_ _ _ _
Leave
The grain alcohol that doesn't make it down Falco's gullet dribbles down the side of his beak and he wipes it away with the feathers on the forearm that holds the shot glass. He fills it again.
He's wearing a white AV shirt, or wifebeater as they're crudely called in common vernacular. He sits at the grungy metal table just outside the kitchen and he knocks another one back.
Left arm idly flipping a claw hammer over and over and over when it isn't pouring him a drink. That's the thing about drinking, Falco thinks to himself, he doesn't need much else but to stare at a table and contemplate.
He doesn't hear the approaching footsteps of Fox, or he does and they don't register or he just doesn't care.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm drinking, Einstein," he says, harshly breathing out after another hit. "What the fuck does it look like?"
"You do realize we're a mere hours away from an attack on Venom, yeah?"
"I sure do." He's pouring another one.
"And you're drinking grain alcohol. That's fucking incredible, Falco. You're a hero. A true star of Lylat."
"I like to think so."
"I'd like to think you're not a complete idiot but you keep taking that away from me."
"I really hate you, Fox."
"Oh, I bet. Being outclassed in basic common sense by somebody younger must be infuriating."
"Nawh, I'm not worried about that."
"Sure. It's just my face, then? Don't like foxes much, do you?"
"Nothing against foxes, either. You know there were some great foxes in Cornerean history? That James McCloud fella – I hear a lot of good things about him. Too bad he's too dead to raise his shitbag son into anything other than a shitbag."
Fox's fists tighten in response.
"You know what the difference between you and your dad is, Fox?"
"He's dead and I'm not?"
"For now, sure. But everybody talked about what a great man your dad was. You've simply deluded yourself into thinking you're a great man, while everyone around you talks about what a rotten asshole you are. That's why Krystal not only left you, but the team."
"You're over the line, Lombardi."
"That so?" A bitter laugh. He pours another drink and knocks it back. "The only one who doesn't hate you on this great ship of yours is Slippy, and god knows why that poor bastard tries so hard to earn your respect. He isn't going to get it. You don't respect a goddamn thing."
"How about I tear that stupid mouthy fucking beak of your face and jam it up your asshole, you schmuck?"
A laugh, this time more genuine. "How about it, huh? Mister 'what are you doing drinking we gotta save the system' over here. Well, you're not gonna have to worry about it either way."
Falco picks up the hammer in his left hand. Spins it around in his grip. Looks at it and looks at Fox, his eyes widening. A sly grin across Falco's beak.
"How about it, big shot? The fate of the system is in our hands."
Fox is visibly nervous. "What the fuck are you doing with that hammer."
Falco casually pops a cigarette in his beak with his free hand, fishes out a zippo and lights it, closing his eyes as he inhales deep. He pockets the lighter after snapping it shut and places his newly freed hand flat on the surface of the table. His speech muffled as his beak opens just enough to talk through the lit cigarette. "Resigning."
Without so much as flinching he smashes the hammer as hard as he can several times into the back of his hand. His knuckles, the joints of his fingers. Smashing, bone splintering, skin stretching, tearing under the blunt force of it. He drops the bloody hammer on the table, almost throwing it to the side closest to Fox. He plucks the cigarette from his beak with his sound hand and exhales a plume of smoke.
"Holy hell, you're fucking insane."
"Mmm." He examines it. His hand is clearly broken. "Be awful hard to pilot an arwing one handed."
"You sick fuck."
"Yeah, maybe," he says, taking another drag off the cigarette and flicking it. "I'll be in medical. Then I'll be headed back to Corneria to enjoy what little life I have left to live. You enjoy your shitshow. One hell of an uphill battle for you – I won't feed your delusions any longer. I only feel sorry for Slippy. Poor fuck wouldn't listen to reason."
He gets up to walk off. Fox is fuming, shaking with anger.
"Yeah well we don't fucking need you, Falco! You're fucking useless anyway."
"Sure," he calls over his shoulder without looking back. "Bet that's what you told yourself about Krystal, too."
