✘ GUY GARDNER

“Fuck ya just say?”

Of course, he’d been itching for another fight since before they’d even made their way to the outskirts for this dive. He knew the owner here. Good ole Frank wouldn’t call the cops even for gunfire. Only bar still standing from back when he would cut class. And Booster had followed along unfazed like he knew a night out was only a night out with blown speakers, a bloody nose, and drinking to your own conquests. He was almost proud.

“No, I asked what ya said, not for an apology.”

Before the Polo could respond, Guy had him knocked back, his bony legs tripping backwards over his date and their table trying to steady himself. A couple of yuppie college snots, then a few thick-necked losers sporting their letters from a Dinksville, MD college that was more known for grade inflation--well, that’s how he’d advised his seniors towards it anyway back when he taught at Dinksville High--than their wrestling team. By the time he was finished with them, he was sure he had hauled the whole team up and out. A couple years older and they wouldn’t have got off so easy. Thumbsuckers. Might’ve walked away with their pride intact if they hadn’t needed to learn to respect their elders. Little shits didn’t get to embarrass him in front of his date.

One of the girls, real pretty girl, had been drinking straight whiskey. He slams it. Teach them to call him a ‘drunk old man.’ He wasn’t drinking alone tonight. Fuck. He was already drunk, but he wasn’t drinking alone.

To prove it, doesn’t matter that they won’t see, he knocks his way back towards the bar where he can see Booster hasn’t budged an inch. Didn’t exactly rush to offer back up and had been a backstabbing wingman the whole night. And now he’s downing Guy’s beer.

‘Course he was here for the free drinks. Just like most of Guy’s dates anyway. Not that this was one. He just knew the guy, and was past expecting anything else.

Besides, he was riding on adrenaline and victory. And booze. He slams the rocks glass down on the bar next to his companion and plops down to sit on the stool beside him.

   ❝ Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. Don’t really talk much about my journal. Not even to the press.  ❞

Then again, the press never even knew he actually has one. Guess it’s Guy’s lucky day in knowing one of Booster’s little secrets. The smile never faltered but rather, widen as his gaze lingered on the redhead several feet away. Teeth visible from the grin, spandex palms pressed at his hips, patiently waiting for the ball to be tossed while enjoying every moment of this game of toss.

    ❝ You planning on stealing it to find out ? Hoping I’d put little hearts by your name ? ❞

Guy cocks the ball back with at first stumbling feet before planting himself and forcefully whipping it back.  “G a y.”

He stares over Booster’s shoulder at the spiraling ball into the blinding glint of the sunlight. Jus’ what exact kind of future were they headed towards? Without waiting for the smack of pigskin hitting gloves, he starts towards the embassy door.

Spineless what—–? Guy always had an interesting vocabulary, but when emotions ran high, it was a bit more difficult to understand just what exactly he was trying to say. Or at least, what any of these insults were supposed to mean. His body flinched back, chest pushed inward as he tried to keep the distance between him and the bubble before him. His mind struggling to figure out what the Lantern even meant.

   ❝ Half of what you said doesn’t even make any sense. ❞

Breathe in. A moment of spite. Seethe out. Across the deceptively thin barrier, the most-often-temper-tantrum pissbaby with a complex complex, yet Guy couldn’t get a rise out of him. Not when he wanted to. He hadn’t wanted to for so long. All the pent up petty annoyances exploded into fury now. He was screaming himself hoarse, but the bastard was still stupid like rubber. Snarling was like hitting a forcefield and having his energy thrown back at him. Golden boy just snarked at him, mocked him, misunderstood, never let a hair fall out of place. It--He made Guy’s veins bulge. His face smashed up against the barrier, nostrils flared, cheeks pressed into the curve, in vain, he reaches both hands for Booster’s neck.