stan (fivehole) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-03-23 22:04:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | classic rock, hockey |
Who: Hockey and Classic Rock.
Where: Bar near Madison Square Garden.
When: Tuesday evening.
Warnings: Language, alcohol.
"I still think it was a classless move." The voice, marred by a slight Swedish accent, was hard; it was quite obvious that the speaker was still holding a bit of a grudge. Hank - known as Henrik Lundqvist to the public but Hank, Lundy, or The King to his teammates - set his bottle of Tuborg beer down on the table and raised his eyebrows at one of his teammates, a hardened Canadian man who was rolling his eyes and took a chug from his bottle of Molson before replying. "You're just saying that because you're one of those lunatics who enjoys having hunks of rubber shot at him at hundreds of miles per hour." Hank was about to reply scathingly before the third at their table sat up from his slouched, lounging pose in the chair, practically commanding their attention even before he spoke in a way that never failed to confuse his teammates.
"I think we all know that he did what he did because Marty's the-" A sharp glance from Hank had 'Stan' amending his words before they even came out. "-because Marty's one of the best and he knew there wasn't much of a chance of us winning that game without some dirty tactics."
Sean snorted. "It wasn't dirty. It was... creative." It was Hockey's turn to roll his eyes. "Ladies and gentleman, Sean Avery: the professional douchebag." The words earned him a coaster being aimed at his head by his left-wing agitator, Hockey just letting it hit his forehead, laughing indulgently before turning his attention back to his goalie. "We could argue this all night. In fact, we've wasted many nights arguing about this. Hank, that's your... third beer, yeah? Isn't it time you headed back to your place and get a good night's sleep for our game against the Isles tomorrow?" Hank gave him a sarcastic salute and stood, nodding at Sean, who was busy eying a blonde by the bar, and giving Hockey a brief clap on the shoulder as he left the bar. Goalies were eccentric beings and Hank was no different; Hockey watched him leave and hoped that his goalie would be on top of his game the next day.
"And you." Hockey turned his attention back to his best friend. "We have an early skate tomorrow." Sean waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Doesn't mean I can't have a good time tonight. Want me to see if she's got a hot friend for you? She's wearing a Rangers t-shirt, obviously a puck bunny." Sean sighed as Hockey shook his head tightly. "Right, right, you're dating that hot Sonja chick." The mortal ignored Hockey's sharp glare and looked disappointed in his friend as he wandered off to hit on the blonde by the bar.
Hockey just leaned back against the wall of the brightly lit sports bar and glanced up at one of the many televisions to check on the progress of the Leafs game against the Panthers. He grinned when he saw that the much-hated Leafs were losing and tried to pace himself as he took another long chug from his Molson. There were many things he was trying not to think about, his growing attachment and attraction to his brother, the fact that the Rangers weren't likely to make it into the playoffs and his increasing desire to change forms and start all over in the minor leagues before working his way up to the top. After all, Stanley Wayne would turn twenty-three during the summer, and Hockey never let himself grow older than twenty-five.
Hockey held back a sigh, watched as Booth scored his second goal against the Leafs, and ordered another beer. He'd get his team through the regular season and then sort everything out.