InsaneJournal

See if I care and see if I stand firm or if I fall
Who: Angel and Graham
Where: Owl's Nest
When: 6pm

Graham had been at work for exactly three hours and he was bored out of his mind. While he was grateful the Williamson family was able to give him more days to work to make up for his abrupt absence on Friday, the lack of customers was killing him. Not even the fact that there would be less tips, but the fact there was close to no one to talk to. Sunday was a slow night for any bar, and Graham knew that better than anyone else. A few regulars stopped on by, but aside from that he was busy fixing up drinks for the waitresses. He tried to catch a few of the servers when they weren't as busy to chat with them, but once they received their drinks they were off on their way, leaving Graham to his own devices.

And that was never a good thing. If there was one thing to be learned about Graham, or at least by the restaurant, it was to never let the bored, highly intelligent, fire elemental around booze and a pack of matches. Bad things just happened. Well, they weren't that bad to Graham, but the fiery concoctions he was making while waiting for customers was beginning to worry his coworkers, even more so when he was haphazardly put them out with his palm. Yeah, that wasn't subtle in any sense of the word, but at least he was keeping himself occupied.

Seeing as how going to Heme was not such a great option for him, Angel decided to try out a place called the Owl's Nest. Had an interesting ring to it and his occupational therapist said it was a good place So, he called up a cab and grabbed his white walking cane. He was going to leave Annie at home for this one. He just wanted a couple of drinks and something to eat - shouldn't take too long or be too challenging.

Angel was let out at the door and he made his way to the bar with assistance from the hostess. "Scotch on the rocks," he said gruffly to the bartender he assumed was behind the counter. He couldn't really hear anyone but he knew there had to be somebody there.

Graham was there alright, just... well, busy being himself. He was in the process of trying to figure out the best combination for his flaming drink creation. So far the mixture wasn't entirely even, but now he thought he got it right: Bacardi, Curacao, Grey Goose, Patron Silver, Tanqueray, 7-up, and a sour mix. Top it off with some 151, strike up the match, and viola! Now he just had to have someone try it. By that time he finally acknowledged the new customer and put the glass, still on fire, off to the side.

"Sorry that took so long," he spoke up while quickly fixing up the glass of scotch, cringing at the fact he had to deal with ice. Ugh, who the hell drank with ice? Bleh! Thankfully there was an ice machine, but still. Graham was never going to get over that. Sliding the glass in the man's direction, he quickly wiped his hands off on his black jeans to get the moisture off. "Been keeping myself busy with random shit. Still have yet to have someone try any." He motioned to his fiery drink with his chin, completely oblivious that the other man couldn't see.

"Whatever," Angel mumbled to the bartender's apology. Then he kept going on about something and Angel scowled. "Try what? What the hell are you talking about?" He hated it how people would automatically assume he could see whatever the hell he wanted to. There was nothing he hated more. As if the seeing eye dog or the white cane wasn't clue enough that he was fucking blind!

Angel's heard the glass being pushed towards him but his hands searched the bar top and he couldn't find it. "Where's my drink?" His voice was none too polite with that question. He was quite annoyed already.

"What?" He perked up a brow. "Where is it? I slid it right in front of-" Glancing over to the man, and realized the blank stare he gave first and the white cane second. Oh shit... seriously now? Just to double check, Graham waved his hand in front of the man's face, noticing he didn't even flinch. Awesome, he was blind, and Graham almost went off on him for not seeing his drink. Well, no shit he couldn't he was fucking blind. With that realization sinking in, Graham took a hold of the glass of scotch and moved it until it touched the man's fingertips. "Right here."

Once that was done, Graham stepped back cautiously, eying the man a couple times over. This was slightly awkward, to say the least, but at least he couldn't bitch about the drink that was still on fire a couple feet down the counter top. Oh, and about that... "Just fucking around with different alcohol combinations and a box of matches, seeing what's good." Stifling a laugh, he shook his head while walking on over to the drink, playing with the fire idly as his eyes were intently glued to it. "Granted I've yet to drink one or have someone else take a sip, but this one might be perfection at its best." Just smelling it alone was enough to get someone tipsy, let alone drink it. Graham was tempted to down the glass, but knew this would fuck him up for a while. As bored as he was that Sunday night, probably not the best idea. Besides, this new blind man seemed to have a chip off his shoulder, and that definitely perked up Graham's interest.

Angel could feel the wind as the bartender waved his hand in front of his face. Awesome. He was one of those kind. Angel rolled his eyes until his fingertips touched the glass, which he immediately grabbed and downed. He signaled for a refill, feeling the need to do some drinking. When didn't he feel the need to do some drinking, really.

At the bartender's explanation, Angel perked up an eyebrow. "Alcohol combinations and matches... sounds intriguing." With his new super sense of smell, he could almost smell the alcohol from where he was sitting. He turned his face to it and asked, "What all did you put in there? I could get drunk just off the smell of it."

Of course Graham was that guy. He was far too eccentric to pass up an opportunity like that. Besides, it was either that or abruptly asking, 'Are you blind?' And it didn't help that Graham's voice carried out quite a bit, too. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed the man had already down the scotch, which alone said something about him. People only drank scotch when they were having a shit day or were an alcoholic. From the sound of the man's annoyed voice, he was going to lean more towards a shitty day, but it wouldn't have been the first surprise for Graham. Hell, after all the crap he went through over the weekend, that piece of information wouldn't have even fazed him.

"It's rum, Curacao, vodka, tequila, gin, 7-up, and sour mix." He paused, trying to remember if that was it. "Oh, and 151 on the top... with fire, as of now. Obviously have to put it out, but-" He looked back on to the concoction, once again entranced with the dancing fire. "...yeah..." Now that he knew fire couldn't hurt him, Graham was wondering what it would be like if he could down the drink with the flame still going. Wouldn't probably freak out a few servers walking by, but at least the man keeping him company was blind.

And Graham would have been wrong - Angel was a borderline alcoholic. He was trying to not become a full fledged one, but it was hard with his many bouts of bitterness and depression. Besides, scotch was a favorite of his - always had been.

"Ah hell, let me try it it." It sounded so strong, but Angel didn't care at this point. "Just hold the fire. I'm not wanting my face burned off today." That'd be a cute look along with his blindness.

Letting out a sharp whistle, he raised his eyebrows to eye the man. "You're a fucking brave soul, I'll give you that." Bringing his eyes back to the flame, Graham sighed reluctantly before putting his palm over the glass to smother the flame. Part of him felt a bit depressed having to put out the fire, but he wasn't going to take his chances with whether or not this man was a fire elemental or not. With that done, he lifted his hand away, noticing one couple at a table in the distance giving him a rather frightful look, and then placed it in front of the man within hand's reach. "Cheers."

Angel heard the clink of the glass as it was put down in front of him. His hand searched for it before finally finding it and bringing it to his lips. He could smell the alcohol before he even got it partways to his mouth. Shit it was strong. Angel took a big sip and thought his throat was going to burn as the liquor raced down. His face twisted into a grimace as she swallowed the bitter alcohol. "Fuck," he gasped as he slid what was left over to the bartender. "Your turn." He could already feel the alcohol hitting his system and making his head spin a bit. "Damn that is strong," he murmured, clutching his head.

Strong was what Graham was aiming for, so at least he succeeded in that department. Once his eyes shifted about to make sure none of the waitresses caught sight of him, he brought the glass to his lips and took a gulp of the drink. Holy fuck, it is strong. Pulling the glass away to swallow, Graham turned his head to cough sharply before letting out a chuckle. "Shit, that should be illegal to sell." Shaking his head, he put the crazy concoction behind the bar, maybe save it for some more coworker who needed it at the end of the shift. "God, don't even worry about paying for your scotch, that one can be on me. Deserve it after trying that shit, holy crap." And people wondered why it was never a good thing to leave the fire elemental to his own devices when bored.

Angel snickered when he heard the bartender cough. At least he hadn't coughed. Chalk one up for Angel! "Hey, thanks man," Angel said, with a rare smile. He downed the rest of his scotch and asked for another. He knew his therapist would be quite disapproving right now. She never was a fan of him getting sloshed in public - especially wouldn't like it tonight since he left Annie at home. "Do you do this every night? Make random drinks out of boredom?" Normally Angel wouldn't give a shit what the bartender did, but he wanted someone to talk to tonight.

Funny how that worked out, because Graham was dying to have someone to talk to as well. Slow nights at the bar sucked like that. "I do a lot of random shit out of boredom, not just make drinks," he reassured the man while serving him another drink. "Just like experimenting with chemicals whenever I have the chance, and seeing that it's slow as fuck and I'm tending the bar-" Graham let out a chuckle while shaking his head. "-well, let's say that wasn't the first creation for the night. Though it is the first successful one!"

"Shit, if that's your idea of successful," Angel said, shaking his head with a grin. The dude was crazy. "No one in their right mind would consider that successful. It was fucking terrible!" Then the bit about the chemicals sunk in. "You play with chemicals? Shit man. Intense." All he played with were paints. Didn't quite seem as hardcore as the bartender's hobby, however. "I'm a painter. Or well, was." He gestured to his eyes with a frown and then downed his drink, wiggling the glass for another.

A blind artist? That was like if Graham suddenly lost his hands or something, therefore unable to tinker with anything to appease the mad scientist or musician in him. He instantly refilled the man's glass then proceeded to lean against the counter. "That blows, I'm sorry." While Graham was tempted to ask what happened, he figured it was best not to go that route. He didn't appreciate it when people brought up his painful memories, so that was something he could respect. "I'm sure you can still do something, right? Put your creative genes to use or some shit like that. Hell, a lot of famous musicians were blind, and that didn't stop them. Could be something to look into."

"I'm still working at it," Angel said. "I can't give it up. It's a part of me, you know?" He toyed with the glass in front of him, spinning it around and around. "I just can't see what I'm doing or have done... that's the trickiest part." Since he was feeling the liquor he'd drunk, he sipped at this drink, not needing to become totally drunk without Annie's help. "So what kind of stuff do you do with chemicals? That's fuckin' interesting man."

At least he hadn't given up on his passion. Graham definitely gave him credit for that. "What do I do with chemicals?" He blinked, looking like a deer in headlights for a moment. Well, the answer was quite obvious, but he wasn't sure if it was best to- Oh fuck it, it's not like the blind painter is going to go rat me out. "Make them go boom...?" He let out a nervous laugh at the thought. Was one way of putting it. "Just about anything, really. I mean, shit, I love making random drinks. That's chemistry to some extent, right? Knowing how certain things work and react just fascinates me and I'm always trying to figure out how to make them better." Which landed him in jail the first time he tried and then got him out the second time. Funny how that worked.

Angel felt the other man's hesitation and it dawned on him that his activities with chemicals might not be all that legal. "No worries, dude. I'm not saying anything to anyone." Like he ever wanted to step foot in a police station or even deal with them again. He'd had enough of them for a lifetime during Saoirse's murder investigation.

"I would advise to leave the drink creation to someone else," Angel chuckled. "That shit was strong and definitely not for the faint of heart." He could still feel the burn of the alcohol in his throat and it had nothing to do with the scotch he'd been drinking.

Seemed like the blind guy was more than he appeared to be. From the tone in his voice, Graham could at least figure that he knew the interest in chemicals was borderline illegal, and thankfully he didn't seem to care. Though he didn't feel like rambling on about his lovely history with explosives, thus replied to the part about the drink mixing. "Oh come on, I would think a strong drink like that shit would qualify me for something. Then again, you seem happy just as long as I keep pumping you up with scotch." And Graham didn't blame him for that either. A good bartender was one that was on his game and kept the glasses full. "So do you typically have rounds like this or was today not a good one?" Or maybe a mixture of both, who knew.

Angel laughed with the bartender, "If that's what you can do with drinks, I don't even want to know what you can do with chemicals." It was a slightly scary thought, this guy being free to mix up whatever he wanted. Then again, as long as it didn't directly affect Angel himself, he really didn't give a damn what the guy did.

"Eh, it was a typical day. Tried to paint, got frustrated and ended up in a bar... I do love my scotch though." And that he did. He wasn't sure why that was, but scotch had always been his drink of choice.

That sounded like a better typical day than Graham's. So far said typical day for him involved trying to save his ass from either dying or being ripped a new asshole from someone chewing him out. Getting frustrated with paint sounded a lot better from his perspective, though it was probably more annoying when you were, you know, blind. "Just paint? That's not too bad, now is it? Could be a lot fucking worse, like some girl dumping you and kicking you out of their life, right?" Because what was worse than that? Well, Graham could think of a few things, but in general, nothing really beat having your heart ripped out and stepped on. That shit just sucked.

That was so not the thing to say to Angel, especially when he was verging on tipsy. He threw back his latest drink and slammed the glass down. "Oh yeah? How about the girl you were seeing goes and gets her stupid ass murdered. And since she was leaving your house, you're suspect numero uno. Finally after lack of evidence the case goes into the cold cases. Fast forward and you find out that said girl was TURNED and is now A VAMPIRE and not dead at all. Or, well, relatively speaking. So now your reputation is shit, no one wants to do business with a suspected murderer and said girl is a fucking vampire. Who is horribly uncomfortable around you, when she speaks to you that is. So yeah, I know all about womens trouble." Angel sat back and eyed the bartender, almost in a challenging way.

For a second, Graham began to flare up at the man's sudden hostility, but it suddenly went poof when he realized that the two had a lot more in common than he thought. Letting the silence blow by them, he finally let out a gentle chuckle and replied. "Shit, you too with the vampire exes? Well fuck, let's build ourselves a boat and we can paddle in the same river together." A stronger laugh came out from Graham, quite amused with the thought. "I completely feel your pain, man, trust me. At least you didn't have to experience and jail time, though." Because that shit fucking sucks.

"You have a vampire ex too? Well I'll be damned." Angel steepled his fingers, elbows resting on the bar. "What was your ex's name?" He shook his head with a sharp chuckle. "I can't believe we have vampire exes... what are the damn odds of that?"

Angel paused at his comment about jail time. "Oh yeah? You been in jail?" It frankly wouldn't surprise Angel, seeing as how the bored bartender was mixing up lethal drinks. It really didn't matter to Angel, he was just curious.

Awesome, two topics at hand that he really didn't feel like talking about, though seeing that he had absolutely nothing better to do, not even make other drinks, Graham had to settle with talking. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he could finally vent about his problems with his ex. Nothing wrong with that, right? "Yeah, and trust me, it's not fun," he commented about the jail part. That was as much as he was going to talk about that. He didn't need to know. "When I got out, I ended up meeting this redhead who was going to college for music. Saoirse. Were together for about three months, give or take, and then being the douchebag I am, got up and left because I couldn't handle the shit people were giving me in town. Come back four years later to find her on the first day back and find out she's no longer human and wants me to burn in hell for all of eternity." He paused for a second, made a face, then added on. "Actually, she didn't quite say that word for word, but she has that look in her eyes that equates to that, if you know what I mean."

After very nearly falling off his barstool, Angel fixed his unseeing eyes on the bartender, his gaze incredulous. "Saoirse?" he repeated. "No fucking way. That's my ex too." How about that for a small world. As the information penetrated his foggy brain, he felt his anger start to rise. Saoirse had told him about the douchebag who'd left her with nothing but a fucking note. Shit, what was his name? Started with a G. "Graham? That you?"

...wait, what? Did he hear that right? Saoirse was his ex as well? Seriously? Graham didn't know of any other guys in her life before he came along and as far he was concerned that was her first serious relationship. But he was the one who left and fucked that up, so of course she was going to move on and find other people, just as Graham had found other women. Though that didn't necessarily mean he moved on by any means. Once he heard his name being spoken from the man at the counter, he couldn't help but feel a chill wash over his body. Shit, he even knew his name? Had Saoirse talked about him? What about? Probably nothing but how horrible he was. Why would she want to keep any memories after the way he left her. His heart calmed down as his spirits dropped. Swallowing hard, her let out a gentle sigh before finally replying. "...yeah."

Angel let out a loud sigh. Of course he would be. "She told me about you. How much she liked you but that you just vanished with nothing but a note. Smooth move, asshole." Although, as soon as he said that, Angel started feeling a rare moment of remorse because obviously the guy felt bad. His one word answer had so many different layers of sadness and Angel felt inclined to give him a break. "Sorry, that was out of line. So she wants nothing to do with you either?" His meeting up with Saoirse hadn't quite gone as expected... not that he'd had any expectations really. How do you expect a random meeting with your dead ex-girlfriend to go? Angel still obviously had feelings for Saoirse, never quite having gotten over her and then it was just weird...and awkward to see her again. But his feelings had come right back to the surface, even if they weren't reciprocated by her at all.

Yeah, smooth move, indeed. He didn't need to be reminded how much of a fucking douchebag he was back then. Not by her, not by another ex, not by anyone. Shit, just when I think I'm starting to move on this all happens. "It's fine..." Graham replied to his apology, turning his attention to some glasses that needed some cleaning. Well, technically they were already clean, but he needed to do something to get his mind off of the topic at hand. "And not really. Last time I saw her she ripped me at least two new assholes. Tried to tell her I was sorry and that I still-" He cut himself short, realizing where he was going with that. Probably not the wisest thing to tell the other guy who had eyes on Saoirse that he stilled cared for the girl. A lot. "The fuck does it matter? She basically told me to get out and didn't even say goodbye."

It was obvious the guy still really cared for Saoirse. Angel had had several conversations with her and she was quite upset about Graham abandoning her with nothing but a note. She'd not really had any expectations that the relationship would last for the long haul but she also didn't feel that she deserved to be dumped in such an impersonal manner. So he could totally understand why she wanted nothing to do with Graham. Hell, he didn't blame her one bit, actually.

"We all have our regrets, huh?" Angel certainly did. He regretted deeply not driving her back to the dorm that night. He regretted not following her at least. Maybe he could have done something... stopped the vampire or something.

Graham wasn't usually the type to regret something in his life, but he did regret so much with Saoirse. Regretted not staying and potentially being there for her when she was killed essentially or when she was attacked the other week. He wanted to be there for her, both as protection and as a lover, but neither was going to happen. Hell, this other guy seemed to have a better chance with her than Graham did, strictly because she didn't seem to chew him out like she had with Graham. And the thought alone pissed him off.

Turning away from the counter, he braced himself against the wall, trying to calm the hell down. Just when he tried to move on, something had to pick him off of the road he was on and plop him right back where he started when he saw Saoirse for the first time after four years. He didn't want to be in such a helpless, weak state. She doesn't deserve me. She should be with someone who will make her happy and I just need to fucking deal with the fact that it's not going to be me. His love for the girl was never going to die out, even if she stabbed him in the face a million times... though sadly the feeling wasn't mutual.

Growling lowly to himself, Graham grabbed the glass filled with the alcoholic drink he created earlier and abruptly chucked it into the nearby sink, the glass shattering instantly upon impact. A few glass shards flicked out of the sink due to the force and landed on the ground, but for the most part the bark was worse than the bite. Graham didn't care if several waitresses stopped to look at him - he just needed to let out the anger some way or another. It was either that or punching the blind guy in the face.

Clearly that was the wrong thing to say. Angel had just opened his mouth to call out to Graham since he'd fallen silent but then a glass shattered in the sink and it sounded as if it had been thrown into the sink. So clearly, something he'd said had set the guy off. Angel was so not in the frame of mind to be understanding and empathetic, his default setting these days was anger and bitterness. So that's what he went with. "The fuck is your problem?" He hated it when people did this, got all silent, with surely a myriad of emotions playing over their face. Hello? He was blind - so can't see that!

"My problem?" Graham tried not to laugh, but a slight chuckle escaped him. "My problem is that no matter what I fucking do-" He spun around to face Angel, shoot him a wide eyed stare, even if he couldn't see. "-she keeps coming up in the picture. No matter how much I try to move on, I just can't. Never will at this point. Don't need some prick like yourself to shove it in my face." And with that said, Graham began to head on out of the bar, catching eye of one of the waitresses and letting her know he was taking fifteen for a smoke break. Fuck, he needed it just to calm down, but he was beyond all repair at that point. If anything he just needed to get away from the other guy... whoever he was. Once he reached the back door, Graham slammed his fist into it to swing it open briskly, stepping outside into the back of the restaurant for a highly needed clove.

Angel's hand clenched into a fist as Graham went off on him. He couldn't stop himself from sliding his empty glass across the bar towards Graham, smirking slightly when it fell off and shattered on the floor. He didn't need eyes to tell that Graham had left and really it was no skin off his back. Let the guy have his tantrum... whatever. He was mainly pissed because the guy had yelled at him. And because, yeah so maybe he wasn't totally over Saoirse yet either and didn't need some other guy professing his love for her.

"Fuck it," he muttered. He stood up and threw some money on the bar and using his cane, he went outside. Once he fished his phone out of his pocket, he called a cab to come pick him up and leaned against the wall. He wished like hell he had a cigarette, kicking himself for giving up the habit at Saoirse's encouraging.