Chapter Text
One of the first things he bought after arriving in this new world was a coat that was almost an exact replica of the one that was given to him by Janis Joplin. Same color and same approximate length… the only thing different was the pockets that weren’t bigger on the inside like the original but he could fix that with a bit of alien tech from work.
Right now it was hanging on the back of a bar stool where its owner sat as he downed another glass of Jack Daniels. It was his fourth…or maybe his fifth glass in his attempt to become properly plastered. His attempt was failing miserably.
Thanks to his partially superior biology it was taking more to get him from sober to even somewhat tipsy but he was nothing if not determined.
As he was about to down another, he felt a hand on his arm stopping him. He followed the arm up until he reached the face of its owner, who happened to be a very pretty brunette with soft brown eyes and a bow-shaped mouth.
“Are you sure you want to drink that?” the lovely mouth said.
The strangers’ hand moved down his arm until it reached the hand that was holding the glass and took it from him.
“Drinking your troubles away or just stopping in for a night-cap after the party?” she asked, noting his tux.
“And you are?” he was curious and a bit impressed by her boldness.
“Nanci….with an i, not a y” she says.
“Welllll….” he said, leaning over towards her as if he was about to impart a big secret, “Nanci with an i, since I saw you when I came in it only stands to reason that you probably saw me too considering I am the only one here not dressed in jeans. AND if so, that could mean that you have been watching me drink and are therefore under the impression that I have had too much which is why you took the glass from my hand. And if THAT is the case it must mean that you already know that this is not just a night-cap, correct?”
He gives her one of his broad, bright smiles and actually waits for her to answer.
“Or,” she counters leaning towards him, meeting him part of the way, “it could just mean that I find you very, very attractive and would like you to move yourself and your drink over to that table over there…” she nods towards one situated in a darkened corner of the bar, …”and talk to me about your troubles instead of sitting alone here, drinking them away.” Then added as sort of a punctuation mark, “Since this is so obviously NOT a night-cap.” She smiles back, just as sweetly.
His internal monologue goes something like “Rose is probably worried about where I am so I should probably go home and try to get this mess straightened out. But then again Rose was more than likely fucking Steve after I left or worse, making love with Steve, and she probably doesn’t even know or care that I never came home.”
In the end, he goes with the second scenario, even if it is the more painful one because the loneliness is crippling and this girl seems nice and, well, he is tired of trying to do the right thing. He had forgotten what the right thing even was.
His smile gets impossibly wider as he looks down at his drink with the amber-colored liquid swirling around in the glass, sits it back on the bar, and stands without any hint of being drunk at all, grabs his coat, and then takes her hand leading her to the table.