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Sonny’s about to turn the door knob and step into the bar when it seems to actually occur to him not okay all of this is. As in, a phenomenally bad idea. Definitely up there with sneaking out and taking his dad’s car senior year and the pornstache. It had been a fun idea in theory. Accidentally run into her at the bar. Actually talk with her. Even on his way to the out of the way dive bar he’d managed to convince himself; this is a great idea. But he was holding the jiggly, ornate handle now, it was happening, it wasn’t some strange daydream anymore. And no amount of “well, she’s more a witness…” and “Barba snarks at me anyways” could change that. At least he had the thought, and the thought was nice.
Pulling his hand away, he takes a deep, settling breath and spins. He should’ve just gone in. There she was, a “smart alleck” grin –that’s what his mother called them- spread across her face and stubbing out the smoldering remains of a cigarette. And everything about how wrong this is or how right it shouldn’t be just seemed to shatter.
“It’s 8:50,” she smiles, it takes everything in him to ignore his face heating up, “I’m not in there quite yet.”
Sonny swallows hard, trying not think about if the blush is her or embarrassment, “Ah figured. Just thought Ah’d check it out, ya know? Kinda close to my place an’ all,” he shrugs, aiming for somewhere between casual and nonchalance.
River hums quietly, almost like she doesn’t believe him. She shouldn’t, “I wasn’t exactly clear about what time two dollars of shots started, huh?” it’s a forced out for him, she’s offering a lifeline.
He shrugs again-dammit stop shrugging! “Just figured 9.”
Stepping around him there’s a short laugh, “yeah. That’s just when it gets good,” pulling the door open for him.
“Meaning?” stepping around her and into the bar, thinking to himself he should’ve held it open.
The grin she has never stops, she just takes a step in and they’re greeted by a chorus River from every direction, “It’s when I get here, of course.”
The smile on his face is easy, trailing beside her up to the bar, “Of course,” watching a few people return to their conversations, another several send waves and smiles her way, and the bartender already has her drink ready and is handing it over, “Come here often?”
She points at her drink and then him, handing it in the process, “I believe that’s my line, Detective,” receiving another drink in under a minute, “Cheers?”
His eyes are on his drink. His mind stuck on skip at this phenomenally bad idea. He can almost hear his father’s voice -What the hell were you thinking? Oh that’s right! You weren’t! – this could be a car crash waiting to happen all over again. But she’s there and she’s smiling at him. And it feels so good after so long, “Cheers,” tapping his glass against hers.
It burns going down, he shouldn’t be surprised. It is Whiskey Wednesday. He doesn’t cough, he manages to hold back his wince, “Dat-dat’s good,” it’s strangely sobering, even as his voice comes out a comical croak.
“More of a beer guy?” River’s laugh is deep, a bit smoky, and she uses her free hand to hide her mouth. Sonny finds himself wishing she wouldn’t, he’d very much like to her smile as she laughed. But he doesn’t say it, he doesn’t say anything, it’s another sobering thought. All he does is nod, her next laugh is shorted, “You should probably get a beer then,” leaning against the bar. Sprawled.
His mouth is dry, he’s sure his face is still red, and Barba saying his name with vehement anger seems to be quietly playing on a loop with punctuating bits of his father’s. And he knows he’s supposed to say something but it’s hard to push words out.
“You probably shouldn’t, huh?” looking at him as if she’s been listening to his inner monologue this whole times and wishes she hadn’t been, “I’m a witness, you’re a detective on the case,” he’s not sure, but there almost seems to be disappointment in her voice, “I get it. I really do,” he feels as disappointed as he’s sure she sounds. River’s right, he’s been right. You probably shouldn’t.
“You’re right, Ah shouldn’t,” he watches her sip her drink, taking a step back, “Not dat I don’t want to,” smiling, trying it make it less uncomfortable for the both of them, “Ah just shouldn’t,” it doesn’t work for either of them. It’s clear.
“So, I’ll see you at the hearing then?” he watches her trying not to watch him and he wants to stay. But he can’t.
Sonny gulps, gives a jerky nod she can’t see, “Yeah at the hearing. You-uh.” Taking a few steps back, his back pushes against the door, “You have a goodnight, River.”
“You too,” she turns back to the bar and he spins out onto the sidewalk.
He’s a proud of himself, he left, he made the right choice. He had lived up to the title of detective he’s so long earning by respecting what he had been taught. He had separated himself. But that part of himself wasn’t loud enough. Just like the voices of his father and Barba hadn’t been. Sonny leaned up against the side of the building, wondering if he hadn’t faltered if she would’ve said anything. If she hadn’t said anything, would he have stayed? He’d like the nervousness he felt looking at her, the chance to get to know her, wanting to see her smile. Even the disappointment in her voice had made him full of pride? Happiness? Excitement? Dread? She’d wanted to see him. And he’d walked out the door, leaving a feeling of guilt to swirl around with all the other confusing ones roaming him system.
“Ah need a beer,” the irony isn’t lost on him. He had beer at him, a home just a few blocks away from here. There was studying that could be done, laundry and dishes that needed to be done. All he had to do was take the first step, hold his ground. He’d made the right decision, he was already outside, it wouldn’t be hard to just keep on walking, “Dammit.”
He spins on his heels, turns the jiggling, ornate knob, and steps back into the bar.