The Asshole Club


felix_icon.gif nash_icon.gif

Scene Title The Asshole Club
Synopsis Felix seems to join the elite, the proud. Nash has been a member for a very long time.
Date June 8, 2010

The Nite Owl

Another night for Christopher Nash. A day on the job, doing what detectives for the NYPD do and then spent some time in the gym. He actually did a little sparring today which accounts for the shiner he's not sporting on his right eye. He made a dumb mistake, letting his guard down and the dude hit him pretty hard right in the eye. For his part, he was lucky enough to see it coming and was able to pull back some as to know take it as hard as all that.

Damaris, his partner, had to go check on her daughter, so that leaves Nash stag tonight as he nurses a beer at the bar, eyeing waitresses as they pass by.

And in comes Felix, like a little emissary of Death Himself. He's gaunt, these days, no other word for it, and the salt and pepper goatee he's cultivated all through the sempiternal winter gives him a positively Mephistophelean air. The last eighteen months've been more like eight years, by the lines on his face, and he's a far cry from the smug, sleek Federal agent who spent so much time giving theVanguard grief. But his stride's easy enough, as he heads for the counter, shrugging out of a boxy black overcoat.

Nash happens to break long enough from ogling a particular blonde when Felix looks like he's about to sit. Nash recalls the agent from when he was partnered up with Harrison. With a few beers in him, Nash is great with his observation skills as he blurts out.

"You look like shit."

Not that he knows Felix all that well, but he definitely looked better a couple of months ago.

It's a long moment before Fel turns to look at him. There's a pause, and his face is blank, like he's somehow forgotten how to speak English, in the interim. It's unnerving, really, that lack of expression. And then it slowly dissolves into a thin grin. "That's appropriate. I feel like shit," he says, with a little moue, as if Nash'd just been flirting.

"Well, that explains that then." Nash tosses a bill on the table, "Get him what he wants. Him looking like that, I can't stand to see him paying for his drink." Nash might be a little bit of an asshole, though, knowing that Felix is a friend of Harrison's, he's going light. "Winter not doing you so hot, eh?"

"Not this winter, anyhow," he says, pulling a face. But he nods his thanks. "Beer for me, too," A simple request. "What've you been up to? You worked with Harrison for a while, didn't you?"

Nash gives a nod, beer to his lips. He finishes taking a drink, and his eye wander to the rump of a brunette strolling by. He's fairly subtle about it, his stool spinning around almost completely as he stares before he flips back over and grins. "Yeah. Until she was snatched up by the government. Working with Damaris now." Probably a better match for him overall.

Fel's smile is eminently fond. "Kay is good people," he says, with a glimmer of genuine enthusiasm. "Been a long time since I talked to her…"

It was a good match up, despite the fact that both of them considered that the other was getting punished in the deal. Someone had the right idea, it seems after all. "I like her. She's got her head screwed on straight and we see eye to eye on most things." Nash lifts his cool glass up and places it over his shiner and winces.

"Makes me miss being a cop." There's a 'mere' in there somewhere, implied in the tone. And then he realizes he's doing it, and makes another of those faces. "Goddamn. I'm sorry. I just totally sounded like an asshole, and I swore when I joined the Feds I'd never pull that bullshit."

"Welcome to the asshole club." Nash being a senior member and all. Of course, he's not entirely sure why Felix things he's been an asshole anyway. "Lighten up Felix. Drink your beer and let loose a little." Says the cop with a black eye. "So, working on anything hot?"

"Nah. I feel like fucking Inspector Javert. Gray, gray, and Gabriel Gray. I cannot catch the motherfucker," Fel says, propping his elbows on the counter, and looking utterly weary.

Bobbing his head, Nash understands that one. "Everyone's having trouble catching that fucker." Nash shakes his head. "It's guys like that that make our jobs shit. Got any leads at all on that?"

Felix shakes his head, and his expression is utterly hangdog. It'd be comical, if it weren't so sincere.

"Damn. Sorry, dude." Nash totally understands what it's like to have no leads whatsoever. He remembers Tanya Gibson. Then his phone lights up and blasts some rock music as he snatches it from his belt. "What? You said Nite Owl. Fuuuuuck.." He puts his hand over the phone, "Damaris" he mouths to Felix and goes back. "I'll have to catch a cab. Had a few already. Yes, without you. Gimme half an hour." He hangs up. "Sorry, gotta head out. She thinks we said a different bar. Take care of yourself."

Felix chuckles. "She'll drink you under the table, if you let her," he says, archly. But he lifts his own glass in salute.

Nash laughs, shaking his head. "That's bullshit." But mostly Felix is right, though Nash'll never bring himself to admit it. He's grabbing his jacket and heading out. "Catch that fucker, Felix," he hollars then disappears out the door to catch his cab.

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