were torn away in patches, revealing angry red skin and deep scratches. What skin wasn’t marred by some wound or anther was caked with dust and dirt. His satchel barely hung at his side, the strap nearly severed in half. 

Jude had seen Hell and barely survived.

On shaky legs, he stumbled back through the Gates, barely able to register he was once again walking on cobbled roadways. At more than one point, he didn’t know if he’d make it back at all. Somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, he was grateful, but right now, he was too tired to celebrate.

He was so focused on putting one foot in front of the other that he barely even noticed when a hand suddenly came into his field of vision. A familiar voice filtered through the sound of his own heart. He almost thought he was hallucinating from blood loss until he finally managed to look up and see his friend standing there, his face etched with concern.

Silently, he looked back down at the hand offered to him and found the will to grab hold of it.

"…"

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in— "Who…"

Leon began to tremble. 

"No," he says curtly, nervous tension rising into his shoulders. "I am…" What’s the word? "… Ohh-kay.”