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got it.
[ It doesn't take much more than some search engine recon to determine that it's a relatively private venue, quiet, and largely removed from the hustle and bustle of the city and its crowded bars. While he isn't given to unfounded speculation Nate finds it hard to not ask about the reasoning behind it when they usually just grab a drink after work, in the bunker or the store room of Red Wings. Casual. Easy.
This isn't their typical fare.
It's his off-day and he's already done inventory for the week, so he heads over. The trip doesn't take long - it's a nice evening, which makes for a nice walk - and when he reaches the place it takes some minor wandering and a wayward gesture from waitstaff to locate the far corner, half-hidden with a makeshift trellis of vines and former scaffolding. ]
Hey.
[ It doesn't take much more than some search engine recon to determine that it's a relatively private venue, quiet, and largely removed from the hustle and bustle of the city and its crowded bars. While he isn't given to unfounded speculation Nate finds it hard to not ask about the reasoning behind it when they usually just grab a drink after work, in the bunker or the store room of Red Wings. Casual. Easy.
This isn't their typical fare.
It's his off-day and he's already done inventory for the week, so he heads over. The trip doesn't take long - it's a nice evening, which makes for a nice walk - and when he reaches the place it takes some minor wandering and a wayward gesture from waitstaff to locate the far corner, half-hidden with a makeshift trellis of vines and former scaffolding. ]
Hey.
Hey.
[ Nate finds Stephen already well prepared— he hands up a whisky in greeting over the squat round table he's seated at. It's a nice spot. An L of two low benches and the gift of ample cushioning backed by unruly greenery. Through the gaps between leaves the city in all its neon, newly natural splendor spreads out.
He seems fine. Bright-eyed, on the brink of mischief, as though a drink with a friend of an evening might be the beginning of some wild caper. Even his clothes tell subtly of difference. The dark dress shirt with rolled sleeves speaks more to his smart-casual workwear than the comfort he tends toward in downtime. The jacket he's draped over the back of the bench is more elevated than anything he wears to work. A Jaeger-LeCoultre watch, the face cracked beyond repair, is the only element of his outfit placed less than perfectly.
He smiles, lopsided with friendly conspiracy. ]
Glad you could make it.
[ Nate finds Stephen already well prepared— he hands up a whisky in greeting over the squat round table he's seated at. It's a nice spot. An L of two low benches and the gift of ample cushioning backed by unruly greenery. Through the gaps between leaves the city in all its neon, newly natural splendor spreads out.
He seems fine. Bright-eyed, on the brink of mischief, as though a drink with a friend of an evening might be the beginning of some wild caper. Even his clothes tell subtly of difference. The dark dress shirt with rolled sleeves speaks more to his smart-casual workwear than the comfort he tends toward in downtime. The jacket he's draped over the back of the bench is more elevated than anything he wears to work. A Jaeger-LeCoultre watch, the face cracked beyond repair, is the only element of his outfit placed less than perfectly.
He smiles, lopsided with friendly conspiracy. ]
Glad you could make it.
[ Nate accepts the drink and seats himself with no small amount of suspicion, deconstructing and processing details faster than he can help himself even as he takes a fortifying sip of holy shit some really good whisky.
Sometimes he forgets how absolutely crazy-rich Stephen must have been as a neurosurgeon, with the way he carries himself in and around the bar, with the way that Nate once found him at a dismal point, sequestered away in his bunker with nothing but artificial light and crappy orange juice. But then he wears a watch (broken, old damage, a memento) that Nate knows runs anywhere from six to twenty grand on the low end, and an outfit that screams "I'm going to the Saenger for a show and then The Sazerac for a cocktail," in that order.
He looks good. Put-together. In uncharacteristically high spirits, unless Nate has only had exposure to a particularly dark period and this is in fact the norm. ]
You should've told me there was a dress code.
Sometimes he forgets how absolutely crazy-rich Stephen must have been as a neurosurgeon, with the way he carries himself in and around the bar, with the way that Nate once found him at a dismal point, sequestered away in his bunker with nothing but artificial light and crappy orange juice. But then he wears a watch (broken, old damage, a memento) that Nate knows runs anywhere from six to twenty grand on the low end, and an outfit that screams "I'm going to the Saenger for a show and then The Sazerac for a cocktail," in that order.
He looks good. Put-together. In uncharacteristically high spirits, unless Nate has only had exposure to a particularly dark period and this is in fact the norm. ]
You should've told me there was a dress code.
[ Stephen knows when he's being sized up. He's had it from all different angles and intents over time, from rivals to colleagues to strangers to friends. Searches for cracks in the armor, searches for strength and for weakness, searches for shows of wealth and worthiness of investment. Sometimes it's been part of the game, sometimes the unwitting consequence of not yet knowing how to play, sometimes just the product of a good suit and a title it took time (and money) to earn. The outcome of power.
In this case, Nate doesn't make a secret of it. If his face weren't already an open enough book, he follows it right up with a statement based on his observations.
The nature of it sits a lot closer to Christine warily eyeing him after a long day of surgery turns into gleeful preparations for a long night of talking to a room full of millionaires about neuroscientific developments than the room full of millionaires themselves. The kind of being seen that he once tolerated rather than understood, and would come to learn to miss.
Nate's weighing the usual against the today. Could be a problem but it doesn't have to be. He's got a lifetime of narcissism to fall back on.
Stephen's smile stretches for a brief lopsided flash of teeth. ]
You're fine as you are. This is a precaution.
[ This being the all of him Nate just made a swift, if unfinished, calculation of. ]
In this case, Nate doesn't make a secret of it. If his face weren't already an open enough book, he follows it right up with a statement based on his observations.
The nature of it sits a lot closer to Christine warily eyeing him after a long day of surgery turns into gleeful preparations for a long night of talking to a room full of millionaires about neuroscientific developments than the room full of millionaires themselves. The kind of being seen that he once tolerated rather than understood, and would come to learn to miss.
Nate's weighing the usual against the today. Could be a problem but it doesn't have to be. He's got a lifetime of narcissism to fall back on.
Stephen's smile stretches for a brief lopsided flash of teeth. ]
You're fine as you are. This is a precaution.
[ This being the all of him Nate just made a swift, if unfinished, calculation of. ]
[ There's no reason to hide the fact that he looks because Stephen is a friend - or Nate likes to think he is, it isn't as though they've had an exchange about it - and some modicum of candor is a requisite part of healthy relationships, or so Nate has heard when over-analyzing his own proclivity to hide parts of himself. The smile does nothing to make him more comfortable; all it serves to do is reinforce how patently weird the circumstances are, as if it were a normal occurrence in the history of their knowing each other for Stephen to be so oddly carefree instead of overburdened with responsibility.
Maybe it's overcompensation for something else. Maybe he's just finally crawling back out of a depressive funk. Nate isn't a fucking clinical psychologist. ]
Against what?
[ He inquires lightly over his tumbler, relaxing into the bench as though he doesn't want to ask who are you and what have you done with Stephen Strange? ]
Maybe it's overcompensation for something else. Maybe he's just finally crawling back out of a depressive funk. Nate isn't a fucking clinical psychologist. ]
Against what?
[ He inquires lightly over his tumbler, relaxing into the bench as though he doesn't want to ask who are you and what have you done with Stephen Strange? ]
[ The more Nate settles in with his feeling of growing bafflement, the less Stephen needs to act. The chuckle that follows is a genuine one, not that it's particularly easily decipherable from the glamor of a man with some semblance of control over his life and emotional landscape that he's wearing along with his clothes. ]
I'm a magician. [ He leans back, freeing up a hand - ] After a few drinks, my magic has the occasional habit of [ - to reach up and pinch the open collar of his shirt closed between two fingers. ] leaking out all over the place.
[ Thick, dark, button up shirt. His work uniform of choice. If there's ever a need to glow, it's covered. In this context, the extra flourishes keep him content-ready if anybody pops up asking for a trick while he's trying to enjoy his night, though that's a detail he doesn't bother to add.
If he's going to wear anybody as a disguise against his sorrows, it might as well be Doctor Strange, mentalist extraordinaire. ]
I'm a magician. [ He leans back, freeing up a hand - ] After a few drinks, my magic has the occasional habit of [ - to reach up and pinch the open collar of his shirt closed between two fingers. ] leaking out all over the place.
[ Thick, dark, button up shirt. His work uniform of choice. If there's ever a need to glow, it's covered. In this context, the extra flourishes keep him content-ready if anybody pops up asking for a trick while he's trying to enjoy his night, though that's a detail he doesn't bother to add.
If he's going to wear anybody as a disguise against his sorrows, it might as well be Doctor Strange, mentalist extraordinaire. ]
[ There it is.
Uncomfortably put-on, like the mask he used to wear back when he believed he had nothing to lose. Like a persona Nate might adopt for an evening surrounded by rich assholes he would inevitably steal from, but the act in itself is odd because he didn't think he was the sort of person Stephen needed to put on an act for. It's easier, sometimes, to be the cocky thief, and some old habits die hard. ]
...Right. Your professional reputation.
[ Nate says with the flat understanding of someone who has never appreciated the cult of celebrity and never will. If Stephen wants to play pretend and field the occasional gushing fan with the convenient protection of an out in the form of his under-dressed associate, Nate can adapt. It would have been nice to know ahead of time, but he's accustomed to being blindsided by unknowing conscription.
Absolutely slamming what he's sure was an extremely expensive few fingers of alcohol, Nate flags down a stray server and gestures for another drink before turning back to Stephen with a wry smile. ]
I hope you plan on impressing me after you have a few more.
Uncomfortably put-on, like the mask he used to wear back when he believed he had nothing to lose. Like a persona Nate might adopt for an evening surrounded by rich assholes he would inevitably steal from, but the act in itself is odd because he didn't think he was the sort of person Stephen needed to put on an act for. It's easier, sometimes, to be the cocky thief, and some old habits die hard. ]
...Right. Your professional reputation.
[ Nate says with the flat understanding of someone who has never appreciated the cult of celebrity and never will. If Stephen wants to play pretend and field the occasional gushing fan with the convenient protection of an out in the form of his under-dressed associate, Nate can adapt. It would have been nice to know ahead of time, but he's accustomed to being blindsided by unknowing conscription.
Absolutely slamming what he's sure was an extremely expensive few fingers of alcohol, Nate flags down a stray server and gestures for another drink before turning back to Stephen with a wry smile. ]
I hope you plan on impressing me after you have a few more.
[ There's a short shift in Stephen's expression as Nate's neutral disapproval goes chased by the remainder of his glass - a downward tweak of brow and a brief dent in the smile.
The lapse is covered by his own glass by the time Nate turns back from flagging down a new drink to fix him with something wry.
After a swallow: ]
If you're lucky.
[ The words don't have quite all of their curated delivery back. There's a dryness there that's somewhat more familiar. ]
The lapse is covered by his own glass by the time Nate turns back from flagging down a new drink to fix him with something wry.
After a swallow: ]
If you're lucky.
[ The words don't have quite all of their curated delivery back. There's a dryness there that's somewhat more familiar. ]
Edited (love skipping a whole two sentences, love it) 2020-07-23 19:24 (UTC)
[ Nate likes Stephen. If push came to shove, he'd probably take a bullet for him despite the myriad blank spaces in the mental chronology of his life, because sometimes you don't need to know everything about a person to give a shit. He doesn't have to know everything now, and getting hinky about being left out of some private joke doesn't serve anything but nascent resentment.
So he lets it go. ]
Always am.
[ More pleasantly lubricated with spirits his smile widens, and Nate rests his chin in the palm of one hand, elbow balanced on the table. ]
I ever tell you about the time I fell out of a plane? [ He stops, thinks, corrects himself as another glass is delivered. ] ...the second time. Not the first time.
So he lets it go. ]
Always am.
[ More pleasantly lubricated with spirits his smile widens, and Nate rests his chin in the palm of one hand, elbow balanced on the table. ]
I ever tell you about the time I fell out of a plane? [ He stops, thinks, corrects himself as another glass is delivered. ] ...the second time. Not the first time.
[ There's the very real sense that they've wandered past one another in the aisles, talking briefly at cross purposes, and he's aware that if it's anybody's fault it's his. He could course correct but an abrupt turn into I once drunkenly used my power to read minds in public and now I can do a lot worse and if I get there tonight, which I hope to, because I've had enough of being superhuman, I need to be hidden in plain sight isn't the kind of atmosphere he's looking to promote.
Fortunately, he doesn't need to dwell on it. Nate lifts the hook and lets him off it with an easy smile and his own trip down memory lane and Stephen drinks down the out with the rest of his whisky, pausing only to catch the server before she goes to flash three fingers, a thanks and a smile (might as well get them up to an even six) before turning his full attention to the plane-tumbling enigma that is Nathan Drake.
Nate's kept his cards closer to his chest than Stephen's purposefully bothered to. A tale ready to be told is nothing he's going to pass up. ]
I've never been made of more ears.
[ More hands, sure, but that's another story for another day.
Spill. ]
Fortunately, he doesn't need to dwell on it. Nate lifts the hook and lets him off it with an easy smile and his own trip down memory lane and Stephen drinks down the out with the rest of his whisky, pausing only to catch the server before she goes to flash three fingers, a thanks and a smile (might as well get them up to an even six) before turning his full attention to the plane-tumbling enigma that is Nathan Drake.
Nate's kept his cards closer to his chest than Stephen's purposefully bothered to. A tale ready to be told is nothing he's going to pass up. ]
I've never been made of more ears.
[ More hands, sure, but that's another story for another day.
Spill. ]
[ It isn't that he anticipates a more equivalent forum for sharing if he offers up one of the many near-disasters of his last real 'job,' but opening the floor by being the first volunteer is better than being dragged kicking and screaming into being a victim. Besides, he has the feeling Stephen has seen scarier stuff than what they've encountered here, and it would be nice to meet somewhere in the zone of commiseration, even if they're just waving at each other from passing ships. ]
It was a few years back. I was working on something in Yemen that was pointing out into the middle of the Rub' al Khali. The competition comes in, kidnaps my partner thinking he's gonna have an idea of where the target is, they fly off into the desert. My-
[ Wife. Elena. He can't touch that. He can't go there. Nate doesn't trip over the thought and carries on without missing a beat. ]
Friend finds out they're planning on a long expedition, so they've got additional cargo planes going out there for scheduled drops. So the idea was: sneak onto the plane, hide with the cargo, ride one down, right? Piece of cake.
It was a few years back. I was working on something in Yemen that was pointing out into the middle of the Rub' al Khali. The competition comes in, kidnaps my partner thinking he's gonna have an idea of where the target is, they fly off into the desert. My-
[ Wife. Elena. He can't touch that. He can't go there. Nate doesn't trip over the thought and carries on without missing a beat. ]
Friend finds out they're planning on a long expedition, so they've got additional cargo planes going out there for scheduled drops. So the idea was: sneak onto the plane, hide with the cargo, ride one down, right? Piece of cake.
[ The competition, my partner, the target. Stephen's smile, losing its sheen, takes on the looser quirk of genuinely rapt interest. He leans over his lap to rest his elbow on his thigh, closing slight distance, getting into the story. ]
Easy as pie.
[ Or not, as the case quite obviously is. ]
Easy as pie.
[ Or not, as the case quite obviously is. ]
Right. Climb in through the forward retracting wheel, hang out in the fuselage, climb through the ventilation shaft to the cargo hold.
[ A totally simple, easily executable plan that ultimately required an assist when the plane started to take off and he wasn't even on-board. To anyone else Nate would never recommend surfing the hood of a Jeep to leap on the landing gear before lift off. ]
Except some big idiot opens the vent, drags me out, and tries to toss me off the loading ramp while we're at-altitude over the desert.
[ A totally simple, easily executable plan that ultimately required an assist when the plane started to take off and he wasn't even on-board. To anyone else Nate would never recommend surfing the hood of a Jeep to leap on the landing gear before lift off. ]
Except some big idiot opens the vent, drags me out, and tries to toss me off the loading ramp while we're at-altitude over the desert.
[ Even. He hates how that sounds, like it's supposed to be some kind of shitty exchange where they trade information because it's proper, not because it's warranted or earned. Nate doesn't need even. He doesn't know what he needs, but it's not that. He doesn't need Wade to share his own trauma if it comes at the cost of reliving it.
He's not a sociopath, for Chrissakes. ]
You don't have to tell me.
[ Nate assures him, expression openly, unabashedly vulnerable. It isn't a simple matter to divulge anything of this nature and to that end he sure as Hell doesn't want somebody else to go through the mental wringer in an attempt to make him feel better. That serves no one. ]
Seriously. You don't have to dredge stuff up just 'cause I'm a piece of shit.
He's not a sociopath, for Chrissakes. ]
You don't have to tell me.
[ Nate assures him, expression openly, unabashedly vulnerable. It isn't a simple matter to divulge anything of this nature and to that end he sure as Hell doesn't want somebody else to go through the mental wringer in an attempt to make him feel better. That serves no one. ]
Seriously. You don't have to dredge stuff up just 'cause I'm a piece of shit.
[He's being so careful about it, engaging in self-deprecation to spare Wade's feelings, but Wade knows a dismissal when he hears one. He's heard this same song and dance before, in the rare moments when he mistakenly let the mask slip just a little bit; when he read too much into things and got just a little too real.
You don't have to tell me.
Let's not make this into something more than it is.
We're fine where we're at.
Wade laughs again, more as a way to fill the silence than any feeling of mirth, feeling his neck muscles ache with the strain of not looking at Nate; of showing him the emotion that he knows is plastered quite starkly on his face.]
I mean... pretty sure Mr. Roboto's Surgical Funhouse got there first, but whatever.
[He puts the half-full bottle to his lips again. It comes away completely drained, and he sets it down beside him with a clink and a gusty, breathless sigh.]
It's a nice night though, huh?
[Someone please just close the curtain. He's forgotten his lines.]
You don't have to tell me.
Let's not make this into something more than it is.
We're fine where we're at.
Wade laughs again, more as a way to fill the silence than any feeling of mirth, feeling his neck muscles ache with the strain of not looking at Nate; of showing him the emotion that he knows is plastered quite starkly on his face.]
I mean... pretty sure Mr. Roboto's Surgical Funhouse got there first, but whatever.
[He puts the half-full bottle to his lips again. It comes away completely drained, and he sets it down beside him with a clink and a gusty, breathless sigh.]
It's a nice night though, huh?
[Someone please just close the curtain. He's forgotten his lines.]
[ It's the sudden bitterness that really feels like a slap in the face. Like he's made a mistake in offering clemency, in suggesting that Wade shouldn't feel obligated to talk about anything that makes him uncomfortable just because he thinks it might help Nate in some way. A sharp, ragged laugh and Wade turns away, back to the precipice that Nate suddenly feels is more inviting than the company that was trying so hard to be a balm on his evening.
He fucked up. ]
Yeah. [ Nate's voice is scratchy, and he watches the neon signs across the way flicker to life. ] It is.
He fucked up. ]
Yeah. [ Nate's voice is scratchy, and he watches the neon signs across the way flicker to life. ] It is.
Edited 2020-08-11 00:47 (UTC)
[ Eventually he's really going to have to insist on her calling him just Nate. Either way, it's cute she signs her messages. ]
can't reach something on a top shelf?
[ ;) ]
can't reach something on a top shelf?
[ ;) ]
[ Yeah, we all know what that means. ]
that why you were asking if i was all right? because he told you to park the car in harvard yard?
that why you were asking if i was all right? because he told you to park the car in harvard yard?
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