Ever since Gene had attended Felix and Calhoun's wedding, he'd been dreading this day. He hadn't said anything—not even when he was helping Felix move boxes up to his apartment in the penthouse. But all the same, he'd been dreading it. Nothing good could come from this, he was sure of it. He could feel it in his moustache.
Every time he caught a glimpse of armor pass by him in the hallway, his thoughts became an angry jumble and he saw red. Every time he had to hear that shrill, angry voice giving out orders—who knew who had died and given her the authority to do so— he wanted to kick something with his stubby little feet. Usually he did, when he thought nobody was around.
He didn't like Calhoun living in the penthouse, and Calhoun didn't like Gene either. She had tried to be decently friendly towards him in the beginning, for Felix's sake, but every time she had attempted to throw him a passing "hi" or something, he'd just glared at her in return. Unfortunately for him, Calhoun was the queen of glaring, and she won the staring contest every time. Each time Gene lost, he'd get flustered out of anger and back out of the room, muttering to himself.
Eventually Calhoun gave up on being friendly and just decided to settle of being civil by not beating the crap out of him. Gene knew Calhoun could probably kill him in a heartbeat, and he knew Calhoun also knew he knew this, and that thought made him angrier than anything. In his anger, lately he'd been drinking a few too many martinis. Mary was noticing, and was a little concerned. One day, finally sick of Gene locking himself up in his room with his alcohol, Mary urged Felix to talk to him again.
Felix hesitantly approached Gene's room, wringing his hands nervously. He had tried to talk to Gene about this before, but boy, Gene had been like a live wire ever since his dynamite gal had moved in. It was impossible to have a conversation with Gene if Calhoun was around, but maybe this time things would go smoother with no one else with him.
Felix knocked on the door. He heard some stumbling around and the clinking of what were probably martini glasses.
"Who issit?" He heard Gene call from inside his room. His voice held a slight slur. Felix winced.
"It's me, Felix." Felix replied, trying to sound as cheery as possible in case Gene was in a bad mood. He heard some more stumbling around, and anxiously waited for Gene to let him in. Finally Gene opened the door a crack and peeked out, probably to see if Felix had brought anyone with him.
Gene looked drunker than Felix had ever seen him. "Howdy, Gene," Felix said, trying to ignore the strong stench of alcohol. When Gene saw Felix was alone, he opened the door all the way. He seemed to perk up a little.
"Yes Felix? Did you need something?" Gene asked. He had the air of a dog eager to serve its master, and it was a little unnerving sometimes.
"Oh, no, I just thought I'd drop by," Felix said. He wasn't really sure how he was supposed to go about this. "Mary told me you were in a bad way, so I figured I'd see if you were doin' alright."
Gene scowled and rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. Mary always worries too much, I can handle myself."
Felix nodded, but he wasn't too sure. Gene had been letting himself go lately.
"I'm more worried about you," Gene continued.
"What?" Felix asked. "Whatever for?"
Gene glanced around again to make doubly sure there was no one else around. "That military gal you've been hanging around with. She seems very…violent. Is all." Gene looked like it pained him to even talk about her at all.
"'Hangin' around with'?" Felix laughed. "Gene, we're married!"
Felix had just been trying to lighten to the mood, but it seemed that reminding Gene of this while in such a drunken state had just set him off for some reason. Gene's face contorted and grew red. "Yes, of course," Gene said between clenched teeth. "Haha. Well, good night Felix." He promptly slammed the door closed.
"Sheepers," Felix sighed after a moment. He decided to give up for now, and try again when Gene was sober.