bottom's up

[Dominic]

After setting his things, what little he had, into room number 6, Dominic decided to take a walk. He felt tired from a long day of work, but the fact that he would have a clean place to sleep that night comforted him. He buttoned up his thin coat and set out on the streets. The still cold spring wind ripped right through him and he jammed his hands in his pockets for warmth.

After a few blocks, he stumbled upon a tavern with a red awning. He wasn't much for drink, usually, but today he felt like a pint or two. Maybe a few drinks would ease his racing mind. He felt his pocket, and content he had enough change it in to occupy him for a while, he pushed through the door and went inside the pub. The acrid smoky air inside immediately flooded his nostrils, stinging them a little whenever he inhaled. He went over to the bar and pulled up a stool. Motioning for the barkeep to come over, he ordered his first pint of ale and took a swig of it. It felt warm going down his throat and settling into his gut. He made himself comfortable on his stool and gazed around at his surroundings as he drank.

[Kill Kilpatrick]

"We just keep runnin' into each other all over, don't we." Kill, fresh off the Brooklyn Bridge, stood behind Dominic and just to the right, hand flat on the bar stool that stood empty next to the man.

"Must mean something, if you go in for that sort of thing." Kill gestured to the seat, "you mind?"

[Dominic]

Dominic shrugged. "Nah, go 'head," he told Kill, regarding the empty bar stool. He took another drink from his mug and paused before deadpanning, "You know, us running into each other constantly probably means we're star-crossed lovers." His face remained stone solemn for a few good seconds, and then his mouth curled into a slight grin. "Don't worry. I'm not one for that sort of thing. Have a drink.....and don't hit me."

[Kill Kilpatrick]

Kill stared at him for a minute before bursting into laughter. He liked this one. He seemed a little glum, but at least he was cracking jokes. Kills appreciated that in a guy.

"Naw, brother, I won't hit you," he gestured to the bar tender as he sat down, and got (surprise, surprise) a guiness. "Are you from the city?"

[Dominic]

"From this city, I suppose you mean? Nah. I'm from here and there. Came over on a boat, like most. That was about seven years ago. Been in this city for about three and a half. " He polished off the remains of his bottle and ordered another. "I like it here better than some places I've been. It's small enough to get around easily. Big enough and crowded enough to just disappear in. Rather like that quality in it."

[Kill Kilpatrick]

"It's the best place in the world," Kill said firmly, wrapping a hand around his glass. "Aside from Dublin, of course, but only some times." He sighed quietly, as if slightly saddened by the reminder of where he'd come from.

"But you're right. It's the perfect place to get lost in, if you have that need." He looked at Dominic out of the corner of his eye. "What sort of need do you have?"

[Dominic]

"None at the moment," was his reply. It'd been a long time since he'd been able to outright state that he had no need to disappear. It felt good. Really good. It might be nice to just stay in one place for once. Maybe even make friend or two.

"But," he said, smiling, "If I ever do need to disappear again, I was thinking of going abroad. Maybe making a vacation out of it. How's Dublin in the fall?"

[Kill Kilpatrick]

"Dublin in the anytime, my friend," Kill grinned and raised his glass, "is beautiful."

He fell silent for a moment, always comfortable with lulls in the conversation. Kill wasn't a particularly talkative person, although he enjoy the company of others just fine. He was feeling a certain kinship with Dominic, however. Perhaps it was that they both felt the need to hide sometimes, whether for actual reasons or reasons of their own making.

"What is it you do?" Kill broke the pleasant silence, glancing at the other man and taking a long swig of beer.

[Dominic]

"I'm a dockhand. I take things off of boats. Put other things on boats. Generally do a lot of heavy lifting and moving and sweating. It's grunt work, but it pays okay. Nobody asks you any questions and you don't have to make conversation with the other guys out there. Not that it would be bad. They're a pretty okay bunch of guys. There are a few annoying bastards, just like anywhere, but they're easy enough to ignore."

He shrugged. Work was work, as far as he was concerned. Did it really answer the question of what he did? Not really. It was what occupied his time and put pennies in his pockets.

"What is it that you do?" he asked Kill. Turnabout was fair play.

[Kill Kilpatrick]

Kill had been expecting the question, although he didn't have much of an answer. His job was a little hard to describe, at least, it was if he wanted to stay out of trouble.

"Nothing steady," he said, employing the usual excuse of 'no job at all'. "Kind of..." he paused, thinking for a moment, "freelance, I guess. People hire me and I do what they need."

He flashed Dominic a reassuring grin before finishing off the beer. He currently couldn't afford another one, but that was alright. He planned on going back to the lodging house for his actual dinner. He wanted to catch that girl again, Molly; see if he still made her as nervous as she seemed earlier.

[Dominic]

"Like a hitman?" Dominic asked flatly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. There were very few things that phased him anymore. Death was not one of them. It was easy to be calloused when you didn't have much to care about in the first place.

[Kill Kilpatrick]

Kill's grin broadened. "On the record, brother?" He turned the glass in his hands, twisting on the bar top, "No. Not a hitman."

He sat back and rubbed his hands dry on his pants, "but if you ever need some one taken care of." He gave Dominic a wink. It was very hard to tell if he was being serious, but it was clear he wasn't going to elaborate. All the same, Kill would have been farely comfortable with it. Dominic didn't seem the type to go scampering off to the bulls. Kill didn't think he'd be able to without getting in trouble himself.

[Dominic]

"I'll let you know if the need comes along....hopefully, it won't." Outside it began to drizzle. Dominic looked over his shoulder, regarding it with interesting. "Hope that doesn't turn into a monsoon," he said, tilting his head toward the window. "We're supposed to have a big ship come in tomorrow morning. If the rain gets too crazy, it'll have to dock somewhere else and won't come up the river. We get paid by the ship, and I really don't want to take a hit like that. I need the money." He paused and then added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I'm saving up for one of those fancy houses on Park Avenue. How long you think it'll take?"

[Kill Kilpatrick]

"Couple weeks, at best," Kill said very seriously. "Of course, you'd make more money doing what I do, and it ain't as hard on your back." Kill dug into his pockets and pulled out enough change for the beer. He slapped the coins on the bar and spun on the stool.

"Right. I need some food," he slid off the stool and set a friendly hand on Dominic's shoulder. "Seriously, you ever need some extra cash, brother. Look me up."

[Dominic]

Dominic nodded, saluting Kill as he walked away. He wondered just what that guy did for work any way. Anything that made good money without breaking a guy's back was either unattainable or illegal. Dominic would bet his money on the "illegal" end. He was curious, but he wasn't going to outright ask the guy. People were entitled to their privacy. Dominic held that truth sacred, and dear to his own heart.