He Doesn't Go Out

Chapter 2

Vincent trudged along beside Cid as they walked away from the house and toward the center of town. Having no real idea where the pilot was leading him, Vincent went along in silence, knowing that any attempt at finding out would just earn him an irritated, "Just fuckin' wait and see" from the other man.

Finally, Cid stopped in front of the door to the only bar in town and pulled it open, motioning for Vincent to go inside.

The former Turk didn't go in, though, instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and stood his ground. "The bar? You've brought me to the bar?"

"Come on, Vince. It's Friday, the place is great on Fridays. Their drinks are cheap and they've got a band and stuff." Cid continued to hold the door open, allowing the noisy din of the interior to insult Vincent's ears. "This is where Shera and I usually go. She loves it."

"I'm not Shera." Vincent moved to turn away, but felt Cid's grip upon his right arm before he got very far.

"Vince…" Cid was going to admit something that he felt was insulting to his bravado, but needed to be said. "Look, you've done nothing but sit on the fuckin' couch for months. I'm…I'm worried about you. You need to get out every once in a God damned while."

Vincent tensed his jaw, not wishing to have any such conversation with Cid, friend or not. The truth of it was that there had been much more done to Vincent than the pilot was aware-- things that made him feel that any attempt at a social life was pointless. Then again, Cid was genuinely trying to be nice and so the gunslinger decided that he would humor his friend just this once. Relenting, he jerked his arm from Cid's grip and went into the bar.

Relieved that Vincent was going to make the effort to be compliant, Cid smiled to himself and then followed.

They took up a small table off to the side of the bar, not too far away from the stage where the band was playing. A waitress soon appeared and took their drink orders, Cid obligingly taunting Vincent when he ordered a mudslide.

"I don't know why you get those gay sorta drinks," the blond said, nudging Vincent in the side as he did so.

"I don't drink to get drunk, so…I opt for something that at least tastes good," he replied curtly, not particularly impressed with the band that was currently playing. Vincent gestured toward them weakly with his left hand. "Shera honestly likes this?"

"Not this band, they suck." Cid leaned back in his chair, bringing its two front legs off the ground. "But the one that comes on at eight, they're not too damn bad."

Vincent rolled his eyes and rested his elbows on the table. He'd always hated places like this and wondered exactly how long Cid intended to force him to stay. The good news was that it was presently only five minutes until eight so hopefully, the music would soon improve.

They sat in silence, just watching the people come and go and within a short while, their drinks were brought and Cid paid for them. The lousy band that was onstage began to clear off, much to Vincent's relief.

Vincent pulled the straw from his drink and used it as a makeshift spoon to begin taking wisps of whipped cream from his mudslide up to his lips. His eyes remained on the table before him, his left hand now below the table resting on his lap as to be hidden from prying eyes. He knew that people were looking at him. In Rocket, anyone who wasn't a permanent resident was always under scrutiny, and the fact that he was sitting with the most popular guy in town really wasn't helping.

Cid watched the gunman, seeing how terribly uncomfortable he obviously was. Vincent's movements were timid, even when it came to the way he was consuming the topping off of his drink. It was a far cry from how the man had behaved on the airship and during their mission. The pilot realized that there were many sides to his friend, and the one he was seeing now was far from happy. He began to rethink his original intention for bringing him out at all. "Hey, Vince?"

His eyes rose up from the table and over to the pilot's. Vincent just awaited Cid's continuation without a sound.

"Look guy…I'm sorry for draggin' you out like this. I didn't know you'd be so damn miserable." Cid leaned forward onto the table.

"I'm all right," Vincent said, clearly lying and doing a terrible job at it.

"No, you're not." The blond ran a hand though his hair. "We can go home after you finish your drink."

Vincent offered up a pathetic smile. "Okay."

Their attention was then drawn as music began to play once more as the next band had appeared. Instead of the obnoxious southern rock that the last band had been playing, this was a quieter, jazzy sort of sound. The spotlight came on and landed upon the singer.

Vincent instantly cocked an eyebrow. She had his undivided attention.

Cid looked over at Vincent, seeing that the gunman's expression had completely changed. Once more, he nudged Vincent in the side. "What, you like her?"

Vincent gave him no real response other than to stick his straw back into his drink and then wave at Cid a little to indicate that he wanted him to simply be quiet. His eyes were upon the woman as she sang. She was wearing a black dress that showed off her voluptuous form, and had short, red hair. He was…impressed, to say the least.

Cid watched an amused, as Vincent never took his eyes off of her. His mudslide was finished off after a while, but he made no move to leave as he and Cid had agreed upon before. Suddenly, the pilot came to the realization that Vincent was…having a good time. Maybe bringing him out hadn't been a mistake after all.

Vincent's gaze was unwavering upon the woman, and faint smiles would cross his lips when she would look over at him and meet his gaze for a few moments at a time. He forgot all about Cid there next to him, as he became completely absorbed in her.

An hour and a half came and went without Vincent's notice. His trance was snapped, finally, when the singer gave her thanks and good night, then leaving the stage with her band mates and disappearing from view.

Vincent straightened up in his seat, clearly disappointed. He looked over at Cid. "I suppose it's time for us to go, then?"

"You liked that, huh?" Cid asked, standing up and stretching the stiffness from his body.

"It was pleasant," he replied, also getting up from his seat. "She sings here every Friday?"

"Yup, has for the last several years." Cid smirked, realizing that Vincent was making plans.

"I see." Vincent turned and headed for the door without any more discussion.

Cid knit his brow and trotted after Vincent, only catching up with him outside of the door. "Hey, Vince?"

Now out in the cold night air, Vincent wished that he'd brought his cloak along. He turned and faced the blond. "Yes?"

"The singer, Devona, hangs out in the bar for a while after finishing, you know." Cid motioned back toward the door. "You…you should go talk to her. She's single."

Vincent's eyes went wide and he instantly flushed red. "No, that's quite all right."

"But, you like her, guy." Cid crossed his arms over his chest.

"Indeed I do, but there…" Vincent let his words trail off and he turned away from his friend.

"But there what? So help me God, Vince, if you say shit about that Lucrecia chick, I'm gonna hit you." He scowled, stepping closer to the other man.

"It's got nothing to do with her, and everything to do with me." Vincent didn't wish to have the inevitable ensuing discussion with Cid on the street. "There are things about me that you're not aware of, Highwind. We need to go home."

"Vince, I don't see what harm can come from you just going back in there and talking to her." The pilot was thoroughly stymied. "The way she was lookin' at you, I think she was impressed."

"That may be, but I would ultimately be nothing but a disappointment to her, I assure you." Vincent turned away and began walking.

Cid huffed in annoyance and followed along. Any further attempts by him to talk to the gunman earned him nothing more than a grunt and a shrug.

Once back at the house, Vincent finally spoke. "Cid, come with me."

"Okay," he replied, realizing that Vincent was leading him to the guestroom he was sleeping in.

When they reached it, Vincent opened the door and motioned for Cid to enter before going in himself and locking the door.

Cid went over and sat on the edge of the bed, wondering what was up. "So, what's the deal with you?"

Vincent narrowed his eyes, debating on whether or not it would just be easier to show the pilot than to try and tell him. He opted for the former.