WHO: Saul Montgomery and Tyler Pirlo WHEN: Forward dated to next week some time. WHERE: Jazz Hands SUMMARY: Tyler's come by to say his farewells. WARNINGS: Nada. Farewells?
Now that his worldly possessions were all packed (mostly thanks to Ryan’s animation skills) up and ready to be shipped off across a continent and an ocean, Tyler had been -- for the most part -- dicking around in his free time. Which mostly meant catching up with friends and bugging them to take the day off to grab food with him.
Catching up with family, though, was another thing. For one, Tyler wasn’t going to make Saul feel obliged to meet him for a last goodbye, nor was he sentimental enough to do so. Secondly, what the hell were they going to talk about? But if anything, Tyler could imagine Rich nagging him to go visit Saul, and him ignoring it, as Rich’s powers were wont to do. So why not take things into his own hands?
Slipping into Jazz Hands thirty minutes before close, Tyler flashed his ID at the bouncer before taking a seat at one of the barstools. In one corner, a bartender was yelling, “Last call!” and in another, the jazz band was packing up after what appeared to be an inspired but exhausting performance. But he was patient. He could wait.
Saul had been a part of the performance, although he'd stopped playing before Tyler showed up. It was different, seeing him in that kind of element, but he never told people when he planned on stepping up. It was his club, his whims. That was the reason why he was out of sight at first, stepping into view in his nice clothes although the jacket and vest he wore to be more ~businesslike~ were missing. They weren't the grooving sort of clothes. He was completely at ease in this place, where every inch of it was chosen and treated with love.
The bartender pointed at Tyler, because while no one knew his identity in this place, they knew he was on the never-charge list. So it meant something. Saul glanced that way and felt his stomach do that natural turnover of anxiety and joy all at once. It also meant something, he could almost sense it, he knew what the days were counting down to. The staff went about their business behind them as Saul took his place on the other side of the bar across from Tyler, smiling faintly. They were almost done, and he was the only one who stuck around after hours unless told otherwise.
"Damn, if you only came a little earlier, I could've attempted to impress you with some musical masterpieces. Casually, of course. Like it wasn't a big deal." There was nothing casual about his feelings toward Tyler, but he was always much better at pretending than he thought. He set two glasses on the bar. "What's your poison, kid? There are no wrong answers. I make me a mean drink of anything."
“Don’t worry about the performance. If you’re on YouTube, I’ll look you up, how ‘bout that,” Tyler grinned, swinging his barstool so that he faced opposite Saul. He milled on whether or not to get a drink, tapping his fingers on the counter as he did so, but figured, what the hell, it’d be a while before he’d set foot in Woodsbridge, let alone this bar, again. “I’ll take a Moscow mule then,” he finally decided.
"I'm on YouTube, and I also have these very outdated things called CDs that people used to buy." Saul grinned back, and made them both Moscow mules. He wasn't kidding when he said he knew how to make booze of any kind.
“CDs? What are those?” As soon as Saul had their drinks prepared, Tyler raised his glasses against Saul’s with a clink. “Cheers,” he toasted to the topic he had yet to bring up. Which led to his next train of thought … “Anyway, I’m glad I caught you. I figured I’d stop by before, you know -- I headed off to London.”
Saul clinked the glass and his hand paused on its way to his lips at Tyler's next words. So there was definitely a purpose to this drop by, which made more sense than wanting to say hi. The pause was brief before he drank, and let the ripple of sadness echo through him and then drift away. He knew the kid was leaving and soon. This wasn't news. Saul encouraged London, even if he himself would've preferred California. "Just promise me you won't be one of those Americans who pick up the accent after a short time living there because it sounds cool."
A lot of lost years, and no sense of what his position was in the future here, but Tyler was clearly happy and making a good decision. Saul was working on that whole not being a selfish prick thing. "Good for you, kid. There are great direct flights from Boston to London, so your parents must appreciate that."
Facetious as Saul’s request was, Tyler still snorted derisively. “Oh, come on. Years of living in California haven’t gotten rid of this accent, and a stint in London sure as hell ain’t gonna change that.” He took a sidelong sip of his drink before continuing, “And yeah, London’s not too long of a flight if you’re flying from the East Coast. My dad’s indifferent though,” he joked. “It’s five hours to fly from Boston to here, and five hours to get from Boston to London, so it doesn’t make too much of a difference for him.”
"The Brits have great slang and beer. Shitty food, but you'll be in London, where there's other options." Saul smiled. "I've been there a few times. I wandered my way through Europe at one point. Played some gigs, also played on the streets, that's an experience. Not one I'd want for you, but it was an interesting one." No, Tyler obviously deserved better and he would have better. He had a real job ahead of him, not one of a vagrant. Saul looked down at his drink. "Did you tell them about us?" He figured so, Tyler didn't seem like the kid who would hide that, but he also didn't know him expertly yet.
“Yeah,” Tyler admitted. “I told him not too long ago, when I was doing all the graduation stuff. He was honest-to-god surprised that I was able to track everyone down, especially since I didn’t have a ton of information to go off of when I was younger. But yeah, he knows.” He let the ginger flavor linger as he took another sip. “He’s happy for me though.”
"It might have been different if one of your bio parents were not Tales, or if both of them weren't, but since we were it was easier to put it all together. All my kids are Tales, I'd say it was proof it's genetic, but neither of my parents were." Still, more often than not people tended to come from Tale families or their siblings turned out to be. It was connected. Saul nodded and glanced toward Tyler. He had trouble keeping eye contact with people, often staring past them or to the side, but occasionally he tried. "Are you happy you did? I know we probably weren't what you expected."
“Yeah, it’s harder for Mundanes to make the connection,” Tyler nodded. He did his best to level his eye contact with Saul’s, as he scratched the side of his head. “You know, I didn’t really know what to expect,” he admitted. “I wanted answers, but it was always this lingering question that I’d shoved onto the backburner years ago. And I got answers, so yeah, I’m happy that I’ve one fewer thing to worry about.” His grin turned facetious before it faded into an uncharacteristic seriousness. “If it’d been fifteen years ago when I found out, I would have been pissed as hell about what happened. If it’s been ten years ago, I would’ve tried to link you with my Tale, since Pinocchio was parentless and sometimes you can’t help but draw a connection where there isn’t one. Now? I guess I understand the situation better. Knowing who you and Laura are isn’t gonna solve any of my immediate life problems, but it’s good that I’m not thinking about the what-ifs.”
Saul listened quietly, watching Tyler closely without being too obvious about it. He was invested in the answer, hoping that it wouldn't give him reasons to hate himself, and so far so good. He tapped a finger against his glass. "Laura and I were really unhealthy. The kind of life we would have made for you is what you see on bad reality TV shows or Judge Judy." Hurting each other through him, having wars about it, he maintained good relationships with his exes except for Laura. They were the kind of fire that could only destroy as a couple. "She was worried I'd get angry at her once I knew, and maybe I would have in the past, but we're friends now and I get why. I would've wanted to keep you, even in an ugly situation. You had a better shot this way."
“Well,” Tyler shrugged. “It’s happened. I dunno how I would have turned out if one of you had kept me, but it’s not a question I really care about answering, you know?”
"I do know," Saul said with a nod.
Saul was very aware of his flaws, it was one of the few things he had going for him really. "You don't need a father, and that's probably a good thing, since I'm not a great one." He gave a half-smile. "But I'm told I'm a good friend, so we could do that, if you wanted." His smile deepened, grew self-mocking and amused. "You know, the much older friend who puts you on family filters, offers you houses, and carries half your DNA."
“The DNA I’ll keep, since I doubt you can do takebacks on chromosomes, but you don’t have to do the family filter stuff and I got my housing covered, how ‘bout that,” Tyler responded in an acceptance that he hadn’t realized felt easy. “But just so you know,” he added in a deadpan. “You just significantly skewed the average age of my friends, and I hope you’re not gonna get offended about all those times I didn’t invite you to any of my house parties.”
Saul inwardly flinched about the family filter part, but it didn't show, because really he tried too hard on that. He couldn't expect people to just go with it. Only Freddie always gave in when he willed it so. He chuckled, always amused by a deadpan, mentally checking off how much genetics showed sometimes. He, Harry, and Tyler could probably have a sarcasm challenge at some point.
"Offended, no, I'm sorry for you and all your friends. I was voted Life of the Party and Mister Popularity all four years in the high school I definitely went to and didn't just make up." Saul looked at the kid, really looked at him, Laura and himself stamped all over. But he was his own person too, made up of the good family and friends he had instead. "Don't be a stranger, Tyler," he said, a little more seriously than he intended, trying to smooth it over with a wry smile. "We already had like twenty-six years of that."
“Oh, you mean the high school you went to eighty years ago?” Tyler’s eyebrows nearly met his hairline. “Get with the times.” So that was that, he thought. He had replayed a hypothetical version of this conversation in his head many years ago, when Saul was but a nameless figure; in one instance, he was bitterly angry, his words barbed with resentment, and in another, serendipitously happy to be reunited with his biological father. But now? He felt neither of the two extremes.
But hell, he felt something. “Yeah,” he practically exhaled, as if it were part of his natural breathing process. An accepting sort of smile followed, and then: “You know where to find me.”