Finn McGill (wereofglasgow) wrote in regulation, @ 2008-03-16 22:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | backstory, finn mcgill, zacharias smith |
Who: Finn McGill and Zacharias Smith
What: Pool playing and friendship formation
When: Fenruary 2007
Where: London
Rating: R for language
Status: Closed; Complete
It was the kind of night where steam hissed out the manholes. The air
was so muggy from heat that he blinked back sweat as he stumbled
through the street, tasting salt in his mouth as his lips parted,
breathing in nothing so much as factory smoke, oil and the mud that
clung to the gutter, sprinkled with dead flies and trash. His trainer
stopped in front of the pub, half-glued to the puddle that had snarled
it, a used condom an inch from an exposed toe.
And he wondered why he missed London.
The man's hand slapped the door open. The building, like everything
else he'd touched years ago and returned to, had begun to decay. He
could feel the slight give and gasp of the wood as he stepped inside
the pub. As he suspected, the bartender had grown older. The lines
of age, the sores of a tobacco-chewed mouth... Riley looked bad. But
for all of that, he straightened slightly as he saw Zach, pulling a
glass from under the counter and tipping a bottle in. The whiskey was
so pale it looked like urine as it trickled against the sides.
"Water," he said, "if it's all the same to you."
"'s not, Zach," Riley said. "Water's cheap and there's a depression on."
"Here. I'll pay the fucking same. Just... promise me you won't offer
me another drink ever again. And your water's good as goddamn whiskey
to me." He leaned against the counter. It ached to watch Riley take
a swig of the drink, knowing how it felt to have that sharp, angry
flood course through his body. The intensity of it. Like sex without
the pain. He picked up his glass, swirling the water inside and
watching how it rippled. It was something to focus on.
Finn glanced up from the pool table as a new customer stumbled in. A young man, but worn-looking. It was quiet in the pub, other than a few murmurs here and there, and she managed to catch most of what he said to the bartender. Recovering alcoholic, then. Would explain some of there wear, but not all of it. She swallowed the piece of beef jerky she'd been chewing and popped another piece into her mouth.
"Ya gonna play or not?" The man she was in the process of separating from his twenty quid was getting impatient. Joy. Finn rolled her eyes and took her shot, missing on purpose. He still had too many balls left for her to worry, and besides, he might decide to up the bet. She glanced back at the bar while the man set up his shot; she'd probably win during her next turn. Only thing bad about jerky was the tendency to make one thirsty.
Zach turned his gaze to the tables. Another pastime given up in the
three years since he'd left London. Yet... it wasn't drink. And a
man had to have something. His fingers curled as if there was a cue
between them.
Standing, he walked over to the table, saying nothing but standing
there, eyes watching the game quietly. That woman had missed the shot
on purpose and he analyzed that, his stare moving from ball to ball on
the green, realizing after her partner had knocked the eight towards
the gutter that she could win it in one shot.
She bit her lip to hide a smirk as the eight landed in a perfect spot for her, just where there'd be enough doubt that the man might expect her to miss. She rolled her shouldered and eyed the new comer as he made his way over. Finn acknowledged his presence with a nod, then swallowed her jerky and prepared to take her shot. The man mumbled something to the effect that she wouldn't make it and laughed. The eight slid in and the laughter died.
Finn straightened up and shrugged. "Guess I made it." She held out her hand; the man grumbled about women and luck, but he paid her the twenty quid they'd agreed on. He grumbled off toward the bar and she pocketed the money. She stretched and smiled at the newcomer. "If you want to play, I'll give you a fair game, unlike the one I gave that eedjit just now." She didn't rip off anyone who looked like they needed the money as much as she needed it herself. Just the blow hards with money enough to lose.
"You don't have to play fair," Zach said, grabbing a cue and chalking
it. "Just have to play well." His thigh butted the table
slightly, rocking the balls in the rack as he looked over at the
woman. Resting the cue on the green felt, he rolled it, eyeing the
slant of the table, noticing the uneven spots. It had been a while
and, Smith saw, the green was missing spots, worn down in others. It
wouldn't be an easy table to shoot.
"Zach Smith," he said casually. "You racking?"
"Man after my own heart." She grinned and nodded as she began putting the balls back on the table. She popped another piece of jerky in her mouth as she placed the balls into the slightly warped triangle of the rack. "Finn McGill," she said. This was going to be more fun than most games she played, and she looked forward to that.
"You can break, if you like," she said nonchalantly. She wanted to see how he played, how he moved. He was different from her usual opponents - they didn't seem raw.
"Been a while," he nodded, "But sure. What the fuck." His hands
braced the rack, watching the balls as they slid against the table.
Once they had formed a neat triangle, he slid it off and stepped back,
picking up the cue.
He leaned over the end, his muscles flexing with the force of his
restraint. He spent his days twisting glass, warping it to his will.
It took effort not to exert brute strength, to remember control. With
a deft, neat motion, he knocked the balls across the green, sliding
one neatly into the corner pocket. He'd play nice, Zach thought,
knocking two more in, then deliberately missing the third.
"You from around here?" he asked.
She smiled as he missed the shot deliberately. This would be fun indeed. She eyed the layout of the balls for a moment before pocketing two and purposefully missing a third, though the miss did keep from leaving him what would have been a shot a beginner could make.
"I travel around," Finn said. "From Glasgow, originally. Haven't been there in years, though. Got some things I couldn't really explain to the family, so I don't bother making excuses, though I do write, now and then." Not often, though.
"Never been to Scotland," Zach said as he eyed the shot. Nice.
Wasn't any way he could play sweet to her now. Well, then. He sunk
one, then walked around and sunk another, picking them off one at a
time as he spoke. "Fucking never wanted to, though. 'm from
Liverpool, grew over on Canning Street. Lots of factories. Whole
goddamn Mersey. Who needs hills?"
"Water's nice, rather partial to a spot near a canal in Ruchill, myself." The spot she'd been turned into a werewolf and met Marjory. Not typically the best way to meet a future lover, but it wasn't so bad in retrospect. At least not to Finn it wasn't. "Wooded area next to it, not big, but nice enough for looking at." Not really a good place to hide during the moon, though. Marjory must have been desperate for a hiding place when she'd ducked into it. Pulling herself out of the past, Finn eyed the table. "You're a lot better than most of the ones I play," she said.
"Playing to make the rent helps with that," he commented. "You're not
fucking bad yourself." He made the rest of the shots easily, too
distracted by the conversation to let her win. "Never been to Ruchill
either, don't fucking think. Guess I like cities too damn much. All
the roar. The dirt. The glass. All that shite." Though there had
been a time in his life where he'd longed for the country. Well, that
was over now.
Finn chuckled. "I play to eat, a lot of the time. Camping out random places when I can cuts down on the rent." And he was very good. If pool was like tennis, she'd want him as a doubles partner. "Yeah, it's in Glasgow. Me, I used t' like the city more than I do now. Get too cramped feeling if I stick around too long, though. I like the woods, smell of the earth, smell of the rain and the grass. Also it's easier to ride a motorcycle without sharing the road when you're not in the city."
"You're a fucking biker?" Zach shot her a grin as he picked up his
glass of water, taking a swig. "Fucking wouldn't've thought."
"Solo, but yeah. Open road's a beautiful thing." She grinned back at him and popped another piece of beef jerky into her mouth. "Bet you wouldn't think I used to be a police constable either, would you?"
"Nah," he said, gesturing at the jerky. "That's not a fucking donut."
Propping the cue up against the table, he asked, "So why'd you quit?"
"Nah, more protein. I got my arm torn up by a...fecking crazed dog-thing." That sounded terribly lame, but it was the best near-truth she could come up with. "Weakened my arm for a while, but it's mostly all right now. Aches like fuck when the weather changes, though."
"Sound like my dad used to," Zach grinned. "You try heat on it? He
used to do that, helped some." Another swig of the water, then he
said, "Hey, can I get you another drink? Maybe go for best two out of
three. Let you get the first shot in this time."
She hadn't actually thought of using heat before. "Huh. I'll have to try that next time. And I'm not quite old enough to be a parent of yours." Finn chuckled and nodded. "All right. Get me a bottle of the cheapest beer the place has, then."
"That's pretty fucking cheap," Zach answered. "You like vinegar
better or piss?"
Finn laughed. "I'll take the vinegar. Piss never appealed to me."
"Fair enough." He got up and walked back over to the bartender.
"Riley, shot of the best vinegar you fucking got." Zach flashed Finn
a cockeyed grin, waving her over to the bar. The bartender coughed,
an amused snort escaping his mouth, and shoved a bottle of brown,
adding, "Never seen you buy a woman a drink before" as Zach scowled at
him. With a slow eyeroll, he turned back to the woman, then said,
"Christ. The commentary here's fucking amazing."
She grinned and followed him over to the bar. Raising an eyebrow slightly at the bartender's comments. "Well. Been awhile since anyone bought me a drink, really." Finn glanced at the drink, then leaned in and murmured to Zach, "Don't worry, I won't try to get in your pants." She took the drink and took a swig, then made a face. "Definitely vinegar."
He snorted at that.
"Wasn't worried about that. You fucking struck me as a dyke -
otherwise I wouldn't be buying you a bottle of rat piss." Leaning
against the bar, he said, "So. Biker. Cop. What do you do now?"
"Mostly the ladies, yeah. Couple of guys, but your a bit young for me. I don't do younger men. Don't do much of anyone, lately." Finn laughed and took another swig. "God this stuff is hideous. Well. I play pool, play cards sometimes, carve things to sell. Haven't had a 'normal' job in years. Just...travel around."
"Normal jobs? Fucking overrated." He eyed her beer almost longingly
but managed to keep from ordering one himself. Still, his fingers
were tightening so hard around the glass that they turned white. With
a slow swallow, he added with a grin, "You and I could clean up on the
pool circuit, if that's normally how you play."
"Yeah," she said. "That's how I play unless some poor sap who really oughtn't be betting what little he has tries the game. Then I just let him win if he can. What happens to his money after that's not my problem." She took a long swig of the beer to finish it then popped a piece of jerky in her mouth to get rid of the taste. "We'd rob 'em all blind, we would." Finn grinned.
"Damn straight." With a shrug, he said, "I'm up in a warehouse these
days. Out by Docklands. Know the area? Need cash, just ride your
fucking bike up that way and we can hit the tables."
Finn nodded slowly. "Yeah, I've been out there a couple of times. I'll remember that next time I'm around. Make a fuckin' killing, working together." She grinned and stuck out her hand. "I'll see ya around then, Zach." He wasn't a wolf, true, but if they got on this well he'd be like pack, and she missed having sibling around.
"Damn straight you will." His handshake was firm as the two hands
met. She didn't hesitate and her grip was strong. He liked that.
"Have a good night."
He watched quietly as the woman started walking out the door. Friends
were good to have. Especially though who didn't know the man you'd
been.