Elephant in the Room


nadira_icon.gif evan_icon.gif griffin_icon.gif

Scene Title Elephant in the Room
Synopsis Lack of communication is a real relationship killer.
Date October 7, 2010


It's a quiet night in Tartarus. Well, as quiet as it ever gets in Tartarus. Things are slow, similar to the night before, which means that Nadira isn't terribly busy. Which, of course, is good since she still has to pop a few painkillers now and then. Funny how headaches from hangovers can last for a pretty damn long time. She leans against the bar, smiling at a few customers and moving about to make drinks, occasionally taking a glance around at the patrons.

And there's one familiar customer just coming through the entrance now - not as familiar as he'd like, things have been busy on campus, but he makes it out when he can manage. "Am I too early for happy hour?" Evan teases, picking up a stool and setting it aside as he approaches the bar from the other side.

"Considering the curfew, I think every hour ends up being happy hour." Nadira chuckles, glancing over towards Evan. "Surprised to see you out here, thought you'd be grading papers." She glances back at the bottles of alcohol. "What can I get you?" She's already leaning down, pulling out a glass to prepare something.

"Don't remind me," Evan murmurs, pressing his temples into the fingers of one hand as he pulls the stool back into position with the other and sits down. "A screwdriver would be fine, I can use the citrus— there's something wrong with the AC at the office. And I think last winter wiped out all my cold tolerance."

"A screwdriver, extra juice." Nadira comment, proceeding to make the drink. She deposits it back on the bar in front of Evan. She reaches down to wipe off the prep area, just idly making sure to keep things tidy. "Sorry. I will let you have your drink without reminding you of the work you've got to do. Sorry about the AC. Perhaps you will get lucky and it will be fixed soon?"

It's not long before the door opens, and another familiar figure steps into the bar. Griffin Mihangle limps his way through the crowd, using his cane for support as he makes his way up to the bar with a faint smile upon his narrow features. The man looks tired, like he's definitely seen better days. He promptly seats him self…right next to Evan, offering a smile and a wave to Nadira. "Good evening."

Evan reaches for the glass as soon as Nadira's hand is clear of it— no, half a second earlier, fingertips brushing quickly. "Thanks. I'm bringing in a sweater tomorrow in case it's still on the fritz." As Griffin approaches, his attention is promptly drawn to the cane, and he winces. "Hope you got the license plate," he murmurs under his breath.

"Griff," Nadira notes as he settles at the bar, a tinge of concern in her voice. "Evening. Is… everything okay?" She grabs for a glass. "Scotch, right?" She questions. Her eyes flicker between Evan and Griffin. "You look like hell."

A small smile is cast to Evan at his speculation, chuckling. "Oh, it's nothing. The knee is a sports injury. It causes trouble, at times." Griffin seems cheerful, for looking like hell. An overly fond smile is turned to Nadira. "Glenlevit, if you can." He nods. "Everything is alright. I can explain later." He leans against the bar. "You're looking particularly lovely this evening, Nadira."

The familiar compliment isn't enough on its own to ping Evan's radar; it's not an uncommon form of small talk between bartenders and barflies. No, it's at the 'explain later' part that he arches an eyebrow, just for a second. Then, with a shrug, he returns to his drink and waits to see where the others take the conversation next.

"Ah, one of those sort of stories," Nadira notes with a small nod. She moves to pour the drink, sliding it over to Griffin. "Thank you," she replies to the compliment with a sweet smile. "Always nice to hear." Her gaze flickers back to Evan for a second before she moves again, capping a bottle and tucking it in its rightful location behind the bar.

Griffin catches the drink, lifting it gingerly and taking a sip of the harsh amber liquid. He then smiles faintly to Nadira, almost oblivious to Evan's presence for the time being. He also seems to be avoiding using his left side too much, for anything. "I got to meet Owain this morning. Good…no, great kid. My sister did good with him." He swirls the ice in the glass thoughtfully.

"Oh!" Nadira puts down the rag she was picking up, taking a step closer to the bar. "That's important. I'm guessing it went okay? Did you get to talk to him much?" She questions, curious. "That's a huge step. Are you going to tell him who you are, eventually?" She questions, definitely seeming a little concerned. She keeps glancing back to Evan, especially since she doesn't want to look like she's ignoring him.

Griffin smiles warmly, sipping at his scotch. "It went remarkably well. For now, I'm just Griff, a family member. Mack and I agreed that we're going to let him get to know me first, before we tell him anything else." He smiles softly to Nadira. Finally, her glancing prompts a raised eyebrow, and his green gaze turn toward Evan with a thoughtful look on his face.

Okay, he was planning to stick with the fly-on-the-wall role a while longer, but it seems they have other plans. "How old is he?" Evan asks, quickly settling on the most neutral question he can come up with— as well as the reunion apparently went, the fact that there was a reunion implies that there was an unpleasant parting first.

"Good, good! I'm glad it went well." Nadira nods slightly. "It's better that he knows you… I have to agree there." She glances back to Evan, offering him a small smile as she quickly falls into silence. She moves to wipe down the bar lightly.

The narrow-faced man blinks a few times over to Evan, smiling faintly. "Ten years old. Eleven in January." Griff sounds fairly proud. Then, he glances toward Nadira, smiling warmly. "One step at a time, and this is a ways down the road, but…if you and I are going to be seeing each other, I'd like for you to eventually meet him, Nadira." Oh, there we go.

Is either of them watching Evan when Griffin says that? For a split second, his fingers tighten around the glass, before he picks it up again and finishes it off at one go. "Congratulations," he offers, trying unsuccessfully to keep the edge out of his voice. Nadira's sure to pick up on it. Griffin might, too, if he's paying attention.

Oh, oh, that was not how this situation was supposed to end. Nadira wants to tell Griffin that she likes the idea of meeting Owain, but the conversation is kind of cut short with a knife by the name of awkward. "Evan, ahh.. I have been meaning to talk to you, but you are so busy all the time…" She trails off, lamely.

If it's one thing Griffin is, it's perceptive. His eyes catch the movement of the man's fingers clenching around the glass, and he certainly notices the edge to the man's voice. A glance is cast toward Evan under raised brows, the man apparently surprised by this sudden reaction. Then, those green eyes turn toward Nadira, brows still raised high enough to wrinkle his forehead. Then, he glances back to Evan…and realization dawns on his face. "O— ohhhh…" This is all he offers, his brow furrowing slightly as he turns to peer at Nadira for a moment. Then, he's sipping at his scotch rather intently.

With a sigh, Evan pushes the glass away— he'd lean back, but that would just lead to him falling backward. "No, it— Impedance mismatch. I get it. And we never said anything about being exclusive." Again he falls quiet, this time dwelling on something else: apparently she didn't tell Griffin about him, either. He's not quite sure how he feels about that yet.

There's a heavy breath, and the rag Nadira was using to wipe the bar with is twisted between hands as she takes a step closer to Evan. "This is not how I wanted to handle this. I didn't know how to talk to you about this and you were always so busy with work and I was always so busy with work. And we didn't really talk… so I just left it." The rag is twisted, almost angrily now. "Dammit. I should have just said something before now."

Griffin seems quite content to be quiet, swirling his drink in his glass as he glances between Evan and Nadira, occasionally slurping down the amber beverage. He doesn't feel quite comfortable interjecting in this conversation. It's his turn to sit back and listen.

Except, what else is there to say about it? Ironically, now Evan and Nadira are back on the same page again, for once. "What's done is done. I'll— see you around, I guess." Griffin merely receives a cursory nod - better than a slug to the jaw, at least - before he rises to his feet, preparing to head back out to the street.

"D-Don't just leave, Evan, please. Couldn't we just talk, just for a minute about this? I do not want to just leave things like this as some sort of open wound. I didn't want this to hurt you which is why I put off talking to you for so long." Nadira shakes her head, rag still held tightly between fingers.

So much for escaping before things got any worse. Evan remains standing, but stays where he is, offering Nadira a helpless shrug. "That tends not to work… and I say that, having been on the other end of it before. But I mean, he has more time for you, and you're planning ahead and— Well, if it's not working, then it's not working. Am I misunderstanding something here?"

"No, I just—" Nadira throws the rag down. "Forget it. I just wanted to be nice about it. I don not usually have to do this sort of thing. You can leave if you want. Just know I am sorry, okay? I really am."

Griff is still quietly sipping at his scotch with a somewhat unreadable expression on his face as he watches Evan. Before the man leaves, Griff raises a hand, and offers an apologetic look to Evan. He likely wouldn't have infringed, had he known…

Evan holds his hands up in the air, palms outward. He's not disagreeing with anything she's saying, but he's well past the point of just wanting to acknowledge it and move on. A more or less neutral glance toward Griffin - not your fault, man, you didn't know - and he's off.

Halfway to the exit, he grimaces, fishing out his wallet and pulling out enough bills to close out his tab, dropping them on the nearest table he can find and continuing on. Not like she won't spot them.

"Dammit!" Nadira curses, gripping the bar until her knuckles turn white. She doesn't turn back to Griffin right away, nope. She's looking down. When she finally looks up she moves straight back over to Griffin, then points at the door. "You see that? That is why people do not go after the mysterious pretty bartender. You might as well leave before I break your heart too. It is clear that is one thing I am good at, even unintentionally."

Griffin watches Evan go, a frown slowly creeping over his features. Then, he slowly turns, offering a somewhat neutral look to Nadira, brows raised. "Well, then…" He lingers on the words, sipping his scotch. "Now, you will have to pardon my mild skepticism, but are there any more of those," he gestures after Evan, "that I should know about?" He tilts his head to one side. "I'm not quite willing to leave just yet, but I would like to request complete honesty from you from here on out. I need to know about things like him, because it is something that can effect me, as well. Some men would have punched me."

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