In the End

Grounds for War

"Grab my keys? I'm gonna pick up in the back office and then we're out."

Brett is already walking towards the back before Andy can respond. He eyes the benches before finding the key ring and plucks it from where it was laying, keys clinking softly. He shifts on his feet in wait before he sees Brett appear in the main lobby again, cheeky smile and sparkling eyes.

"It's Friday, my guy," Brett announces, clapping Andy on the shoulders. "Let's get drinks at a bar. Tell me, where's your favorite spot to get a pint?"

Andy blanches. "I..." he barely makes out, sheepishly, slumping a bit. "I... don't really... go... out. Much, anyways."

Brett is already squeezing his shoulder, ushering him out the door. "Well, sounds like it's time for us to take a walk around town, huh?" he says, gesturing to the city. It is a clear Autumn evening, the wind is just crisp enough that it is not too cold.

"We gotta walk, man - it feels so nice!" Brett exclaims. He's whistling to himself, leading the way, and between the two of them, it appears as if Brett already knows the city more than Andy does. Andy trails behind him, listening as Brett chatters on about work, listening to the lilt in his voice and feeling the breeze.

Brett, he thinks - no he knows - is the polar opposite of him. Brett could not love life more; Andy can tell by the way he walks, and the way he describes everything he does. Even in the way he listens. Andy doesn't think anyone could sound more enthused about his retail stories than Brett does. He had thought Kristen was high energy until he and Brett began to spend time together, just the two of them.

But - it does not bother him as much as he'd originally thought it would. Being around Brett makes him feel like he's stepped out into the sun for the first time after a long winter. It feels like thawing. It feels like he does not despise life so much, when Brett is in front of him narrating everything as if it were a rare phenomenon.

"Andy? Did you hear me?" Brett is looking at him now. His eyes, gray and attentive, shake Andy out of his thoughts. Brett looks concerned. Andy swallows nervously, ducking his head. "Sorry, I didn't, I got lost in my mind there for a minute."

"Thinking about me again, I see," Brett jokes, and Andy shoves him. Only playfully. Brett laughs and dodges his next hit. "I can't blame you, I am quite a hot commodity."

"You're a hot head ," Andy replies. Brett holds his chest in mock pain. "You wound me," he moans, pretending to stagger. Then he straightens up and points again. "I was asking if you'd been in here before."

It's a modest looking bar, but he's never walked inside it. He's been by it many times. It stands on the corner and is tall and rounded, as if it were built in another time, but he knows this is not true because he watched as it was constructed, when he made runs to the grocery store or to pick-up certain deliveries. He shrugs, grinning.

"Fine by me," he says. "But you're letting me buy this time. I still owe you."

Brett is scoffing a refusal, but Andy is already opening the door and heading inside, holding the door in wait. Brett shakes his head and follows, deep-set dimples in his cheeks. It's loud and crowded, and Andy is already feeling auditory overload and is itching for a drink, just to bring everything down to a buzz. He crashes into a stool, waiting for the bartender to catch his eye. Brett plops down beside him, checking the board for drink options.

Several drinks later, Brett is on his fifth beer and Andy knows he has downed more shots than recommended to remain civil in public. His knee is bouncing and he can't stop it.

"Does that ever... bother you?" he asks, pointing haphazardly at Brett's prosthetic leg. "I mean, does it ever get heavy or hard to control?"

Brett shrugs. "I mean, at first, it was strange, yeah," he replies, rubbing at it almost fondly. "It hurt and I wanted to take it off a lot. It took awhile to get used to, but now it doesn't bother me much. I do need to take it off when I shower or sleep and all that though."