» Relax., [[open]]

Sal wasn't feeling right.

He wasn't used to not feeling competent, to the distractions. It was aggravating, to be honest. He wasn't focused at work, had been a bit testy in court. A public defender offered him a deal, and he'd nearly chewed the man out, insulted by the offer. He wasn't one to lose his head very often, and it bothered him that he'd come so close.

He'd tried to distract himself with Siobhan, and it worked while she was around. But that was a select few hours, and a limited context. Didn't change the fact that he was stressed beyond belief otherwise, and in a place he hated to admit existed, he was upset that she wasn't Braelyn.

He'd bailed out of work right at 5 o'clock, instead of working a bit late, as he was accustomed to doing. Heading home, he considered his options for the evening. Another night in, even if Siobhan was to come over, didn't seem so appealing. He decided to shower and head out, and find something to do.

A suit wouldn't do this evening. Sal elected instead to put on jeans and a t-shirt, and even tugged a baseball cap and sneakers on. He was usually more formal, but he didn't want to stick out at McLeod's. He'd decided that a few drinks was the way to go, to lighten up, make the knots in his stomach and neck loosen and release.

At McLeod's, he managed to find a seat at the bar. It was fairly slow, being a Wednesday evening. "Jameson on the rocks." He ordered, opening his wallet and flipping through his cards. He selected the Visa, handing it to the bartender, to open a tab. The first sip went down strong and made his stomach burn a bit, that odd fire he felt from hard liquors. But at least he was feeling something aside from stress or anger. He looked around the bar, touching the rim of his glass with a long finger, watching people mill about and find seats.

OOC: Open open open. Someone drink with Mr. Gotti please :3

Sal wasn't feeling right.

He wasn't used to not feeling competent, to the distractions. It was aggravating, to be honest. He wasn't focused at work, had been a bit testy in court. A public defender offered him a deal, and he'd nearly chewed the man out, insulted by the offer. He wasn't one to lose his head very often, and it bothered him that he'd come so close.

He'd tried to distract himself with Siobhan, and it worked while she was around. But that was a select few hours, and a limited context. Didn't change the fact that he was stressed beyond belief otherwise, and in a place he hated to admit existed, he was upset that she wasn't Braelyn.

He'd bailed out of work right at 5 o'clock, instead of working a bit late, as he was accustomed to doing. Heading home, he considered his options for the evening. Another night in, even if Siobhan was to come over, didn't seem so appealing. He decided to shower and head out, and find something to do.

A suit wouldn't do this evening. Sal elected instead to put on jeans and a t-shirt, and even tugged a baseball cap and sneakers on. He was usually more formal, but he didn't want to stick out at McLeod's. He'd decided that a few drinks was the way to go, to lighten up, make the knots in his stomach and neck loosen and release.

At McLeod's, he managed to find a seat at the bar. It was fairly slow, being a Wednesday evening. "Jameson on the rocks." He ordered, opening his wallet and flipping through his cards. He selected the Visa, handing it to the bartender, to open a tab. The first sip went down strong and made his stomach burn a bit, that odd fire he felt from hard liquors. But at least he was feeling something aside from stress or anger. He looked around the bar, touching the rim of his glass with a long finger, watching people mill about and find seats.

A trip to the corner store to pick up a six pack had quickly and easily turned into a trip to McCleod's. If Marlene was worried that he was taking longer than he said he would take, good. And if she was upset about it, even better. Part of the reason Max had taken the detour was to upset her, to worry her a little bit. What would she do if he crashed his car and got his head chopped off and his intestines thrown across the pavement and his body wasn't even identifiable because different parts were scattered all over the place? How would she react? He bet that she'd take back all those thing she said about him, all those things she did just to spite him. If she was angry and distraught when he came stumbling through the door well after midnight like he had planned to, he was going to be one happy camper.

He pulled up to his usual space in the parking lot across the street, jingling the spare change in his pocket as he jogged across the street to the building. He flung open the door with a wide eyed grin on his face. Just as he had expected the place was empty, save for the regulars who seemed to never be anywhere else but seated at that damn bar. Many of them were Max's friends. He took a seat near the corner and ordered his usual, a Beam and Coke, and noted an unfamiliar face on the stool next to him. He didn't like that -- he wanted to know who everyone was, in case he needed to watch his back.

"You waiting for someone?" he asked, genuinely curious and partly bored and looking to talk to someone, anyone, and also because the man's jitters almost seemed contagious. The man looked anxious, after all, tracing his finger around the rim of his glass and glancing around the bar, as if he was waiting for a date or something. Max never pegged McCleod's as much of a date spot, but he had seen stranger things.

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tagged: sally
words: 351
notes: old man party.

Sal was kind of spacing out, looking around. McLeod's, or any bar, wasn't exactly a place he was tempted to visit very often. He didn't like being drunk, because it forced him to relinquish a level of control that he was completely uncomfortable with letting go. That, and he tended to see people he'd prosecuted at bars. Didn't make for the most favorable reception in most places, and he preferred to avoid any awkwardness with his job and the rest of the town.

"You waiting for someone?" Some man had seated himself down next to Sal, engaging him in conversation. It brought Sal crashing back to Earth from his space-cadet journey into the back of his brain. "Oh. No, not really." He took a drink from the glass, feeling the heat in his stomach from the liquor. He liked Jameson, wondered why he didn't drink it more. "I'm just sort of here. Needed a drink." The Jameson was still landing, not really taking him down off the anxious perch he seemed to be on tonight.

He knocked back the glass, maybe sucking down the Jameson a bit harder than he should have, finishing off most of it. "Better." He commented, trying to make his shoulder come down from around his ears. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spent days so stressed out, and it was about time to take it down a notch. "What about you? Why're you here?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ooc: <33 old mens

Sal was kind of spacing out, looking around. McLeod's, or any bar, wasn't exactly a place he was tempted to visit very often. He didn't like being drunk, because it forced him to relinquish a level of control that he was completely uncomfortable with letting go. That, and he tended to see people he'd prosecuted at bars. Didn't make for the most favorable reception in most places, and he preferred to avoid any awkwardness with his job and the rest of the town.

"You waiting for someone?" Some man had seated himself down next to Sal, engaging him in conversation. It brought Sal crashing back to Earth from his space-cadet journey into the back of his brain. "Oh. No, not really." He took a drink from the glass, feeling the heat in his stomach from the liquor. He liked Jameson, wondered why he didn't drink it more. "I'm just sort of here. Needed a drink." The Jameson was still landing, not really taking him down off the anxious perch he seemed to be on tonight.

He knocked back the glass, maybe sucking down the Jameson a bit harder than he should have, finishing off most of it. "Better." He commented, trying to make his shoulder come down from around his ears. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spent days so stressed out, and it was about time to take it down a notch. "What about you? Why're you here?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ooc: <33 old mens

His gaze flicked upward. Not exactly an eye roll, but close. The man's answer to why he was there bored Max, though he didn't expect much. Not at this hour of the day at least. It was only a little bit after rush hour and no one, except for the guys who seemed permanently glued to their seats, were showing any signs of drunkenness yet. All there really was was a scattering of guys who had stopped in after work to get a drink, just like this new guy sitting beside him. He had to remind himself that not everyone had some story that drove them to plan on spending hours on end drinking at a seedy bar such as McCleod's. Or rather, not everyone was willing to tell complete strangers about it. But Max could tell something was bothering the man. "Just sort of here," he repeated, nodding his thanks to the bartender as he passed him his drink.

He watched the stranger nearly down his drink and lifted an eyebrow, deciding it would be a good idea to introduce himself before answering the man's question, particularly if he was going to be honest about it. "Max Sheridan," he held his hand out for a handshake and paused to let the man introduce himself, as well. "Oh, you know. Avoiding the Missus," he said casually and with a half smile, as if he were proud of how big of a dick he was being that night.

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tagged: sally
words: 247
notes: unce unce unce

Sal took the hand offered in a firm shake. "Sal Gotti." He replied, swirling the Jameson around his glass with the other hand. "Oh, you know. Avoiding the Missus," Sal nodded. "I guess... I'm doing the same. Except she's not really mine any more, so there's that." It was still a bit unnerving the entire experience with Braelyn had been - he'd been thrown off kilter harder than he had in recent memory. He'd told Brae he didn't believe in love, and that was the honest truth, but it didn't mean that people didn't have the capacity to hurt him. What hurt worse than her ditching him, however, was the fact that he had no control over how he felt about it. The lack of control of his surroundings was what really got to him, when it came down to it.

Sal wasn't exactly sure how to proceed with the conversation at this point. He generally didn't talk to strangers very often, and when he did, it was more in a work context than casual social drinking. in lieu of another immediate response, he tilted back the rest of his glass, and killed off the Jameson inside. "Another, sure." He said to the bartender, sliding the empty back across the wooden bartop to rest on the rubber mat. "Why are you avoiding your old lady?" He asked, turning back to Max. "If you don't mind me asking, of course."

Sal took the hand offered in a firm shake. "Sal Gotti." He replied, swirling the Jameson around his glass with the other hand. "Oh, you know. Avoiding the Missus," Sal nodded. "I guess... I'm doing the same. Except she's not really mine any more, so there's that." It was still a bit unnerving the entire experience with Braelyn had been - he'd been thrown off kilter harder than he had in recent memory. He'd told Brae he didn't believe in love, and that was the honest truth, but it didn't mean that people didn't have the capacity to hurt him. What hurt worse than her ditching him, however, was the fact that he had no control over how he felt about it. The lack of control of his surroundings was what really got to him, when it came down to it.

Sal wasn't exactly sure how to proceed with the conversation at this point. He generally didn't talk to strangers very often, and when he did, it was more in a work context than casual social drinking. in lieu of another immediate response, he tilted back the rest of his glass, and killed off the Jameson inside. "Another, sure." He said to the bartender, sliding the empty back across the wooden bartop to rest on the rubber mat. "Why are you avoiding your old lady?" He asked, turning back to Max. "If you don't mind me asking, of course."

Max was surprised. The man shook his hand harder than his rinky dink baseball cap and neatly tied tennis shoes made it look like he would and it caught him off guard. "Sal Gotti," he repeated, an emphasis on the last part. Gotti. Max immediately recognized the stigma attached to the name and raised an eyebrow at the man, but chose not to question it. It may not have been a common name, but that didn't mean he was some kind of seedy character. Even if his greasy hair and the smug expression on his face suggested otherwise. Max was just paranoid. Everyone had a dark side, and he was determined to figure it out as soon as possible, or at least before they figured out his. "Yeah, join the club. I'd put money on half the guys being here 'cause they got lady troubles..." He glanced around the room. "The ones who can get a woman in the first place, at least." It wasn't meant to be a joke so much as a reminder that setting foot inside McCleod's on a weeknight pretty much made you part of the "Couch Sleepers Club" by default.

Max could tell that the guy was caught off guard by how assertive he was being. Not uncomfortable - Sal was obviously well spoken enough to carry on a conversation - just taken by surprise. "She's an fuckin' bitch, she won't get off my back, you know?" he said loudly and with a laugh, causing him to spiral into yet another coughing fit. Maybe his wife was right, it was time to lay off the cigarettes. "I'm trying to worry her a little bit, she doesn't know I'm here... Eh, she'll probably figure it out eventually, who gives a fuck. Not me, that's for sure..." He trailed off at the end of his sentence, pretty sure that Sal wasn't even listening to him anymore. He paused for a second and asked bluntly, "So, what happened?"

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tagged: sally
words: 328
notes: omg just look at all the material i gave you to work with i can't even handle it this post is just bursting with action :|

Sal found it a bit off that the stranger was putting an emphasis on his last name, and he made a mental note of it. He wasn't a well-liked figure in town - there were enough delinquents here to keep him busy enough, but it was a small enough district where he was sure to run into the various people he'd pissed off at random places. He kept his face impassive, playing off the moment like it was nothing. But it was good to realize that this person knew the name, even if he hadn't yet placed it.

He listened to Max ramble a bit about women, his wife, blah blah. Sal got his second drink in the meantime, and sipped it before putting it down. "I'm trying to worry her a little bit, she doesn't know I'm here... Eh, she'll probably figure it out eventually, who gives a fuck. Not me, that's for sure... So, what happened?" He nodded as Max spoke, and thought about the question for a minute.

He figured that honesty might work in the immediate sense, and that whoever this guy was, he probably didn't care too much about the D.A.'s dating life to go broadcasting it around. "We're just different." Sal said, shrugged easily. The Jameson was landing, making his shoulders relax, finally. "She's a lot younger. Twenty years, to be exact. And I don't settle down, or whatever, and I think she wanted that. Which is too bad for her." He said simply, leaving out the details that he'd been left, possibly for another man.

"Anyway, I'm not dealing with all that." He took another long swing of the Jameson, and made a face. "Damn, I never drink like that. But yeah, she's insignificant. What's your wife dog you about, drinking? Why would she care you're here?"

OOC: I didn't give you much back D:

Sal found it a bit off that the stranger was putting an emphasis on his last name, and he made a mental note of it. He wasn't a well-liked figure in town - there were enough delinquents here to keep him busy enough, but it was a small enough district where he was sure to run into the various people he'd pissed off at random places. He kept his face impassive, playing off the moment like it was nothing. But it was good to realize that this person knew the name, even if he hadn't yet placed it.

He listened to Max ramble a bit about women, his wife, blah blah. Sal got his second drink in the meantime, and sipped it before putting it down. "I'm trying to worry her a little bit, she doesn't know I'm here... Eh, she'll probably figure it out eventually, who gives a fuck. Not me, that's for sure... So, what happened?" He nodded as Max spoke, and thought about the question for a minute.

He figured that honesty might work in the immediate sense, and that whoever this guy was, he probably didn't care too much about the D.A.'s dating life to go broadcasting it around. "We're just different." Sal said, shrugged easily. The Jameson was landing, making his shoulders relax, finally. "She's a lot younger. Twenty years, to be exact. And I don't settle down, or whatever, and I think she wanted that. Which is too bad for her." He said simply, leaving out the details that he'd been left, possibly for another man.

"Anyway, I'm not dealing with all that." He took another long swing of the Jameson, and made a face. "Damn, I never drink like that. But yeah, she's insignificant. What's your wife dog you about, drinking? Why would she care you're here?"

Max nodded as the man spoke, just now realizing that he had a full glass of booze in front of him. He brought it to his mouth and chugged it like it was Capri Sun, not even fazed by the taste anymore. About half of it was gone when he set it down, and he stared at the bar top as the warm feeling coated his stomach. Sal mentioning that the girl in question had actually been a girl was what brought him back to the conversation. "Twenty years?" he repeated, clearly impressed by the tone of his voice. "Wow," he added. He decided not to say anything more. He still wasn't sure what his stance was on older guys dating younger chicks, all he knew was that it wasn't his business. They were both legal, so his opinion didn't matter anyway. Whether or not he would do it himself? That was something entirely different. It didn't help that his own daughter was only a few years younger than the girl Sal was talking about. "I hear that," he continued. "They don't know what they want, but I think that applies to women. Don't matter how old they are, you know? They never figure it out."

He gave a supportive nod as the man hammered away at his glass of Jameson and claimed that she wasn't worth it, even if he found it ironic that he had so much to say about her if she wasn't. He changed the subject before he could push him more. "Everything, man. I told her I was making a beer run and she threw a fucking fit. Over a beer run, you know?" He paused to take another drink from his glass. "So that's why I'm here," he said with a laugh. "She'll probably flip a shit when I come home and forget the beer, though. She thinks I'm cheating on her, she got our son telling her to smell my junk to see who I've been fucking around with and everything. It's a fuckin' mess." He continued to laugh, not really ashamed or even aware that he was sharing so much with a perfect stranger. "I mean really, it's a fuckin' wonder I'm married at all. Got that kind of beauty that not many women appreciate, you know?" He laughed some more, making sure Sal could see his missing tooth. He shrugged and brought his glass back up to his lips but paused to add, "We can't all be pretty boys, Sal."

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tagged: sally
words: 419
notes: emotionally unstable max talks a lot but makes very little sense, and for that i apologize. D:

He wasn't sure if Max's tone about the age difference was him being impressed, or being scandalized. Sal still smirked at he said it - truth be told, he felt that it was a point of pride that he could attract younger women to something besides his money or position. She hadn't been interested in the money, he was fairly sure, so it flattered him that someone he felt was attractive was attracted back to him, even in his forties. He shrugged as Max asserted that women didn't know what they wanted - spoken like a true husband out to bother his wife, he figured. But it seemed to have some ring of truth to it. Then again, Sal was never quite sure what he wanted in the same respect, so who was he to judge girls on their fickle habits.

As Max continued on with his story, talking about women smelling their men to determine if they'd been somewhere they shouldn't have, Sal found himself unable to stop from cocking his head and looking utterly confused. "What, the actual..." He shook his head, and drank a bit more. The people in this town continued to confuse and amuse him somehow. He figured that wasn't something people actually did, but you could never be too sure in Ashwick Valley. Lord, if a woman ever did that to him... he found himself caught in a smirk, trying not to smile at the thought a women's police force, strictly in charge of smelling cock'n'balls for traces of other women. Would have been worse than the damn FBI, although probably less invasive.

"We can't all be pretty boys, Sal." "Hmm?" It brought him back down from his train of thought regarding the Policia Penisa. "Oh, I'm not pretty. At least, I don't think so. Maybe they just all want to be Law Wives, or something." He shrugged. He would have preferred a word that wasn't "pretty", but whatever. "But if you're married, then that works, I suppose. I was married for twelve years. It was kind of a bad situation." He admitted candidly. "Are you cheating, though? Or does she just think that?"

OOC: I didn't give you much, sorry!! D: also...dick police.

He wasn't sure if Max's tone about the age difference was him being impressed, or being scandalized. Sal still smirked at he said it - truth be told, he felt that it was a point of pride that he could attract younger women to something besides his money or position. She hadn't been interested in the money, he was fairly sure, so it flattered him that someone he felt was attractive was attracted back to him, even in his forties. He shrugged as Max asserted that women didn't know what they wanted - spoken like a true husband out to bother his wife, he figured. But it seemed to have some ring of truth to it. Then again, Sal was never quite sure what he wanted in the same respect, so who was he to judge girls on their fickle habits.

As Max continued on with his story, talking about women smelling their men to determine if they'd been somewhere they shouldn't have, Sal found himself unable to stop from cocking his head and looking utterly confused. "What, the actual..." He shook his head, and drank a bit more. The people in this town continued to confuse and amuse him somehow. He figured that wasn't something people actually did, but you could never be too sure in Ashwick Valley. Lord, if a woman ever did that to him... he found himself caught in a smirk, trying not to smile at the thought a women's police force, strictly in charge of smelling cock'n'balls for traces of other women. Would have been worse than the damn FBI, although probably less invasive.

"We can't all be pretty boys, Sal." "Hmm?" It brought him back down from his train of thought regarding the Policia Penisa. "Oh, I'm not pretty. At least, I don't think so. Maybe they just all want to be Law Wives, or something." He shrugged. He would have preferred a word that wasn't "pretty", but whatever. "But if you're married, then that works, I suppose. I was married for twelve years. It was kind of a bad situation." He admitted candidly. "Are you cheating, though? Or does she just think that?"

Max nodded enthusiastically at Sal's reaction to his junk sniffing comment. "Fucked, right?" He shook his head and took another drink from his glass. "My son's twenty, and he's telling his mom to sniff dad's junk. If I'd have said that to my mom I'd have gotten knocked the fuck out, you know?" He paused for a moment, realizing just then that he was showing his age, even if up to that point he had proven to be pretty immature. It was probably a lot for Sal to take in -- this forty-eight year old man child, dressed in ill fitting and torn jeans, beat up Adidas sneakers and a raggedy old Bhopal Stiffs t-shirt that was as old as his son, not to mention his poorly bleached Bart Simpson hair sticking out in every which direction and his pressing need to swear after every sentence. It was a miracle that he had managed to land a wife and have her stick around long enough to create a family with her. Maybe that was why Sal was giving him strange looks, though he couldn't read minds, nor did it bother him all that much.

He titled his head and raised an eyebrow at Sal, as if they both knew he was lying just to maintain an air of humility. Sal was, by Max's and traditional standards, a pretty good looking guy. Max was too, or at least he had the potential to be, but that was where it stopped. Potential. "Maybe not pretty..." he said, eyeing the man hard as if deciding the perfect word to describe him was the most important thing on his mind at that moment. After a minute or so he gave up, turning back to his glass as if nothing had happened. "All I'm saying is that we don't all have the gift of attracting chicks half our age, you know? Not that I'd ever do that to my Old Lady," he added with a wink. He picked his glass up and twirled the liquid inside. "Oh yeah? She get sick of you chasing tail or something?" For some reason it had surprised him to hear that Sal was married, even if he barely knew anything about the guy. "No I'm not cheating," he said defensively. "Do I look like a cheater to you?"

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tagged: sally
words: 390
notes: i just about died laughing at policia penisa. :|

It didn't surprise Sal much to learn that Max had a child who was twenty. Sal had Mollei, who was eighteen now. He'd pegged Max for anywhere from mid forties to an early fifty, and figured it must mean he was right. "Yeah, my parents would never have stood for something like that." His parents never hit him, but they were stern and kept him on a straight and narrow path when they could. He had way too much respect for his own mother to consider ever saying something so crude to her.

Max made a comment that they didn't all have the luxury of attracting women half their age. "Oh. Well... I guess some men don't, I don't know. Younger women are a little overrated." He shrugged, but it reminded him that he could attract younger girls, and made him feel a bit flattered after the past couple of days of stress. "I mean, some men are into that. I don't seek out younger girls, I just happened to like one that happened to be about half my age. Not that she's not gorgeous, or anything." The liquor was starting to make him a bit more chatty than he normally would be. He didn't mind.

"My wife? She's deceased." He downed the rest of the Jameson again, pushing the glass out for another. Most people tended to ask what happened, so he figured he'd just tell Max, and get it out of the way. "She was unable to carry a pregnancy to term, and developed a depressive disorder. She committed suicide four years ago after a miscarriage." Another glass arrived, which he took. "The ironic thing is, I actually have a daughter. She's close to your son's age, named Mollei."

He was surprised that Max got defensive quickly. "No, you don't look like a cheater. But I figured I'd ask. Sometimes looks aren't everything." He shrugged. "You don't seem like a cheater, either. So why's she think you are?"

OOC; Drunk Sal = Chatty Sal. Enjoy.

It didn't surprise Sal much to learn that Max had a child who was twenty. Sal had Mollei, who was eighteen now. He'd pegged Max for anywhere from mid forties to an early fifty, and figured it must mean he was right. "Yeah, my parents would never have stood for something like that." His parents never hit him, but they were stern and kept him on a straight and narrow path when they could. He had way too much respect for his own mother to consider ever saying something so crude to her.

Max made a comment that they didn't all have the luxury of attracting women half their age. "Oh. Well... I guess some men don't, I don't know. Younger women are a little overrated." He shrugged, but it reminded him that he could attract younger girls, and made him feel a bit flattered after the past couple of days of stress. "I mean, some men are into that. I don't seek out younger girls, I just happened to like one that happened to be about half my age. Not that she's not gorgeous, or anything." The liquor was starting to make him a bit more chatty than he normally would be. He didn't mind.

"My wife? She's deceased." He downed the rest of the Jameson again, pushing the glass out for another. Most people tended to ask what happened, so he figured he'd just tell Max, and get it out of the way. "She was unable to carry a pregnancy to term, and developed a depressive disorder. She committed suicide four years ago after a miscarriage." Another glass arrived, which he took. "The ironic thing is, I actually have a daughter. She's close to your son's age, named Mollei."

He was surprised that Max got defensive quickly. "No, you don't look like a cheater. But I figured I'd ask. Sometimes looks aren't everything." He shrugged. "You don't seem like a cheater, either. So why's she think you are?"

"And they shouldn't." Max finished his drink and waved the bartender down for another. "If Heath, my boy, wasn't such a fuckin' wimp I would have punched him. It's not his business, you know?" He chugged his drink immediately upon receiving it, a low belch escaping his lips before he set it back down on the counter. "I'm not shy about my business, but he's too fuckin' nosy, you know?" He shook his head. He had gotten too used to talking to strangers about his problems after those court ordered anger management classes.

"For real, though," Max interrupted, somewhat amused that he had a comment - pertinent or not - for nearly everything that came out of Sal's mouth. "No, I know what you mean. With the young ones it's really not about the face at all," he said, gesturing toward where his boobs would be if he had been a woman, with a knowing nod. "That's what paper bags are for, am I right?" he said casually, going back to his glass and gulping down the rest. Max wasn't normally so womanizing and sexist, but he was mostly just trying to provoke a reaction out of Sal, who still seemed slightly stiff.

Max slapped a hand on Sal's back almost immediately when he told him his wife was dead, not really taking the time to consider whether or not Sal minded being touched by strangers. Max himself didn't like being touched by strangers unless he was in an exceptionally good mood, but it seemed like the natural thing to do. "My condolences," he said, and left it at that. If it had been Marlene that died, the last person he'd want to discuss it with would be some strange man at the bar. Fortunately Sal changed the subject before Max had to think of a transition to a happier topic. "Mollei..." he said thoughtfully, squinting his eyes and rubbing the stubble on his chin. "My daughter's best friend is named Mollei... Serafino?" There may have been multiple Mollei's in Ashwick, but that hadn't occurred to Max.

"Good, good." Max wasn't sure why he was getting defensive. It wasn't a lie. He wasn't cheating, he hadn't even come close. But his wife and son accusing him of doing so had really gotten to him. "Hell if I know, man. She's paranoid, or something." He paused for a moment before digging in his back pocket, pulling out his wallet searching for a picture. He stared at it for a moment before handing it over to Sal, as if he was certain he'd want a better look. "Now tell me... Why on Earth would I cheat on that piece of ass?"

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tagged: sally
words: 447
notes: me gusta drunk sal.

When Max gestured toward his chest, Sal snorted into his drink. He couldn't help himself from being completely amused. "Ah, I don't know. I'm more of a leg man myself." He said honestly, still trying to suppress a smile.

Sal didn't generally like to be touched by strangers, but he didn't flinch. He was raised in a culture where touching and closeness when speaking to someone were appropriate, and didn't really find himself too bothered by Max's hand. He shrugged about Carla's death, letting them shrug off the subject for now. It wasn't exactly bar chatter, as it were.

"My daughter's best friend is named Mollei... Serafino?" He nodded, sipping the Jameson. He should probably slow down a little bit. "Yeah, that's her. Mollei Serafino's my daughter." It was still relatively new information for Sal, as it were. He wondered how well, if at all, Max knew the Serafinos - Andrea and Dino. He wasn't sure if that would prompt a question as to how he had fathered Mollei with a married woman, but he'd answer that if Max asked. He still wasn't completely comfortable with the idea that his child had been hidden from him for eighteen years. "How well do you know the family?"

He took the photo Max offered, and found a photo of Marlene staring back at him. "Oh, you're Marlene's husband. She harasses me in the chatroom sometimes." He handed it back, nodding to himself. "I don't know what she's thinking, then. She must care, though, if she cares enough to get herself worked up and concerned about you. So I guess that's good." He tugged his phone out of his pocket, and flipped through the photos in the gallery. He'd taken Braelyn dress shopping and had snapped a photo of her trying on a cocktail dress - nothing revealing, just a candid moment of her inspecting herself in a mirror, standing on her tiptoes. He wasn't sure she knew he'd snapped it quick. "Mine. Or she was." He said, handing the phone to Max for a moment to look at the photo on the screen.

"So is it safe to assume you're in trouble for being here then?" He asked, moving the glass around to shuffle the ice and the liquid. "Once you get back home, I mean."

When Max gestured toward his chest, Sal snorted into his drink. He couldn't help himself from being completely amused. "Ah, I don't know. I'm more of a leg man myself." He said honestly, still trying to suppress a smile.

Sal didn't generally like to be touched by strangers, but he didn't flinch. He was raised in a culture where touching and closeness when speaking to someone were appropriate, and didn't really find himself too bothered by Max's hand. He shrugged about Carla's death, letting them shrug off the subject for now. It wasn't exactly bar chatter, as it were.

"My daughter's best friend is named Mollei... Serafino?" He nodded, sipping the Jameson. He should probably slow down a little bit. "Yeah, that's her. Mollei Serafino's my daughter." It was still relatively new information for Sal, as it were. He wondered how well, if at all, Max knew the Serafinos - Andrea and Dino. He wasn't sure if that would prompt a question as to how he had fathered Mollei with a married woman, but he'd answer that if Max asked. He still wasn't completely comfortable with the idea that his child had been hidden from him for eighteen years. "How well do you know the family?"

He took the photo Max offered, and found a photo of Marlene staring back at him. "Oh, you're Marlene's husband. She harasses me in the chatroom sometimes." He handed it back, nodding to himself. "I don't know what she's thinking, then. She must care, though, if she cares enough to get herself worked up and concerned about you. So I guess that's good." He tugged his phone out of his pocket, and flipped through the photos in the gallery. He'd taken Braelyn dress shopping and had snapped a photo of her trying on a cocktail dress - nothing revealing, just a candid moment of her inspecting herself in a mirror, standing on her tiptoes. He wasn't sure she knew he'd snapped it quick. "Mine. Or she was." He said, handing the phone to Max for a moment to look at the photo on the screen.

"So is it safe to assume you're in trouble for being here then?" He asked, moving the glass around to shuffle the ice and the liquid. "Once you get back home, I mean."

Max's eyes lit up when Sal confirmed his random suspicion that Evelyn's Mollei was also his Mollei, as if he were a first grader who had been the first in the class to solve a hard math problem or pronounce a difficult word. "She's a bad ass, that Mollei." He didn't want to go overboard with the compliments, but he was glad Evelyn had such good taste in friends compared to her brother. It was hard not to get a little excited. "She's not afraid to gang up on the boy with me every now and then. Mad props to her," he added with a laugh. Sal seemed more interested in how he knew the family, though, and Max was a little disappointed to say that he didn't know them very well at all. "Eh, not so well. She won't talk about it much. At least not around me, but I don't blame her." He paused for a moment, taking the time to slowly sip from his glass instead of chug it down quickly so he could get his next few words out. "So that, uh... That Dino guy? Is that his name? That's her stepdad, or something, then?" Perhaps he was getting too personal in his questioning, but Sal was the one who brought it up.

"Wouldn't put it past her," he mumbled under his breath and into his glass. "She does that, you know. She likes to get a rise out of people." As if Max didn't. They had rubbed off so much on each other that half the time they ever went out together, they ended up getting into trouble for being obnoxious. He was proud of her for coming out of her shell since he had met her, but what did that say about him if he let his wife go around hitting on other guys? Even if it was only in jest? Max didn't want to think about it too much, lest he let his emotions turn from angry and spiteful to sad and pathetic. "We both do, you know? I guess you could say I'm turning the tables on her tonight. She'll figure it out, though, McCleod's not exactly crawling with hot chicks, right?"

Max took the phone and studied the picture on it for a few seconds before handing it back to Sal and shrugging honestly. "She's all right," he said, not trying to disrespect Sal's taste in women but not so concerned about his feelings that he felt he needed to embellish his opinion of his ex girlfriend for him, either. "What was the dress for?"

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tagged: sally
words: 434
notes: me gusta drunk sal.

"Mollei's something else. Very much like her mother." He nodded appreciatively. He was immensely enjoying getting to know Mollei, he had to admit. She reminded him of what he actually like about Andrea, she was ambitious, and intelligent. If he could have selected his own daughter, he could not have done a better job. "Her father? Well..." He began, taking a sip and thinking for a moment. "Her father thought he was her father for... a long time. And frankly, so did I. Mollei's a recent discovery. But I'm glad to know her, she's a great girl." He drank again, considering the entire situation. Dino's knowledge made him a bit nervous. He wasn't sure what the old man was considering.

He rolled his eyes a bit about Marlene's harassment. He didn't really have much to say about the topic, aside from the fact that Marlene just made him feel super awkward online. "Whatever floats you guys' boats." He remarked, with a slight shrug. He didn't see the joy in provoking people online, but he seemed to be the butt of a lot of peoples' aggressions online.

He accepted the phone back once Max was finished. "Thanks." He said, snapping the phone shut and pocketing it. "She's also something. And the dress was just a gift." He didn't mind spoiling Braelyn when it really came down to it. She had expensive taste, but didn't outright expect to be lavished with gifts. Buying her something once in awhile wasn't so bad, in that respect. "Not that I just bought her things randomly."

He finished off another glass, feeling just fine. He should probably slow down, but he was enjoying not feeling much of anything at the moment. "Anyway. That whole thing with Braelyn is behind me." He placed the empty on the rubber mat again. "Another." He said to the bartender, with a nod. He then pointed at Max. "On my tab, he's been listening to my bullshit for long enough." He waited for the next glass to arrive, but didn't drink it right away. "So. Your son is... rude, or something. What's your daughter like? I know she's friends with Mollei, but I don't know much else, I'm afraid."

"Mollei's something else. Very much like her mother." He nodded appreciatively. He was immensely enjoying getting to know Mollei, he had to admit. She reminded him of what he actually like about Andrea, she was ambitious, and intelligent. If he could have selected his own daughter, he could not have done a better job. "Her father? Well..." He began, taking a sip and thinking for a moment. "Her father thought he was her father for... a long time. And frankly, so did I. Mollei's a recent discovery. But I'm glad to know her, she's a great girl." He drank again, considering the entire situation. Dino's knowledge made him a bit nervous. He wasn't sure what the old man was considering.

He rolled his eyes a bit about Marlene's harassment. He didn't really have much to say about the topic, aside from the fact that Marlene just made him feel super awkward online. "Whatever floats you guys' boats." He remarked, with a slight shrug. He didn't see the joy in provoking people online, but he seemed to be the butt of a lot of peoples' aggressions online.

He accepted the phone back once Max was finished. "Thanks." He said, snapping the phone shut and pocketing it. "She's also something. And the dress was just a gift." He didn't mind spoiling Braelyn when it really came down to it. She had expensive taste, but didn't outright expect to be lavished with gifts. Buying her something once in awhile wasn't so bad, in that respect. "Not that I just bought her things randomly."

He finished off another glass, feeling just fine. He should probably slow down, but he was enjoying not feeling much of anything at the moment. "Anyway. That whole thing with Braelyn is behind me." He placed the empty on the rubber mat again. "Another." He said to the bartender, with a nod. He then pointed at Max. "On my tab, he's been listening to my bullshit for long enough." He waited for the next glass to arrive, but didn't drink it right away. "So. Your son is... rude, or something. What's your daughter like? I know she's friends with Mollei, but I don't know much else, I'm afraid."