“I’m basically a 3 AM informercial. Just go on and on in a loop forever, yeah,” Sonny replied with a light laugh. Perhaps the alcohol, perhaps the setting, or perhaps the company, he had evidently taken the nosedive into wry philosophy. “My Nonna took me to the opera a lot as a kid, ya know? Moral of the story is, you just gotta quack a lot and be loud, and everyone thinks you’re sayin’ something profound. That’s not to say I don’t think the opera’s profound. It is. The birthright of my ancestors and all. But I was, like, six-years-old, so what did I know? The poor lady up there on stage is coughin’ her brains out because she’s got some mystery disease, and she’s still gotta sing.”
He sighed very deeply, as if he had uncovered some jewel of the human experience in all this babbling, but he seemed genuinely amused by the sliding glass. “See, they never did that shit in New York. Only in movies. Too many people; too many hands in the way,” he replied, distracted. Still, with a nod, Sonny seemed to perk. “See, between you and me, the wine’s the only thing keepin’ me off the absinthe. Who the hell drinks absinthe? What am I, Edgar Allen Poe? Jesus Christ.” He shook his head. “I won’t label you, though. Drink whatever the hell you want. The kids didn’t really think I was cool either. I mean, I thought I was cool, but my sister, she’s, like, actual cool. I thought velour was ‘it.’ Still kind of do.”
He raised his brow. “What? You mean more than the opera bit and the necklaces? Lorenzo is where we draw the line here?” He clicked his tongue jokingly in Roarke’s direction and cocked his head to one side. “Where was that, huh? Maybe I’m in the wrong place. Ought to be out there odd-jobbing with my countrymen. But, yeah, it ain’t actually good luck if someone don’t give it to you. That’s part of it. Me? I’m borrowing mine,” he mused, fiddling with the cornicello. Which was stolen from his uncle. He hummed softly.
And at that, Sonny bit his lip, as if lost in thought. He spoke up with a dry lilt. “Just some…lady. I think we used to have feelings for each other, but not anymore. So now we just spiral into misery and all.” This was, of course, all true, even if said woman was the departed Edith Alby.
“But 3 am informercials are the best! That’s not the put-down you think it is, pal.” The drink was going down more easily with each progressive sip, the burn covering for itself as the alcohol worked its magic. This casual conversation was... quite unexpected fun, and Roarke was letting himself try to enjoy it. He didn’t even have to let down his defenses for this one, it was just casual and easy. Exactly what he liked out of a conversation at a bar.
“I feel like if you think you’re cool, you’re not actually that cool. I never paid much attention to it in school, I barely remember who I hung out with. I did alright for myself. Kept a low profile, got out alright. Kind of place where kids grew up on beer. I never got the fancy shit until I got into my new job. It’s insane the shit people will drink to feel important. Absinthe was common, though I don’t really care for it.” The culture of high fashion was one Roarke never cared for, even if he blended in well. It would be a lie to say he’d never tried some of the things passed around at parties, but he wasn’t keen on being indisposed in public spaces. Still wasn’t, though maybe he was getting a bit cheeky with the drinks.
Roarke glanced over again, eyes on the small pendant. It felt familiar, even it wasn’t something he was personally involved with. He’d seen them plenty, both up close and from afar. Some of his old crewmates were a bit more superstitious about it, though Roarke never pressed too much to learn more. He never knew it had to be gifted, though that particular bit of information did explain a few things from his days back in New York.
As Sonny explained, he listened quietly, slowly working on his drink. It wasn’t said, but he had a feeling it was that freaky shit around town he hated having to think about. It seemed rude to pivot away from the question, though.
“You think? Don’t you remember if you had feelings for her?”
