(no subject)

[crownless]

[It's never anything drastically important, or anything terribly "serious", as much as he'd hate to use a loaded term like that. They're friends in the same business, is all, and they've at least got an understanding there. If he gets bored, he rings Wade, and they go out and do... something. Anything. Killing time between jobs (that they've made very sure to not have intersect again, thanks very much) and blowing off steam together quickly becomes their routine as the time goes and goes.

Not that it bothers Travis. Doing nothing with somebody (and occasionally doing, heh, something), he's always thought, is the true test of getting along on the long term, and he likes Wade. He's a good guy, and he hasn't gotten to really waste time with somebody on a regular basis since Bishop. It's comfortable, and not an arrangement he's looking to budge on anytime soon.

Because Wade's a damn good friend, all things considered. ...Emphasis on "friend".

And to further emphasize that "friend" part, they've taken to proving they can wingman for each other and for the love of god it's gonna work this time.

Travis sighs, dials the familiar number, and waits for the ringing to stop.]

Hey, we still goin' anywhere tonight?

Comments

1/idk help (this time in the right place)

[crownless]

Hey, Wade, why're you leaving so soon? [He starts to move, stretching a hand out, as if to grab him by the arm--] Wa-- [but Wade's already dropped his keys and slipped away to the opposite end of the bar. It doesn't seem like he heard Travis either. Well, of course he didn't, Travis thinks to himself; he's supposed to be setting him up, not sticking around for moral support or anything dumb like that. His voice trails off as he stares after Wade, hand falling limply back to the bar.]

[Rosalyn's eyes follow Wade as he leaves. She smiles pleasantly, leaning her cheek into her hand.] You're lucky, you know. He's a good friend.

Huh? [Travis straightens up and turns-- a little too quickly-- back to her.] Yeah. Wade's great.

Must be. [Delicately, she sips her drink.] Any friend who'd pull the whole wingman routine-- like, actually do it-- is a keeper.

[Travis starts to agree, then stops short:] Hang on a sec, you--

[Rosalyn's laugh is warm.] C'mon. Do I look like I was born yesterday to you, Travis? I've done it for girlfriends before. It's a tough job. Don't worry, though. I still definitely like you.

[The smile on his face is more than a little bit sheepish. Well, damn.

[The conversation goes so smoothly and naturally he's worried that she's putting him on. It inevitably returns to bikes, shifts to work (he "freelances", what he freelances for, she never asks), returns finally to the task of the night. Which is going to go well, obviously. Rosalyn is pretty, and fun to talk to, and into him, and

and Wade

and Wade's sitting alone over there

and Travis keeps stealing glances over at the man nursing his drink by himself, which is dumb. Wade'll be fine. She's probably not going to come home with him anyway. And when she throws her drink in his face, he'll go back to Wade, and it'll be over and done with until the next time. And in whatever idiot way his brain has been making sense of things lately, the idea that he's going to fail is somehow something he feels more comfortable with. His focus on Rosalyn falters. He's not looking at her.

Suddenly, a voice breaks him from his thoughts--] Hey, are you listening?