The beer Will orders is a bit of a surprise, but Royal sure isn’t about to say anything. Far be it from him to question anybody’s drink preference, really. He definitely appreciates that it’s not exactly a pricey drink, too. But –
“I did agree to pay though, and I’m a man of my word!” He lets mock-indignation creep into the second half of that, but he can’t help the laugh that follows. The wink is entirely by choice though. Is he being too flirty? Nah. Especially if that little pat on the shoulder is anything to go by. Hm – the feeling of Will’s touch lingers, although his hand doesn’t. Royal takes a drink to hide the smile that pulls the corners up the corners of his mouth.
“No worries man, I didn’t invite you out here so we could sit here in silence at the bar,” he laughs. “I hate to say it but yours is without a doubt the worst car I’ve seen, There’s this one bike, though. Now that thing,” he gestures emphatically, “that’s a real bucket of bolts.” Royal chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s a miracle that thing hasn’t just disintegrated.”
“She was actually in again this week. I keep trying to get her to let me really restore it, but it was her mom’s bike and she doesn’t want me to change anything.” He sighs, then waves one hand as if to shoo away the serious topic. “That’s enough about my job though. How have you been?” Royal leans forward a little, smiling jovially and eager to listen.
The worst car he’s ever seen. Well, at least he’s got an award for something. He can’t help but turn red and laugh at that, as if he was the only man that had bought a clunker in his whole life. He drinks, a quick swig that has a quarter of the bottle down as he feels the embarrassment come on and he looks away for a moment. “I got it for a good deal! I mean, you get divorced with a newborn and then try to find a nice car!” Will forgets himself and laughs, the wounds of that healed over a long time. “I’ll take what I can get.”
He regales his tale about the bike, eyes steady as he talks about his job and nodding. Attentive and drinking and wondering how exactly it was worse than his clunker of a car. “I mean I’d trust you. Honestly? If I knew how to restore that damn car of mine, I’d do it. Costs more than it’s worth!”
At the question, he simply shrugs. “I had to get a pile of essays about American history. Mostly the Great Depression, so I’m going to have to grade a lot of the papers,” he says, taking another swig. “God, I love the kids, but the grading I could do without.”
Will sees him lean forward and he doesn’t move back, simply taking it as him paying attention to his complaints. His stories. It’s a good time, all around. “Wanna trade jobs? Don’t know if the shop’ll be standing after I’m done, but—” He beams at him, all happiness and guileless wonder. “I’ll give it the good old college try eh, Royal?”