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“I cannot believe that of all the people in that bar, you had to get in a fight.” a gruff voice shouted to itself after closing a car door with the loudest slam he could muster.
Emmet’s eyes watched the man walk in the front of the vehicle, bright headlights harshly contrasting them to a shadow as they made it over to the driver’s side while continuing to loudly complain about the situation. They opened the door and closed it after getting in with just as much force as the previous.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself about this, Brickowski?” he was asked, Emmet looked over at him in response. It was Bad Cop and— though he couldn’t see it through his aviators— he could tell the guy was seething with rage over his mishap. Emmet looked away again and directed his attention toward the side mirror. Wincing at the black eye and cut lip that now occupied his face.
“… I didn’t even throw a punch.” Emmet finally commented after he could tell BC was about to lose whatever short fuse he had left to spare.
“That’s not what the guy’s broken nose told me.” BC snapped back as he revved up the car and started to pull out, “Now why don’t y’actually explain to me what happened while I left you for only 5 minutes to go to the washroom?”
“… If it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t over a cup coaster.”
“Actually, it doesn’t. Considering you’re the one that told me that fib in the first place on our way to the car.”
Emmet winced once more… both because he’d forgotten that so quickly and a sharp turn BC took pushed himself against the door with his sore shoulder, “Well.. It was because he kept trying to offer me a shot.”
“…What’s wrong with that?” BC raised a brow. Usually someone would be elated that someone was buying them a drink for no charge.
“I don’t like being drunk.”
This time BC almost looked over in response to that sudden answer and if he hadn’t been driving and valued his darn license, he actually would’ve,
“… What? You hadn’t even had a single thing there… Don’t you go to that place daily anyways?”
“Well, yeah. But, this guy was basically plastered. You saw him! I politely declined after 3 times and then he got…”
“Intimidating?”
“… To say the least. Yeah, he did. He got intimidating… and delivered the first hit. So, it was self defense, okay?”
BC sighed as he finally turned to Emmet for a good while at a stoplight, getting a brief— yet closer— look at his wounds. He’d gotten punched in the eye and allegedly thrown into the stool he was sitting in… Not without retaliation, though. Emmet’s right hand had a bit of blood on it from sucker punching the guy in the face afterwards. He turned back toward the road and continued on. The story seemed to check out with the wounds, at least.
“That still doesn’t answer one of my questions, though. What did you mean you didn’t like to get drunk? That’s an obvious thing and one shot of whiskey for a regular like you couldn’t be that bad.”
There was another sigh, slightly heavier and coming from Emmet this time around. He hesitated on speaking, trying to figure out how to spit this out. After a while, he bit his lip and took a deep breath.
“I don’t actually get anything alcoholic there… I’m a lightweight.”
At that moment, for the first time in what seemed like ages; Emmet heard Bad Cop laugh. Not just a regular laugh either. It was one of those that started as a sputter but escalated quickly into near-hysterics. He tried to control it and lifted his aviators up, switching into GC, who had a slightly more airy laugh and had a better time controlling the car through this.
“O-Oh?! I.. I had no idea! T-That’s quite ah… Unexpected!” he couldn’t keep a straight face trying to say that last word. Emmet’s however, was straight as a line. His signature blank expression kicking in per usual, only to be shortly after replaced with a slight scowl… though it looked more like a pout.
“Uh huh… Whatever. It’s true! I’m admitting it! I can’t have more than one beer with the guys before going way past the mark of sober. I don’t even get a buzz!” he grumbled afterwards, cradling his arm in slight embarrassment and in an attempt to cross both his arms shoddily, ignoring any more sharp pain he received from the action.
GC relaxed from his laughter and kept his eyes on the road a bit more firmly now. There was a beat or two before he started talking again, “There’s nothin’ wrong with bein’ a…” he paused, “A… Lightweight, as ye put it.” he couldn’t help but chuckle at that specific wording again and took another deep breath, “I’m just glad you’re aware of it and don’t drink irresponsibly.”
Emmet relaxed from his defensive tension as GC continued to speak, “We only laughed because… well, let’s be honest here. Ye really don’t look like you’re one… and like ol’ BC said, you’re a regular at the sports bar, right?”
GC parked the car and looked over at Emmet’s face, which was now lit up from one of the streetlights next to the construction worker’s house. Good Cop could see his eyes flusteredly looking out the window, “…Emmet?”
With a jump, Emmet looked at Good Cop and he bit his lip again, “Yeah… Look, I’m.. I’m sorry for ruining this. I know it was one of your only days off and I was the one who asked in the first place and—” he was cut off by GC’s index and thumb fingers pursing his lips together.
“Emmet. It’s fiiine! We know ye didn’t mean it! You aren’t the kind to get into fights and you said it was self defense and I believe ya!” He let go and gestured toward the building behind Emmet’s side of the car, “What you need to do instead of talking a mile a minute is to get your behind to your apartment.” Following that statement, Emmet tiredly nodded and began taking off his seat belt and opening the door.
With Good Cop doing the same.
Emmet paused as he heard the other door open while he was in mid-step of getting out of the car, “Wait— Are you coming in with me?” He asked, getting out and closing the door behind him in an almost meek manner.
“I’m just gonna make sure you get inside safely, s’all.” Good Cop turned toward him and smiled as genuine as he always did. This caused Emmet’s face to flush to a light shade of pink,
“O-Oh. Well… That’s reasonable enough.”
Emmet felt almost light-headed as he walked toward the building, watching Good Cop motion him to his side at the door and holding it open. He didn’t notice how heavy he felt everywhere else until he heard him almost stomp up the stairs, either. That toss must of hit him harder than he thought.
He pulled on his face and went inside the hall and listened to Good Cop’s mumbling that almost completely blurred itself to a humming static and reverberated through his skull. He felt the heaviness from earlier suddenly fading in chunks and causing him to lose his balance.
The humming from earlier was getting a bit louder, almost frantic… was Good Cop yelling at him? His vision felt a bit hazy and everything just seemed to heat up at an almost alarming rate. Emmet grabbed what he believed to be the Stair railing and he could just faintly feel somebody patting his back. It felt pleasant but the panicked static running through his mind was just making the now formed headache pound even worse.
Eventually the buzzing stopped to a halt… as well as whatever Emmet was capable of seeing and feeling at that moment.