Work Text:
Two gingers, a man and a woman, stand on a make-shift stage created from a wood palette. Their small, two-man band, known as The Outlaws, are performing as a favor for the venue’s owner, a close friend of theirs. The man sings his heart out, strumming his guitar along, and the woman plays her bass to the best of her ability. They sound quite good, despite their lukewarm reception.
The two reside within a run-down dive bar just outside of Camden, New Jersey known as The Red Corpse. Only four people lounge around the establishment, three of which are heavily inebriated, and the remaining fourth well on her way.
The door opens abruptly, the loud chime of the bells and the entrance’s occupant quickly attracting the bar patron’s attention. A faint screech comes from the band’s single speaker as they halt their playing. The man walks slowly to the bar, sits down, and orders three shots of hard whiskey. He takes no notice of the awe on the regular’s faces. He is obviously not from around here.
The Outlaws resume their set, and finish it out within the hour. One of the patrons has left, two of the remaining three were forcibly removed by Kory, and the last heads for the hills when she approaches him. The gingers take their seats on either side of the man, who has long since finished his libations. The woman orders two beers for the both of them, and ‘whatever he was having’ for the man in between. The redheads are each delivered a can of RC Cola, and the man receives a spare shot of whiskey.
The band grins at the bar-tender, who, in turn, grimaces. As he heads around back, his expression morphs into a slight smile. They are revealed to be well-acquainted. The ginger man introduces himself as Roy, and informs him that his fire-haired counterpart is Kory. They wait for the man between them to say something.
He frowns. “Jason,” he states in a hard, rough tone. He downs the shot and leaves a fifty dollar bill, much more than he owes. He promptly leaves. The two gingers look at each other, shrug, and begin to drink their own refreshments.
The following nights, all that week, Jason’s silent arrival becomes routine. He arrives, drinks, and leaves, never saying a word since their initial meeting.
Five days from Jason’s appearance is The Outlaws’ last performance. After close, he is still at the bar. Kory and Roy take up their usual spots on either side of Jason, making idle conversation.
“You know,” Roy starts, “we haven’t heard you say anything about yourself. We’ve been fairly selfish, keeping the banter between us.”
“Roy,” Kory chastises, “if he wants to speak, he will. He has the right to keep his thoughts inside.”
“Yeah, but we’re leaving tonight!” He whines.
Jason lifted his head and set down his glass. “Tonight?”
Roy’s face lights up. “Holy shit, he speaks!”
Kory glared at him, and turned a polite face on Jason. “Yes, that was our last performance.”
“Disappointed you don’t get to see more of this?” Roy teases.
“Yes.” Jason states.
Roy’s jaw drops. Kory attempts stifle a laugh with her hand, failing to do so.