“—– Would you say I’m predictably unpredictable?” If so, Beckett wouldn’t be the first to lay the accusation at her feet. A happy sound, somewhere between a chuckle and a soft pant, exhaled from her nose. Despite what some people might think Sydney didn’t actually try to be that way. It just happened. Over the years she shed most of the cautious reservation carried on her shoulders and started letting herself actually live—- not just for the ghosts who haunted her, but for herself. After that, it became far too easy to stop listening to her head and start following her heart. She’d readily admit it reaching for whatever she wanted, rather than holding herself back, brought new contentment to her life, but her mercurial nature wasn’t always a good thing. it led to a few questionable choices, and when the emotions that guided her took a turn for the worse (particularly around this time of year) she tended to let herself exist in a dark hole for a while until something motivated her to climb back out. Usually, as was the case now, it was realizing she missed the people she still had in her life just as much as the ones she’d lost. Sydney was comfortable enough with herself to embrace the concept of solitude, but she was too social to stay down for long. She fed off the energy of those around her just as much as she operated under her own impulsive whims. That’s why Beckett’s smile only served to produce one a fraction wider across her face. She wasn’t just unpredictable and spontaneous; Syd was competitive, too— even when it came to the small things. As a younger version of herself would often remind him, ‘anything you can do I can do better’.
Just maybe not throw back whiskey shots.
Sydney would use the pure Irish blood running through her veins to support a claim that she could handle anything passed across a bar, but the truth was she was, unfortunately, every bit the lightweight. It hadn’t stopped her from trying to keep pace with the guys in the past, though, and it wasn’t about to now. She fixed Michel with an appreciative smile when he slid a glass of Jack and Coke her way. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it,” lips wrapped around the thin straw to suck down a swallow before she finished, “I’m just not sure how much there is to say yet. It’s new,” even though they’d dated for two years in the past, “and still very undefined.” She knew how she felt about Lucas - how she’d always felt - but they hadn’t figured out what it would mean for their future. Once she put her drink back to the bar she offered Beck a shrug. “Unless you want a play by play of my dick sucking technique I’m pretty sure that means it’s a dead end conversation, Axe.” True to form she didn’t make an ounce of effort to censor herself. Quite obviously amused, she let a smirk flit across her lips. “I’m glad to hear that, though. It’s what I wanted to hear, actually.” In all honesty, she would’ve been happy to hear he’d given up the hopeless cause of keeping himself closed off forever, but— “It means I won’t have to fight a bitch in the bathroom just to keep you to myself tonight.” Not like that would actually happen, she wasn’t a natural born fighter, but her point was made. “If you’re distracted who’s gonna pick me up off the floor after another few rounds of these?”
“I would say you’re a lot of things, most of them just bearable.” It was normal for him to play juggler with her upmost flaws––not that she had many. If there was anything to go off of it was the years of consistent disappointment. The amount of times she hadn’t picked up the phone in weeks, or when she went on one of her couch spells, where she refused to leave her house for days on end. He never knew why, and he never quite asked. But it was an unspoken understanding that sometimes she just wasn’t going to be around, and for reasons unbeknownst to him, he would have to be okay with that. After all, he himself had ditched town on a whim 10 years ago. He could understand the need to simply check out. Being a nameless soul in a new city was an adrenaline rush no glass of whiskey or drug could surpass. He could’ve been anyone. Could’ve changed his name. Could’ve sworn to never return to his roots regardless of any losses. But while much of him was made up of his father’s cowardliness, the other half was built upon his mother’s dependability. He could never truly leave anyone––or any place behind. Someway or another, he would always find his way back to reality. However harsh it could be at times. And like Sydney he would finally find some reason or another to pull himself off his couch, pausing whatever shitty comedy he’d attempted to watch to lighten his spirits. Now he was happy to say he didn’t need much more than Sydney’s company to do so. Not many could withstand the wit of a man like Beck, but at times he was pretty much Syd had invented the term. They were a sort of ying and yang in a way, at times polar opposites, at others one in the same. They understood each other in ways others couldn’t quite master, but could also find themselves struggling to read the other in the same instant. Tonight was no different, as they played a game of cat and mouse game, trying to see who would be the most bearing of updates in one evening with liquor in their veins.
It was a thing to note that Syd had never been much of a drinker. In fact Beck could recall a few memories from her visits to New York. The time Beck had decided to show Rhett around his new bar and grille, and they’d come home to find her stumbling and giggling, wearing a mix of her brother’s old clothes and what she could find of Beck’s with a bottle of merlot dangling from her finger tips. The girl could grow tipsy off of an entire bottle of red wine, and they weren’t even hitting the major leagues yet––vodka, whiskey, and tequila. Tonight she’d played it relatively safe for a good footing, rum and coke. And Beck raised his glass in slight cheers, a smirk on his face she knew quite too well. Finding it hard to contain his laughter, he set his drink down upon the bar, eyes wide with amusement at her brash statement. “No, thank you –– Christ, I think you’ve made your point quite clear. Axed.” Her vulgarity was one of the things Beck had come to appreciate over the years. She was brash, but she was exuberant. She could steal the attention in any room, and occasionally she could pretty much get just about anyone to smile on a shit day. She was genuine. Which is what he would say if anyone had asked. Not that he’d say it directly to her persay, they’d never go so far as to say they went that deep––but it was clear in his smile that he was always glad to have her around. Raising an eyebrow then as she seemed quite proud of the fact that Beck still lacked a lady on his arm, he squinted. “Seems like you're a bit too glad there Sull...” It was the beginning of what would end in a playful banter no doubt, but he was on for the ride. After all, his tab was never ending and the night had only just begin. In what other manner would they reunite, then then a battle of wits after all. “Oh, please. You lose in Wii boxing. Let’s not.” Reaching over to lightly ruffle her hair, he was quick to fix it back in place before her frown grew too deep between her brows. “You didn’t know? I was thinkin’ I could be the one on the floor tonight and you could carry me like the Princess Bride.”
