a/n: Frye is reassessing his life choices in the parking lot. They suck, mostly. Or, to use other words, "..."
Hard swears. Less editing than usual, sorry not sorry.
All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, but Case is mine.
This must be what rock bottom felt like. Alone, on a freezing night, at the edge of a parking lot, drinking ... Frye took a careful swig to make sure he wasn't delusion. Yup, it was exactly what he thought it was. He shuddered. Vanilla-flavored vodka.
For a second, he forgot the cold as rage filled him. He didn't deserve any of this. Okay, maybe the alone part was justified; after all, he'd been happy to ditch the other parking lot bums when the warmth of the Repenta beckoned. If they'd been smart enough to find other hidey-holes, he couldn't complain. If he weren't so personally pissed off, he'd ping one or another of them and join them, wherever the hell they'd crawled off to. So being alone was justified. But being outside, drinking this crap?
He sighed and resigned himself to another cupcake-infused mouthful. Half an hour ago, he'd been damn grateful when a teammate had chucked a flask at him while he was being hustled out of the bar by an over-sized alien bouncer. He had been sure his pipeline from official sources would be shut off for the night, and he had been right. So he should be damn happy that Veena had his back. But after the first swallow he'd revised his opinion of Veena and her drinking habits, and that hadn't changed much as the bottle got lighter.
Besides, on a frigid night like tonight, you wanted more smoke in your liquor. Some whiskey would be nice. Or bourbon. Or both, he wasn't above going halvsies. Instead he was drinking something that needed every bit of chill to cover how close it was to alcoholic frosting. He puffed out a breathy cloud, half expecting it to come out as powdered sugar. Aw, hell, he still was glad Veena had passed him her bottle, because at least the taste distracted from, as well as added to, his misery. His lonely, lonely misery.
Through the darkness he noticed somebody approaching. If it was someone like Irina coming to check on him, they could piss right off. Couldn't they just leave him to wallow in his misery? That was the only thing keeping him warm right now. He quickly slugged down some vodka and hoped that maybe a fight was about to start. Then he took another fast swig because there was 100% no chance of a fight starting.
"Phog, you make me even colder, just looking at you," Frye barked with exasperation. "Shorts?! On a night like tonight? You have got to be kidding me."
"..." His brother dug the toe of his boot into the pavement, measuring the solidity of the asphalt.
"I'm glad you dropped by and said hello and all, but you better scoot inside. Maybe order steamed milk for a change. Go crazy."
Phog shook his floof of blond hair and moved a little closer to Frye, still studying the ground.
"So you heard about the fight, huh? Don't worry about it. It's just a thing that happens."
Phog kicked a few fragments of pavement with heightened interest, started to crouch, hesitated, then stood up very straight.
Frye sighed, bent to scoop up some grit, and handed it to Phog. "Buddy, I don't mind if you do your thing." He watched his brother poke at the bits of concrete in his palm. Phog's intensity was soothing, but Frye wasn't fooled. He knew the kid was listening to everything he said.
He might as well let it all loose. "You know what gets me? Two things. First, I'm out here, that I get. Part of the deal. The manager gives a nod, I start a fight, we all get booted, she doesn't know my name for a week, rinse, repeat. But tonight? Arya's pissed for real. Why? Because I did stuff for the wrong reasons. Not because she said to, but because I wanted to shove Evan's teeth down his throat. Doesn't matter that it was what she wanted in the first place, noooooo, that's not good enough. I gotta be on a leash 24/sev, even when I'm off it. To hell with her."
Frye leaned closer to his brother and continued in a strangled growl. "But that's nothing. She can be pissed if she wants to, fine, go for it,lady. But what really gets me is what Case did. She picked that jerk up and carried him off and if I know her she's cooing and weeping over his owies right now. I've seen it happen over and over, and trust me: she'll get wrecked as a result, just like all the rest.
"Something about those squeaky clean boys makes people think they couldn't hurt a fly and then sure enough they go and hurt people real bad. They should come with a fucking warning label." Frye twisted his face so his ragged scar was impossible to ignore. His smile was fierce and bitter. "Like me. People take a look at me and they know stuff is gonna get wrecked."
"..."
"Aw, you're okay. You look harmless but you're the surprise at the bottom of a box of cereal. Some glow in the dark plastic crap. Besides, I'm kind of your extended warning label. Christoph brothers, good for blowing stuff up." Frye stared into the sky, blinking from the cold. "Just, those kind of guys hurt people like Case bad, and I can't stand it. You know she got absolutely broken over the last dude like that, right? Bounced from BLADE, the works. Guys like that do it all the time and walk away like nothing happened."
"..."
"Okay, true, something happened to that guy worse than being bounced, and aren't we all glad. But the point stands. Guys like Evans walk away just fine, no matter how much damage they do. Well, this time, he got damaged first. Call it payment in advance." Frye took a victory swig. He felt no consolation at all.
Phog slipped the concrete chunks into one pocket and fished out a bleating comm device from another. He swiped it, then smiled. "Let's get curry," he said quietly.
"That Wrothian place? Nah, no thanks. No liquor license. They don't even have beer."
Phog nodded in agreement. "So we know you aren't banned."
"Ugh."
"I have a coupon for 2 bubble teas there." Phog waved the comm device at his brother.
"You hate bubble tea. Those little balls, remember? You sound like a cat when you try to drink it." Frye demonstrated. "Ackkkawkkakkkkkagghhakkkkk."
"..."
"Okay, fine, I'll ask them to leave them out. Let's go." He strode out of the parking lot, his brother tagging at his heels. At the edge, Frye turned and gave a magnificent two-handed, two-fingered salute to the security cameras of the Repenta diner.
Inside, Arya watched the gritty b/w security screen and smiled. Then she put her own comm device away and returned to her other duties.
a/n: It turns out I cannot spell "label" for my life. Wrong, every time. Thank you, spell check. Frye is the best character ever. I have said that about most characters, but I mean it this time. His final heart to heart kills me. "...Just like I do pretty much every day of my life."
Case getting wrecked? I keep hinting at it (most recently in the April Fools Thing).
Next up: It's a little bit morning, and boy is Irina ever pissed! (Oh that's gonna be fun to write.)