English and math walk into a bar

[Thomas Legrand II]

Sunday night and Thomas didn’t have work. Tomorrow was a holiday—he’d probably be working anyways, but for now he didn’t have to do anything in particular. So he’d called Ricky and invited him out for drinks, saying he’d buy a couple of rounds (as he usually did). It was either that or go back to his place and read old dusty manuscripts, and while he’d never minded that, tonight he wanted to interact with people. Besides, he’d heard that Ricky had a new girl and was curious to hear about her. Just because he didn’t have much luck in the romance department didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy for those who did. Ricky had said he’d bring a friend. Thomas hadn’t minded that either. He’d given them a time and a place, and was there when they arrived, dressed in his usual deep red shirt, black slacks, and seeming relaxed. He raised a beer bottle in greeting when they arrived and rose to shake Ricky’s hand.

“Good to see you,” he said, then turned to the other man. He looked vaguely familiar, but as Thomas worked nights and the staff all tended to be gone when he was around, except perhaps the theater and music people who stuck around for late nights occasionally for performances. “You must be Ben,” he said cheerfully, offering a hand for another handshake. “I’m Thomas Legrand. I work at the institute as a janitor. I’m guessing you teach at Hammel? You’ll have to forgive me—Ricky here hasn’t given me a lot of details. He’s not very thoughtful like that.” He flashed the man a smile, then turned over to Ricky. “What would you like? I’m buying.” 

[Ricky O'Cassidy]

Saturday nights were game nights pretty much no matter what the season was. Granted, Ricky wasn't a fantasy league player or anything - he didn't record stats, he didn't make speculations on draft picks, and he really didn't bet on games scores (that was just asking for trouble). But he liked to watch the games, especially college ball since they played a little more tightly to the rules. And because he didn't have the chance to play for a team when he was in college. Eh, maybe a little bit of both.

In any case, it was a day off and he'd been ready to go out anyway when Thomas called him up and suggested that they go out for a drink. Remembering that there was a new math teacher that needed some showing around, he'd agreed and called up Ben to invite him along. They met up on the street and walked into the bar without any problems, the Irishman catching sight of his English friend on a thorough glance-through and shook his hand exuberantly when they made their way to the table.

"You too," he stated cheerily, glancing up at the games. Nothing interesting was playing now, but he remembered that there was a UCLA game today (basketball) and made a note to ask the bartender if he could hunt it down. In a black knitted turtleneck and jeans, the older man looked just as comfortable with himself as in his normal suit and tie. He scoffed a bit at the idea of not introducing the pair thoroughly enough, shaking his head with a grin before answering, "I'll have a beer - my usual if the tap's working, bottle of Newcastle Brown if not."

Hey, it paid to have a back-up. Especially with him.

Looking to Ben, easily the tallest of the three of them, he asked, "What about you?"

[Norman "Ben" Gerst]

Ben's mouth felt like it was full of uncooked grits, his tongue a dry dead weight in the middle. Anger wasn't an emotion he dealt with regularly - too heavy for him - so he had no idea how to handle it, let alone how to handle it lasting a few hours over something so trivial. Football was supposed to be a hobby to get his mind off stress, not add to it, but if his team kept ending games in ties like they had the last two matches, Ben didn't know what he was going to do. Sure, the rest of Barcelona's season was looking great (in fact he was pretty sure they were at the top of the La Liga ranks right now) but that was all at risk if they kept not winning.

Perhaps the headache from the day's game is why he agreed to go out when he was invited. Socializing wasn't exactly his specialty, but after a few weeks in a new environment, Ben was pretty sure he needed to get a move on in the friends department. He liked his life working at the school, which meant it was time to work on liking his life outside of the school. Get a social life. Make some friends. Meet people. He found himself muttering these phrases to himself as he walked down the sidewalk toward the bar, barely perceptible over the wind. His fingers clutched the phone in his pocket. Part of him wouldn't let go of the fact that he could still call to cancel. There was still time.

Or maybe there wasn't, he realized, catching sight of Ricky just a little further down. He smiled a greeting and let go of the idea of cancelling. The smell of beer and grease from in the bar convinced him - and his stomach - that going out that night wasn't really a bad idea after all. Once inside, he shook the offered hand. "Nice to meet you, Thomas," he said with a smile that was just barely not goofy. Ben didn't recognize the new man, but he had never paid much attention to his surroundings anyway. "Yeah, I'm the new economics teacher. And I know what you mean; Ricky hasn't said much about you, either."

Ben glanced over to see what was on tap but, unable to get a good view, just shrugged. "A bottle of Blue Moon would be good."

[Thomas Legrand II]

((I am SO, SO SORRY this is so late.))

Thomas, unlike the other two, didn’t really care about games. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that they’d probably have a game they’d want to watch—that they might be different games wouldn’t even fly into his thoughts. And God forbid they were on opposite teams. Thomas would spend his evening chuckling into a beer and watching the two as they duked it out. Well, so far, only Ricky seemed to be looking for something. The other man, not so much. Thomas didn’t mind. Company, even if it was silent or yelling at a screen, was better than nothing.

“Ah, economics. You math types have to stick together, am I right?’ Thomas’s lips curved up at his own joke, then he waved his hand. “Not that I should comment. You come in handy when tax season comes along.” Not that he ever actually handed his taxes to his friends. Or handled them at all. There were some serious benefits to a trust fund, although he did come in to make sure he had enough to be comfortable enough. “Ricky, you couldn’t have even shared that detail?” he asked the taller man, raising a brow. Then he smiled and turned to the bar. The bartender knew him well and his tipping habits even better, so arrived promptly to take his order. It had to be half-shouted—sometime the bar could be loud. The bartender returned promptly with one bottle and one pint glass. Thomas thanked the man, slipped him a bill, then passed the items to their respective owners.

“Good taste,” he told Ben. “C’mon, let’s get a seat. It’s getting crowded up here.”

Once they HAD made it to a booth, Thomas leaned back. “So Ricky. This girl. Do tell. And once you’ve done with that, I want to hear how Ben here came to find Hammel.”