quicklog: Atticus, Casper, Carver, Michael, Will
[Michael absolutely had not thought as far ahead as picking weapons in the bar. Funnily enough, he wasn't worried at all about their little weirdo reunion until he was actually walking to the Cat, really thought about the group of people he would be sitting down with. How long it had been, the circumstances of their parting, all the fun he'd been having talking to them since he came to town.
By the time he reached the bar he'd worked himself into a lather of twisted anxiety. On a good day, he projected a blind and oblivious confidence, cultivated by getting made fun of in school - getting made fun of a lot - and then seeing some stuff so terrible that being bullied dropped to the bottom of his list of concerns. He still had that old awkwardness in him, though, and it wasn't only brought out by being around people who knew the old shaggy-haired gangly version of his fast-talking self.
This could break bad. Not in a violent way - he really wasn't anticipating that. But it could veer south quickly, if their conversations on the forums were any indication. He wanted to believe they could all find some of that old cameraderie again, but maybe that was too optimistic. Maybe some bonds, once broken, couldn't be mended.
That didn't mean you didn't try, though. And like hell was he going to turn down a chance to look Carver in the eye and see if there was still a route in. Plus, beer! Surely alcohol would only make things better.
Michael didn't smoke, but he didn't mind Atticus' cigarette. His parents never smoked, and his first exposure to smokers had been as the aforementioned teenager, solemnly hanging out with his smoking friends and aiming to be cool by not wincing at the stank. He wasn't wearing a coat, since it was finally getting warm enough to be out in the world, just a soft old henley and his beat up sneakers.
He muscled up to the pool table with a smile, as if the knot he'd worked into his gut didn't exist.] I hope everyone's drinking. Tell me what, and I'll go sweet talk to bartender. I think she likes me. Will, I see somebody racked those balls - don't let Atticus hustle you just because he looks really cool right now.