milliways_bar | (no subject)

Andrew looked up from his place at the bar, and pointed readily to Raph's forhead. "Might want to take care of that," he remarked.

*Raph blinks*

What? It doesn't say Balls again, does it?

Andrew blinked back, because really, he hadn't expected things to get even more surreal. "Did someone write 'Balls' on your forehead?" he exclaimed, and didn't realize he wasn't answering the question.

Yeah, durin' a bachelor party.

*Raph is currently trying to see his own forehead. It's not going well.*

"You are fucking kidding me, man." Andrew looked dumbfounded for a moment, his jaw slack. "Someone wrote 'Balls' on my forehead last month at a party! Well, technically it was after the party, and it was the guy's mom, but still! That's really fucking weird, you gotta admit."

Absently, Andrew reached up and wiped the smear from Raph's forehead.

*Raph bats Largeman's hand away.*

Hey hey hey! Just what the hell do you think you're doin'?!?

"Huh?" Andrew blinked at Raph and then down at the offending hand. "Oh. I don't... know. Sorry." When in doubt, change the subject. "Don't you think that's weird?"

You cleanin' my forehead like some sorta twisted scout leader? Yeah...that's why I told you to knock it off.

*mind like a steel trap.*

Andrew didn't even know why he did it, but before he had time to think, he'd smacked Raph upside the head with the same hand. It wasn't hard, but enough to prove a point.

"No, the 'Balls' thing. Cosmic weirdness. Being the same person. We look alike, remember?" Andrew smirked.

*A hand slowly works its way up to the side of his head, touching the spot where he'd just been hit.

Raph knows Large isn't a physical threat, but still.*

You know, we can change that, if you want.

*Raph in turn smirks. It's not an expression that Largeman has ever seen on his face before. It's ... well it's almost sadistic.

Then from out of nowhere, Raph punches Andrew in the shoulder with an equal amount of force.*

Andrew's nose wrinkled up with his slow wince. "Ow," he whispered, and rubbed at his shoulder.

"I deserved that," he added, louder.

Yup.

*Replies Raph, almost cheerfully.*

So your friend's mom wrote crap on your face while you were sleepin'? That's low.

"Yeah, well, you gotta know her. She's not exactly a Better Homes and Gardens sort of gal." Andrew shrugged, embarrassed for a second until he realized he'd not been the only one with "Balls" written on their forehead.

"Don't you think that's a pretty freaky coincedence?" he prodded again. "What are the chances of that? It's like, one in a million. A bazillion."

I look like a calculator to you?

*He jerks a thumb towards the bar.*

What'cha drinkin'?

"No, you look like me, and that was the point," Andrew replied, but knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"Since my choice in beer apparently sucks, I'm going to place today's beverage selection in your oh-so-capable, if grease-covered hands," he added, sweeping his arm towards the bar. Andrew still felt kinda bad about hitting him.

*Yeah, Raph doesn't follow. They're both saved by the weighty option of beverages.*

Well, I was just gonna get a Gatorade, but I can get you a Blue Moon if you want?

"And I was so counting on that chocolate milk," Andrew replied with a smirk. Secretly, he still felt kinda stupid for having ordered it that one time, even though Raph hadn't said anything about it. "Just give me a Heineken and hold the snide commentary."

*He rolls his eyes, but places the order.*

You an' your chocolate milk. I just don't get it.

*The beer and bottle of Gatorade appear. Raph wipes a hand on the front of his shirt. There are advantages to wearing a lot of black.*

So how's tricks?

"It's good for heartburn," Andrew replied, and didn't add that he'd not ordered it for that. He swept up the beer bottle and tipped it to his lips.

"I met that Penny girl today. She's nice." Andrew's gaze swept over Raph again, and he arched a brow. "What've you been doin', man?"

Sure. Whatever.

*He opens the bottle and downs half the contents in one large gulp.*

She is at that. Good kid.
Me? 'M buildin' a bike.

"A motorcycle? Please don't tell me it has a sidecar, because if it has a sidecar, this day has gotten way too creepy too damned fast."

*Raph wrinkles his nose*

No way. I mean, they're all cool lookin', but they make the thing way harder to control. I mean, flyin' was one thing, but drivin'? Yeah, I'm all set thanks.

Andrew issued a sigh of relief. "I've got a motorcycle with a sidecar. World War II military issue. It was my grandfather's. It doesn't seem that bad..." Not that Andrew had much experience with anything of a mechanical nature. He'd been a drama geek.

No kiddin'? That's really sweet. Sounds like a nice ride.

"It's not bad. Sam won't ride in the sidecar, though. She says it's for bitches." Andrew laughed, and took another swig of beer.

"So, tell me what you've been up to since we last talked. Anything interesting?"