Participants:
| Scene Title | Some Problems With No Problems |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Charlie finds Ethan and fails to engage him in conversation. But he got found, so that's something! |
| Date | February 6, 2009 |
Staten Island is a shithole nowadays, and The Angry Pelican is a shithole normally, so it might be extra shitty down. Pardon the French. There's some decent business, what with people (read: drunks) having dinner. Liquid dinner. The liquids being booze. That said, one overly large man sits at the bar, huddled on a stool that creaks beneath his weight. A glass of rum in hand, he smiles at anyone giving him too long a look. Come on. It's like an invite to cause trouble.
Not too far down the bar, another man is seated. Keeping to himself, delivering a sharp 'fuck off' to any who get too close. The man seems to be completely isolated and unaware of the rest of the bar. He keeps poking at his face every now and then, between drinks. Running his hand along his close cropped every now and then. Suddenly having hair was quite an adjustment, now suddenly going back to not having it. The man shrugs as if shrugging off his thoughts as he raises a glass to his mouth.
Another shot down. A few empty glasses are in front of him, it seems he has been going at this for a while. Though he remains silent, and barely looks at the barkeeper let alone anyone else. Ethan Holden is drinking away the memory of Eileen Ruskin.
Ethan's gotten a thoughtful glance from Charlie; at least, once he heard the guy say 'fuck off'. That's an accent, that is, and this might just be the Briton he's been set after. Charlie shifts on his stool, which creaks ominously. Contact should be made, for verification. So he glances past Ethan, picking a younger version of himself - some thug, some low-life - and jerking his chin toward the other guy. "What're you lookin' at?" he rumbles at the guy by Ethan, who looks kind of puzzled. And drunk.
Ethan's eyes slowly roam to his peripherals. A sidelong glance at the man beside him. Then his gaze returns to the drinks in front of him. Taking another glass down, he goes to straighten himself up. Rising off his stool for just a moment, the man lowers his hand to apparently 'adjust' himslef. Though in reality, he was easing something else not anatomy related into better position for sudden use, should it be merited. His hand rests in his lap.
Charlie sets his glass down very slowly and deliberately, rising from his stool (which gives a mighty creak again). A few heads turn. Charlie's smiling a little now, which isn't really typical of a guy annoyed someone's looking at him, but whatever. He's just picking a fight, anyway. The other guy bristles, also rising. "Hey, man, you got a problem?" he demands of Charlie.
And it is eased out of his pocket. Not a knife, not a gun. A wallet. Taking out a few bills, Ethan tosses them on the bar in front of him. Rising off his stool, Ethan turns around the stool and makes a hasty retreat away from the bar area and into the rest of the establishment. He seems to not be paying any attention to Charlie and his would be huckleberry.
Minor crimp in the plan there, Ethan moving. Charlie's picked a fight, but that's okay. He's fine with finishing it even if he can't involve Ethan except by pitching old Huck across the room. This is not so much an option. So the fight is brief and brutal; there's a spray of blood and the guy who crumples is not Charlie. Charlie unclenches his fist when it's over and looks out over the rest of the bar. He doesn't say anything, he just reclaims his seat. Which creaks. Again. That done, he checks his watch and thinks. Quickly!
Getting to the door, Ethan casts one bored look around the bar. His eyes settling on the guy who was quickly downed. And his eyes flit over Charlie, only in passing to see how other people reacted to this sudden outbreak of a fight. A little shrug is given before the man opens the door and goes to step out.
Charlie comes up with another plan, digging a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and turning in his seat. Alas, Ethan is not where he was just moments ago; Charlie blinks, glances around. Aha. By the door. Tucking the cigarettes away, Charlie turns his attention back to his rum. What he's managed is enough. For now.
Stepping out, Ethan takes a moment to steady himself. He shouldn't have had so much to drink. Maybe that guy wasn't casing him after all. But then again… His eyes go back to the door that he just exited out of. Maybe he's just being paranoid. Then again, it wouldn't hurt to do a little digging, a little investigating of his own. Unlikely the guy was HomeSec, or Interpol, or anything like that.
Flicking out his own cigarette, Ethan lights up. Taking a few paces away from the Angry Pelican. Those two men will be seeing each other again sooner, rather than later.
A message for Muldoon:
'Think I spotted him over at The Angry Pelican. More interesting: he's got a girl looking for him. Wouldn't even put her at twenty-one yet, says he's her father, says he might be going by the name Rafe. She's staying over at Filatov's. Sounds like he's the type that might come watch the fights on his own, so that might bring him to our doorstep anyway. Met the girl at the pawn shop. That's 'bout it, I think.'
 February 6th: The Devil On Your Shoulder |
Previously in this storyline… Next in this storyline… |
 February 6th: Baby Daddy |