A Few Too Many
Scott stared aimlessly into his now half empty glass of scotch. Why did he keep doing this to himself? Every time she died it was the same thing, he found some secluded pub like bar and tried to drown his sorrows, when would it end?
He tossed back the last of the glass and slammed it down on the bar, signaling that he wanted a refill. The bartender didn't say anything, just pored him another brimming glass of the amber liquid and turned away shaking his head, silently pitying the poor man who drank so determinedly. Scott stared at the glass, his eyes slipping in and out of focus, not sure whether he was imagining the man it reflected coming up behind him until he heard the voice.
"Remy though' 'e migh' fin' yo' 'ere." The Cajuns drawl held almost none of its usual joking tone, and Scott would have preferred that to the pity he heard in its place.
"What are you doing here Gambit?" even Scott could hear how slurred his voice had become. So what, he thought violently, so what if I've had a few drinks? My fcking wife just died…again! He clenched his hand around the glass so hard it was at risk of shattering.
"Jus' t'ough' yo' coul' use someone t' talk t'." Remy claimed the stool next to the man that could technically be called his boss and ordered a drink,
"Why would I talk to you?" Scott was being rude, he know it and he knew Gambit knew it…but he did nothing to change it.
"Yo' t'ink Remy don' know wha' 's li'e t' loose s'meone yo' love? Remy though' 'is wi'e wa' dea' for more'n a year b'fore anyone bothered t' tell 'im ot'erwise." He snapped around to look at Scott, "'S Remy don' know…why woul' yo' talk t' 'im?"
Had Scott been sober he would have known that he'd gone to far, but by now the scotch had him three sheets to the wind, "Someone actually married YOU?" his surprise wasn't hidden.
Gambit wasn't sure whether to laugh or be offended. He was certain that this was a side of the groups fearless leader that no one got to see…so he forced a chuckle, "Ex-wife, mais da's no' de poin'. De poin' I' da' Remy knows wha' yo're goin' t'rough t' s'me extent."
Scott laughed harshly as he finished his second glass since the Cajun had arrived, "Wait until your wife has died and come back to the point it's just ridiculous, then come talk to me. At least most guys when their wife's die they go back on the market…not me, I never know when my dearly departed will show back up."
Remy didn't have anything to say to that, so he sat silently beside his boss, drinking his beer. Remy didn't know how long they sat there, and Scott defiantly didn't know, before the glass slipped from Scott's hand and he slumped forward on his bar stool.
"Merci Bill," Remy Paid the bartender, "I' 'e en's up back in 'ere 'gain…"
"I'll call you again." The man's eyes were full of pity as he watched the Cajun regular support the obviously grieving man out the door.