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Fairytale; Siryn
Topic Started: Dec 17 2011, 09:08 PM (146 Views)
Sean Cassidy
Unregistered

Grady Murphy's Pub: 20:28, 16.12.11.


It was Christmas Eve, babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me
"Won't see another one"


The song carried on until its melancholy conclusion as the patrons and barflies prattled on over the folk stylings of the old Irish festive tune. Sean took a mouthful of scotch and cursed his choice of bars. It had been a safe haven back in his early days with Interpol, and he had frequented it for its generally sterling choice of music; that it was precisely the music making him feel miserable tonight was an irony he hadn't failed to notice. Christmas used to be his favourite time of year; Maeve's, too. Those days were long gone, however, and now he was spending Christmas alone with only his new bumper salary and his SHIELD badge for company. In truth, he refused to have it any other way these days. People were just baggage, and reflecting on that fact made it a damn sight easier to work up the fortitude to tell his daughter about his choice of employers too.

He checked his phone, just because. She wasn't late, he had merely hoped to get it over and done with as quickly as possible; and such impatience always seemed to make the time drag. The sooner it was consigned to history, the sooner he could get on with the business of drinking the night away. Well, what else was he expected to do with his free time? He scratched his reddish stubble - now threatening to grow into an all-out beard - and finished his whiskey. Lucas had made a point of chiding him over his facial hair - the words 'perpetual bachelorhood' had arisen once or twice - but Sean had no time for their old banter. The age of jokes had passed; there was very little about the world that could be classed as 'funny' anymore. Sean stared at the bottle of Bushmills sitting pretty behind the bar. He contemplated just buying the whole thing and pouring his own drinks until the bells rang; but that would have to wait until after Terry had come and gone.

Though once he had been so responsible with alcohol, Sean had felt his resolve slipping. Whatever example he had tried to set for Theresa while they were at Xavier's had clearly failed, so there was no incentive now for him abstain. Besides, Terry was old enough to start making her own mistakes and dealing with the consequences - even if the absurd law in America disagreed. Well, they could all go to hell, Sean thought to himself. The flaws and abuses of American law enforcement - both domestic and international - provided a strong enough case for the opposition. One way or the other, his daughter was going to do whatever she wanted, and that was fine by him. That's what adulthood was, after all - being empowered to make your own mistakes and being made to live with them. Nobody there to wipe up your mess anymore. "Another," Sean said, sliding his whiskey tumblr across to the bartender as he took a sip of his beer.

As the long arm of his watch struck 30, Sean decided to shoot off a quick message to his daughter to make sure she wasn't standing outside in the cold waiting for him. 'Inside at bar,' it read - short and sweet. He'd never been the type to sign off with hugs or kisses.
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