"You missed the Onions, Tomato, Lettuce and fries by the way."
Sol simply raised an eyebrow, indicating that he didn't particularly care about having missed stuff. Besides, it was salad and fries, you knew you were in a pretty bad restaurant or shop if they weren't a part of the burger. At least the salad part.
"Evening everyone, how are you all finding the place?"
"It's not too shabby, and Vik's people are footing the bill, which means free stuff. What more could I ask for?" Sol said, grinning. "Seriously though, unless there's a poker table around, in front of people who's had too much to drink, I'm probably going to be sitting here. Broken ankle and all that. Still, I'm liking it considerably better than some around the table seem to."
Spotting the waitress from before with what he assumed to be their drinks, seeing as she was headed for them. He was happy to see his orange soda served in a tall pint glass usually used for ciders. The hunter reached for his drink, taking a sip of it to make sure it had come from a bottle and that there was no alcohol in it before placing it in front of him. He would have asked the waitress about how long it would take for his food to be done, but figured it was far too early for that.
"I'll hang out for awhile, poke around, see if there's something of interest here for me to do. That, or me and Juliet can sit and critique the strippers on they're moves, that could be amusing."
"Could also lead by example," Sol said, nonchalantly. "I mean, sure, telling people what to do is fun, but it's a lot more fun to just do it yourself, don't you agree?" He wasn't sure if Sierra noticed it, but she was acting like a spoiled brat.
It could just be the place, and I sort of understand her. Besides, I'm not always the most gracious person either. Doubt we've got the same reason, though.
Sol took another sip of his soda, he wasn't sure when the last time he had been in a bar and not had as much as a beer or a small cider. It felt like a whole lifetime ago.
And now I feel old. Ugh. Far too early for that. I kind of hope not everyone decides to watch the strippers though, then I'll have to actually walk. Perhaps I should ask if people could just sit here, but then I'd be a dick about it.
He looked over at where the strippers were supposed to be, it wasn't too far, but he was sitting comfortable now. Besides, strippers weren't that fun unless you'd been drinking a fair bit. What was even the point of going to see strippers if you weren't drunk? Because they were sexy?
Speaking of which... I wonder what Sam'd even do with a bachelor party in Vegas, not like he drinks. And I doubt he's one for gambling or strippers either. Besides, he probably has a lot of cop buddies, so they'd probably rather just sit around or go to the gym or whatever.
Sol didn't know, he hadn't actually ever met a police officer in a situation where he'd like to sit around and chat. However, they were all straight-laced and strict, how Sam managed to tumble his way into a job like that was beyond him. Sure, it seemed cosy and nice to live in a suburb and have a fiance and not have to have an alarm on your door, but it didn't suit Sol, and it certainly didn't suit the Sam he had known.
How'd they even plan for it? His friends all probably have kids and can barely spend a weekend away. Besides, people with kids are supposed to be super obnoxious when they go drinking, aren't they? And they've barely experienced anything, I bet, I'd have nothing to talk to them about. The fact that he wants me to be the best man and deal with that trainwreck is beyond me.
He looked into his drink, thinking, finger carefully tracing the details of the glass as he kept thinking about it. Whatever conversations were happening around him were indistingushable to him, he could be sitting alone in an empty hall and it wouldn't make much of a difference now.
Why does he even want me there? He probably thinks I'm still a criminal, and that it's up to him to save me, but I don't get what having me in his wedding would accomplish. And he'll always answer me the same day I answer a mail of his, even if I've spent weeks avoiding it. I don't get it, what's the point? I've told him I don't want to do it, I'm not even sure if I want to go to his wedding, but... but he keeps persisting.
Sam and his fiance had been engaged for more than 5 years now, and Sam had tried to get Sol to come for almost 2.
Aren't they tired of waiting? Can't they just get married already?
He wasn't stupid, he knew the reason. He knew he was the reason, and that it was probably painful to be rejected like that. However, it was just as painful for him, if not even more. Being Sam's best man, going to the wedding, it would mean going back to the family he'd had, being a part of it again. Sol wasn't sure if he could ever manage that. He had Elizabeth and granpa, they were his family now. His finger kept going back up and down the glass.
Sam shouldn't put his life on hold for someone who might never go back to being his younger brother. Blood is blood, but family is trust.
Yet, even as he thought that, he bit the inside of his cheek, he felt guilty just thinking about it, he felt like a self-centered coward who couldn't seem to make a choice.
Oh, right, I'm here with people.
He looked up at the others, adjusting his cashmere scarf and smirking, just to make sure no one had noticed that he was worried. He wasn't entirely convinced it would work, but at least it was a try. Wouldn't want to ruin the, admittedly, rather varied mood, after all.
