Summary:After an absolutely rough day, Ford seeks a good stiff drink. He finds it, being served by a friendly face. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Luke's is a bit busy tonight, which is to say that for a Saturday the tables are all full and the bar only has a few empty stools, most of which are clustered around a spot at the very end. Hod leans there, a martini in hand as he listens to the band play. Tonight it's a pair of young men working a pair of mics and dropping the NYC jazz rap stylings made famous in the 90's, a new twist added by adjusting some of the lyrical flow. Honestly, it's the young woman on the turn tables that's the real star of the show, her beats far exceeding the skill of her rappers. Still…. it's pretty good all through.
Hod seems to be enjoying the music however, his body bobbing ever so slightly to the beat as he takes a pull off of a martini who's glass is still vaugely frosted from it's recent creation. There's no obvious reason why no one's sitting near where Hod is standing, he's not threatening people nor does he seem unapproachable persay, but there it is. A wee pocket of empty stools in a bar doing a solid weekend evening business.
Ford had managed to cool off from earlier today. To say it was a disaster would be an understatement, in his book, and his posture shows it as he enters Luke's. He's not in a jovial mood. It's not an evening of pleasent drinking. It's to try and forget what he caused, and the lesson he's hammered into himself, and yet so blatantly ignored.
Ford makes not move to greet anyone. Not really scowling or trying to bring the mood down either. He's trying to be as neutral a presence as he can. He marches right for the empty break in the bar and grabs an empty stool at the end, right where Hod is. Either Ford is unaware of the break in the crowd, or doesn't have the wherewithall to process it. He just grabs a seat and sits for a minute, trying to absorb his surroundings. Music, chatter, drinks, merriment. He was trying very hard to drown himself in what should make him happy.
Finally, he pats the table and let's out an exhale. "Gimme a drink that'll knock out Hercules. And a few few more on top of that, if you please." Ford requested.
Hod snorts, "Oh the arrogance of youth." he quips as he sets one hand on the bartop, sets down his martini next to it, then turns and feels along the edge of the shelves behind him, checking bottles by the shape and a quick sniff of the caps or corks. He begins to set a few things out and goes to work, "I'm going to assume rough day." he says as he starts to create a cocktail without looking down at it once, his shades just staring slightly over Ford's shoulder the entire time. Ice clinks. Liqours pour. He doesn't use a jigger, instead going entirely by feel. "You don't sound like you're here to enjoy the music. Shame. Acts here aren't always this good."
Ford watched Hod as he went about setting up his drink. Judging from the feeling around and sniffing, Ford cocked his head and wondered if the bartender was blind. He… certainly looked it. Watching him make the drink, Ford looked around a bit, before waving a hand to see if he got a reaction. The classic method of testing if someone was blind. "Very much so, yeah. Extra strong, if you'd be so kind." Ford confirmed, waiting until he had his drink before continuing.
Ford stared at the liquid for a bit, trying to muster up the will to drink it. He knew he was just trying to force himself to feel better. "…I did something today that got a person killed. It's not entirely my fault… but I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a good hand in it." Ford finally admitted, looking over at the band. "Worst of it is, had I listened to my damn gut and followed my own advice, it might not have happened. Should've known better."
Hod does not respond to the waveing hand in the least, continuing to stare just off of Ford's shoulder stoicly. After a few moments he slides a fairly large glass over in front of Ford, "Consider yourself warned." he says as he returns to his martini, fingertips trailing down the bar gently until they touch the glasses base and sweep it up. Hod grows oddly still as Ford talks, like Still, capital 'S', but it only lasts a moment. "Long Island Iced Tea." he says, nodding at the over sized glass in Ford's hand, "I have a heavy pour." the words suggest it's a warning, the tone suggests he's merely reminding Ford that chemical assistance awaits at the end of his arm.
Maybe it comes from tending bar in a joint in Harlem, or maybe Hod's just 'seen' some shit, who knows, but talk of dead people and mistakes doesn't seem to so much as shake him. He just continues to stand there, quiet, reserved, sipping his drink, but attentive all the same. Like he was listening to Ford. Maybe it's the blind thing? Knowing he can't be distracted by a pretty lady or a shiney something across the room, it gives one that feeling that the barman is legit listening.
Ford nodded. "Warning taken. I look forward to it." He assured, looking into his cup a bit longer before finally knocking it back and taking a drink. A good hardy drink. And he handles it impressively. Ford could already feel his internal demonic liver picking up the slack and working overtime. He'd need a bit more, but for now, he was satisfied.
"…I make it a point not to get involved with stuff like that. Precisely because I didn't want what happened to today happen." Ford took another swig of his fire water, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and sighing. Ford keeps the details to himself so far. "Nothing to be done about it now, though… I should've known better."
Hod polishes off his cocktail and then moves back to the bottles he left to the side and begins making another for Ford. Or maybe himself. It's unclear. "Been there." he says after a moment of relative quiet. More ice clinks on glass as he works, "What's the fall out?" he asks curiously.
Ford knocked back another large swig, clearly taking the alcohol like a champ, considering what should be in it. Setting the glass down, Ford inhaled a bit, waiting for the buzz despite knowing it'll take much longer than that to kick in. "Really?" Ford asked, glancing up in obvious surprise. Then again, New York was full of odd folks. Perhaps the odds were better than he would imagine. "One dead mutant, a thoroughly wrecked building, and I suspect every mutant 'superhero' present thinks I'm behind the whole affair in some regard. Not that I would blame them. I didn't exactly look the part of a hero myself."
Ford rested his arms on the counter, shaking his head. "It was a hostage situation with yet another anti-mutant group. So of course, every mutant who thinks they're a big shot shows up and storms the place like it's a frat party. I was trying to find a way to talk them down, but they rushed in and made me change all my plans." Ford took another drink, nearing the bottom of his glass in the process. "I can't fathom why they think turning into giant glowing machines or biting through gun barrels is the logical first step in a situation. Especially when they have hostages."
Hod pauses mid pour and seems to very carefully set the bottle in his hand down, "Been there too." he says again, and he sounds like he means it. He doesn't move for a moment before he pushes another full glass Ford's way before he's even finished the first, then pours himself a straight vodka. He's just present enough to toss a couple of cubes in the glass so he doesn't look like a total alcoholic just straight slamming drinks.
"Went to shit from there I assume." he offers, letting Ford continue without really pushing or proding.
Honestly, in Ford's eyes, Hod could down the whole bottle and he wouldn't think poorly of him. Clearly, he's been in a similar seat to Ford… and the knowledge that it wasn't just him that was driven to try and drink the issue away was much more comforting than any buzz he could get tonight. "Very much so. I revealed myself, and let's just say I wasn't wearing my Sunday best. I wanted to get the body to the medics on site… I knew she was dead, but I guess there was some part of me praying that things could be salvaged still."
Ford finished off his first glass and immediately dove into the second, taking a comforting gulp. "So… I might be a supervillain now. Guess I'd better start shopping around for evil lairs."
Well this sounds like 18 shades of familiar, "Got two choices," Hod says without needing to hear the rest of the story. The fact that he just returned from visiting a place who's every scent, sound, and feel reminds him of a time he did something very much like Ford has left Hod a bit of a raw nerve on this topic. "hide." he ticks the choices off on his fingers, "It's my personal favorite. Go away, pick a place far away from where you are, become someone new. New name, new language, new style, new tax bracket, someplace you've never been or never thought you'd go. Disappear. Stay there for awhile, lose yourself in it a bit." he shrugs, "Been working wonders for me for ages now. And of course, there's the other way. It's harder. Always expensive, though rarely feels like you're the one paying the price tag." he shrugs, "Fight." he says, polishing off his vodka. "Fighting's exhausting though, and there's always that price tag. Just… waiting." he licks his lips and sighs, "Also I'm a coward, so the running thing is always my go to." he wiggles the glass in his hand so the ice clinks around, "Sometimes you don't even have to go anywhere to run away." Booze is best friend.
Ford listened like a student studying at the foot of a master, even if that student was dipping into his drink a little bit. Hide or fight. Ford swirled his drink a bit more, nodding as he listened before sighing. "I can't run… I have a little sister who needs me. Means the world to me. And I promised her I would never leave." Granted, much of that was owed to daddy issues, but his word was his bond. "And cowardice never attracted the ladies. At least supervillains can get those bombshell subordinates in the tight black leather."
Ford laughed a bit, finally feeling a bit better. Or perhaps that was the buzz finally kicking in. It was a fuzzy buzz, but he was getting it. "So I guess I'd better start stealing money to finance that volcano fortress and building the doom laser." Ford joked, shaking his head. Nah… he'd just stick to anonimity and stealth. Much more cost effective. "Any advice on that option?"
Hod tilts his head downward as if he were looking at the clinking cubes of ice in the glass, though clearly that's not really an option. Where ever he is, it's not here and it's not now. The silence grows for a long moment before he speaks again, "Be prepared to lose." he says his voice soft and low, but as if fate had it's finger on the scales that's the moment there's a lull in the music on stage a pauce in the beats and lyrics as the tracks switch up so Ford can hear him clear as a bell.
When Hod's face raises up again, the mirrored shades seem to lock onto Ford, as if maybe he /could/ see the other man after all. Ford's own reflection stares back from the lenses, leaving nothing of Hod's eyes or what may lay behind them, "If you chose to fight, know it may not be you that pays the price, often it will be those closest to you instead. Judge carefully whether or not you are willing to let them make that sacrifice, and then decide. If you are, then know that any failure you suffer falls on anothers shoulders to bare. So don't fail." he reaches out to pluck the vodka off the bar and pours himself another glass, "Trust me, running and hiding hurts less." and he polishes off the glass in three heavy swallows, "Plus, you get to try new food." he offers with a grin and that same 'just to the side of Ford look' that he had before.
Ford watched Hod quietly, clearly staring into the gaze of years of experience. If there was any doubt before that Hod was supernatural in some capacity, his words and his "gaze" put it to rest. He was watching back at the man in Hod's shades. Watching carefully. Taking the words into consideration. Losing those closest to him was nothing new for Ford. He had come to terms with it. For a moment, it looked like Ford was taking this whole thing seriously.
And then the smile grew across his face. In any other instance, it would be a defiant grin. But in this case, it was the same smile he gave his little sister the day their mother died. It was a lie, to be sure, but it was how he dealt with it. "Than I guess it's a good thing I never learned how to fail." Ford shook his head, knocking back more of his drink as he sat and thought. "…or, perhaps… there is another option. Something wholly different. Like, something between fighting and running." The alcohol might have started kicking in finally. Or maybe Ford was just an idiot.
"Maybe… but I guess, by that metric, fighting makes you tougher, eh?" Ford asked, finishing the last of his second drink. "Damn… good stuff. I feel better already, actually. So, who should I call my new sensei in the ways of drinking and 'supervillainy', hm?"
Hod he makes yet another glass, this one though he doesn't merely toss down the hatch, more lets linger amid the ice cubes for awhile, "It makes you lonelier." he says and returns Ford's smile with one of his own. Hod knows his people, and Ford, if not now, has the scent of one close to being one of Hod's. The broken, lost, and forgotten. He can smile like a liar too. "Around here they call me Hod." he pronounces so that it rhymes with 'Ode' rather then 'Odd'.
"Not anymore." Ford quipped back, raising his now empty glass. "If we're bound to lose, best enjoy it while we can, eh?" Ford asked, setting the empty drink down and offering a hand to shake… before quickly realizing Hod probably couldn't see it and recoiling. "Hod? Nice to know ya. Name's Ford. Best mechanic in New York, at your service." he replied, nodding. "A pleasure to have a friendly face on my side."
Hod does in fact not react to the offered hand for the exact reason Ford suspects, "A mechanic named Ford. I feel there's a long litany of jokes there but I'm not feeling like giving them a shot tonight. Maybe next time." then he snorts, "Face has been called many things, friendly isn't often among them. I'll take it. Welcome to Luke's, Ford. Booze is decent, music is more often good then not, and the food is fatening, greasy, and delicious."
"Would you like a list? I've got a few memorized from all the ones I've heard." Ford replied, laughing a bit now that he was a bit more tipsy. He had broken himself down to his most basic building blocks and was starting to feel better, sturdier again. He lost someone today. He could only try to not let it happen again. As always.
"And the sever is a good guy." Ford tacked on at the end of Hod's litany of astoundingly good reasons to frequent here from now on. "Thanks, Hod. I think I'm really gonna like it here."