No Takebacks


sonny_icon.gif zachery_icon.gif

Scene Title No Takebacks
Synopsis Sonny runs into Zachery while irresponsibly drunk. The doc directs anger at him, ostensibly for dragging him into the mess with Sylar. But there's more going on than that. Also, Sonny curses a lot.
Date January 26, 2009

Outside a Bar - An Okay Part of Town

Sonny is not the type of guy to go out and get wasted. In fact, he's usually Mister Responsible. That is precisely why he has had as much as he has. There's been too much going on, too much he doesn't know. That's all added up to a rather giant ball of stress that perches neatly in his gut. The only way to get rid of it is by pouring pints atop it.
Rather than change his face, the doc's simply chosen a bar in a less posh area of town, where no one would care who he is or that he's dropping shots down his throat.
It's only just after nine when he comes stumbling out of the bar. He's got a shadow of stubble on his face and is struggling with a six-foot-long snake of a scarf that he coils three times around his neck. He's liable to choke himself if he's not careful.

Ah, what a predicament. Both not knowing things you so badly want to know the finer points of, and knowing things you would rather you never heard at all. Or done, in Zachery's case. Just because he hasn't heard anything from any creepy organizations or serial killers in weeks doesn't mean it's off of his mind. He's taken to walking for a while after an appointment nearby, in an attempt to clear his mind a little. He looks strangely out of place, shoulders jutted forward and hands in his pockets as he approaches the bar's entrance. And, as it turns out, Sonny.
The coroner looks up just in time to slow his pace in front of the other man, mouth opening and… then closing again with a contemplative expression. Should he say hello? Or maybe just move on. Enter awkward glance and pause.

Sonny stops and leans up against the building to the bar. There's a pair of women nearby, smoking just outside the exit. He leans towards them and gives them his best charming smile - which is pretty suave, even when drunk. "Scuse me ladies, could I…possibly bum a cigarette? I never smoke, but I feel like being reckless tonight."
The two women look at each other, then smile a bit flirtatiously. One pulls out a cigarette and hands it to him. The other lights it. The doc takes a drag, then winks. "Much obliged."
That all sounds rather together, until he takes a half-step and kind of weaves to the left. He fumbles in his pockets for his phone. Zach isn't spotted yet.

Which is probably a good thing, since Zachery's frown only deepens. He can't remember the last time he was as drunk as that. Or drunk at all. Something about his family - his brother in particular - told him he should never explore the option of it, and Sonny's only proving this point. Suave maybe, but he's still stumbling around and likely to hurt himself! And Zachery hurting himself would make him unable to work. And where would THAT leave him, hmm? Bored and useless, is what. Can't have that.
After his expressions clears a little, he can't help but chuckle and meander in Sonny's direction. The women geta quick, nervous glance, but are otherwise decidedly ignored. "Drinking and smoking. Yeah, life's too long, anyway."

Sonny takes a pull from the cigarette and fills his lungs with the joy of an ex-smoker falling off the wagon. He exhales slowly, then lolls his head forward at the sound of a familiar voice. It takes a second, then slowly his eyes narrow. "Well." He pinches the cigarette between his lips and straightens. "If it isn't the rat bastard."

Zachery feigns surprise, though only sparsely. A little bitterness is to be expected. He cracks a wry grin, and pulls one of his hands out of his pockets rub at the back of his neck. "They say there's ten rats for every human on the planet. Must be doing something right."

Sonny gives Zach a dark look, though the look is slightly wobbly and unfocused. He smiles, but the humour only lingers for a moment before his face returns to the previous dark look. Hmph. "Having fun with your serial killer buddies, uh?" Oh, cutting! Apparently his wit disappears after the third pint.

It's not so much the lack of wit Zachery minds. It's the lack of discretion that drains him from his mild amusement, before his eyes flit conspicuously to anyone nearby. "Ah— I…" His grin now more anxious looking than anything else, he clears his throat and focuses back on Sonny. "Y-you're talking nonsense!" No serial killer buddies here. "You should go home before you do something stupid." Why, it's almost like he cares. Almost

"I don't want…to go home," says Sonny as he steps towards Zach. Or he tries to. It's more like a diagonal. His foot twists under him. They're alone now. Sometime in the last few minutes, the women went back into the bar. He lifts both his brows and raises the cigarette to his lips for a long pull, then an exhale, right into Zachery's face. "You know…" a cough. "…your…friends paid me another visit. Stuck a gun to my head. Threatened my life. Made me do work that had me vomiting for three days."

Zachery squints uncomfortably and absently waves a hand to waft away the smoke, then throws Sonny another confused look. He leans back slightly, temptation to just walk away heavy on his mind. After all, doesn't look like Sonny would be able to keep up for long, if he did follow. He may have told Sylar to leave Sonny alone, but he's beyond caring at the moment— wait a minute. Friends? Plural? "… What?"

Sonny steps closer as Zachery steps away. He gets a little closer given his current issues with judging distance. "Yeah. Some more of your head-busting buddies. Why so surprised? Did you ask them to leave me alone? Do you really think they would?" Another pull is taken from the cigarette. His eyes might be glassy, but there's sharp anger bubbling towards the surface.

"Look," Zachery sputters, growing increasingly wary and fighting the urge to step back further. He even lifts a hand that goes halfway toward pushing Sonny away, but never actually reaches its destination. "N-now you really ARE talking nonsense. I have no idea what you're talking about." Then, less forceful than he may have liked, he adds quickly, "Back off."

"If you don't…" says Sonny, "…then you're just fucking naive and you don't understand who you're dealing with. In which case, you're probably gonna be a corpse in your own morgue sooner rather than later." Though that might be construed as a threat, there's a lack of malice. That, and he just doesn't seem like a death-threaty sort of guy.
He holds up his hands though, at Zach's 'forceful' command. He tosses his cigarette out towards the snow, then turns like he's about to leave. Then, he suddenly swings back and arcs a fist aimed (by some miracle) squarely at Zach's jaw. It's no love-tap either.

Zachery looks nervous, but unimpressed by Sonny's words. Confused, but unimpressed. Obviously the man is drunk, and if letting him talk for a little while is what needs to be done, so be it. When Sonny finally turns, the coroner lets out a quiet sigh of relief. Or he starts to do so, anyway, until a fist interrupts him. He goes staggering back as the hit connects, catching him regretfully off guard. Once he manages to right himself and stop stumbling as though HE were the drunk here, he looks back up to Sonny. "What the bloody f— OW. Jesus!" He lifts a hand to his face, and sends a pained glare back in the other man's direction. "What the hell did you do that for?!" He isn't even being rhetorical, sadly.

"Why do you think, fucker?" Sonny marches forward, aiming to grab Zach by the collar and toss him up the side of a building. A lingerie shop. Fortunately, his aim's good enough to not throw Zach through the window into a display of thongs.
Really, most of this stress has nothing to do with Zach and everything to do with other things in his life. But you know, he has a legitimate gripe against the coroner as well. "I try to be a fucking friend to you and you sell me out to the most dangerous man in this entire city." Which…isn't true, really. The most dangerous well-known man at least. "And now, now buddies of Sylar are shaking me down. I'm on their radar. They can interrupt my life and scare the fucking shit out of me whenever they want thanks to you."

Zachery would very much like to be not in the middle of a display of thongs, thank you. He already looks uncomfortable enough leaning against its window, hand now drawn away from his face to reveal a trickle of blood running down from the corner of his mouth.
"Thanks to me?! Oh, come on! I told him NOT to go after you! You were there!" Drawing away from the window, he seems unable to decide whether he she walk away or toward the other man. Surely he could win a fight against a drunk. It's oh so tempting.

"And you think you can ask nicely to a monster like that and he'll just do it? He put that fucking crater in the middle of Midtown, Zachery. And how many other people has he killed?" Sonny shoves the other doctor against the wall for emphasis. Maybe a normal drunk would be an easy KO, but an angry drunk?
"No, no. It doesn't work that way. You got me on his radar. There's no undoing that. And why? To save your own fucking skin? Huh?" His face is closer to Zach's now, maybe an inch. He smells like booze and cigarettes. Mostly booze.

Fear has by now disappeared from Zachery's expression, the shoving having been the final straw. He sneers, and swallows back the urge to lash out, before answering, "… Pretty much. Tell me you wouldn't do the same, given that you may eventually destroy him by doing so."

"You know what I think? I think you're too much of a fucking coward to ever do that." Sonny backs up and shoves Zach once for emphasis. "I know pricks like you. Self-serving weirdos cramped up in their little labs all day."
The funny thing is, the man across from him didn't really deserve that. There might be something else going on here. "Just…fuck off. And I'll break your goddamn nose if I ever see you again." And then the doc's turned away and is walking briskly up the street.

"There's cowardice, and then there's being patient." Zachery replies calmly— at least considering how much he wants to hit the back of Sonny's head right now. He's not sure why he never hit the front of it while he had the chance, but there must have been a reason! Other than being a coward. He gingerly rubs at his face again, then adds when Sonny is already a while away, "An opportunity is all I need! You'll see." Hmph.

"Yeah. You keep believing that right up until the top of your head is sliced open," Sonny yells back. He doesn't care about the volume. There's no one around really anyway. Plus it's New York. As an afterthought, he reaches for a snowbank, picks up a hunk of snow and whips it back at Zach. It flies a bit wild and misses him by a few feet, but the intent is clear. When he turns back, he slips on a bit of ice and nearly falls, but somehow manages to get back on his feet. He's not walking straight. One has to wonder how he's going to get home.

Not that it's any of Zachery's concern. Not anymore, anyway. To think he may have helped getting Sonny a cab. No such kindness now. After watching the snow fall to the ground and then frustratedly brushing himself off a bit, he turns and walks as well. "Talk about sad."

How Sonny gets home is not for Zach to know, it seems. Because the doc turns the corner shortly thereafter. However, if he cares to look a few minutes later, he seems to have gone. There's lots of cabs driving by, so perhaps he got lucky.

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