Chapter Text
1. For fun
Nagi has been working with Jack Vandham for a good while by now. They’re friends, he’s pretty sure. They talk at work, even when their duties do not overlap. They sometimes eat together, whenever their busy schedules allow it. Sometimes they go out for drinks and dinner after work, occasionally with but oftentimes without their other coworkers.
Nagi finds he likes Vandham. The man is impatient, loud, and crude. He doesn’t hold back and lets people know exactly what’s on his mind, be they superiors or regular workers. He has a sharp tongue and a hundred different insults and curses for every occasion. Nagi is pretty sure the only reason Vandham hasn’t gotten fired long ago are his invaluable skills as an engineer and mechanic.
It’s rather refreshing, compared to the bureaucrats and politicians who talk in circles around issues and subjects, using all kinds of fancy words, never actually getting to the point or giving real answers. Nagi is aware this is sometimes the best approach, depending on the subject, but here it’s mostly unnecessary.
In the months he’s known Vandham, Nagi has gotten to know the man better than any of his other coworkers. Vandham likes talking normally, and after a few drinks he couldn’t shut him up if he wanted to.
He knows Vandham is more clever than most people think, as many of them don’t see him as anything other than another dumb, loud American. And it’s not just mechanical things he knows a great deal about. Something Nagi knows, but many people don’t, is that he can use the same fancy words as any bureaucrat, but can never be bothered to. He knows Vandham doesn’t care for tea, but drinks at least five cups of coffee a day. He knows the man also likes making bets about anything that strikes his mind at the moment, and that Nagi for some reason indulges him by participating.
“Loudmouths are back,” Vandham murmurs one evening at their regular bar, rolling his eyes pointedly. When Nagi glances over his shoulder he sees a couple, a man and a woman, sitting down at a table by the window. They’re regulars who show up several nights a week, and seem to live in some kind of soap opera, arguing, breaking up, being unable to stay away from each other, and then getting back together, only to repeat it all a few days later.
Nagi restrains himself from rolling his own eyes and turns back to his drink. “Think there’s any chance they stay together this time?” he asks Vandham, careful to keep his voice down.
“No way in hell,” Vandham snorts, shaking his head. “Bet they won’t last two hours.”
Nagi can already hear the couple raising their voices at each other and senses an impending shouting match, even across the room. “They won’t last half an hour at this rate.”
“Yeah,” Vandham agrees. He sips his drink thoughtfully. “Bet they’ll be back together in two days.”
“I bet they’ll get back together by tomorrow night,” Nagi offers, and they shake on it.
Across the room the woman springs up from her chair, yelling that she’s really breaking up with him this time, for real, before storming off.
The next evening when Nagi and Vandham come in for a drink and a snack, the couple is back together, cooing over each other like a pair of teenagers on a first date. Vandham hands Nagi his winning without a word.
Another thing Nagi knows about Vandham is that the man has at least one tattoo that is the result of a drunken bet.
“Really?” Nagi asks, raising an eyebrow. They’re at their regular bar for an after-work drink or three. “Is it that one?” he asks, pointing to the only tattoo he can see on Vandham, the one on his upper arm. He’s not entirely sure if he’s correct, as the tattoo seems rather detailed with neat lines for something done on a drunken whim.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Vandham confirms, twisting his arm slightly to look at it himself. “Didn’t look all that great at first, so I had it fixed up a bit later.”
“But not removed?” Nagi inquires. It’s what he would have done if he’d gotten an ugly tattoo because of a bet he’d made while drunk out of his mind. Then again, he’s not Vandham.
“Nah, it’s a damn good tattoo,” Vandham says, shrugging his large shoulders, muscles flexing visibly in his arms. “Well, at least after I got it fixed. Was a fucking mess before that.”
“Is it your only tattoo?” Nagi finds himself asking, curious. Surely someone who’s so casual about a messed up tattoo he got while drunk and had to get righted has to have some experience with them.
“Why?” Vandham grins, leaning on the bar counter to look at Nagi, his brilliant blue eyes practically sparkling with mischief. “You wanna find out?”
“Just making conversation,” Nagi says, nearly rolling his eyes at Vandham’s antics as he takes a sip from his drink.
“Well,” Vandham says, still grinning. “I ain’t about to strip down here for you to take a look, so you’ll just have to live with your curiosity.”
“That so?” is all Nagi says, downing the rest of his drink. He can almost feel a blush creeping up on his cheeks and hopes it can simply be passed off as a side effect from the alcohol.
He thinks he might just have been flirted with.