Re: The Disaffected/The Entertainer
He didn't know much about adequate parents. He wasn't so old that his were way down in the rear view, but he wasn't so young that he felt the sting of them on his backside. Most days when he thought of them he thought of regrets. Miles wasn't fond of regretting, so he didn't think much on his past. Mistakes weren't the only thing a person could look back on with melancholy, and Miles saved his melancholy for his songs. If there was one thing that would never go out of fashion in country music it was sadness. But he wasn't going to procreate if he had anything to say about it, so he had that going for him. "Half of you," he corrected. "Sorry, but you're one of us now, for better or worse."
He wore no rings. He had no jewelry worth mentioning. At the end of the day he was a simple man with a simple man's taste. "I'm honest. I figured you'd appreciate that in us old timers." He gave Nicky a grin, and then he swallowed his drink down with the expertise of someone who hadn't flinched at the burn in ages. "No one gets to thirty without a serious thing going wrong. Some people might claim they do, but I'm not buying it." He tapped the bar and slid his glass toward the bartender, waiting for the refill. "This where you tell me what you had go wrong?" Bars were for talking. They were also for making plans for later, for snorting things up your nose that would keep you going from show to show, and for eating something greasy on solid ground. This bar was for shooting the shit.
Miles grinned. "If." That was a pact that they were both going with a hypothetical here. "Three of them that can fly? Too coincidental. Next one?" He took his fresh drink and swallowed.