a familiar smirk

she did what? was steve's reaction. he then began his own journey through the stages of post-confrontation that i had just been through; the difference being mine would have made the script for jungle book while his would have to be cut from bad boys three.

i was sent back up the street armed with a bottle of dry gin, whiskey and a new pair of pants when lo and behold who was there at the door to usher me in ... but ruth. she tapped her cigarette, smirked at me and said my, my, my. you did get a scolding from that ol'bat, didn't cha!

she continued to tell me how it wasn't my fault and that was just the b***h person she was and she had no right blah blah blah. i smiled. i thanked ruth. i hugged ruth. i walked in to the pub.

where's the brandy? the old bat snarled. i held my bladder ground. it'll be here tomorrow i lied now give me the damn ice i thought. just a minute then.

i rested my elbow and forearm on the bar, all non shalant like, and looked off to my left at nothing in particular - the way someone who is really uncomfortable does as they try to compensate for the uncomfortableness of it all - when out of the corner of my eye a certain hat catchs my attention.

brad said charlie with a tilt, wink and a smirk. i guess you'll get your ice after all.

it was relieving to know that the two of them had been behind me, with me, the whole time. i hadn't been alone. i returned the smirk (i can't get the tilt and wink quite right).

we'll be down to see you in a few minutes, brad. then he rolled his gaze around the room as if absorbing it all in. get out of this place if you know what i mean.

sure thing charlie. sure thing.