[SCENE] Phoenix, Daryan and Jake in "Innervenshun 3"
Daryan: *thirty minutes after he handcuffed Jake to the piano and responded to Wright's comment, Daryan is sitting on a table waiting for Wright to arrive. He had boosted a cola from behind the bar in order to get some caffeine to keep him awake, but it only acts as a delay; he's getting pretty tired* Dammit, when's that guy going to get here?
Wright: *wanders into the bar--pushing open the double doors, his steps are quick but not all that much hurried. Calling in cheerfully* Anybody home?
Jake: *is handcuffed to one of the piano legs, fast asleep on the floor*
Daryan: *turns around and sees Wright and frowns due to the cheerful tone* About damn time. Just take this guy off my hands for me, will ya?
Wright: Off your hands? *strides over, sees Jake sprawled out on the ground, handcuffed, and raises an eyebrow* ...Those aren't yours, right? Should I be asking what you two were up to?
Daryan: Look, it's past one AM, I'm tired. I have stuff to do in the morning, man so I'll give you the basics: I stopped by to talk to Tex, he was drunk and after awhile, I punched him in the gut, grabbed those handcuffs from the back and made that post. *picks up the keys to the cuffs from the table and holds them up* Now take these so I can go.
Wright: Ah. *adjusts his hat, stooping by the unconscious cowboy* Well, alright. I'll take it over from here. *doesn't make any effort to head to Daryan or reach for the keys, just holding out a hand for them*
Daryan: *doesn't move for a second until he realizes that Wright is just not going to move and then he gets up from the table, walks over to Wright and slaps the keys into his hand* When he sobers up, tell him I'm sorry. I also got a bucket of water ready if you wanna dump that on him. *starts to walk out of the bar before turning around* Oh and I took a soda while he was out cold.
Wright: Mm. *waves vaguely with keys in hand as Daryan exits, but his eyes are focused on the cowboy. He reaches out and brushes a few stray locks of hair from Jake's face, checking for proper breathing-and as the man appears to be doing well, he takes a moment to lean back and consider his options*
Jake: *doesn't stir -- though he's in an odd position, he's quietly passed out*
Wright: *leans over, taking Jake's cuffed wrist in hand and unlocking it. He places the handcuffs and their keys aside, takes hold of the cowboy by his torso, under his armpits, from behind, and gives a light tug up to see if he can move him comfortably to the sofa backstage*
Wright: *though Jake is heavy, he's surprisingly not that much so--the poncho is misleading. Phoenix is able to drag him to the back room, and with a bit of a grunt, the pianist lifts the man to the couch, resting him on his side. Collecting his breath, he sighs out slightly*
Wright: Time to get you some water, I guess. And a bucket. *and he heads back to the main room to fetch both*
Wright: *returns a moment later with an (empty) bucket and glass of water in hand. He sets them both near the sofa and then leans against the wall nearby, waiting--glancing over to the cowboy from time to time*
Wright: *after a little under ten minutes' wait, with still no sign of revival from the cowboy, Phoenix walks over to the front of the sofa again, giving the man a light shake on the shoulder*
Jake: *produces a tired, weak groan and his eyes open a crack -- his hand moves up to shield them from the light. He looks lost as he looks towards Phoenix, the only thing in his range of sight* ...? What're you-- oh, shoot. It ain't four o'clock, is it...?
Wright: *looking quietly amused* It's getting close to it. AM, not PM, though. ...Can you sit up?
Jake: AM? ...What was I doin' again? *rolls onto his side and lets one leg slip to the floor. He makes a slight effort to sit up, but gives up, plopping back down on the couch* Sorry, pardner... Feels like my head's full o' lead.
Wright: That kid with the big hair--Cresendo?--was here just a few minutes ago. Apparently he knocked you out because you were getting rowdy, and then he cuffed you to the piano. He said he's sorry. *takes a seat on the far armrest, near Jake's feet* Had a little too much, huh? Or a lot too much.
Jake: Can't remember a thing... you tell me. *tiredly rubs his eyes* What're you doin' here, then?
Wright: To check up on you, boss--what else? *scratches at his chin with a finger--faint stubble is creeping in* The kid sent out a message asking for help online... and I figured that almost everyone else is asleep at this hour.
Jake: *winces a bit, hand on his face* Ah. Well, I ain't dead yet, am I?
Wright: Not yet. *sounding slightly serious* But I'd say you're really helping to pave your way there. Either through liver failure or discovery by Lana.
Jake: *covers his eyes with his palm and smirks* My doors on that subject ain't open fer you, sorry to say. You head home now -- lemme rest here for a while longer.
Wright: *glances off, rather vacantly, into the air* ....... You've done this a couple of times already. I'd say... three, four times in the past month? That I know of.
Jake: *lifts his hand to peer at Phoenix* ...Nothin' gets by you, does it, pardner?
Wright: I wouldn't have been a very good attorney otherwise. *rubs the back of his hat with a hand, glancing to Jake* Is there any particular reason for it?
Jake: *Phoenix can see it -- chains whirr and BA-BA-BA-BAM! four psyche locks slam into place. Jake rubs his forehead, trying to relieve his mind of the fogginess* You ain't seriously expectin' me to get off the bottle that fast, are ya? It's nothin' you should be concernin' yerself over.
Wright: *his eyes flick around slightly, following the movement of the chains, but his response is smooth, with no surprise in it* I thought that at first, which is why I didn't press on the subject until today. But this... *with conviction* I know you're hiding something, and using the liquor to drown it out. *his eyes are focused steadily on Marshall's*
Jake: Hnph! *puts an arm behind his head, propping it up so he can better look at Phoenix with skepticism* You said it yerself, you've seen me do this three to four times already in the past month. Tonight's no different from those other nights... 'cept for the shape of the moon.
Wright: *glances around Jake--the locks are still present-- and he raises an eyebrow*
Wright: ... Alright, alright, give me a minute. *picks up the bucket, tosses it onto Jake's chest, then marches off to the main room*
Jake: *peeks his head out from behind the bucket, watching Phoenix leave with a puzzled expression*
Wright: *returns a few minutes later, juggling a couple of items in hand. He sets all of them down on the tiny table by the sofa with a thud* Alright, ready.
Wright: *reaches into his hoodie pocket, fetches the magatama, and flashes the glowing green object to the cowboy*
Jake: .... *picks up the bucket and sternly sets it down on the floor* What're you up to? I thought I told you to head on home.
Wright: Gotta finish this conversation before I go, boss. The reason behind your drinking.
Jake: *unwavering* Reason...? You already know the reason for it, hombre. I've been drinkin' daily for three years now. I can't quit cold turkey just like that. Sometimes, I give into the temptation. Ain't no mystery to it.
Wright: That isn't it-- isn't all of it, at least. *nods towards the door* I saw how much you finished out of that bottle of whiskey on the bar counter.
Jake: You're awake enough to realize where you are, ain't ya? This here's a saloon. There wasn't much left in that bottle when I started.
Wright: *casually reaches over to the small table, plucking a small piece of paper--a receipt-- from on top of it, and dangling it in front of the cowboy's eyes*
Wright: Look familiar? It was made tonight, at midnight. You keep track of this place's expenses more thoroughly than I thought, boss.
Jake: *squints, his eyes trying to focus* What's that...?
Wright: *narrows his own eyes, feeling an inexplicable urge to bang his hands on a desk, but lacking any nearby to do so* A receipt for a bottle of Jack Daniel's. If you tell me you can't remember operating the register for that, you'll pretty much have proven my point.
Jake: *looks past the receipt, straight at Phoenix* Right. Sometimes, I get customers fixin' to take home an entire bottle of the stuff, and they don't always wanna take the receipt. What's that got to prove?
Wright: *scowls, jabbing at a line in the receipt with his index finger* Do you always pay for them with your own credit card too?
Jake: *a couple of beats pass* ...Sometimes, I yearn for the ol' days when cash was the only option... *SHATTER! with that, one psyche lock breaks*
Wright: Ready to tell me what all this is over yet? *is starting to look... more focused and serious than he has in weeks*
Jake: *puts a hand to his temple as he looks off into space* All right, you got me. I bought that bottle fer myself and had a mite too much of it after closin' time... *returns his gaze to Phoenix* So?
Wright: So there's a reason you had a 'mite too much' You've been under stress, even though you won't admit it.
Jake: *smirks* I'm a simple man with simple needs. I have me a job and a roof o'er my head. Ain't nothin' there for me to stress over.
Wright: *crumples and tosses the receipt, picking up a paperback tome from the table* From the 'Bureau of Security and Investigative Studies' ... *taps on the cover with the back of his hand* You're trying to apply to become a P.I. --and you're worried you won't pass the tests, causing you to drink!
Jake: *frowns, his gaze sharpening* You were sniffin' 'round my bar counter...? You got a warrant for that, pardner?
Wright: *flinches back, as if struck--and takes a seat quickly on the sofa's armrest, holding his head*
Jake: I miss investigatin', so I thought I'd give it a try. Got all the info I needed, and they sent me some studyin' material. *lowers his voice* ...But I gave up on it long ago. Nice try, but it ain't no splinter in my heel.
Wright: *mutters--more aloud to himself than anything* That can't be right... *and glaring down at the book he examines it more carefully, flipping through the pages one by one. He doesn't get too far--two pages in, he finds something penciled in on the top corner*
Wright: *reading aloud* June 25, 11:15 am...
Jake: *he'd been looking off vacantly, but he's attentive again* ...!
Wright: So you took it this morning. You really think you did that badly?
Jake: It's been a long time... I almost fergot just how much you like stickin' yer nose in other people's business. *SHATTER! the second lock breaks* *bitterly* That's right. I took the P.I. exam this mornin', quarter past eleven sharp.
Jake: ...What about it?
Wright: *just a bit snappily* I almost forgot how hard you are to crack--but it's not going to work. You didn't do well on the test, and that meant something to you.
Jake: Didn't you hear what I told you? I'm a simple man with simple needs. *closes his eyes, his brows furrowed* It don't matter much to me whether I pass it or not. Life goes on per usual if I fail. Now, I may need a drink to calm my nerves somewhat, but a glass would take care o' that... not an entire bottle.
Jake: There ain't no reason for me to give two damns 'bout it. *shifts his position so that he's lying on his side* I suggest you hit the trail and ferget this happened. You got more t'say? Make it eight words or less. I'm done watchin' yer routine.
Wright: *undaunted, he slams the textbook onto the armrest, pointing his index finger at the man* You're afraid to tell Lana that you failed.
Jake: .... *SHATTER! a third lock is gone -- only one remains now. He opens his eyes and turns to face Phoenix with an unamused expression* ...You dirty cheat. Technically that's nine words.
Wright: *grins a cocky grin* ...But I'm right, aren't I?
Jake: *his expression remains unchanged* Lana... She suggested I apply. Sure, I don't wanna disappoint 'er. But that ain't enough to push me this far, now, is it?
Wright: *levelly* Sure it is--given what she means to you.
Jake: ...What are you implyin'? *takes on a defensive tone* Lana hasn't been a part o' my life in six years. We only recently had ourselves a reconciliation!
Wright: .........
Wright: *reaches over to the table, delicately picking up an item and tossing it onto the cowboy's head--a pair of red cotton panties*
Jake: ..... *rolling onto his back as he does, he reaches up and drags the panties off his head, clutching it against his collarbone* ...Hm. Still minty. *SHATTER! the final lock disappears, and the chains retract*
Wright: *breathes out a small sigh--though it's one of satisfaction* ....Your poker face is too good, you know?
Jake: *slowly, he manages to sit himself up with his feet on the ground, hanging his head low and staring at the floor in a defeated pose* If you had it all figured out from the start, why couldn't you just say it?
Wright: *shrugs* I figured it out as I went along. Plus... would you really have told me, if I hadn't dragged it out of you like that?
Jake: *his shoulders shake a bit as he lets out a small, bitter laugh* You ain't a bad detective... I ever tell you that? Maybe you'd have a better shot as a private investigator. Maybe you wouldn't fail... like I did.
Wright: *his expression softens* It's not as though a test like this can prove how good a P.I. you'd be. It's not a one-time exam, is it?
Jake: I can always apply again... but it ain't the exam that's the problem. *speaks slowly and carefully, more out of exhaustion than caution* Theft. Perjury. Assaultin' an officer... all done outta my own interest. The nature of my crimes... hard for 'em to ignore, they told me.
Wright: Ah. ...So they just won't accept you, no matter what?
Jake: "Highly unlikely" -- that's what they said. *puts his hand to his forehead, pushing some of his hair away from his face* Lana may've been able to pull some strings, but me? I don't have the same sorta connections she does. I wasn't actin' under nobody's orders when I did all that. I've dug my own grave... and I'm gonna lie in it.
Wright: That's no reason to drink yourself to death. *shakes his head* After that whole spiel about 'not giving two damns about it'... you're just really afraid of how Lana will take the news, huh?
Jake: *breathes out a fatigued sigh* ...It was one month ago when my baby returned to me, askin' fer my help. She wanted me to get a license and join her... and I know it wasn't easy for her to approach me with a thing like that.
Wright: *stuffs his hands into his pockets* Uh huh... so you think she wouldn't take this latest news well, huh...?
Jake: The ghost of the past won't let me be, it seems. *turns his head slightly, away from Phoenix* I had a bad hangover this mornin'. I'm sure that's what did me in. I've let Lana down dreadfully... Sooner or later, she's gonna grow sick 'n' tired of carin'.
Wright: You think she'd drop you if you don't become a P.I.? *shakes his head* That's not the Lana I know. And you really should have more faith in your love. *there's faint traces of a goofy smile as he says this*
Jake: ... *lifting his head, he gently sits himself back against the couch, closing his eyes and wincing a bit as his stomach still hurts* You don't get it, do you?
Wright: What? --and... tell me to do something as you explain, boss; you look like you're in pain.
Jake: *shakes his head and continues* It's the drinkin'. ...I feel like a danged coward whenever I give into the bottle, and to get over it... I pick up another bottle. Then my head gets all filled up with thoughts o' what Lana might say if she saw me... and drown 'em out with firewater. It never ends.
Wright: .......Ah. Well... *chuckling a bit awkwardly, though his voice is quiet and earnest* I... didn't realize it was that bad. Have you considered just telling her--explaining this and seeing how she'd react?
Jake: You still don't get it. *opens his eyes to look at Phoenix* This is gonna hurt her. And if I can't kick this habit, I just might keep hurtin' her 'til she turns away, no longer able to deal with me... And I wouldn't stop her.
Wright: You've been hiding this from her, though. *looks levelly back at Jake, his gaze approaching a glare* That kind of dishonesty is worse... for her, and yourself included.
Wright: I've never gotten the opportunity to know her better, after her trial... but during that time alone she managed to convince me she was more than capable of handling the truth... and bearing a tough situation for her loved ones.
Jake: *doesn't respond, but the words have gotten through to him; he downcasts his gaze and takes a quiet moment to think* ...Yeah. In all my born days, she's the most capable woman I ever met. She's been through the mill, and then some. All the more reason to not wanna burden her with my deadweight. *tiredly rubs at his temple with one hand* Am I makin' any sense here?
Wright: *shakes his head* No. *smoothes his hand against the fabric of the sofa* Think of running that explanation by her and how she'd react. *raises an eyebrow as if waiting for Marshall's answer*
Jake: *a light groan* Sorry, compadre. I'd rather not think about how she'd react to any o' this right now...
Wright: *glances down, straightening his hat* You owe it to her to be yourself, and to be honest. If you keep on hiding from her--and refusing to let her help you, as I'm sure she'd want to... you don't deserve to be in a relationship.
Jake: *the corner of his mouth twitches to form a slight smirk at that* ...You may be right.
Wright: .......... *glances up warily* If you're gonna twist that to mean you aren't deserving, Marshall...
Jake: *focuses his sights back to Phoenix* Tell me... Do you dream much when you sleep, pardner?
Wright: ...? *frowns slightly* Rarely-only when I'm feeling restless.
Jake: What about nightmares? Ever get those?
Wright: Those are the main types of dreams I have, yeah.
Jake: I've been havin' mostly nothin' but nightmares for the past six years. *brushes his hair back behind his ear -- it falls back into place* But you know what's worse than that?
Wright: *a wave of pity washes through his expression* ...What?
Jake: It's when I don't have a nightmare. *a carefully level tone* The happy ones. A good forty rods in one night helps keep 'em away.
Wright: Seems like you've given up on a happy ending.
Jake: *closes his eyes and weakly puts his head back against the couch, propping up an elbow and placing a hand against his forehead. When he speaks, he sounds more resigned than he has all night* I want to go back.
Wright: *smiles slightly* That's not an available option; you can only work with what you've got-- the present, and the future.
Jake: I'm all too aware o' that, pardner.
Wright: You can't exactly control everything that happens... but you've still got this saloon, this job...
Jake: *deadpans without missing a beat* The saloon's gonna go outta business if things don't turn around for us soon.
Wright: *the response is so unexpected that he flinches visibly, gaping* What? Since when?!
Jake: Thanks to that afterparty and the Gavin boy, we're gonna keep afloat for another good while... but it won't last long. We've been in the red for months. The situation was already ugly before you started workin' here. *smirks, eyes still closed* Sorry if I forgot to tell ya. Slipped my mind, I guess.
Wright: *grimaces, holding his hand to his face* Marshall...
Jake: *can't help but chuckle* Would've been cheaper to hire a repairman to fix my jukebox, I reckon. But I figured you needed the help.
Wright: *is quiet for a good moment--when he removes his hand and speaks again, there's just a hint of repressed emotion to it* I'll be out of your hair by the end of next month.
Jake: *opens his eyes to blink at him in surprise* What?
Wright: *grins* I don't accept charity, boss. And... I know I'm not pulling in enough of a crowd to be worth my paycheck.
Wright: This was never supposed to be anything but temporary, anyway... *with conviction* it should just be ended sooner, rather than later.
Jake: ...Well, at this rate, findin' yerself some new work would be the smart way o' goin' about things. *smiles faintly*
Wright: ... I wish you'd told me sooner. I would've tried to help, somehow.
Jake: *simply* And I woulda rejected yer help. Two can play the stubbornness game.
Wright: *shakes his head, and chuckles* Point taken. *he's quiet for a moment as he thinks through all he's learned over the past few minutes* Well... I don't envy your position.
Jake: Well, now you know. *crosses his arms* You glad to know it?
Wright: *nods* Yeah, I am. It's always better to know the truth, so that one can act on it.
Jake: *frowns* Whether the man in question wants you to know about it or not, huh? Are you always like this?
Wright: Well... yeah. I've been trying to cut down, but I can't always help it. Especially since you've been there for me, in the past.
Jake: ...Hmph. You're a good man, Wright. *smirks* And you know what they say about good men. *points at him* Watch yerself.
Wright: *laughs, getting up off the armrest* Are you gonna shoot me, boss? I can't die, I'm the hero of this story.
Jake: Heroes are a thing of the past, compadre. Don't try to be one -- you're only gonna end up hurt.
Wright: *his eyes twinkle slightly as he walks in front of the couch* Can't help that, either. All I can do is keep up my poker face and pretend otherwise. *offers Jake his hand* Can you get up?
Jake: *with amusement* I'm gonna say "told you so" at yer funeral. *grabs Phoenix's hand and pulls himself up off the couch; he's sobered up some, but he still sways a bit, disoriented by the sudden rush of blood to his aching head* ...Well, I'd better hit the trail.
Wright: You can deliver my eulogy. *looks at him wobble slightly, then takes hold of the cowboy's arm* Here--let me walk you home.
Jake: *doesn't pull away, but gives him an odd look* I'm 35 years old. I can walk myself.
Wright: You're thirty-five and you drank yourself stupid tonight. *nods towards the door, giving his arm a squeeze* Come on.
Jake: *sighs, reluctant* All right, all right. *begins to walk with him, grumbling* I've gotten home alone just fine plenty o' times...
Wright: *looking carefully at Jake as they walk, just in case the man stumbles* You have--but you shouldn't. And I hope you won't mind, boss--but I'm going to keep an eye on you as long as I'm still working here.
Jake: *annoyed like a child who doesn't like being supervised* And if I do mind?
Wright: A ha ha. *opens the door of the back room, gesturing for Jake to go first* Well you could fire me, but I'm looking for a new job anyway.
Jake: *goes on ahead, muttering quietly to himself* I could fire at you...
Wright: You're ready to deliver that eulogy so soon...? *heads through himself, shutting the door*
~~~
Jake: *2019, the first week of May. It's roughly 1:30 AM at the Rusty Gust -- an hour past closing time. Jake idly sweeps the floor of the saloon around the tables for the second time that night. He stops and looks over at the only other person left in the bar with worry*
Wright: *is slumped half over on the bar counter, his hand limply playing with half a glass of bourbon beside him, unfinished--he's mumbling to himself under his breath, clearly all but gone*
Jake: *gives Phoenix a gentle but firm prod in the back with the end of the broomstick, speaking in a cautiously playful tone* Hey. This ain't no inn... Don't you got a cot to lie in somewhere?
Wright: Nnng... *lifts his head slightly, trying to wave off the broomstick handle with an arm--he misses, nearly swiping down his own drink instead. When he speaks, it's slurred* Cot....? Yeah... got a cot sommere...
Jake: .... *with the broom handle, he swats the glass away -- it slides down the counter and ends up in a spot out of the former attorney's reach*
Wright: *blinks* Why'dyou-- hey... *slides forward and paws at the counter, the sleeve of his suit smearing against the various fluids and crumbs on the polished wood surface*
Jake: *the stick smacks against Phoenix's hand* Whoa, pardner. You've had yer fill. *walks up to him and props the broom up against the counter* I need to get home, but I can't be lockin' you up inside here.
Wright: *stares down at the counter, muttering* Jus... leave me here. I don't have anywhere to go.
Jake: *nudges up on the rim of his hat and peers at him* If you don't got nowhere to go, then where'd you come from? Can't be heaven, 'cause you look like hell.
Wright: *laughs bitterly, looking up at Jake* Are you hitting on me...? ... *frowns* No... wait, that's reverse... *mutters off*
Jake: *stares at him for a few beats* C'mon, now. You can't stay here... and no offense, but I don't want to see you in here again t'morrow, either.
Wright: .......... *looks down again, blankly* ...Why...? *it's clear by his tone that he's not questioning Jake-- it's a word he's repeated again and again for the past week*
Jake: *solemnly* Like I told you over and over... I got no answers for you. If there are any, they can't be found here. *tilts his head down, looking at him seriously* It ain't for a man like you. The saloon's only got one solution to yer problem... and you've had enough of it.
Wright: *is utterly quiet for a long time-- for a moment, it seems as though Jake's words have completely gone over his drunken head. Finally... he nods*
Jake: It's been... what? Four, five nights now? *frowns* ...Don't do this to yerself. You don't want to make this a habit.
Wright: ... *nods weakly* Y-yeah... yeah, I know... I'd just... let everyone down further. *shuts his eyes, rubbing at them*
Jake: Back on yer feet now. C'mon. *grabs his keys that were lying next to the register*
Wright: Mm... *staggers up, his legs wobbling slightly. He stumbles, and props himself up with the counter*
Jake: *watches him, a slight hint of concern on his face* You gonna be all right there, pardner? Not gonna fall off a bridge, are ya?
Wright: *blinks blearily* M'fine... I was fine the other five days wasn't I...? Uh huh....
Jake: Listen, pardner... I know how it is, to lose the job you've dreamed about since childhood. Life will go on... but not if you cheat death by goin' home completely soaked every night. *jerks a thumb towards the door* Let's go. I'll walk ya.
Wright: *waves Jake off, shaking his head stubbornly* I'm 27 years old... I can walk myself.
Jake: ..... *goes around the counter and crouches down to rustle through his belongings, looking for something there. He emerges, walks back out of the counter, and before Phoenix knows it, a lasso falls on him*
Wright: H-hey! *struggles, trying to lift up his arms--nearly tripping over in the process*
Jake: *the lasso tightens around Phoenix's shoulders as he tugs hard on the rope* Easy there, dogie! I'm bringin' you back to yer pen. *pulls him towards the doors*
Wright: *stumbles along, too woozy to really protest* You gotta really funny way of walking someone home, you know... ?
Jake: *grins* So long as you come into my saloon to drink the cactus juice I hand out, I'm gonna keep my eye on ya. *goes through the swinging double doors, dragging Phoenix along* It's the least I can do, compadre.
Wright: Nn... Got it, boss... *trips slightly but manages to regain his balance, and fumbles after the cowboy, out the doors*
Jake: That's the spirit! *a rush of cool air comes in when he pushes past the glass doors, and he looks up at the sky* Ah... a starless night. Here we are, a couple o' broken men with broken dreams, headin' onto the dark trails with no map or big dipper as a guide... seein' where the midnight breeze takes us! ....*looks back* Say, what street do you live on again?
Wright: *is utterly unable to decipher any of the cowboy's first few lines--though they're not even as cryptic as usual* Uh... hm. *frowns, tottering slightly*
Jake: ...Make sure to tell me where to turn and all that, y'hear? *holds the door open and whistles sharply at his captive as he gestures towards the streets*
Wright: R-right... *looks blearily about-- for a second he can't quite remember where to go, but the cold air does wonders to help clear his mind* Oh... take a right... then nother right at the light... yeah.
Wright: *it's late, and fortunately for Phoenix, there aren't many people out on the street to see the drunken disbarred lawyer plod homeward, led on rope by an Old West cowboy. Also fortunately for him... he's so wasted, and the events are so bizarre that when he awakes the next day, he either can't remember the last part of the night or dismisses the whole situation as a dream*
Wright: *wanders into the bar--pushing open the double doors, his steps are quick but not all that much hurried. Calling in cheerfully* Anybody home?
Jake: *is handcuffed to one of the piano legs, fast asleep on the floor*
Daryan: *turns around and sees Wright and frowns due to the cheerful tone* About damn time. Just take this guy off my hands for me, will ya?
Wright: Off your hands? *strides over, sees Jake sprawled out on the ground, handcuffed, and raises an eyebrow* ...Those aren't yours, right? Should I be asking what you two were up to?
Daryan: Look, it's past one AM, I'm tired. I have stuff to do in the morning, man so I'll give you the basics: I stopped by to talk to Tex, he was drunk and after awhile, I punched him in the gut, grabbed those handcuffs from the back and made that post. *picks up the keys to the cuffs from the table and holds them up* Now take these so I can go.
Wright: Ah. *adjusts his hat, stooping by the unconscious cowboy* Well, alright. I'll take it over from here. *doesn't make any effort to head to Daryan or reach for the keys, just holding out a hand for them*
Daryan: *doesn't move for a second until he realizes that Wright is just not going to move and then he gets up from the table, walks over to Wright and slaps the keys into his hand* When he sobers up, tell him I'm sorry. I also got a bucket of water ready if you wanna dump that on him. *starts to walk out of the bar before turning around* Oh and I took a soda while he was out cold.
Wright: Mm. *waves vaguely with keys in hand as Daryan exits, but his eyes are focused on the cowboy. He reaches out and brushes a few stray locks of hair from Jake's face, checking for proper breathing-and as the man appears to be doing well, he takes a moment to lean back and consider his options*
Jake: *doesn't stir -- though he's in an odd position, he's quietly passed out*
Wright: *leans over, taking Jake's cuffed wrist in hand and unlocking it. He places the handcuffs and their keys aside, takes hold of the cowboy by his torso, under his armpits, from behind, and gives a light tug up to see if he can move him comfortably to the sofa backstage*
Wright: *though Jake is heavy, he's surprisingly not that much so--the poncho is misleading. Phoenix is able to drag him to the back room, and with a bit of a grunt, the pianist lifts the man to the couch, resting him on his side. Collecting his breath, he sighs out slightly*
Wright: Time to get you some water, I guess. And a bucket. *and he heads back to the main room to fetch both*
Wright: *returns a moment later with an (empty) bucket and glass of water in hand. He sets them both near the sofa and then leans against the wall nearby, waiting--glancing over to the cowboy from time to time*
Wright: *after a little under ten minutes' wait, with still no sign of revival from the cowboy, Phoenix walks over to the front of the sofa again, giving the man a light shake on the shoulder*
Jake: *produces a tired, weak groan and his eyes open a crack -- his hand moves up to shield them from the light. He looks lost as he looks towards Phoenix, the only thing in his range of sight* ...? What're you-- oh, shoot. It ain't four o'clock, is it...?
Wright: *looking quietly amused* It's getting close to it. AM, not PM, though. ...Can you sit up?
Jake: AM? ...What was I doin' again? *rolls onto his side and lets one leg slip to the floor. He makes a slight effort to sit up, but gives up, plopping back down on the couch* Sorry, pardner... Feels like my head's full o' lead.
Wright: That kid with the big hair--Cresendo?--was here just a few minutes ago. Apparently he knocked you out because you were getting rowdy, and then he cuffed you to the piano. He said he's sorry. *takes a seat on the far armrest, near Jake's feet* Had a little too much, huh? Or a lot too much.
Jake: Can't remember a thing... you tell me. *tiredly rubs his eyes* What're you doin' here, then?
Wright: To check up on you, boss--what else? *scratches at his chin with a finger--faint stubble is creeping in* The kid sent out a message asking for help online... and I figured that almost everyone else is asleep at this hour.
Jake: *winces a bit, hand on his face* Ah. Well, I ain't dead yet, am I?
Wright: Not yet. *sounding slightly serious* But I'd say you're really helping to pave your way there. Either through liver failure or discovery by Lana.
Jake: *covers his eyes with his palm and smirks* My doors on that subject ain't open fer you, sorry to say. You head home now -- lemme rest here for a while longer.
Wright: *glances off, rather vacantly, into the air* ....... You've done this a couple of times already. I'd say... three, four times in the past month? That I know of.
Jake: *lifts his hand to peer at Phoenix* ...Nothin' gets by you, does it, pardner?
Wright: I wouldn't have been a very good attorney otherwise. *rubs the back of his hat with a hand, glancing to Jake* Is there any particular reason for it?
Jake: *Phoenix can see it -- chains whirr and BA-BA-BA-BAM! four psyche locks slam into place. Jake rubs his forehead, trying to relieve his mind of the fogginess* You ain't seriously expectin' me to get off the bottle that fast, are ya? It's nothin' you should be concernin' yerself over.
Wright: *his eyes flick around slightly, following the movement of the chains, but his response is smooth, with no surprise in it* I thought that at first, which is why I didn't press on the subject until today. But this... *with conviction* I know you're hiding something, and using the liquor to drown it out. *his eyes are focused steadily on Marshall's*
Jake: Hnph! *puts an arm behind his head, propping it up so he can better look at Phoenix with skepticism* You said it yerself, you've seen me do this three to four times already in the past month. Tonight's no different from those other nights... 'cept for the shape of the moon.
Wright: *glances around Jake--the locks are still present-- and he raises an eyebrow*
Wright: ... Alright, alright, give me a minute. *picks up the bucket, tosses it onto Jake's chest, then marches off to the main room*
Jake: *peeks his head out from behind the bucket, watching Phoenix leave with a puzzled expression*
Wright: *returns a few minutes later, juggling a couple of items in hand. He sets all of them down on the tiny table by the sofa with a thud* Alright, ready.
Wright: *reaches into his hoodie pocket, fetches the magatama, and flashes the glowing green object to the cowboy*
Jake: .... *picks up the bucket and sternly sets it down on the floor* What're you up to? I thought I told you to head on home.
Wright: Gotta finish this conversation before I go, boss. The reason behind your drinking.
Jake: *unwavering* Reason...? You already know the reason for it, hombre. I've been drinkin' daily for three years now. I can't quit cold turkey just like that. Sometimes, I give into the temptation. Ain't no mystery to it.
Wright: That isn't it-- isn't all of it, at least. *nods towards the door* I saw how much you finished out of that bottle of whiskey on the bar counter.
Jake: You're awake enough to realize where you are, ain't ya? This here's a saloon. There wasn't much left in that bottle when I started.
Wright: *casually reaches over to the small table, plucking a small piece of paper--a receipt-- from on top of it, and dangling it in front of the cowboy's eyes*
Wright: Look familiar? It was made tonight, at midnight. You keep track of this place's expenses more thoroughly than I thought, boss.
Jake: *squints, his eyes trying to focus* What's that...?
Wright: *narrows his own eyes, feeling an inexplicable urge to bang his hands on a desk, but lacking any nearby to do so* A receipt for a bottle of Jack Daniel's. If you tell me you can't remember operating the register for that, you'll pretty much have proven my point.
Jake: *looks past the receipt, straight at Phoenix* Right. Sometimes, I get customers fixin' to take home an entire bottle of the stuff, and they don't always wanna take the receipt. What's that got to prove?
Wright: *scowls, jabbing at a line in the receipt with his index finger* Do you always pay for them with your own credit card too?
Jake: *a couple of beats pass* ...Sometimes, I yearn for the ol' days when cash was the only option... *SHATTER! with that, one psyche lock breaks*
Wright: Ready to tell me what all this is over yet? *is starting to look... more focused and serious than he has in weeks*
Jake: *puts a hand to his temple as he looks off into space* All right, you got me. I bought that bottle fer myself and had a mite too much of it after closin' time... *returns his gaze to Phoenix* So?
Wright: So there's a reason you had a 'mite too much' You've been under stress, even though you won't admit it.
Jake: *smirks* I'm a simple man with simple needs. I have me a job and a roof o'er my head. Ain't nothin' there for me to stress over.
Wright: *crumples and tosses the receipt, picking up a paperback tome from the table* From the 'Bureau of Security and Investigative Studies' ... *taps on the cover with the back of his hand* You're trying to apply to become a P.I. --and you're worried you won't pass the tests, causing you to drink!
Jake: *frowns, his gaze sharpening* You were sniffin' 'round my bar counter...? You got a warrant for that, pardner?
Wright: *flinches back, as if struck--and takes a seat quickly on the sofa's armrest, holding his head*
Jake: I miss investigatin', so I thought I'd give it a try. Got all the info I needed, and they sent me some studyin' material. *lowers his voice* ...But I gave up on it long ago. Nice try, but it ain't no splinter in my heel.
Wright: *mutters--more aloud to himself than anything* That can't be right... *and glaring down at the book he examines it more carefully, flipping through the pages one by one. He doesn't get too far--two pages in, he finds something penciled in on the top corner*
Wright: *reading aloud* June 25, 11:15 am...
Jake: *he'd been looking off vacantly, but he's attentive again* ...!
Wright: So you took it this morning. You really think you did that badly?
Jake: It's been a long time... I almost fergot just how much you like stickin' yer nose in other people's business. *SHATTER! the second lock breaks* *bitterly* That's right. I took the P.I. exam this mornin', quarter past eleven sharp.
Jake: ...What about it?
Wright: *just a bit snappily* I almost forgot how hard you are to crack--but it's not going to work. You didn't do well on the test, and that meant something to you.
Jake: Didn't you hear what I told you? I'm a simple man with simple needs. *closes his eyes, his brows furrowed* It don't matter much to me whether I pass it or not. Life goes on per usual if I fail. Now, I may need a drink to calm my nerves somewhat, but a glass would take care o' that... not an entire bottle.
Jake: There ain't no reason for me to give two damns 'bout it. *shifts his position so that he's lying on his side* I suggest you hit the trail and ferget this happened. You got more t'say? Make it eight words or less. I'm done watchin' yer routine.
Wright: *undaunted, he slams the textbook onto the armrest, pointing his index finger at the man* You're afraid to tell Lana that you failed.
Jake: .... *SHATTER! a third lock is gone -- only one remains now. He opens his eyes and turns to face Phoenix with an unamused expression* ...You dirty cheat. Technically that's nine words.
Wright: *grins a cocky grin* ...But I'm right, aren't I?
Jake: *his expression remains unchanged* Lana... She suggested I apply. Sure, I don't wanna disappoint 'er. But that ain't enough to push me this far, now, is it?
Wright: *levelly* Sure it is--given what she means to you.
Jake: ...What are you implyin'? *takes on a defensive tone* Lana hasn't been a part o' my life in six years. We only recently had ourselves a reconciliation!
Wright: .........
Wright: *reaches over to the table, delicately picking up an item and tossing it onto the cowboy's head--a pair of red cotton panties*
Jake: ..... *rolling onto his back as he does, he reaches up and drags the panties off his head, clutching it against his collarbone* ...Hm. Still minty. *SHATTER! the final lock disappears, and the chains retract*
Wright: *breathes out a small sigh--though it's one of satisfaction* ....Your poker face is too good, you know?
Jake: *slowly, he manages to sit himself up with his feet on the ground, hanging his head low and staring at the floor in a defeated pose* If you had it all figured out from the start, why couldn't you just say it?
Wright: *shrugs* I figured it out as I went along. Plus... would you really have told me, if I hadn't dragged it out of you like that?
Jake: *his shoulders shake a bit as he lets out a small, bitter laugh* You ain't a bad detective... I ever tell you that? Maybe you'd have a better shot as a private investigator. Maybe you wouldn't fail... like I did.
Wright: *his expression softens* It's not as though a test like this can prove how good a P.I. you'd be. It's not a one-time exam, is it?
Jake: I can always apply again... but it ain't the exam that's the problem. *speaks slowly and carefully, more out of exhaustion than caution* Theft. Perjury. Assaultin' an officer... all done outta my own interest. The nature of my crimes... hard for 'em to ignore, they told me.
Wright: Ah. ...So they just won't accept you, no matter what?
Jake: "Highly unlikely" -- that's what they said. *puts his hand to his forehead, pushing some of his hair away from his face* Lana may've been able to pull some strings, but me? I don't have the same sorta connections she does. I wasn't actin' under nobody's orders when I did all that. I've dug my own grave... and I'm gonna lie in it.
Wright: That's no reason to drink yourself to death. *shakes his head* After that whole spiel about 'not giving two damns about it'... you're just really afraid of how Lana will take the news, huh?
Jake: *breathes out a fatigued sigh* ...It was one month ago when my baby returned to me, askin' fer my help. She wanted me to get a license and join her... and I know it wasn't easy for her to approach me with a thing like that.
Wright: *stuffs his hands into his pockets* Uh huh... so you think she wouldn't take this latest news well, huh...?
Jake: The ghost of the past won't let me be, it seems. *turns his head slightly, away from Phoenix* I had a bad hangover this mornin'. I'm sure that's what did me in. I've let Lana down dreadfully... Sooner or later, she's gonna grow sick 'n' tired of carin'.
Wright: You think she'd drop you if you don't become a P.I.? *shakes his head* That's not the Lana I know. And you really should have more faith in your love. *there's faint traces of a goofy smile as he says this*
Jake: ... *lifting his head, he gently sits himself back against the couch, closing his eyes and wincing a bit as his stomach still hurts* You don't get it, do you?
Wright: What? --and... tell me to do something as you explain, boss; you look like you're in pain.
Jake: *shakes his head and continues* It's the drinkin'. ...I feel like a danged coward whenever I give into the bottle, and to get over it... I pick up another bottle. Then my head gets all filled up with thoughts o' what Lana might say if she saw me... and drown 'em out with firewater. It never ends.
Wright: .......Ah. Well... *chuckling a bit awkwardly, though his voice is quiet and earnest* I... didn't realize it was that bad. Have you considered just telling her--explaining this and seeing how she'd react?
Jake: You still don't get it. *opens his eyes to look at Phoenix* This is gonna hurt her. And if I can't kick this habit, I just might keep hurtin' her 'til she turns away, no longer able to deal with me... And I wouldn't stop her.
Wright: You've been hiding this from her, though. *looks levelly back at Jake, his gaze approaching a glare* That kind of dishonesty is worse... for her, and yourself included.
Wright: I've never gotten the opportunity to know her better, after her trial... but during that time alone she managed to convince me she was more than capable of handling the truth... and bearing a tough situation for her loved ones.
Jake: *doesn't respond, but the words have gotten through to him; he downcasts his gaze and takes a quiet moment to think* ...Yeah. In all my born days, she's the most capable woman I ever met. She's been through the mill, and then some. All the more reason to not wanna burden her with my deadweight. *tiredly rubs at his temple with one hand* Am I makin' any sense here?
Wright: *shakes his head* No. *smoothes his hand against the fabric of the sofa* Think of running that explanation by her and how she'd react. *raises an eyebrow as if waiting for Marshall's answer*
Jake: *a light groan* Sorry, compadre. I'd rather not think about how she'd react to any o' this right now...
Wright: *glances down, straightening his hat* You owe it to her to be yourself, and to be honest. If you keep on hiding from her--and refusing to let her help you, as I'm sure she'd want to... you don't deserve to be in a relationship.
Jake: *the corner of his mouth twitches to form a slight smirk at that* ...You may be right.
Wright: .......... *glances up warily* If you're gonna twist that to mean you aren't deserving, Marshall...
Jake: *focuses his sights back to Phoenix* Tell me... Do you dream much when you sleep, pardner?
Wright: ...? *frowns slightly* Rarely-only when I'm feeling restless.
Jake: What about nightmares? Ever get those?
Wright: Those are the main types of dreams I have, yeah.
Jake: I've been havin' mostly nothin' but nightmares for the past six years. *brushes his hair back behind his ear -- it falls back into place* But you know what's worse than that?
Wright: *a wave of pity washes through his expression* ...What?
Jake: It's when I don't have a nightmare. *a carefully level tone* The happy ones. A good forty rods in one night helps keep 'em away.
Wright: Seems like you've given up on a happy ending.
Jake: *closes his eyes and weakly puts his head back against the couch, propping up an elbow and placing a hand against his forehead. When he speaks, he sounds more resigned than he has all night* I want to go back.
Wright: *smiles slightly* That's not an available option; you can only work with what you've got-- the present, and the future.
Jake: I'm all too aware o' that, pardner.
Wright: You can't exactly control everything that happens... but you've still got this saloon, this job...
Jake: *deadpans without missing a beat* The saloon's gonna go outta business if things don't turn around for us soon.
Wright: *the response is so unexpected that he flinches visibly, gaping* What? Since when?!
Jake: Thanks to that afterparty and the Gavin boy, we're gonna keep afloat for another good while... but it won't last long. We've been in the red for months. The situation was already ugly before you started workin' here. *smirks, eyes still closed* Sorry if I forgot to tell ya. Slipped my mind, I guess.
Wright: *grimaces, holding his hand to his face* Marshall...
Jake: *can't help but chuckle* Would've been cheaper to hire a repairman to fix my jukebox, I reckon. But I figured you needed the help.
Wright: *is quiet for a good moment--when he removes his hand and speaks again, there's just a hint of repressed emotion to it* I'll be out of your hair by the end of next month.
Jake: *opens his eyes to blink at him in surprise* What?
Wright: *grins* I don't accept charity, boss. And... I know I'm not pulling in enough of a crowd to be worth my paycheck.
Wright: This was never supposed to be anything but temporary, anyway... *with conviction* it should just be ended sooner, rather than later.
Jake: ...Well, at this rate, findin' yerself some new work would be the smart way o' goin' about things. *smiles faintly*
Wright: ... I wish you'd told me sooner. I would've tried to help, somehow.
Jake: *simply* And I woulda rejected yer help. Two can play the stubbornness game.
Wright: *shakes his head, and chuckles* Point taken. *he's quiet for a moment as he thinks through all he's learned over the past few minutes* Well... I don't envy your position.
Jake: Well, now you know. *crosses his arms* You glad to know it?
Wright: *nods* Yeah, I am. It's always better to know the truth, so that one can act on it.
Jake: *frowns* Whether the man in question wants you to know about it or not, huh? Are you always like this?
Wright: Well... yeah. I've been trying to cut down, but I can't always help it. Especially since you've been there for me, in the past.
Jake: ...Hmph. You're a good man, Wright. *smirks* And you know what they say about good men. *points at him* Watch yerself.
Wright: *laughs, getting up off the armrest* Are you gonna shoot me, boss? I can't die, I'm the hero of this story.
Jake: Heroes are a thing of the past, compadre. Don't try to be one -- you're only gonna end up hurt.
Wright: *his eyes twinkle slightly as he walks in front of the couch* Can't help that, either. All I can do is keep up my poker face and pretend otherwise. *offers Jake his hand* Can you get up?
Jake: *with amusement* I'm gonna say "told you so" at yer funeral. *grabs Phoenix's hand and pulls himself up off the couch; he's sobered up some, but he still sways a bit, disoriented by the sudden rush of blood to his aching head* ...Well, I'd better hit the trail.
Wright: You can deliver my eulogy. *looks at him wobble slightly, then takes hold of the cowboy's arm* Here--let me walk you home.
Jake: *doesn't pull away, but gives him an odd look* I'm 35 years old. I can walk myself.
Wright: You're thirty-five and you drank yourself stupid tonight. *nods towards the door, giving his arm a squeeze* Come on.
Jake: *sighs, reluctant* All right, all right. *begins to walk with him, grumbling* I've gotten home alone just fine plenty o' times...
Wright: *looking carefully at Jake as they walk, just in case the man stumbles* You have--but you shouldn't. And I hope you won't mind, boss--but I'm going to keep an eye on you as long as I'm still working here.
Jake: *annoyed like a child who doesn't like being supervised* And if I do mind?
Wright: A ha ha. *opens the door of the back room, gesturing for Jake to go first* Well you could fire me, but I'm looking for a new job anyway.
Jake: *goes on ahead, muttering quietly to himself* I could fire at you...
Wright: You're ready to deliver that eulogy so soon...? *heads through himself, shutting the door*
~~~
Jake: *2019, the first week of May. It's roughly 1:30 AM at the Rusty Gust -- an hour past closing time. Jake idly sweeps the floor of the saloon around the tables for the second time that night. He stops and looks over at the only other person left in the bar with worry*
Wright: *is slumped half over on the bar counter, his hand limply playing with half a glass of bourbon beside him, unfinished--he's mumbling to himself under his breath, clearly all but gone*
Jake: *gives Phoenix a gentle but firm prod in the back with the end of the broomstick, speaking in a cautiously playful tone* Hey. This ain't no inn... Don't you got a cot to lie in somewhere?
Wright: Nnng... *lifts his head slightly, trying to wave off the broomstick handle with an arm--he misses, nearly swiping down his own drink instead. When he speaks, it's slurred* Cot....? Yeah... got a cot sommere...
Jake: .... *with the broom handle, he swats the glass away -- it slides down the counter and ends up in a spot out of the former attorney's reach*
Wright: *blinks* Why'dyou-- hey... *slides forward and paws at the counter, the sleeve of his suit smearing against the various fluids and crumbs on the polished wood surface*
Jake: *the stick smacks against Phoenix's hand* Whoa, pardner. You've had yer fill. *walks up to him and props the broom up against the counter* I need to get home, but I can't be lockin' you up inside here.
Wright: *stares down at the counter, muttering* Jus... leave me here. I don't have anywhere to go.
Jake: *nudges up on the rim of his hat and peers at him* If you don't got nowhere to go, then where'd you come from? Can't be heaven, 'cause you look like hell.
Wright: *laughs bitterly, looking up at Jake* Are you hitting on me...? ... *frowns* No... wait, that's reverse... *mutters off*
Jake: *stares at him for a few beats* C'mon, now. You can't stay here... and no offense, but I don't want to see you in here again t'morrow, either.
Wright: .......... *looks down again, blankly* ...Why...? *it's clear by his tone that he's not questioning Jake-- it's a word he's repeated again and again for the past week*
Jake: *solemnly* Like I told you over and over... I got no answers for you. If there are any, they can't be found here. *tilts his head down, looking at him seriously* It ain't for a man like you. The saloon's only got one solution to yer problem... and you've had enough of it.
Wright: *is utterly quiet for a long time-- for a moment, it seems as though Jake's words have completely gone over his drunken head. Finally... he nods*
Jake: It's been... what? Four, five nights now? *frowns* ...Don't do this to yerself. You don't want to make this a habit.
Wright: ... *nods weakly* Y-yeah... yeah, I know... I'd just... let everyone down further. *shuts his eyes, rubbing at them*
Jake: Back on yer feet now. C'mon. *grabs his keys that were lying next to the register*
Wright: Mm... *staggers up, his legs wobbling slightly. He stumbles, and props himself up with the counter*
Jake: *watches him, a slight hint of concern on his face* You gonna be all right there, pardner? Not gonna fall off a bridge, are ya?
Wright: *blinks blearily* M'fine... I was fine the other five days wasn't I...? Uh huh....
Jake: Listen, pardner... I know how it is, to lose the job you've dreamed about since childhood. Life will go on... but not if you cheat death by goin' home completely soaked every night. *jerks a thumb towards the door* Let's go. I'll walk ya.
Wright: *waves Jake off, shaking his head stubbornly* I'm 27 years old... I can walk myself.
Jake: ..... *goes around the counter and crouches down to rustle through his belongings, looking for something there. He emerges, walks back out of the counter, and before Phoenix knows it, a lasso falls on him*
Wright: H-hey! *struggles, trying to lift up his arms--nearly tripping over in the process*
Jake: *the lasso tightens around Phoenix's shoulders as he tugs hard on the rope* Easy there, dogie! I'm bringin' you back to yer pen. *pulls him towards the doors*
Wright: *stumbles along, too woozy to really protest* You gotta really funny way of walking someone home, you know... ?
Jake: *grins* So long as you come into my saloon to drink the cactus juice I hand out, I'm gonna keep my eye on ya. *goes through the swinging double doors, dragging Phoenix along* It's the least I can do, compadre.
Wright: Nn... Got it, boss... *trips slightly but manages to regain his balance, and fumbles after the cowboy, out the doors*
Jake: That's the spirit! *a rush of cool air comes in when he pushes past the glass doors, and he looks up at the sky* Ah... a starless night. Here we are, a couple o' broken men with broken dreams, headin' onto the dark trails with no map or big dipper as a guide... seein' where the midnight breeze takes us! ....*looks back* Say, what street do you live on again?
Wright: *is utterly unable to decipher any of the cowboy's first few lines--though they're not even as cryptic as usual* Uh... hm. *frowns, tottering slightly*
Jake: ...Make sure to tell me where to turn and all that, y'hear? *holds the door open and whistles sharply at his captive as he gestures towards the streets*
Wright: R-right... *looks blearily about-- for a second he can't quite remember where to go, but the cold air does wonders to help clear his mind* Oh... take a right... then nother right at the light... yeah.
Wright: *it's late, and fortunately for Phoenix, there aren't many people out on the street to see the drunken disbarred lawyer plod homeward, led on rope by an Old West cowboy. Also fortunately for him... he's so wasted, and the events are so bizarre that when he awakes the next day, he either can't remember the last part of the night or dismisses the whole situation as a dream*