Much Needed Company | Andrew & Ben
Since the crash, Andrew hadn’t spent much time doing anything other than rallying ‘troops’ to do some exploring and consoling his brother. Perhaps ‘consoling’ wasn’t the correct phrase; Andrew was more or less trying to control his twin. He was selfish - there was no way he was going to let Henry risk his life just to be a part of the exploration process. To say Andrew was at his mental limits would have been an understatement. He was exhausted - physically, mentally, emotionally - exhausted in any and every sense of the word, and he just wanted a moment to relax.
Having calmed his brother down for the umpteenth time, Andrew smoothed out the lapels of one of his designer suits. He wasn’t feeling much like wearing suits anymore, but it’s what he had packed and there was no way he was going to force himself into one of his brother’s ratty t-shirts and ripped up Levis. He took a look in the mirror - there was a small, yellowing bruise on his right cheek and another a few shades darker on his forehead, almost hidden in his hairline. He sighed. Andrew was not accustomed to looking less than perfect, but there weren’t many people to impress here and not much to do about it. He tried not to think of what he’d do when his supply of clean suits ran out.
Andrew ran his hand through his hair, it was healing up nicely but the scar would almost definitely be a keloid on his palm. The physical imperfections seemed minute at the moment, he just needed a drink. And he needed to be alone, or, rather, away from his brother. He walked out of his cabin (completely in tact, such luck!) and toward the still nearly full bar. The survivors had been lucky that the bar hadn’t been demolished - the majority of the glasses had been smashed in the crash, but Andrew had been able to salvage a few from his room. He was a collector of sorts.
Upon his arrival to the bar, Andrew was thoroughly surprised to see another man, perhaps a few years older than he, drinking alone and looking particularly sullen. True to his nature, Andrew swaggered over to the bar, small smile playing at his lips. Any chance to socialize was a good one. He stopped directly beside the other male who seemed oblivious to his appearance and leaned on the bar with his elbow. His hand remained in the pocket of his suit as he surveyed the area and the man with whom he now found himself in company.
“Having some less than pleasant thoughts, are we?” He asked as he slipped, univited, onto the bar stool. “A drink is twice as good with someone to enjoy it with, no?” He said with the crinkling of his nose before he poured himself a glass and took a sip. “I’m Andrew Doyle.”
Water was really Ben's drink of choice, coffee or tea if they had it, but water anytime else. Alcohol had never quite suited his tastes -he'd only ever been a social drinker. So he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing hanging around the bar staring at an empty glass, but there he was nonetheless. Not that he had drunk anything yet - the glass was only empty because he hadn't put anything in it to begin with. The floor behind the bar was practically glittering because the staff hadn't thought to bolt down the bottles (good on that, it would've been downright weird if they had), and many of the fancy glasses and drinks had smashed themselves all over the floor. Broken glass wasn't something Ben wanted to deal with at the moment, so he had settled for sitting despondently with an undamaged cup he had found on the floor near the entrance. The damn room was still intact, at least, and that was more than you could say for the other ones. It was a good place for quiet without the inconvenience of squeezing in between piles of the upstairs floor for a place to sit.
There was a large window on the other side of the hallway from the bar. It was meant to command a view of outer space in all its glory - there wasn't all that much to looks at, frankly, but it sure made you feel something when you touched the glass and knew there was nothing else between you and a vast everything - and Ben remembered sitting in one of the armchairs flanking it and marveling along with everyone else. Now, of course, the armchair had disappeared, probably piled at one end of the hallway with the other loose furniture. And the window wasn't impressive anymore either, just scratched up and dirty and sad from the thin light leaking in. Ben swiveled around in his stool to look at it, but all he could see was the same pukey greybrown colour that came through every window on the ship.
An uncomfortable little grimace found its way onto Ben's lips. It was acting on its own accord; his face was almost always of the expressive sort, but right now it mostly remained vacant. A sudden fatigue had jumbled the thoughts in his head and his eyes could barely focus. Slowly, he turned back towards the bar and set his elbows down. The stool made a comfortable squeak as it moved - without really thinking, Ben closed his eyes and moved from side to side for a while. Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak, it was downright peaceful, if you could imagine.
The next thing he knew, his chin was resting on his chest, and someone had sat down in the stool next to him and started to make conversation. Ben must have fallen asleep, son of a bitch. Embarrassing. He caught a remark about drink and an introduction, then a silence. A silence that should... probably filled by himself, he realized.
"Benjamin Delgado," was the drowsy reply. He coughed and scratched the side of his mouth sheepishly. Really embarrassing, being caught off guard. "Pleasure to meet you," he murmured, flicking his glass -plink, that was a nice sound - and waved a vague hand at the room. "Cheers." Hopefully that was an appropriate response. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he turned towards this... Andrew, was it? - this Andrew character sitting beside him. Lord, that was a nice suit. Ben didn't even dress that well for work. "I think I fell asleep back there, if you want to know the truth. This planet's got me tired, God... Any better for you?"
