Midday was gradually slipping into evening on what had been a highly productive day for Santino. Not only had he ridden a bus-- a thrill on its own, to be sure!-- but fate had seen fit for him to miss his original stop entirely! It was his own fault, of course; he'd met a fellow traveler who showed him the most adorable pictures of her grandchildren. Silly, but remarkably typical of him to become a little too engrossed!
The only dark cloud was a brief call from his little brother, chiding him in that flat way of his, demanding he tell him where in the hell (that is to say heck) he was, and did he know how long he'd been waiting for him?! All Santino could do was reassure him of his safety (which surprisingly had little effect on his temper), and that providence would lead him where he was meant to go~! The slew of unsavory words that followed did little to dampen his spirits-- after all, he was on an adventure!
He'd spent most of the day shopping for souvenirs, finding a particularly fetching sun hat at a used clothing store, along with a charming little broach for mother and some other adorable sundries. But of course, as twilight stretched its way through the city, Santino decided he was quite deserving of a break-- his feet ached and his thermos was now emptied of peppermint tea. His wanderings led him to a bar-- a bit seedy, perhaps, but one could hardly ask for a better place to soak in the local culture!
Pushing past the door, Santino imagined he must have cut an impressive figure-- floppy white sunhat smartly on his head, traveling cloak billowing slightly (along with his handful of shopping bags) in the air conditioned room. Really, he must have looked quite the cowboy!
His gaze skimmed across the establishment's patrons, finally settling on the most authentic looking fellow he could find-- a thin, rakish man with a shock of unruly brown hair and an dour expression not unlike smelling sour milk. Ah, most definitely, providence had wanted him to befriend this gruff looking young man-- heaven knows he looked like he needed it!
Santino sat resolutely next to the young man at the bar, dropping his bags on the floor with a slight thump and rustle of plastic. He straightened slightly and puffed out his chest a bit in a show of confidence, clearing his throat. “Ahum...! Barkeep!” said Santino in a clear, albeit slightly fussy voice. “Two... erm... Shirley Temples! For myself and my companion here!” With a mischievous sort of smile, Santino turned his attention to the pale young man now sitting next to him, clearly expecting a comment about how cool, cultured, and debonair he just was. “Santino del Martin,” he said coolly, though just barely stifling a giggle. “How do you do~?”
The only dark cloud was a brief call from his little brother, chiding him in that flat way of his, demanding he tell him where in the hell (that is to say heck) he was, and did he know how long he'd been waiting for him?! All Santino could do was reassure him of his safety (which surprisingly had little effect on his temper), and that providence would lead him where he was meant to go~! The slew of unsavory words that followed did little to dampen his spirits-- after all, he was on an adventure!
He'd spent most of the day shopping for souvenirs, finding a particularly fetching sun hat at a used clothing store, along with a charming little broach for mother and some other adorable sundries. But of course, as twilight stretched its way through the city, Santino decided he was quite deserving of a break-- his feet ached and his thermos was now emptied of peppermint tea. His wanderings led him to a bar-- a bit seedy, perhaps, but one could hardly ask for a better place to soak in the local culture!
Pushing past the door, Santino imagined he must have cut an impressive figure-- floppy white sunhat smartly on his head, traveling cloak billowing slightly (along with his handful of shopping bags) in the air conditioned room. Really, he must have looked quite the cowboy!
His gaze skimmed across the establishment's patrons, finally settling on the most authentic looking fellow he could find-- a thin, rakish man with a shock of unruly brown hair and an dour expression not unlike smelling sour milk. Ah, most definitely, providence had wanted him to befriend this gruff looking young man-- heaven knows he looked like he needed it!
Santino sat resolutely next to the young man at the bar, dropping his bags on the floor with a slight thump and rustle of plastic. He straightened slightly and puffed out his chest a bit in a show of confidence, clearing his throat. “Ahum...! Barkeep!” said Santino in a clear, albeit slightly fussy voice. “Two... erm... Shirley Temples! For myself and my companion here!” With a mischievous sort of smile, Santino turned his attention to the pale young man now sitting next to him, clearly expecting a comment about how cool, cultured, and debonair he just was. “Santino del Martin,” he said coolly, though just barely stifling a giggle. “How do you do~?”
Today was not going well for Teran. Not one bit.
He sat on the stool by the bar counter: his back a little hunched over, his head drooping a bit, not unlike a wilted flower. He had one hand on a pint glass of this or that, and the other sort of just dangled in the air, propped up by his elbow on the table. He took another sip from his drink and grimaced. He played his day back to himself in his head, like a silent film. It wasn't fun.
His rent was due tomorrow. Like really due tomorrow -- it had been two weeks since the original deadline. He didn't have the money. Or rather, he had the money, but now he didn't. So his landlord tore him a new one today.
He wished he had a viable excuse for losing the money. Being robbed would be such an excuse. Though then again, he could say he was robbed, robbed of common sense. One night about two weeks ago, Drunk Teran decided to pay a visit to a local club. How he managed to drop thousands of dollars on women in a single night and still have no recollection of getting laid, Sober Teran will never know.
He took another sip from his glass and sighed. It was times like these that being an average Joe, to put it in plain words, sucked. Maybe he'd be better off reconnecting with "that community." They offer resources for people like him who are struggling.
He put the glass down and shook his head. Terrible idea.
As soon as he put the glass down, he noticed everyone around him turning their heads to the entrance to the bar. He turned his own head, and instantly saw probably the most flamboyant patron every to grace the Midnight Pub's doormat. Teran would be amused by this if the individual wasn't making his way directly towards him.
Oh God.
Teran averted his gaze and stared directly at the oak the counter was made of. When he heard the words "two Shirley Temples" and "companion," his instincts were screaming at him to bolt. Not only was this embarrassing, but he was also suspicious that this new individual was one of his own kind. Then again, the newcomer seems friendlier than his landlord.
"If it's the same to you, I'll have a Guinness!" Teran called after the bartender, who walked off to make drinks with a shake of his head. He turned to the newcomer, who just introduced himself as Tino del Something. Sounded Spanish. He figured there was no backing out of this one now.
"Teran Flint," he said impassionately. "And I am doing terribly. Thanks for asking."
"Now please go away" was the thing he wanted to say, but didn't.
He sat on the stool by the bar counter: his back a little hunched over, his head drooping a bit, not unlike a wilted flower. He had one hand on a pint glass of this or that, and the other sort of just dangled in the air, propped up by his elbow on the table. He took another sip from his drink and grimaced. He played his day back to himself in his head, like a silent film. It wasn't fun.
His rent was due tomorrow. Like really due tomorrow -- it had been two weeks since the original deadline. He didn't have the money. Or rather, he had the money, but now he didn't. So his landlord tore him a new one today.
He wished he had a viable excuse for losing the money. Being robbed would be such an excuse. Though then again, he could say he was robbed, robbed of common sense. One night about two weeks ago, Drunk Teran decided to pay a visit to a local club. How he managed to drop thousands of dollars on women in a single night and still have no recollection of getting laid, Sober Teran will never know.
He took another sip from his glass and sighed. It was times like these that being an average Joe, to put it in plain words, sucked. Maybe he'd be better off reconnecting with "that community." They offer resources for people like him who are struggling.
He put the glass down and shook his head. Terrible idea.
As soon as he put the glass down, he noticed everyone around him turning their heads to the entrance to the bar. He turned his own head, and instantly saw probably the most flamboyant patron every to grace the Midnight Pub's doormat. Teran would be amused by this if the individual wasn't making his way directly towards him.
Oh God.
Teran averted his gaze and stared directly at the oak the counter was made of. When he heard the words "two Shirley Temples" and "companion," his instincts were screaming at him to bolt. Not only was this embarrassing, but he was also suspicious that this new individual was one of his own kind. Then again, the newcomer seems friendlier than his landlord.
"If it's the same to you, I'll have a Guinness!" Teran called after the bartender, who walked off to make drinks with a shake of his head. He turned to the newcomer, who just introduced himself as Tino del Something. Sounded Spanish. He figured there was no backing out of this one now.
"Teran Flint," he said impassionately. "And I am doing terribly. Thanks for asking."
"Now please go away" was the thing he wanted to say, but didn't.
“Terribly?” Santino repeated, incensed. “Oh dear... and here I am, pestering you like a perfect scoundrel...!” Though taken aback, leaving the poor man be did not seem to occur to Santino in the slightest.
“Consider me at your full disposal, darling. Now-- ah, thank you, dear-- what seems to be troubling you...?” he asked, absently feeling for his drink. Brow furrowed in concern, he studied him with rapt attention, the way one might regard an especially compelling soap opera. “Mm... I have a knack for guessing these sorts of things... spurned by a lover, perhaps? Er...” He sipped at his drink, squinting thoughtfully. “...Allergies?” Santino's reservoir of terrible experiences to draw from was awfully limited.
“Consider me at your full disposal, darling. Now-- ah, thank you, dear-- what seems to be troubling you...?” he asked, absently feeling for his drink. Brow furrowed in concern, he studied him with rapt attention, the way one might regard an especially compelling soap opera. “Mm... I have a knack for guessing these sorts of things... spurned by a lover, perhaps? Er...” He sipped at his drink, squinting thoughtfully. “...Allergies?” Santino's reservoir of terrible experiences to draw from was awfully limited.
Teran snorted. If only. He took the glass of Guinness the bartender handed him and took a large drink from it. When he finished, he sighed and smacked his lips. He was starting to feel that warm buzz in the back of his brain. This Tino person was strange, but he didn't think he minded this particular sort of strange. It was almost amusing. All the same, he held up a finger:
"One," he said. "Don't call me darling. And two." He held up a second finger. "I'm short on funds. My rent is due tomorrow. But that's life sometimes."
"One," he said. "Don't call me darling. And two." He held up a second finger. "I'm short on funds. My rent is due tomorrow. But that's life sometimes."
“Mm? Yes, yes, as you prefer, sweetie,” Santino replied airily, the brunt of his concentration obviously elsewhere. This was an awful lot to wrap his head around... such complexities to city living! “So you mean to say...” he began slowly, frowning as if working some difficult equation in his head, “you've until tomorrow to make ends meet... or those villains shall cast you off to live in the streets like a stray, unwanted kitten...?” The tragic image he was painting of Teran was getting more colorful, more desperate by the moment. Santino had gone from seeing him as a savvy, resourceful local to some kind of sad Charles Dickens character in a matter of minutes.
“Ohhh, no, no, no, that will not do!” he exclaimed, shaking his head vigorously. “I simply refuse to believe that's 'just the way life is,' dear! Providence has clearly brought us together for a reason... mm! Yes~! Without a doubt, the strings of fate have bonded our hearts, you and I~!” Eyes shimmering with tears of sheer inspiration, Santino-- perhaps unwisely-- reached out to grasp the hand that had been used to chide him mere moments before. “Why, we've a whole night ahead of us, dear! An evening and a morning to deliver you from your impoverishment! Ahh, the odds may be against us, yes, but never before have I felt such... such purpose!” He broke from his revere for a moment, adding helpfully, “I am quite sensitive to these things, you know~
”
“Ohhh, no, no, no, that will not do!” he exclaimed, shaking his head vigorously. “I simply refuse to believe that's 'just the way life is,' dear! Providence has clearly brought us together for a reason... mm! Yes~! Without a doubt, the strings of fate have bonded our hearts, you and I~!” Eyes shimmering with tears of sheer inspiration, Santino-- perhaps unwisely-- reached out to grasp the hand that had been used to chide him mere moments before. “Why, we've a whole night ahead of us, dear! An evening and a morning to deliver you from your impoverishment! Ahh, the odds may be against us, yes, but never before have I felt such... such purpose!” He broke from his revere for a moment, adding helpfully, “I am quite sensitive to these things, you know~
”
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