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Prize - 31 Days of Apex - Day 4

Summary:

Octane and his squad head to Mirage's bar after a win

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

“Yet another slow night.” Mirage found himself behind his bar, cleaning some more glasses, the glasses weren’t even dirty, he just needed something to do and was bored with playing Rock, Paper Scissors with his decoys – he could never win against them. About 10 to 20 the TV screens around the bar had illuminated with the word ‘Victory’ and the winning squad, comprised of Lifeline, Octane and Wattson. If Mirage’s estimates were correct, and they rarely were, the Legends should be entering the bar anytime around now and it should be livening up. At least, Mirage hoped that was the case, slow business and all that jazz.

And almost on cue, Octane storms in, his phone attached to a long pole and pointed away from him. He was livestreaming, again. “This one was for all my fans.” He shouted out before detaching his phone and putting it into his pocket, along with the telescopic stick. “Ey, Mirage, amigo. Room for one more?” Octane gestured at 8 or so empty bar stools before hopping up onto one himself.

“Watch it there. ‘Amigo’.” Mirage said as he readied a glass for Octane. “What will it be?”

“The house special,” Octane spoke simply, but excitement tinged the emphasis of each word.

“Coming right up.” Mirage retorted. And for a few moments, the bar was back to silence.

Octane seemed to have the innate ability to exude energy that was able to peeve anyone off. Mirage seemed somewhat immune to it. But the person who seemed to be immune to it the most, Lifeline or to her friends, Ajay. “Ey Silva. What are you doing runnin’ ahead of us now?” Came the punchy voice of Lifeline, along with Wattson tagging along behind her.

Both Octane and Mirage turn around slightly and look at the two newcomers. “Ah, the rest of the winning squad.” Mirage called out.
“We won’t be staying long Mirage, just here long enough to make sure that Octane doesn’t so something he might, regret.” Wattson piped up with a hint of cynicism on the last word. The two of them pulled up a seat at one of the tables away from the bar where Octane was sitting. Mirage took the hint and decided to occupy himself with the patron who was sitting practically in-front of him.

There was a silence between the two of them, permeated by Octane greedily gulping down the pint that Mirage had set down in-front of him. Mirage deciding to break the silence between them asked: “Why are you a Legend?” Octane looks genuinely surprised at the question as he sets his glass down with a slam.

“Me? I do it for the rush?” He says excitedly.

“I mean yeah, no I get that.” Mirage says. “You say that a lot.” In the background the Che and Natalie had stopped their nattering.

“I know I do. It’s part of the brand, compadre.” He says with his right hand rifling through a bowl of peanuts. “You know, for the fans.” He says as he shoved a fistful of salted peanuts into his mouth.

“Silva, what happened to ya manners?” Shouted Lifeline from the distance. This drew Mirage’s attention, and he wandered idly over the table and pitched the same question to the two of them.

Lifeline was taken aback. “I’m not here for myself, unlike Silva over there.” Was her simple answer. Mirage knew better than to push the topic, he knew that Lifeline will only open up to show her weakness on occasion.

“What about you Wattson?” he asked inquisitively.

Like Lifeline, Wattson took a few moments to respond, her face was a contortion of pain and deep thought. But unlike Lifeline, Wattson held her cards closer to her chest, and replied with a simple shake of the head. And with that the awkward silence returned to the room.

Mirage found himself back behind his bar, where seconds turned to minutes and minutes into an hour. Wattson was the first to leave the bar, heading back to her quarters where she found her Nessie plush that her mother had made for her before she passed away, and held it tight to her chest.

Lifeline left maybe 10 minutes after Wattson. In her quarters, she stored a part of her winnings in a plain, simple, brown envelope.
The last to leave and the first to enter, Octane booted back up his PDA and checked the photo he’d posted just before he got a drink.

Notes:

I'm not the happiest with this either. I couldn't really settle on one idea for this prompt so I kinda just compromised and went for two different ideas and tried to splice them into one. Ah well. Maybe tomorrow's will be better! Thank you for reading!

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