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“Do you have a particularly high tolerance for a human man of your weight and body composition?” Sazahk’s voice lilted in that unbearably curious way he had, and Garin almost laughed. God, why did it still feel so good for Sazahk to show an interest in him?
“Not particularly,” he admitted. The softening taking hold despite his best efforts, Garin kicked out the stool beside him in the universal bar room gesture for “have a seat, if you want it.”
Sazahk hesitated. Because he didn’t understand the gesture or because he was debating whether or not to accept it, Garin didn’t know, but after a few moments, Sazahk sat. He looked even more out-of-place sitting on the stool than he had standing behind Garin, and more eyes flickered toward them. The humans at the pool table especially muttered amongst themselves and gestured, but didn’t approach.
“Given your general preference for rules and regulation, and a predisposition for discipline, I didn’t expect you to be a drinker.” Sazahk rotated in his seat to face Garin, but Garin stayed facing the bar.
He shrugged. “I’m not.” But he still reached for the glass as soon as the bartender set it down for him and swallowed half of it.
Sazahk watched him, gray and pink playing over his collarbones. “You’ve now had the equivalent of at least four standard drinks, assuming the one you had when I arrived was your first.”
“Sazahk, you don’t get to ask about redheads, and you don’t get to criticize my drinking.” Garin dropped his glass back to the counter harder than he meant to.
“Of course.” Sazahk clenched his hands into fists in his lap. “I apologize.”
Sazahk’s apologies didn’t make Garin feel any better. In fact, they made him feel worse. He didn’t actually mind that Sazahk didn’t want him hanging out with redheads, and he didn’t actually mind that Sazahk didn’t want him drinking.
And in Sazahk’s defense, he hadn’t told Garin he didn’t want him to drink. He had only asked a question and verbalized an observation. He hadn’t even said Garin couldn’t hang out with a redhead.
He had asked a question, because that was how Sazahk communicated. He asked questions.
Garin used to think that was how Sazahk expressed affection. And maybe it was. But it turned out affection wasn’t all Garin wanted.
And, yeah, it was Garin who had read too much into everything and built up fanciful delusions in his head, but it was Sazahk who had chased him into the bar.
“Are you getting a drink?” he demanded, feeling raw and vulnerable with Sazahk there next to him and irritated to be feeling that way after fleeing those very sensations.
“Oh.” Sazahk looked up at the bottles lined up behind the bar as though he’d only just realized they were there. “I hadn’t planned on it. I’ve never had much of an inclination toward mind-altering substances.”
“Well, this is a bar, so you should probably either get one or get out.” Garin cringed as soon as the words left his mouth. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, he did.” The bartender appeared in front of them and braced both his hands on the dented metal. “Buy or beat it.”
Sazahk hesitated, his wide eyes flickering across the dizzying array of bottles. He looked at Garin as though pleading for help, but Garin only lifted his eyebrows expectantly.
“Pony up, pretty boy.” The bartender rapped his knuckles in front of Sazahk. “Pick your poison or I’ll pick your ass up and toss it out.”
“Hey.” Garin stuck a hand between them and gave the bartender a stern look when his tone crossed a line. Garin was allowed to be brusque with Sazahk because Sazahk had broken his heart, but no one else got the same privilege.
The bartender raised an eyebrow at him but backed off and dropped the posturing.
Garin jerked his chin at a light teal liquor. “He’ll have a finger of that.”
“All right then.” The bartender grabbed the bottle, uncorked it, and poured the alcohol into another heavy glass. “I’ll add your drink to his tab.”
“Works for me.” Garin tipped his glass to the qesh as he left.
“He’s very perceptive.” Sazahk watched the bartender walk away, his drink untouched in front of him.
“Yeah,” Garin grunted and swigged his whiskey, even though he knew he was drinking too much too fast.
“He recognized that your negative mood was linked to me.” Sazahk bit his lower lip and dropped his gaze to the bar between them.
Garin looked back at the other patrons, still shooting them shrewd glances. “Yeah, I think most people in here recognize that.”
Sazahk nodded mutely and stared at the light shimmering through his drink.
They said nothing for a long while, Garin’s glass emptying slowly, and Sazahk’s evaporating even slower.
