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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
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“Who am I to judge that?” Piper asked inquisitively, not sure what a ‘guy who’s into sports’ really looked like. Yeah, there were the jock types, the ones who wore their team names on their clothes like the blood that ran through their veins, but they were just one type of sports player, so really, this guy could like sports. Maybe golf. She laughed at the idea, shrugging at him a little before realizing he was right, and it was her turn again.
She pretended to prepare for the shot, stretching and then feigning focus, purely for comedy value. Piper bent down to aim at the cue ball, firing her stick and watching the ball dart speedily all over the table. Even if it clicked and clacked against the other balls, nothing else went in a pocket. And there goes her lucky streak. If anything, it just stirred the pot and probably lined up a shot for her opponent.
“Shit,” She spouted, laughing. Taking a swig of her cranberry vodka, her cheeks hollowed, lips puckering at the taste of lime at the bottom. “I’m Piper,” she replied, smiling friendly in his direction, her voice sounding as sour as the lime tasted on her tongue. “Your go.”
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“Do I look like the type of guy who’s into sports? Because if that’s the case, then I need to make a serious change in my life.” He shook his head absently. Honestly, he’d never been very interested in sports, even something as simple as pool. That wasn’t to say that he’d never played though, just that he hadn’t done it much and especially not recently. Arden looked at his phone one last time, hoping to see that Char had arrived, but she hadn’t so he took the cue stick. “I haven’t played recently,” he corrected her, as he also chalked his stick. “But by all means, ladies first. I was raised to be a gentleman.” He watched as she took aim and successfully pocketed one of the balls. “All right then. You get to go again, right? Like I said, it’s been a while. And I’m Arden Wakefield. I don’t think we’ve met.”
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
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“Well, I can be a shoulder if you need one. Well, two. I have two,” Piper offered with a light laugh, not wanting to push the subject. Instead, she just made a friendly joke out of it, while still letting him know she was there for him. They may not know one another super well, but she supposed talking about stuff like that was what separated the friends from the acquaintances.
“Dude, if I could just punch the balls, it would be so much easier.” Piper snickered, “’cause then it would be no different from my everyday life.” She wasn’t sure if she executed that joke well, but she didn’t really care - cause it was funny. To her, at least. When Levi took his shot, she cheered for him, even if none of the balls managed to find their way to any pockets. Maybe she was slightly intoxicated, which was a must when playing pool, but that just made her somewhat of a woo girl, meaning she’d just cheer on anyone or anything. Piper hoped it’d give Levi courage, and also, she just wanted him to do well. This was a fun, friendly game of pool, so who cared if no one ever made any of them in?
Taking her turn, Piper set her drink down, positioning her cue stick just right to where she felt comfortable taking the shot. Rearing her arm back, Piper jolted it forward, the cue stick ramming into the white cue ball. Her eyes darted as the ball jumped across the table, smacking the striped six into a pocket.
“Oh shit,” Piper exclaimed, surprised she actually got one in. Since that meant she had to go again, she lined up a second shot, missing that time.
“At least I figured out I’m stripes, which means you’re solids. Go, solids.”
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“I’m fine, nothing that a few drinks won’t fix,” he grinned, grabbing a cue.  He wasn’t one to dump his feelings on people, even if he did bring what was bugging him up he was normally one to brush it off and joke if he had to talk about it.  He’d rather just keep it to himself and find ways to avoid dealing with it.
“This would actually probably be easier without the stick,” he commented, lining up the shot.  It wasn’t straight by any means, and he didn’t get anything, but he managed to break it up a bit.  “I warned you that I suck, I don’t think I’ve actually played pool in forever.  Normally I’m dancing or just chilling at the bar, not embarrassing myself at games,” he joked.  
“Hopefully you do better than I did.”
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
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Upon hearing a positive response for her pool proposal, Piper looked up as the man walked forward and into the light above the table, her eyes widening in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to be so dang tall, and considering she was a mere five foot three inches in comparison, he looked huge. She faintly recognized him as the soap man she’d ran into once while meandering around Frey, choosing to keep that bit of information to herself for the time being.
“I suck at darts too,” Piper informed him with a laugh, “It’s hard enough for me to even hit the target. I’m just - not good at sports. Or games that involve any real skill. I’m more of a luck kinda girl,” she explained, her laugh continuing.
She bent over the pool table to set it up, racking up all of the balls in no real order, stuffing them into the little triangle that kept them in formation. Piper knew she was supposed to align the balls in a certain way, but she didn’t really care about that, choosing to just set it up until she assumed it was good enough. Piper knew the rule for the cue ball, lining it up behind the mark, proud of herself for doing it right. “Should I break?” She asked, looking over at her new pool partner. “I think you should do it, actually. It’ll make me feel less intimidated, going second.”
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Leon sips his Guinness absently, thumb flicking through a rather long email he was reading on his phone. It was just work stuff - it was surprising, how much paper work went into soap making. He had secured a new place to sell and was in the process of working things out - that was always an involved sort of process, something he didn’t look forward to though he knew good things would come of it. He had already begun looking for spaces around town - Leon needed a bigger studio now, instead of working from his garage. He needed a legitimate space so he could increase production and hopefully begin selling from home. 
Leon’s brow bends as he reads, though he’s jerked from his work-related daze when someone speaks. His head lifts, looking at eye-level for a second before his gaze drops, finding the woman. He takes a moment to process her words, blinking a few times as his brain shifts gears. 
“I… Sure. I could go for a game,” he agrees with a nod, before huffing a short laugh. “Don’t worry - when it comes to bar games I’m more a darts kinda guy.”
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
Conversation
Text: Weezie → Piper
Weezie: Ah, shit. You're right. I got too carried away with the excitement of science jokes.
Weezie: But, clouds wear thunderpants and hippos go to the hippocampus.
Piper: THUNDERPANTS
Weezie: Here's a question.. where do I purchase thunderpants?
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
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Piper couldn’t help but to laugh at the guy’s response. “Dude, if you’re looking at it that way, what’s the point of any sport? All of the sports involve balls and most of them are a little more complex... they have balls and sticks.” She let out another laugh, looking over at the stranger.
“If you’ve never played, now’s the time to pop your pool cherry,” she affirmed, grabbing hold of two cue sticks from the holder on the wall, tossing one to him. Piper pulled the chalk block up, twisting it on the tip of her cue stick. She didn’t really understand the point of the chalk, but she knew it helped somehow, so she did it anyway. Setting up the table, she gestured over to the guy. “You want to break, or should I?” She asked, trying to be polite. “Wait, I’ll do it, since you’re new. I’d like to say I’ll show you how it’s done, but I won’t get cocky because I’m terrible.” With a laugh, Piper bent down, having to get on her tip toes to lean over the table and line up her stick with the white cue ball. Rearing her arm back after balancing the stick, she thrust her arm forward, the ball bolting to the triangle of colored and striped balls, breaking up the formation.
She expected none of the balls to go in, but one of the striped ones managed to pocket one of the corners, Piper jumping up in a small cheer. “Yay! Okay, you’re solids and I’m stripes then.”
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On his way home, Arden decided that cooking was the last thing he wanted to do, so he texted Char and asked if she wanted to meet him somewhere for dinner. With the Blackbird as their destination, he set out in that direction and arrived with a good twenty minutes to spare, thanks to low traffic and a shortcut he knew. Waiting outside didn’t appeal, so he headed inside with the intention of securing a table, only to discover they were all full. Texting Char again, he leaned against the wall to wait and had lost himself in thought about his siblings when his reverie was interrupted by a voice. “Do I - what? Pool?” He looked around in slight confusion until his head cleared and he registered the question fully. “You know, it’s funny but I actually never got into pool, despite all the time I spent in bars. I’m not even sure what the point is, aside from hitting all the balls into the pockets.” Eyeing the nearest table, he checked his phone again but Char still wouldn’t be here for at least fifteen minutes, depending on how her last class went. “I could give it a shot if you want something just for fun though. And no worries, I’m not a betting man.” Anymore.
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
Conversation
Text: Weezie → Piper
Piper: I was going to guess a really clever answer, but I've got nothing.. so shoot!
Weezie: Where do hippos go to university?
Piper: Wait, you didn't finish the first joke!
Piper: (I also need both answers though.)
Piper: ((For science.))
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
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Piper’s eyes widened a little, a soft and surprised expression on her face at the realization she knew who she was speaking to. “Woah, hey Levi!” She exclaimed, a bright smile lighting up her face. “It was kind of hard to see you over there since you were against the dim-lit wall, looking all brooding by yourself.” Her comment was meant to be a light joke, but it was sort of obvious he wasn’t super happy at the moment.
“You alright? Feel free to tell me all about it over our game of bet-free pool,” Piper added in, keeping her smile as she ensured Levi they weren’t going to be betting any money during their games. By the sound of her friend, neither of them were really any good at pool, and since alcohol was mixing in with this equation, it was bound to be a good night of drinking and a ton of scratch pool games.
“You wanna break?” Piper asked her friend, setting up the balls in the triangle form, moving them where they were supposed to go before removing the form and putting it below the table. She lined up the cue ball as if she were any good at aiming, a laugh coming from the thought of how professional she must look. Even if she sucked at the game, she’d set the table up a thousand times, so at least she was good at that part. “Nail it, Levi,” she cheered, hoping he’d agree to breaking and starting the game.
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Levi had been on the phone with his parents just a couple hours before, and as always after one of their calls, he made his way to a bar almost the second they hung up.  It wasn’t that they were bad people, just that they were very clear with the fact that they thought his career-or lack thereof, in their opinion-was shining a bad light on them, and they needed to fix that.  And Levi had no intention of going home to be a lawyer.
So he sat at the bar and took a few shots, until he didn’t really care what they had to say anymore.  Or rather, it was hard to fixate on it.  Slowing down to beer, he saw the girl trying to find someone to play pool with.
“As long as it’s not for money,” he nodded, still somewhat sober enough to not slur noticeably.  He wasn’t drunk by any means, but he was feeling good.  “I feel like my pride can take a beating but my wallet’s begging me to stop hurting it.”
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
Conversation
Text: Weezie → Piper
Weezie: Okay, okay. I've come up with a better joke that is far easier to understand. Want to hear it?
Weezie: Either way, I'm going to tell you it. What does a cloud wear under his raincoat?
Piper: I was going to guess a really clever answer, but I've got nothing.. so shoot!
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
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“He’s the most precious angel ever! I know that feel though, being unable to control your actions around sauce. Man, he gets me. I’ve had a Pinterest account for a little while now, because there’s just so many good ideas on there. But you don’t really need one! The recipes are pretty dope, though. Listen, we’re just gonna find something good to cook, figure it out together, and include sauces so myself and your lovely son are happy.”
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“He adores sauces as well, it’s so cute when he tries to eat and he gets covered with it then apologizes for being so ‘uncontrollable’.. Like, he’s five and he uses words like that one, can you imagine? I don’t have a pinterest account but I can certainly make one if that means it will help our cooking sessions to be fun.
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
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Pool Party | open
Regardless of the level of alcohol in her system, there was one thing Piper was just terrible at - playing pool. No matter how many times she tried, how much practice she got, she was just bad. It was almost laughable (it was pretty laughable, actually) how she always managed to hit something with the tail end of her pool stick (she blames her height). Piper also probably hit more cue balls into the pockets than any other ball on the table.
Piper was a tenacious little thing though, so despite all her failed efforts, every time she came to a bar, she’d go right back to playing. Since Piper came alone to the Blackbird Pub, she normally just tried to join in on other groups about to play. But tonight, most of the games were already in lieu, leaving her to fend for herself in finding anyone to play with. After grabbing a cranberry vodka cocktail from the bar, Piper meandered around by the pool tables, spotting someone standing by themselves on the wall.
“You wanna play?” Piper asked, gesturing towards the tables. “Just - no betting, because I literally have no idea what I’m doing.”
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
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“I know, right? How rude,” Piper scoffed, trying to say the words without sounding like Stephanie Tanner from Full House. She chose not dwell on the subject of her prior roommate, because it would only make her mad again. And the Wii remote situation? That was definitely one of those things that just pissed her off in an instant. If real life were like cartoons, she’d have steam rushing out from her ears just thinking about it.
Just as she was about to swap the topic of conversation with this stranger back to something lighter, like cinnamon rolls, the girl brought up a good point. It was as if the two of them hanging posters at the same time for the same thing was some sort of sign, pointing them towards one another. And she was perfectly fine with exploring that, because at this point, she was desperate. And brownie point number one, she wasn’t going to steal her game controllers like her previous roommate.
Piper took the flyer offered to her, a smile stretching across her mouth and a brief sigh of relief inevitably following. “I’m not willing to just like, jump into something with a stranger I don’t really know, because that didn’t work out the last time I did,” she explained with a laugh. “But I’m so down to get coffee and figure that out.”
Bunching up the rest of the flyers she held and stuffing them in her crossbody bag, Piper grabbed her coffee from the ground and gestured towards an empty table. “We can uh- go sit over there, if that’s cool?”
“I don’t want this to sound like an online dating compatibility test, though, because I feel like this whole process is usually awkward as hell like that. You know?” Piper added in, her light tone indicative she was joking. “Oh, and I’m Piper. I guess I should have started with that.”
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      A dramatic gasp escaped her lips, though she nearly choked by inhaling left over crumbs of the cinnamon roll in her mouth. “That’s brutal,” she said with the shake of her head, “leaves then takes a wii remote? That shit ain’t cheap. Plus, it’s not fun when there isn’t another controller involved.” She was sure there was much larger problems with the situation, but for some reason she was really keen on focusing on that wii. Chey never had a knack at prioritizing the important things.
      Maybe it was a shot in the dark, a leap far too large for her to even be considering, but what were the odds they both seemed to be looking for a roommate in this area? Now, Chey might be spontaneous from time to time, but she wasn’t rash to the point she’d immediately jump down the girl’s throat with invitations to live with her – yeah, she’d sound creepy. But, she was hopeful, a little optimistic for once, that this girl might be interested in having her as a roommate (even if she slightly embarrassed herself with the help of a cinnamon roll).
     “I’m actually looking for a roommate. I haven’t had one since college and after a couple of years alone… I kind of realized I like to have roommates.” Leave it at that. Chey’s eyebrows rose as she very carefully, a little too slowly, handed her a flyer with her info on it. “Maybe… I might be a good candidate? Feel free to crumple this paper up and throw it in my face if not. Or, we can have coffee and talk about it. You’re call.” 
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
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“Oh my god, a boy after my own heart! Hah, not sure I’d go that far as to put honey and mustard into my rice, but I am a sauce queen, if I’m anything... so I get what he’s putting down. Also, that sounds like a fantastic plan to be honest. All of my friendships revolve around food, so I don’t see why this one can’t! Pinterest is our partner in cooking crime.”
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“The strangest thing.. okay, I think it was the time he added that honey and mustard sauce into his rice.. I was looking at him and asked if he was sure about it and guess what.. he ate the whole thing. I mean, there’s not much you can do if he wants that, but I find it strange. Chicken nuggets and fries is my basic meal. I can eat it all the time, no kidding. Hm, it certainly is an original idea.. I don’t see why not. Cooking classes are far too expensive. What we could do is you coming over in the mornings and we can google easy recipes on the internet.”
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
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↳ @pistolpiper uploaded a photo to Instagram.
“Happy Easter from Bandit and I! #happyeaster  #australianshepherd #wheretheeggsat”
219 likes and 82 comments
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
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“Ooh, now I have to ask what’s the weirdest thing he’s ever wanted. I guess it’s better than him only wanting like, chicken nuggets and fries all the time, right? Baking underneath the pole? That’s a skill if I’ve ever seen one. Maybe we should take cooking classes together sometime!”
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“We just.. I guess we order a lot. Anything he wants really, I just go with it even if it’s the weirdest thing ever. If you mean to open a bakery where I can dance on a pole and you can bake underneath – that sounds pretty amazing to me.”
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
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“Do you two just eat out a lot, or is it simple meals? Hooked on Lunchables is a book I could write about my childhood. Obviously this means we should both quit our jobs and open a restaurant together, since we’ve got all this experience, we’d rock Frey. Am I right?”
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“That’s exactly what I thought! And uh, he’s really not picky with food surprisingly enough we both have learned to eat everything and anything. Well – of course that counts, I can’t even do that. Last time I tried, it was a nightmare.”
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
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“Dude, as much as I love food, I should know how to cook. What does Jacob like to eat? I’m sure he’d love to see you mix things up. To be honest though, I’m a terrible cook, unless it’s something out of a box. I can bake though, so that counts, right?”
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Yesterday, while I was out at grocery shopping, it dawned on me that I should probably learn how to cook.
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pistolpiper ¡ 8 years
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Piper watched Quino sink into the slow creeping intoxication like quicksand, pulling him further down than she’d ever seen him before. Yeah, they’d been drinking every Wednesday, it was a thing now, but it had never gotten to this point until now. She was a cheap date, as most liked to call it, only needing a few shots before you could consider her drunk. There was no way she’d admit that to anyone, but it was true. Piper loved to believe she could handle it more than she actually could, but weighing in at just over a hundred points, she was all talk and no follow through when it came to keeping up with alcohol consumption and also being able to function as a human being. 
Considering her inability to hold her liquor, Piper was having a really hard time focusing in on what Quino was saying. It was almost as if there was a wall of Plexiglas between them, muffling everything Quino said about aluminium foil on his head, or something, and all she could hear was wah wah wah, like a character from Sesame Street. Was he even making human sounds? She had to at least pretend she was listening. That was their whole thing, listening. Piper showed up to Blackbird, or sometimes another bar, and Quino would complain to her, and she’d complain to him. It was a simple little thing. They’d drink shots or cocktails if they had the money to spare, and if they didn’t, sometimes they’d down beers. Even if Piper thought they tasted and smelled like cold piss, she’d chug a PBR in a heartbeat just to feel a buzz if there were no other monetary options. Usually Wednesdays were $2 well shot days, where they’d make you a shitty Washington Green Apple because it was cheap and had a ‘W’ in the name. She’d take those over beer any day.
“Wait, the government is reading my mind?” Way to go, Piper. That was the only thing she managed to understand from his entire rant, and she was proud of herself for catching that much, considering the circumstances. “Why? What do they want to know?” Piper asked, her voice tight lining on being panicked. There was a teetering moment in her level of intoxication where she could sway a few different ways. She had many layers to her drunken personality, and there was always a moment when her environment or her conversation would blow the wind to one side, sort of choosing which one she’d be for the rest of the night. Balancing on the edge of becoming the paranoid drunk, Piper was happy to receive a distraction, flipping her to a happier personality before it was too late.
“He was such an asshole,” Piper nearly repeated, eyes shifting to the scruff that surrounded Quino’s lips like a body of water around an island. His mouth movements were slow, but she wasn’t sure if it was because she saw them that way, or if he was just moving in slow motion. Either way, it was really messing with her eyes, but she couldn’t stop focusing in on them. Piper always knew Quino was attractive - that was very obvious every time they saw one another (as long as he never got rid of the facial scruff in exchange for a Pablo Escobar mustache). She had no idea why she chose now to blatantly stare at his face, from the way the edge of his mouth dove into his cheek to form the smallest dimple there, to the way he licked his lips when he was done talking. Piper just sat there, like an idiot, looking at him while he talked, and probably for a little while after he was done too.
It took her a minute to recall what they were talking about, her ears almost zoning out entirely, as if quiet was the only way she could study his features. “Everyone complains about Wifi there, honestly. Everyone complains in general.” Piper whined, proud of herself for remembering. “One time this guy came downstairs, hands full of wet towels, and said that he needed clean lips right this second.” Lips? That wasn’t the word. “Towels. He needed clean towels.” There you go, Piper. “He said that with his lips. Can you believe him?” Nice save. “He just plopped them down on the front desk, and I said, ‘sir, we have room service, I can have them come into your room every morning to change them,’ and he was like, ‘I put the ‘do not disturb’ sign up, so can you just give ‘em to me?’” Piper tried to switch up her accent while she was talking as the guy in the story, faking some awful New Yorker tone of voice, her R’s disappearing after her A’s. “But, I charged him for covering my desk in soggy towels, so at least there’s that.”
Piper cleared her throat, feeling her head grow heavy. “Do you think I should get food to soak all of this up?” She asked, hips swiveling in her stool like a child, almost making her dizzy and nauseous. Almost. When she said ‘all of this’, her hand hovered over her navel and moved in a circular motion, proud of herself for not using the word ‘tummy’.
His loss? Quino squinted at her incredulously, leaning again so he could make sure he’d heard her right – but Piper was already on to the next thing: the bartender, her voice already blurring (was that him or her?), her smile broad and bright. He’d drank with Piper before. He knew her, by now, even just a little bit, and he knew she made a pretty good listener for his Wednesday night complaints. He’d had drinks with Piper, sure. But he’d never seen her this drunk.
At least they were still somewhere in the innocent phase. She was trying to find the straw in her water glass, and Quino was hiding his laugh in a breath, because telling drunk people they’re funny is like telling someone their accent shows on just this one word: once they’re conscious of it, it changes. That was observation bias, right? The woman with the gorillas? He couldn’t remember, now. He blinked hard to shake it off, and in the brief stutter of his closed eyes, Quino recognized that he was getting drunk, too. 
When had that happened?
“That’s where tin-foil hats come from,” he said. It sounded abrupt even to him, and he extended a hand like an explanation, palm flat towards the ceiling. “You know, conspiracy people? Tin-foil hats?” Theorists. It was conspiracy theorists. Quino pulled his own water closer, and left the shot on the bartender’s side of the counter. That was a bridge to cross when – well, whenever his tongue felt a little less dry. “People who think radio-waves – or Wifi, or Bluetooth, now, I guess – they think they’re gonna hurt their brains, so they make these hats… And now it’s just another name for conspiracy theorists, even though they’re not at all related, most of the time. I mean, I’ve been called a tin-foil hat. I don’t believe in conspiracies. I definitely don’t think putting aluminum on my head will stop the government from reading my mind.”
He did ask for hard-copies of his students’ papers, but everyone knew the NSA reads emails. It’s not a conspiracy if everyone knows it. And he almost added that, too, but the bartender came back to pick up her tab, and Quino still had to pay his. He had to sit up straight to pull his wallet out of his pocket – an old, weathered thing, he thumbed the frayed stitching out of habit as he counted out the bills. Tip calculation wasn’t going to happen tonight; Quino rounded up, instead, and threw in an extra couple of dollars in case he’d guessed it wrong. “I bet that guy went home and wrote some shitty review online,” he said. “What an asshole. He needed medication, not weaker Wifi.” Quino looked up from the money on the bar, bypassing his own straw to drink straight from the glass. The ice was cold where it knocked into his mouth. 
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