diggerharkness (diggerharkness) wrote in newalliance, @ 2012-10-14 23:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | captain boomerang |
Who: Digger Harkness (narrative)
When: Backdated, October 13th, 2012
Where: Central City
What: Father & Son reunion
Rating: R for some swearing
Being back in Central City made Digger leery. Not that he was here for a job, or for anything really Rogue related, so it was unlikely that any of the Flash Clan would show up. That wasn't how it worked. They only really pestered the Rogues when there was something worth pestering about. As in shit going down, and villainy afoot.
And this visit had absolutely nothing to do with that. No, this was about family. The kind that actually shared DNA, not just countless stories about a life of crime. This was about a father and a son having a drink in a bar and possibly getting along. Although there really wasn't any certainty about that last part.
Digger arrived late, and immediately spotted the other, younger, ginger-haired man in a dimly lit booth. He'd started drinking a bit earlier, telling himself it wasn't to calm his nerves or make this easier. It was just something that happened. Digger made his way over, sitting heavily. "Hey," he said, his voice gruff. He waved for the bartender, already feeling the need for more alcohol.
"God, are you already drunk?" Owen asked, his nose wrinkling in disgust that he didn't bother to hide.
"Sonny, when yer my age, an' been through all the shit that I've been through, y'can decide for yer own damn self when it's time to start drinkin'." Digger had to force back the glare, but Owen didn't.
"Don't call me "sonny," it's not like you've been around to earn that."
"Yeah. Yer right." Digger took the bottle when it arrived, waving off the glass. "Keep 'em comin', darlin'," he told the bartender. And then he fixed Owen with a stare. "I ain't been 'round, an' I ain't tried to tell y'what t'do, 'ave I? Nope. I figured you'd 'ave done that yerself better than I could."
Owen shot back a glare in return, and Digger paused in his drinking, amazed how much the kid looked like him. "So what's with the visit now, then? Just decided that you felt like getting to know me better? Did your stint in the Aussie jail make you all sentimental?" He snorted.
Digger shook his head. "Ain't like that." Another long swig from the bottle, draining it half-way. "My time out there only gave me time to think 'bout gettin' out. Man ain't made to sit in a concrete box."
"So then maybe you shouldn't keep the company you do. Might help with that." Owen sneered and then glared at his own drink.
The older man's lip curled as his temper flared. "Listen, you little..." But he forced back the torrent of insults, along with the urge to throw a punch, his normal solutions to problems. "Look. We both know I ain't been 'round to see y'growin'. Reasons for that. Good reasons."
"Enthrall me."
"I ain't a good person, sonny. That ain' likely to change, I'm too old, and been doin' this too long. My rap sheet's too long to think about gettin' some fuckin' desk job. 'Sides, I got years to go to keep tryin'." He opened the next bottle of beer. "Reasons I ain't been around is simple. My pop was shit too. Both of 'em. Step-dad hated me, birth father used me."
He pointed a finger over at Owen, who had gone silent, looking unsure. "I ain't gonna sugar coat it for y'boy, the blood y'got from my side ain't good. Drunks, fighters, criminals. Sure, they ain't all like me, but enough of 'em are. I figured that if I kept away enough, I wouldn't rub off on ya."
Sitting back in his seat, he put his feet up on the table top, expression going distant. "That's my gift to you, sonny. Keepin' out of yer life enough to keep y'on the right side of things." He shrugged a shoulder. "That way, even if y'did make the same mistakes, I ain't gonna be the one t'blame."
Owen kept quiet, and then mumbled, "Thanks. I think."
Digger chuckled, taking the next beer that was brought to him. "Good lad. Good chat."
"....You're still my dad, though."
"Yeah. I know it. Ain't denyin' it. Ever. Anyone asks, I'll tell 'em I got a son. One that ain't like me in all the important ways." A swig from the bottle.
Owen was silent again. "I've got ... friends I'm meeting up with," he said awkwardly, standing and grabbing his coat. "They'll be waiting."
The Aussie nodded, lifting the bottle his way. "Y'need money? Got a girl yer takin' out?" He dug into his own coat pockets and took out a hundred. "Here. Show 'em and her a good time."
His son slowly took the bill, looking from it to his father. "...Thanks. See you around ..." and he trailed off before saying the last word. Instead, he turned and walked out of the bar, leaving Digger alone.
He settled back into his seat again, closing his eyes and letting the half empty bottle of beer rest in his lap. As the bar filled and emptied the rest of the night, he remained alone in the booth, joined only briefly by the bartender who brought him replacement drinks. The rest of the night and part of the next morning was spent in this way, drinking alone with his thoughts.