Patrick and Roger

[mentalistjane]

The Winchester was one of those establishments that Patrick looked out of place in, but after five minutes could make himself at home with just about anyone there. He hadn't been back in quite some time, so he was glad it hadn't changed at all. Same wood, same tables, same sense of rat-tag gentility. Just like the owner, Patrick suspected

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[one__song]

Among the rag-tag group of renegades that frequented the Winchester - so named for Shaun's favorite bar and not the brothers, as was the misconception - was one Roger Davis. He was seated at the bar, drowning no sorrows in particular in a glass of something-or-other. Probably moonshine, but he took the shot in sips, for fear his liver might explode on contact.

He saw Patrick first and gave a swagger of a smile, indicating the empty bar stool next to him. There was a time when Roger would have done anything to make sure the other blond didn't occupy that seat, but those times had passed, and now Roger was somewhat relieved to see someone that he had good feelings for.

"Hey, Patrick," Roger greeted, nodding to the bartender. "Whatcha have?"

[mentalistjane]

"I will have another beer." Patrick grinned as he slid into the stool next to Roger. "Well, how are you, my erstwhile friend? You're looking better. At least you're not looking like you're ready to chew off someone's head."

[one__song]

"Rare moment, right?" Roger said, that crooked smile not even sliding off of his face. Now that things were heading in a better direction with Anatoly, he had a reason to smile, and Roger tended to measure in such moments. "M'alright. How about you? Heard you did a disappearing act."

[mentalistjane]

"Very rare. I feel like I'm intruding on history, actually." Patrick took his beer with a nod of thanks, and then took a generous sip while Roger spoke. He swallowed, and then responded. "I did - and I'm ... doing better. Not great yet, but definitely doing better."