[He looks over the menu with genuine dismay.] ...they ALL have vodka. All of them. Tabernak.
[Yeah, Sam gets The Eyebrow.]
Ohhhh, non. You picked it, mister, we're having at least one drink here. If I must suffer, so must you.
[Beer, at least, is safe enough. It may not be spectacular, but at least the only choice isn't Molson. Once he's picked something that appears inoffensive and gotten Sam's order, he strides to the bar and orders. He returns, looking entirely out of place in his nice suit.]
So. You were telling me your deep mental traumas. Or your turn ons. Whichever.
[The Eyebrow is probably a little less effective when the person it's directed at kinda likes it.
In truth, Sam's impressed that Jean-Paul is going along with his very sarcastic choice. They can stay for a drink. Maybe two drinks, if they can stomach it. He picks a beer of his own and watches Jean-Paul make his way easily through the crowds of hockey jerseys at the bar. He does look out of place, but comfortable with it even so. Something else to like.
Sam is sitting back, totally at ease in a Canadian-themed hockey bar, by the time Jean-Paul gets back.]
I suppose they should go in that order, huh? [He takes a drink from the pint glass, and when he speaks again it's still easily, but just a little more subdued.] I was in the 58th Pararescue, two tours, but I lost my wingman over there, Riley. It was a night mission. Never saw the RPG coming, never figured out point of origin, he was just gone, nothing I could do. It wasn't as easy to remember why I was over there after that.
[Sam has talked a lot about Riley at the VA. It helps people more than they expect to hear someone else open up about their loss, and he thinks Riley would appreciate being able to help. So it doesn't bring down the mood, it's just a slightly more somber Sam who inclines his head in thanks.]
Thanks, I appreciate that. You're right, it does. And I didn't like that much. I came home and started volunteering at the VA while I took a few classes. It felt good, so I kept doing it. But it didn't leave me much time for a highly active social life.
[And he feels a little like he could ask Jean-Paul who he'd lost, but he really doesn't want to bring the mood down.]
How 'bout you, you're on the market too, what's that about?
[That earns him an outright laugh, not because Sam doesn't believe him but because he's pretty sure he's met someone like that before, but Stark isn't here having a drink with him.]
Yeah? Internationally, even. Should I be impressed?
You don't know I didn't do that while you were getting drinks.
[He didn't.]
Mom's up in Harlem, I have a few people in Philadelphia. My grandmother lives in Atlanta, so that's the hub of it all. Holiday plans get more complicated every year. One of my nieces just got into a Norse mythology phase, so telling her I know Thor has been a lot of fun. It's good. You? Any brothers or sisters?
No, I didn't. Kinda curious what I'm gonna find, though. I was born in Harlem, kind of a rough neighborhood. Grew up between there and Atlanta. The family's a little spread out now, but we come together at Thanksgiving.
That must've been a little hard for you two. Did you know about her when you were growing up?
How rough is 'kind of rough'? I'm never sure in America because of your shitty gun control.
Non. Our parents died when we were very small. I was adopted - she was sent to be raised by nuns. My adopted parents died when I was six and I do not know if they ever intended to tell me about her.
Rougher than you're picturing. My dad died when I was nine, trying to stop a couple rival gangs from shooting each other up. He was a minister. That kind of rough. That was the first time I went to live in Atlanta for a while.
[So he never knew his birth parents, or his twin sister, and his adopted parents died when he was six? It's starting to come together a little bit, why Sam is picking up so much "don't get close to me" static.] How've things been with your sister, then? You two lean on each other these days, or are you still mostly standing on your own?
A little, I won't lie. But it wasn't so bad. There was a lot of love around.
I'm glad you found each other. Even if you fight a lot. I fought plenty with my sisters. Still do, on occasion. You see each other a lot, or is it more phone calls?
None that I saw all that often. I had to grow up a little fast.
What's normal for you isn't gonna be what's normal for people who aren't you. Normal is a very relative idea. That's something that comes up a lot for vets coming home. They think they're not normal, but it's just that their idea of normal doesn't fit the people around them right away. [Sam laughs.] Sorry, man, I guess it's still a reflex to pick up on that kind of thing when someone says it.
[He manages to resist breaking down calling it a stupid term to use. It's not needed right now. He's here on a date, this isn't a getting-to-know-you talk before he takes someone on as a client.]
All right, so. Think that covers the deep mental traumas part of the evening, or do we get a couple vodka horrors and dig in?
[Such a gentleman- he even gets the door. Luckily the area has lots of places within walking distance. Jean-Paul leads the way to a place called 'Patent Pending' which is a small speakeasy in the Radio Wave building. It's decorated with brick and dark woods, with deep green booths. All of the cocktails are sixteen bucks a pop, and the menu has no sign of gross vodka concotions.]
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[Yeah, Sam gets The Eyebrow.]
Ohhhh, non. You picked it, mister, we're having at least one drink here. If I must suffer, so must you.
[Beer, at least, is safe enough. It may not be spectacular, but at least the only choice isn't Molson. Once he's picked something that appears inoffensive and gotten Sam's order, he strides to the bar and orders. He returns, looking entirely out of place in his nice suit.]
So. You were telling me your deep mental traumas. Or your turn ons. Whichever.
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In truth, Sam's impressed that Jean-Paul is going along with his very sarcastic choice. They can stay for a drink. Maybe two drinks, if they can stomach it. He picks a beer of his own and watches Jean-Paul make his way easily through the crowds of hockey jerseys at the bar. He does look out of place, but comfortable with it even so. Something else to like.
Sam is sitting back, totally at ease in a Canadian-themed hockey bar, by the time Jean-Paul gets back.]
I suppose they should go in that order, huh? [He takes a drink from the pint glass, and when he speaks again it's still easily, but just a little more subdued.] I was in the 58th Pararescue, two tours, but I lost my wingman over there, Riley. It was a night mission. Never saw the RPG coming, never figured out point of origin, he was just gone, nothing I could do. It wasn't as easy to remember why I was over there after that.
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[He sips his beer as Sam talks. It's not horrible - the beer, that is, not Sam's story.]
I am genuinely sorry for your loss. When someone is taken from us suddenly, life tends to lose meaning for a time.
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Thanks, I appreciate that. You're right, it does. And I didn't like that much. I came home and started volunteering at the VA while I took a few classes. It felt good, so I kept doing it. But it didn't leave me much time for a highly active social life.
[And he feels a little like he could ask Jean-Paul who he'd lost, but he really doesn't want to bring the mood down.]
How 'bout you, you're on the market too, what's that about?
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[He laughs brightly.] Oh, no secret there. I'm extremely unlikable.
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[Sam grins, sitting back, hands wrapped easily around his glass.]
Is that so? Sounds like a secret to me, I haven't seen much evidence of that.
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[Jean-Paul nods, eyes glittering with amusement.]
Non, no secret. I am internationally known for being a difficult bitch. I'm a perfectionist and I don't really care about sparing people's feelings.
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Yeah? Internationally, even. Should I be impressed?
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So tell me something else about you.
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[He's got some lofty-ass company to compete against, just saying.]
What do you want to know?
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Hn. Family?
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[He didn't.]
Mom's up in Harlem, I have a few people in Philadelphia. My grandmother lives in Atlanta, so that's the hub of it all. Holiday plans get more complicated every year. One of my nieces just got into a Norse mythology phase, so telling her I know Thor has been a lot of fun. It's good. You? Any brothers or sisters?
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So were you born here, then? Or back in Atlanta? Oh wow, nieces and everything. Big family.
Ouais. Twin sister. I met her when we were in our early twenties.
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That must've been a little hard for you two. Did you know about her when you were growing up?
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Non. Our parents died when we were very small. I was adopted - she was sent to be raised by nuns. My adopted parents died when I was six and I do not know if they ever intended to tell me about her.
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[So he never knew his birth parents, or his twin sister, and his adopted parents died when he was six? It's starting to come together a little bit, why Sam is picking up so much "don't get close to me" static.] How've things been with your sister, then? You two lean on each other these days, or are you still mostly standing on your own?
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Well. Better, these days. We've both grown up a lot and come to terms with a few issues. She means the world to me, even if we fight a lot.
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I'm glad you found each other. Even if you fight a lot. I fought plenty with my sisters. Still do, on occasion. You see each other a lot, or is it more phone calls?
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Do you? I have no idea what's normal. We do, ouais, because we can both cross the country easily.
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What's normal for you isn't gonna be what's normal for people who aren't you. Normal is a very relative idea. That's something that comes up a lot for vets coming home. They think they're not normal, but it's just that their idea of normal doesn't fit the people around them right away. [Sam laughs.] Sorry, man, I guess it's still a reflex to pick up on that kind of thing when someone says it.
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Non, it's fine. [He sips his beer.] You're completely right, and it was a stupid term for me to use.
She has some mental issues, and I am... me, so. Sometimes it's difficult. But we try.
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All right, so. Think that covers the deep mental traumas part of the evening, or do we get a couple vodka horrors and dig in?
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[Such a gentleman- he even gets the door. Luckily the area has lots of places within walking distance. Jean-Paul leads the way to a place called 'Patent Pending' which is a small speakeasy in the Radio Wave building. It's decorated with brick and dark woods, with deep green booths. All of the cocktails are sixteen bucks a pop, and the menu has no sign of gross vodka concotions.]
Will this do?
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