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“Trite.”
“You’ll never stop calling me that, will you, Godot?”
Godot grinned. “Why in hell are you here?”
Phoenix shrugged. “I’ve got nowhere else to be.”
“Ha…! Just like me, once they get done with the paperwork.”
“That’s why I’m inviting you out for drinks.”
He paused. “Didn’t take you for that type.”
“What, the ‘asking a man out’ part or ‘the asking a man out for drinks’ part?”
“Ha…! What’s a drink between men?”
He may as well have said ‘no homo.’
“No…” Godot continued on. “I may be legally blind, but I’m not blind to what’s in front of me. You’ve been let down, Trite. Like coffee beans ground before brewing, you’ve been crushed.”
“There’s good old Godot. Your lack of coffee analogies had me worried for a minute there.”
“...Please, call me Diego.”
“Is that a yes to drinks?”
“As long as I can get some good coffee. The stuff they serve in prison is total shit.”
“Well, I know a cute little place called the Borscht Bowl Club. They’ve got coffee, beer… anything you want, really.”
“Count me in, then.”
“Why, Phoenix, I didn’t expect to see you here! You’re not ‘on the clock’ tonight.”
“I’m just here to relax, no biggie. I brought a friend - Diego Armando.”
“You work here, Trite? Cute little place, indeed.”
“He’ll have seventeen cups of black coffee, and I’ll take whatever beer’s been sitting on the shelf for too long.”
“Seventeen cups?” Olga raised an eyebrow.
“Oh yeah, he just got out of prison. Needs a bit of a pick-me-up.”
Olga raised both of her eyebrows.
“Just take it off my next paycheck,” Phoenix waved his hand dismissively.
“How chivalrous of you, Trite.”
“What, do you feel emasculated?”
“I’m complimenting the fact that you’re finally a man. Do that for a pretty lady next time and she'll keep you.”
Phoenix smirked. “The prettiest lady I know was just released from prison today, too. But who did I invite out for drinks?”
“Ha…!” He was silent, until Olga brought out their drinks. “Other than my personally crafted brews, this is about the best damn coffee I've ever had.”
“Probably helps that you just got out of prison.”
He shook his head, smirking at his mug before taking a sip. “I haven't forgotten the rich taste of Godot blend #799… the very edge of perfection. That's what this is here.”
“Well, I'll take that as a compliment!” Olga was a barista in name only, after all.
Phoenix was a few beers in when Diego finally addressed the matter directly, without any contrived coffee metaphors.
“You’re not flashing everybody with that shiny badge of yours.”
“Yeah,” he sighed heavily. “Got disbarred.”
“That must’ve been…”
“More bitter than your favorite blend of coffee? Yeah.”
“Ha.” The laugh was not directed at Phoenix, but rather at the cruel twist of irony that brought them to this moment. “Putting away the badge really feels like dying, doesn't it?”
“Well…” Phoenix was silent for a long time. “Well! There's nothing better than working at the Borscht Bowl, is there?”
Olga gave him a sympathetic smile. At the same time, her eyes sparkled playfully. “Oh yes, you’re a very good pianist. Best one we have.”
“I’m the only one you have.” He returned her knowing look.
“You play? Well, then, sing us a song, Piano Man.”
“Ha ha, very funny.” Phoenix sat down and began to play the only song he knew.
“Heart and Soul. Classic.”
Phoenix’s hands were clumsy, and he mumbled the lyrics halfheartedly. It wasn’t the alcohol in his system; he could play perfectly fine when drunk. No, there was just something about Diego’s red-hot gaze. He was glad the man couldn’t see the blush forming on the tips of his ears.
He could loop ‘Heart and Soul’ indefinitely, if he wanted to. He decided to stop when Diego finished an entire cup of coffee.
“Not too bad, Trite.”
“...I've done better. Damn, I think I need another beer.”
Getting drunk didn’t do much for him, anymore. It just made him feel numb, and maybe a little forgetful, a little lost, like the world was covered in a blanket of fog. The fog was thicker on some days than others, and today, it was thin enough.
“Do you have a place to stay?” The question dawned on him suddenly.
“How forward of you, Trite.” Diego was, of course, still sober, if you don't count caffeine as a drug. He grinned over the rim of - hopefully - his final cup of coffee for the night.
“Hey, all I'm saying is… uh… you know what I'm saying.” What was he saying?
“Take me home, then, Trite. Up you get.”
A strong arm wrapped around Phoenix's waist and pulled him off of the bar stool. He stood on shaky legs.
“I can walk just fine, thanks.”
“Can you?”
“Yeah, just- just gimme a second.” Once the world stopped spinning, Phoenix headed for the door. Diego followed close behind.
“Have fun, boys!” Olga called after them.
“It's not much, but… Welcome to my apartment.”
He wheezed. “Smells… about as strong as a freshly brewed espresso… without any of the pleasures that come with a freshly brewed espresso.”
“Weed. The word you're looking for is weed.”
Phoenix led Diego through the mess that was his small apartment and into his bedroom.
“What's your goal here, Trite?”
“You left prison with a dirty green button down and the same black slacks you were wearing five years ago. You don't have clothes, I don't have money.” He opened his closet, displaying its meager contents. “Feel free to shop around.”
“¡Mierda!” He clapped his palm against his visor. “First I need to ditch the goggles. Piece of shit starts to hurt if I don't get enough caffeine.”
“That's the reason for your insane coffee intake?”
“Ha…! Something like that.” Diego removed his visor, setting it on the nearest surface - Phoenix's bed.
“Well, now you’ve seen it.”
‘It’ being the giant scar that ran across his nose and cheekbones.
“Dahlia really did a number on you, huh.”
“Ha…!” He raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s what I deserve.”
Phoenix’s heart twinged at the statement. “Hey, you served your time.”
“And yet I live with the constant reminder of what happened that night.”
“Forgive yourself. The past isn’t worth dwelling on.” Before Diego could have the chance to call out his hypocrisy, Phoenix indicated the metal plates that didn't come off with his mask. “These are attached to your skull? Gnarly.”
“I didn’t know we were living in the 90s, Trite.”
“Don’t get pedantic with me, old fart.”
“Oh? You're not much of a spring chicken yourself.”
“Thanks for noticing,” he grumbled. Everyone said he looked older, these days. Must be the eye bags and the stubble. “...Pick out whatever you want. I don't wear most of it anyway.”
“I can see that.” He gestured vaguely to Phoenix's well-worn hoodie.
“Hey, at least you can't see the ketchup stains!”
“Ha, in reality, I can hardly see anything without the visor.”
“Nerve damage, right?”
“Something like that.”
“Well… do you want help?”
“Men don't need help.”
Phoenix helped him pick out a small variety of shirts from his small variety of shirts. “Is that enough shirts?”
“...What's your goal here, Trite?”
“You can sleep on the couch. I think I have an extra blanket somewhere in that mess.”
“Trite.”
“If you want to freshen up, use my toothbrush and towel, it's no big deal to me. Sorry I don't have much else to offer.”
“Trite- Phoenix.”
“What?”
“...Ha.” Diego's cloudy eyes held piercing questions, but he said nothing.
“Goodnight, Diego.”
The next morning, Phoenix scrambled some eggs while Diego guzzled down nearly all of the coffee in his apartment.
“You know… I can still see her in you,” he said, nursing his sixth or seventh cup.
“Can you really?” Phoenix scoffed.
“Are you kidding? Like the aroma of my favorite brew, I’d be able to sense that burning passion from miles away.”
“Passion for what? I lost all of that when I lost my badge.”
“You’re directionless, that’s all. Remember…” He paused for a long while.
Phoenix served the eggs while he waited for him to continue.
“You were my reason to live, back when I woke up. I redirected my passion for Mia into passion for getting revenge on you.”
“Ever the cryptic one, Diego.”
Diego chuckled softly. “Ever the clueless one, Trite. Do I need to spell it out for you? Find a reason to live, and you’ll find your passion again.”
“Speaking of… What’s your reason for living, now?”
“No sé.” He smiled. “But you seem quite eager to help me find one.”