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Qrow Branwen is a bad luck charm (scareqrow) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-07-01 08:00:00

Who: York, NPC!Nurse Emma, and Qrow
When: Circa June 24
Where: Irish Pub Type Place
What: Qrow’s Bad Luck causes a bit of sour luck for our one-eyed hero, and poor York gets a figurative kick to the nuts
Rating/Warnings: Low/None
Status: Complete



Finally Emma, the nurse that York was crazy about, agreed to come and meet with him. It’d been a long time since that night they’d spent together, and slightly less (but still a lot of time) since their romantic dinner interrupted by song. York was utterly convinced that she was laughing to try and save him face, just because she was being kind. And, apparently, he was right. She hadn’t been returning his calls or text messages. He’d just started to get the picture and stop when she finally replied. They made arrangements to have a pint of cider together at her favorite Irish Pub. (At least, she claimed it was her favorite.)

York arrived early, freshly showered and shaved, looking forward to seeing this girl. She was absolutely amazing. Everything about her made his body humm. But it wasn’t just her face and her curves and her hair. She had a kindness unlike any he’d ever known. She was funny, and smart, and always knew exactly the right thing to say. York was absolutely smitten.

The bar was fairly empty, so he took a seat one stool away from one of the other patrons. He ordered a pint of the pub’s cider, and waited.

A few minutes after York arrived, Emma stepped through into the dimly lit room. She’d come straight from work, and looked a bit of a mess. Her hair was still up in a sloppy ponytail, her makeup faded, her scrubs wrinkled and askew. York still thought she looked beautiful. Her work wear was proof of the good deeds she did every day.

She stopped in the doorway, gave him a tentative smile, then pulled a coin from her pocket. She flipped it into the air, caught it, and slapped it onto the back of her opposite hand. Then her face fell a little. When she looked back up in York’s direction, she wore a determined expression. Any trace of the tentative smile was gone.

York’s heart thundered in his chest as she came closer. Something was wrong, and he knew it. He stood from the stool and lifted a hand to touch her arm. “Hey, I--”

“Wait.” Emma’s voice was gentle, but firm. She brought those bright eyes up to look into his. “I wasn’t sure what was going to happen tonight. Whether or not this was going to be a date, or if I was just going to say goodbye.”

York frowned, his hand still frozen in mid-air, inches away from her arm. He stared down at this girl--this girl he’d fantasized about moving in with, having a family, making babies. He’d even imagined the white picket fence and the dog. Maybe he was putting the cart before the horse a little, but when he went in, he went all in. And damn, he was hoping she’d go all in with him.

“I flipped a coin to help me decide. Heads, I give this one more try. Tails, I end things here and now. I really do want to like you, James. The way you like me. But I just don’t. And it’snot fair for me to string you along while I try to decide. You deserve better.” She held out the quarter to him. It was tails-up.

York took the coin from her palm.

“I’m really sorry, James. For what it’s worth, you’re an amazing guy.” Emma stepped forward, went up on her toes, and kissed the dumbstruck man against his smooth cheek. Then she turned to head out of the pub.

“Emma,” York said, finally coming to his senses. He took two steps toward her, as if to chase her out of the bar.

“No, James,” she said, turning around. “Please. Just… drink your cider. Have a nice night.”

York knew that she really meant Have a nice life. He knew this was over.

Qrow wasn’t in the habit of eavesdropping on other people’s conversations, but in a bar this size and with only a single stool between him and another patron it was hard to ignore the little drama taking place.

Qrow winced the moment the woman stated she had flipped a coin to decide whether or not she was going to give a relationship with this guy a try. At least she’d been honest enough to tell him that she just wasn’t into him the same way he was into her instead of give him some kind of drummed up half-baked excuse. But seriously? A coin? Qrow shook his head with a sigh and drained the rest of the whiskey from his glass.

He set the glass down with enough noise to get the attention of the bar keep, who came over to see if his customer wanted more. Of course he did. “And a beer for this poor S.O.B.,” he said, nodding his head in the dumped man’s direction.

York had a vacuum in his chest. He was still a little shocked. Of course, he’d prepared a bit after the disaster of the singing date (seriously, a song about butter knives?) but his hopes had been raised tonight. Just seeing her made him jump back into the forever mindset. And now he was kicking himself for it. He moved over to the stool and climbed onto it, feeling a bit numb.

“Thanks, man,” York managed, his voice a bit scratchy. Then he cleared his throat. “I’ll probably need two.”

“Make it two,” Qrow said to the bartender, who nodded and filled up two pint glasses and set them down in front of unfortunate loser in love. Qrow was quiet for a few moments after the bartender left to take care of other patrons. Reddish brown eyes moved in the other guy’s direction. Christ, he was a sorry sight. Like someone had ripped him apart from the inside out. And, to be honest, that was exactly what had just happened.

It really wasn’t his place to say anything, but Qrow knew that if he hadn’t been sitting there, the girl would have been more likely to get heads. Another sigh. “I’m sorry,” he said as he nudged both glasses towards his new found companion. “But you know, this is probably for the best. Anyone who has to flip a coin to decide whether or not they want to be with you is probably not someone who is going to treat you well, or be the type of person you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

York just sat and stared at the beers that were set on the counter in front of him. He gave a deep, heavy sigh and reached forward for one of the glasses. It was his own, damn fault, really. He’d chosen a girl who was way out of his league, for starters. And he’d fallen into one of those damn Orange County traps while on a date with her. She’d been exceptionally good in bed on one of those first dates, and damn if he didn’t let himself fall for her. Probably mostly because of that. Damn damn damn.

It was probably obvious by the way York lifted the glass and took a mighty swig that he was a former marine. He set it back down again and nodded. “It could have been a lot worse,” he said, both bad and good eyes still on the glass in front of him. He could have fallen harder or faster. He could have made more room for her in his life. A lot of things. At least it’d only been a short while. That was a blessing in disguise.

The saying was ”It is better to have loved and to have lost than to never have loved at all.” What a bunch of horseshit. Qrow had never been in love. He hadn’t let anyone get close enough to him or him close to anyone else to fall in love. The gypsy tribe who raised him and his sister had told him all through his formative years that he was unlucky and that he would only bring misfortune to those around him. Qrow told himself he was far better off to be alone. Looking at this sad schlub next to him only affirmed that.

And this guy looked as though he’d had a rough go of it on top of all this crap. Qrow couldn’t even begin to guess what had happened to his eye, but given the milky whiteness and the angry looking scar that surrounded it like cracks whatever had happened hadn’t been at all pleasant. He hoped the girl -- Emma -- hadn’t dumped the guy because of that.

Qrow shrugged took a long draught from his glass. “Maybe,” he agreed. “She could’ve decided to give it a go. She could have lied to you and to herself.” He peered at the man carefully. “You gonna be alright?”

York chuckled softly. “It’s been my experience that all lies come out in the end.” He didn’t really like thinking about that. It would have been a hundred times worse if Emma had tried, had given it a go, had strung him along for god knows how long. At least now he knew the truth. At least now he was free to move on and try new things. Maybe find another girl to chase. But man, he was getting too old for this.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” York added, turning the pint glass around and around on the little coaster. “Footloose and fancy free, right?” He lifted the glass as if in a toast, then gulped from it a couple of times.

“You don’t strike me as the kind satisfied being footloose and fancy free,” Qrow answered. No one who put that much effort into a relationship, even a one sided one, felt “free” after being dumped. And as far as dumpings went, Qrow thought this one to be a little harsh. Not the worst, but certainly not easy.

“You’ll be alright,” Qrow said before draining his glass. He motioned to the bartender for another. “You look like a survivor,” he glanced at the man again, paying a little more attention to both his face and the way he handled his beer. “If you don’t mind my saying, you were in the service, weren’t you?”

York drained the glass. It took a few gulps, but he was a fucking marine. He could take a pint and show it who’s boss. Besides, he’d just sort of had his heart crushed by a great girl, he deserved to get a little drunk. Or even a lot drunk. Worst case he could call Wash or Carolina to come and pick him up. (Or Athos. Or an Uber. Whatever.)

“I was.” York set the glass down, trying not to release a mighty belch through the pub. “I was in the Marines for most of my life. Until recently.” He motioned toward the side of his face with the damage over his eye.

Qrow nodded. He and authority figures never got along. He wasn’t on the wrong side of the law anymore and hadn’t been for a good 15 years, but those in position of authority still made him a little nervy. But this poor guy. “Thank you for your service,” Qrow raised his newly filled glass in salute, “and your sacrifice.” He downed a shot’s worth of his glass.

He didn’t have to stay there talking with the former marine, either, but it seemed wrong to just leave him there by himself, drinking alone, especially since he felt somewhat responsible for the man’s misery tonight. He offered his hand. “Name’s Qrow Branwen.”

That was a very common response when people found out about York’s time in the marines. Thank you for your service came more often than your sacrifice. He lifted the second glass in a toast, and gulped from it, too. The beer was making his head feel fuzzy, a growing warmth and comfort the more he got into the pint.

“Oh, Drunk Qrow, right?” York broke into a smile, assuming this was the “Crow” he’d spoken with about sugar free Gummy bears. It was both comforting and a little embarrassing that someone he knew--even if it was only online--watched him get dumped by Emma the nurse. “James Duggan.” York reached a hand over and shook Qrow’s hand. “My friends call me York.”

Qrow blinked. There were millions of people in Orange County, what were the odds that of all those people tonight he’d be sitting and talking face to face with someone from that damn forum? At least it was the guy who had a sense of humor and wasn’t all weird and cryptic. Besides, meeting Qrow seemed to have perked up the marine a little bit.

Qrow smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said with a laugh as York shook his hand. “Most people just call me Qrow.” He let go of York’s hand to pick up his glass and finish his drink. “You know what you need tonight?” He asked, alcohol making him grin, “you need a friend to hold your wallet while you turn into Drunk York. Whaddya say? Wanna see what kinda trouble we can get into tonight?”

“Qrow it is,” York said as they shook hands. He released it to lift his glass again. He was thinking shots next. Now that he was a little tipsy. But then his new friend mentioned becoming Drunk York, and he broke into a grin. “Why not? It’s about time for a little York Fun.” Not that he had much in his wallet, anyway. One credit card, his driver’s license, medical insurance card, a little cash… and a couple of pictures of his nephew that his sister-in-law printed for him. Everything else was left at home unless he needed it--and he didn’t think he was going to need anything else tonight. He pulled the wallet out of his pocket and set it on the bar.

“Please don’t buy a five pound bag of gummy bears with it,” he added, and slid it playfully along the bar to Drunk Qrow. This was possibly the worst--or the best--decision of his life.

Qrow stopped the wallet with the heel of his palm, picked it up and without opening it put it away. “No sugar-free gummy bears,” he promised. He raised a hand to signal to the bar tender. “Me and my buddy here are gonna do some shots,” he announced once the bartender had made his way over to them.

And shots they did. It didn’t take long before a row of empty shot glasses turned upside down lined the bar top in front of the two men, who had become quick and fast drunk friends.