Who: Lin Alesi & Dante Kessler What: Talking civilly, of course. Where: A diner off the Strip When: The day after the memories plot Warnings: Some swears are in here.
The red plastic seat was uncomfortable, Lin decided, frowning and shifting on it. His left hand was curled around a cooling mug of coffee, his right lying on the table in front of him, fiddling with the remains of a paper napkin. He’d already torn several strips off of it, though he was unaware of it. Indeed, the waitress had come by twice, steaming coffee pot in hand, but upon seeing the distant look and glassy eyes, and then the second time, the dark-haired boy with his head bowed low to the table, she decided she’d just swing by later.
The boy sat as if in a daze, eyes half-lidded. It was clear from looking at him that he was somewhere far away from the little diner off the Strip, with its fading, autographed photos of outdated celebrities covering every square inch of its walls. But wherever he was - it didn’t seem the place anyone would want to go to. He chewed his lip thoughtfully, trying to tease apart what had happened over the last few days. Of course, the better part of yesterday had been spent trying to do the same damn thing, yet here he was. At least today he’d been able to leave the condo. And at least he’d managed to seat himself at the booth in the back and hadn’t yet begun to cry inconsolably into his cup of coffee. Softly sobbing in public was not on his list of things to do today.
Yesterday had seen enough tears, thank you - it had been an unending barrage of emotional sucker punches. He hadn’t been able to go more than fifteen minutes without finding himself wracked with guilt or sadness or pity or any other of the abominable emotions you don’t really want to have. His eyes were still puffy from the crying and his condo was a mess. He had called in sick to work - because he was. He was sick. Psychologically, emotionally. He was terminally fucking ill. It was all he could do to crawl out from his blankets today and into his gray t-shirt and pants, and drag himself to the diner. It had taken nearly every ounce of the effort he possessed.
The waitress passed by again and this time Lin looked up. It was obvious to her that he was hanging by a very, very, very fragile thread. She didn’t want to set him off, so she simply topped off his coffee and high-tailed it back behind the counter. Then the little bell at the front door announced the entrance of some dapper-looking fuck and Lin squinted angrily from his poorly lit booth. There was something about the cut of the man that drew his attention. He knew who it was, though he hadn’t yet figured it out.
Then the memory hit him - not like it had two days ago, when it had completely washed over him, drowning him, suffocating him. This time it felt more like a blow to the stomach. The briefcase. The phone call. Aubrey. Lin’s heart began pounding in his chest as he slid out from the seat. His eyes narrowed on the man’s face, taking in the cut of his jaw. His dark hair. His age. He was old. Of fucking course he was old.
Unfortunately for Lin, though he crossed the diner to confront the man, he hadn’t quite had time to formulate what he was going to say, and by the time he arrived, he just sort of opened and closed his mouth, before pointing an accusatory finger. “You!”
Dante felt like he had really shot a couple of muppets and gotten himself stabbed a couple days ago, and just yesterday he started hearing a voice in his head that he was pretty sure was mocking him in Swedish. Couldn't have been himself, because he didn't speak any Swedish. Needless to say, he wasn't in the best of moods. He didn't know why or how or what the fuck was going on, but he did know that it was the last week of the month, and that meant that he had to be in a dozen places at the same time to tidy up all the accounts in every club and bar he owned so that they could roll over to August without too much fuss.
He couldn't stand to be in anywhere that would give him a headache right now, so he wasn't going to be paying any of his clubs a visit. That meant he'd made calls to get all the managers to meet up with him instead. He had an appointment here in an hour, but he came earlier to grab a bite and some coffee first.
At least, that was the plan until some young man came up to him and looked like he was about to stab his eyes out with that finger. He looked familiar, but Dante couldn't place him just yet.
"Me...?" he said, shaking his head a little, furrowing his brows. He was too tired to string together a coherent sentence.
"Who... what?"
“You!” Lin repeated ineffectively, but with a surprising amount of vehemence, if not volume. Were the boy a cat, his back would be arched high, all of his hair (fur?) end, and he would be spitting and hissing. But, he wasn’t a cat. Instead, he was a short kid, pointing an angry finger in the face of some extremely tired-looking drug dealer in a suit who had at least three inches on him. This wasn’t exactly the best possible way for the situation to play out, nor the way he would have wanted it to, had he not been overwrought, but. Well, what can you do? “You - you -”
The boy spent a few seconds breathing through his nose before he was calm enough to continue. He balled his fists at his side, though he had no intention of throwing any punches. Being socked in the face and getting a concussion or black eye were also two items conspicuously absent from Lin’s to-do list. Not to mention, who knew what manner of shady weaponry was hidden beneath the fine fabric of the dealer’s jacket. Some part of Lin started to worry that publicly confronting someone he knew to be involved in illegal, possibly violent, activities was a bad move on his part. Finally, after shaking his head in frustration at himself, he was able to spit out: “Aubrey!”
There. He told him.
“You wanna put that thing away before you hurt someone with it?” he asked wryly, referring to the accusatory finger even though Dante didn’t know what exactly he was being accused of. He’s been up and down the Strip so he could imagine that a whole host of people recognised him, but he didn’t know the names of that many faces. There were only so many things a man like him would commit to memory.
Aubrey. Fantastic. He’s never brought any of his problems to Aubrey so why did Aubrey always bring his shit to Dante? They’ve both done things they could get arrested for. Things weren’t going to work out between them if this sort of shit kept happening.
“If he owes you money, I don’t know him.”
Money? The fuck? What money? A look of confusion flashed over Lin’s face for a split second, before being replaced with the out and out indignation from before. He decided he would sit down later and mull over the terrible, immoral things Aubrey had likely gotten himself into over the past year (like engaging in relations with a guy who got calls from someone named Seven. Seven! What a fucking joke), but right now he wanted to stay focused. He shook his head again, ignoring the dry comment from before.
“No!” Lin gave an exasperated sound. It made sense to him that the man had no idea who he was. He had only ever seen Aubrey with suit-man from afar until two days ago, when his head had been invaded. But now he knew things that he didn’t want to know, and he was upset because of it. The man standing across from him, however, seemed unaware that he had shared a part of his memory with Lin. Dropping the volume of his voice, he continued petulantly. One could almost hear the pout, the protruding bottom lip, in his tone. “You’re seeing him.”
“Uhh... yeah. I guess.” He’d seen Aubrey, yes, but that tone of voice implied more than just visually seeing the man. Dante wasn’t dating Aubrey the way normal couples dated, with flowers and chocolates and champagne and who knows what the fuck else, but they’d bought each other presents and took each other out on dinners, flirted and fucked and what have you. That counted as ‘seeing’, he supposed.
“Is that a crime now? The Church of Religious Crazies is that way. You can join your fellow redneck fag-bashers over there.”
Lin didn’t care where the Church of Religious Whatsits was. It was irrational, yes, but he wanted the man to apologize to him. Because. His feelings were hurt and it was this guy’s fault. What really irked him, however, was the thought that he hadn’t even garnered a passing mention from Aubrey. Like, he wasn’t even worth talking about. Ouch. After a brief inward struggle, the boy was able to calm himself enough to at least try to respond coherently. He still frowned, but his back was no longer arched and he had stopped spitting for the most part.
“It’s - it’s not a crime,” he managed to say, though it felt like it. He set his mouth into a firm line. The waitress was watching them from behind her counter, a brief glance to the left told him. Lin let out a sigh. Tension gathered in his chest. His instincts wanted him to engage in banter with the man, but his emotions stomped out the idea. He looked up at the man’s face - noting the shadow of a beard, the sort of rugged good looks that somehow meshed well with a suit. He was still old, though. “We -” He hesitated. “Dated. For four years.”
“Four years? Were you even legal?” Dante couldn’t help but laugh. A bit young for Aubrey’s tastes, wasn’t he? Well, dealing with the psycho bitch ex-wife had to be better than dealing with a religious nutjob who would tell him that he was going to burn in hell unless he repented for his gayness.
It came to him then, as he appraised the young man standing before him, that that was where he’d seen him before. The Swedish guy in his head had asked about him, because he’d dreamed about seeing... having a memory of... oh, what the fuck.
“You’re the guy in the car,” Dante said aloud, even though that made no sense whatsoever given that they were talking about something else entirely.
“Didn’t work out with that girl?”
“Of course not. He picked me up from school and packed my lunch,” came Lin’s quick, very annoyed response. For someone of his size, words were really the only means he had to keep others at bay - and sometimes they just acted of their own accord. He regretted speaking as soon as the words escaped him, but he couldn’t take them back, so he just kind of averted his eyes, hoping they would be forgotten. Being condescended to got old quickly, yes, but he still wasn’t prepared to throw down with the man over some stupid quip. (He didn’t know if that would happen, but one never knew with these seedy types.)
Then the bomb dropped. It came whistling unexpectedly from the sky and exploded on impact. There was a long silence. It was impossible for Lin to hide the surprise he felt. He stood there, hands limp at his sides, mouth slightly agape. Firstly, what car? Secondly, two seconds ago the man had looked at him like a stranger - like a crazy, religious stranger, and now all of Lin’s past transgressions were apparently dawning on him. So Aubrey had mentioned him. Well, he supposed, at least he ought to be glad at that?
His heart hardly warmed at the thought.
“No.” Lin paused, not wanting to let the conversation lull and allow them dwell on how horrible of a person he was. Instead, he decided to steer it toward how much of a horrible person the other man was. Yes. Perfect. He puffed up again and looked the man in the eyes, arching a brow as if quite curious. “Whatever happened, by the way, with that briefcase and the car... what did you call it? Juliet? Something like that.”
Dante only laughed. Aubrey might have appreciated the snark in this one. He usually had witty comebacks up his sleeve - or terrible, terrible puns and remarks that were supposed to be flirtatious but really had only been awkward and embarrassing to hear - and Dante suspected that he might have used some on this crazy ex-wife too.
“What briefcase and car?” Dante asked with raised eyebrows. The mention of ‘Juliet’ had been disconcerting and he knew more or less what this funny little man was referring to, but it couldn’t be possible because Dante never mentioned it to anyone and Seven wasn’t the talkative type either.
There was no obvious sign that Lin’s words had made any impression whatsoever on the older man; his expression remained cool, detached, even amused. The boy squinted again, lips curving downward into a frown. He didn’t want to give away the fact that, truthfully, he knew very little - that what he’d seen was at most a glimpse. Waving a dismissive hand, he said: “If I remember correctly, you wanted to drive the anthropomorphized car, but worried it - sorry, she would prove too flashy.”
Not once did it cross Lin’s mind that he may well come off as either insane or, perhaps, as a stalker as he babbled on. Not once did he realize that the whole memory-plunging thing could’ve just happened to him (and Aubrey, whom he knew had seen some of Lin's own memories). He didn’t think he was crazy - and the whole thing had been so overwhelming, he felt that it couldn’t have been just him. The gauze of exhaustion still covered him, but it was a little less smothering at the moment - he’d gotten so worked up over seeing suit-man here that he, at least for the moment, forgot how tired and sick he was.
He hadn’t said any of that out loud to anyone, but that had been his line of thinking and since Seven graciously accepted the car, that meant that somehow, Dante had been the one to give it away.
He was treading dangerous waters now, so he had to pick his words carefully. Yet this young man looked less than imposing, and all he had was a balloon of confidence which Dante felt like he could pop very easily. There had been nothing on paper but a phone recording of any sort would be troublesome to wriggle himself out of.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and you don’t look like you know, either. If you’re not going to arrest me, I suggest you step aside before you hurt your head coming up with all these fairy tales.”
"I know you're lying," Lin said stubbornly, not sounding nearly as uncertain as he felt. He didn't move, though he felt like scurrying away. He knew he was less than intimidating, but he didn't care, so long as he wasn't attacked or anything. For a moment, he played with the bottom hem of his t-shirt as he considered what he ought to say. He frowned at the man. "I heard you."
Did you tell someone - a near stranger - that you had been inside their head, Lin wondered. He decided against it and instead placed his hands on his hips. A mix of emotions bubbled up inside of him. The tension in his chest increased, though he paid it no mind. A disapproving kind of protectiveness came over him and he almost pointed a finger in the older man's face. He restrained himself. "Regardless, - I don't care what you do or to whom you sell sealed briefcases to, the important thing is that you don't drag Aubrey into whatever this "car and briefcase" business is."
He heard his thoughts? That had to be a new one. A phone recording, perhaps, but how could he have recognised Dante’s face if all he had was a phone recording? Had his loft been bugged? A thousand and one thoughts churned through his mind, all of which made him feel slightly uneasy. But none of his discomfort showed on his face.
“Listen, kid. I think you’re real cute n’ all,” Dante started, and the slightest drawl of an accent he had spent years and years trying to rid himself of started creeping back into his voice.
“So I’ll let you get back to going crazy on your own, and I won’t call anyone who’d come to pick you up and strap you into a straightjacket.” That was as much of a warning as this little guy was going to get.
The sound of the man’s voice changed ever so slightly. Lin couldn’t quite put his finger on the difference, but he noticed it. He watched the older man carefully, trying to ready himself in case he needed to run or duck or whatever. But, he never needed to. Aubrey’s boyfriend continued to blow him off, and for a second, Lin did wonder if maybe, somehow, this was the wrong guy. He bit his lip. This wasn’t the wrong guy though. This was him. This was the shady motherfucker he’d been in the memory. This was the shady motherfucker who also fucked Aubrey, probably right after making drug deals. (People made drug deals, right? Was that the right verb?)
“Well, thank Jesus you think I’m cute.” Lin continued to frown, his eyebrows knitted together. “But you and I both know I’m right. All you have to do is say, ‘okay, I won’t be a terrible person and put Aubrey in danger with all my shady wheelings and dealings.’”
It really was quite simple.
“Jesus has nothing to do with it,” Dante said, voice and expression deadpan. He didn’t put much stock into religion and Christianity happened to be one of the crazier ones he never wanted to get caught up in. Besides, he didn’t think a guy finding another guy ‘cute’ would get Jesus’ seal of approval.
“You think I’m a shady person who would put people in danger, and you thought it was a good idea to come up to me and accuse me of all sorts of shit you’re pulling out of your ass?” Dante closed the distance between them. There was nothing physically threatening about him - he didn’t have a concealed weapon and his hands were in his pockets - but his piercing gaze was cold and dismissive, and his smile was all teeth and devoid of warmth. He was taller and bigger and really it wasn’t the best idea to mouth off to someone who was allegedly involved in ‘shady wheelings and dealings’.
“Let’s say you’re right,” he started, voice soft and low and nothing short of threatening.
“What do you suppose happens next?”
Of course now would be the moment the man would choose to step in close. Really close. Enough so that Lin could count his eyelashes - which were quite long and dark. Now, the moment he’d been waiting for five minutes ago, but was no longer prepared for. Still, bullies were nothing new to Lin, however old. He did his best to keep his fear from showing and planted his feet as firmly as he could on the checkered tiles. He had to look up at a relatively sharp angle, given the height difference between them, but tried to ignore how easy it would be for the older man to basically snap him in half, should he so choose.
Suit-man made a good point, however. The truth was Lin had approached him impulsively, lacking any notion of what he even wanted out of the encounter, besides to point a finger and shout, “You!” But he wasn’t about to admit that aloud. - What had he gotten himself into?
There were a few beats of silence as the boy fumbled for something to say. (He wanted to say something like, ‘Where else does shit come from but the ass?’ But, unfortunately, his better judgement won out.)
“Well..., I suppose,” he mimicked the man’s word choice. “You would just say that you’ll be nice and then I can go on with being crazy and you can continue your day being creepy or whatever the fuck.”
“That would be real nice of me, wouldn’t it?” After everything the young man had blurted out, in an attempt to do what Dante wasn’t sure, he had half a mind to manipulate Seven into getting rid of this little bratty kid for him. The only people who should know about secret illicit dealings were the people involved in the deal, and right now there was one too many persons involved in something he should not be getting himself involved in.
“I won’t be seeing or hearing from you again, will I?”
It really would be real nice. Lin frowned. He knew a threat when he heard one. And he was all too aware of his tenuously situated mortality. And goddamn, this guy was tall - he was old, yes, but he was tall. Lin swallowed, then gave a forced half-shrug.
“I can’t help it if you see me,” was all he could think of to say. He then heaved a sigh. Maybe this had gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe wagging accusatory fingers in stranger’s faces was not the best way to make a good impression. Maybe he should try a different tactic. “I’m not threatening you with my “super secret knowledge,” you know. I just - I mean, ...look, I ended up in your head somehow yesterday and the shit was weird. It was fucked up. I would just appreciate it if you could take your creepy calls somewhere that isn’t a bed with Aubrey in it.”
A memory. Yes. That’s what they were. That’s why he had known about this young man, in that car. That’s why he would know about the Alfa Romeo and the briefcase. Dante’s sigh of relief was nothing more than a slow breath and a small smile. He couldn’t prove any of it and Dante wouldn’t have to call the shrinks - the police would do that for him when they learned that all this knowledge was obtained through reliving someone else’s memory.
“A young man like you should learn to mind his own business.” By now no one was interested in the scene that the two strangers had started - for a moment there it looked like there was going to be a fight, but the tension in the air had lifted, and the patrons went back to busying themselves eating and happily ignoring the two men standing there. The staff still kept their eyes on the two men, but otherwise said and did nothing to intervene.
“Vegas isn’t a very safe place to be talking to strangers you aren’t paying for by the hour.” Dante didn’t have a name, but he wouldn’t need it. He just had to ask Aubrey and he was sure that Aubrey would be more than willing to oblige.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have something important, illegal and highly dangerous to do, like buy myself breakfast and a cup of coffee.”
“Personally, I’d debate the usage of ‘stranger’ in this case. Being in someone’s head is probably at least on par with third base.” Lin gave the man a serious look. He knew he was being blown off, he heard the curt bite to the man’s voice. He knew this conversation - if it could be called such - was over. There was likely very little he could say or do to convince Mr. Suit to agree to what he was asking. The boy folded his arms across his chest, remembering how tired he was and how lukewarm his coffee was back on the table.
Really, he didn’t know what he’d been expecting to come of this encounter. Nothing, really. But he felt disappointed all the same. Whatever it was Aubrey saw in the man, Lin had missed it - not that he wasn’t attractive. He was, in a stately gentleman with a lot of stubble kind of way. But he was rather cold, wasn’t he? Lin uncrossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably where he stood, still too close to the other man.
“But I guess if you need to get to your ‘coffee’ and ‘breakfast,’” he made quotes in the air with his fingers, allowing his eyes to sweep the room before returning to the man’s face. “And it’s important, I’ll leave you to it.”
Dick.
With that, not wanting to be the one left standing in the middle of a cheesy diner after a strange and public encounter with a man in a suit, while wearing a ratty t-shirt and jeans, Lin marched off to the front register to pay his check and leave. That way, he’d still have plenty of time to get in his ceaseless crying and over-anxious thinking for the day.