A Bar, Boston, Tuesday

[smilestopscars]

In the end, Ezra had decided to drag Dante out to a bar. Not one of the Coterie ones, but still one that he'd frequented sometimes, looking to have a good time. It wasn't as high-end as, say, something within the Purgatory complex, but it was still several steps up from something like that dive he'd found Dante performing at earlier this year.

Funnily enough, this one seemed to have an open mic night going on. Or, would have - there was a flier advertising it at the door, but they were a little early. Those proceedings had not started yet as they walked in.

"It's not a bunny party," Ezra noted, glancing back at Dante with a little smirk, "but I think it works."

[ooc: NFB, for the guy.]

Comments

[smilestopscars]

Ezra wasn't surprised. Wasn't as if it had been a secret.

He shrugged a shoulder, casual or at least halfway there, and motioned to the bartender for another drink. "Anders did more than me," he said, then reconsidered. "For her directly, anyway."

Healing had never been in his skill set.

[rebelseekspizza]

"Not what I heard," Dante said quietly. He waved at the bartender to get him one, too.

[smilestopscars]

"He healed her."

Ezra thought that said enough.

[rebelseekspizza]

"And you killed Christian."

Might as well be clear.

[smilestopscars]

"Yeah, I did," Ezra replied, and his voice was hushed only because, well. They were talking about killing people. "And the ex that bit Kathy," he added. "But neither action on their own wouldn't have really helped."

[rebelseekspizza]

"Ezra, just let me fucking thank you," Dante said, still hushed. "And fuss for like, five seconds."

[smilestopscars]

Ezra shrugged again. "You thanked me already," he pointed out. "And I'd like to keep the pointless fussing to a minimum, darling. There's not really a reason to."

[rebelseekspizza]

"So you're totally okay after all of that shit?"

Dante shot him a sideways look.

[smilestopscars]

"Getting there," he offered.

The occasional nightmares seemed to have stopped by now.

[rebelseekspizza]

Dante nodded slowly.

"Anything I can do to help?" he said quietly. "I mean, I know what you're gonna say if I'm like 'wanna talk about it'..."

[smilestopscars]

"Darling, Los Angeles was business as usual." Amped up to eleven when it came to the setting, but still. He assumed the direct murderiness was what was bringing this on. "Itt is what it is."

[rebelseekspizza]

"Don't think Los Angeles was business as usual even for you," Dante said lightly. "That was fucked up as shit."

[smilestopscars]

Ezra shrugged. The bartender slid their new drinks over.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

[rebelseekspizza]

"How about anything you want to talk about?" Dante said. He reached for his drink. "Feels like I've been trying to have a conversation with you since we got here and all I'm getting is 'eh'."

[smilestopscars]

Funny how tired you could get from just hearing someone say a few specific words.

"Oh, good," Ezra replied mildly. "I was wondering how long it would take until that came up again."

[rebelseekspizza]

Dante stared at him.

Then he downed his drink in one go. "Sorry, you want me to shut up and look pretty while you lurk all bored and silent over the drinks you hate? 'Cause I can do that. It's not what I came here for, but it's a thing I can do."

[smilestopscars]

"Don't be so melodramatic." That was mild, too. Ezra's gaze slid to his own drink. "I just wish you'd stop holding me to some invisible standard of when my conversation is good enough for you."

He swished the liquid around in the glass.

"I'm getting tired of feeling like a disappointment even when I'm trying."

[rebelseekspizza]

Dante waved at the barkeeper. He needed another drink.

"Ez, you haven't raised a single topic of conversation yourself in the past hour," he said flatly. "You've humored my small talk, then shut it down, and cut me off when I tried to bring up something more important. I don't have an 'invisible standard', you don't need to fucking dance for my entertainment, I just want you to be fucking here when I talk to you."

He ran his hand through his hair. "You don't get to put on some big display and then go right back to expecting me to be the guy who talks while you sit back and say 'hmhm, I'm not interested in that' over and over and over and over and over again."

Did his voice crack at the end? He'd thank Ezra not to mention it.

[smilestopscars]

"I'm here," Ezra snapped. Well, what counted as snapping for him, probably. Anyway. It was sharper. "I can't help it if that's not good enough, if my 'here' isn't 'here' enough for you, somehow."

His gaze stayed fixed on his glass.

"Have you considered that maybe talking to you isn't very easy for me? You seem to think I'm doing this on purpose. I'm not." There was a brief pause. "Well, not apart from what you called 'cutting you off'."

[rebelseekspizza]

"Then fucking talk to me about that," Dante said. "I like this place, don't get me wrong, but I'd rather sit in a fucking shack having a real conversation with you than sipping drinks while I flail around in here."

[smilestopscars]

Ezra finally set his drink back down so he could run his newly-free hand through his hair, instead.

"We've never actually been friends, have we?" he said. His tone had a subtle far-off quality, like he was saying it more to himself than to Dante. "Not really."

[rebelseekspizza]

Dante let out a quiet sigh.

"Not like this, no," he said. "I tried, but after we stopped fucking, it was like I couldn't reach you."

[smilestopscars]

"I wasn't there to be reached." More or less. Like they'd covered before. "I don't know why it's this hard. Apart from any conversation about trauma, because I don't like talking about that in the first place, just in general. And a lot of the more recent stuff is something I don't feel comfortable talking about to you, specifically."

Limbo City remained a sore subject.

[rebelseekspizza]

"I shouldn't want to keep trying, considering all this," Dante said slowly, his earlier-- frustration was the wrong word. Desperation? --fading from him as he spoke. "I was ready to give up on it after LA."

The bartender slapped his drink down. He ignored it.

"Then you came to talk to me and it felt different," he said. Bit down on his lower lip, thoughtful. "It wasn't because you were showing me your deepest, darkest trauma shit or anything. It's never been about that. Not really. I get there's shit you can't talk about to me, it's okay."

He brushed his hair back behind his ear. He should stop talking, really. This was about Ezra's trouble with it all, not his. He just couldn't stop. "But I realized that we'd been fighting about that shit for three years when all I wanted was to get that smile outta you," he said finally. "And I kept fucking up at getting it. Then I got it, but it just made me want to get another one even harder, and just now isn't about you not being enough, I'm just worried I'm fucking it up even harder."

[smilestopscars]

Ezra watched him, although he kept his own expression on the mild side. Force of habit.

"It feels like it's about me not being enough." He shrugged. "Can't help it."