That Was Us

[Matt Wilson]

Matt popped the top of the beer bottle, sending the little metal top skittering into the alley to join a handful of fellows. He pulled the bottle back, taking a swig before turning to set it down on the cement stoop beside him. He adjusted it slightly, playing for a moment with the neck before looking down the street, to where lines of kids stood waiting to get into the clubs and bars.

"Can ya remember when that was us?" he asked, looking over his drinking partner. The six-pack, well, three pack now, sat between him and one of the few men that Matt had ever met that could actually make him look on the smaller side. Hard not to think of him as Sergeant Corey Spencer, even after all these years. Matt definitely couldn't count the number of times he and Corey had done just this: sitting around, shooting the shit and knocking back some beers.

"Though I seem to remember a lot more bar fights," Matt continued speculatively, reaching for his drink again. "With places that you walked in an' wondered if you didn't jus' pick up some kinda disease with a long ass name." He took a pull, then gestured behind him toward his bar with the bottle. "Suppose I did right in replicatin' that here?"

[Corey Spencer]

((Guess who forgot to bookmark this thread... Yep... I'm such a genius sometimes))

Corey could only nod in his own, contemplative way. Indeed, his drinking partner was right. The two of them had seen far more of their share of life, both good and bad. While the big man remained haunted by many of the memories there was something to be said for recounting some of the better times. Especially when those times revolved around sneaking into bars and clubs when they were kids.

"I remember the girls being younger back then too." Corey let out a light chuckle and took a long pull from the beer bottle that was dwarfed by his massive hand. "And I don't know about you, but I've had enough fighting. Nothing wrong with two old soldiers riding off into the sunset." He replied before issuing a light laugh. "All the way to Montana." He added. "Of all the places in the world we could've landed, and we came here." Though the smirk on his face and light tone to his voice belied the harsh words spoken about their new hometown.

[Matt Wilson]

"An' their boobs were a lot bigger too," Matt insisted, holding his hands out some distance from his chest as if indicating a rather impressive (and probably unrealistic) rack. he lowered them, reaching for his beer. He definitely needed to salute the thought of not fighting anymore, before taking another swig.

"I dunno, ain't too far off for me," Matt pointed out before nodding. "Wide open spaces, honky tonk bar, cowboys an' horses. Jus' mess around with the accents a bit an' crank up the heat an' I wouldn't know I wasn't back in Texas." Matt tapped his bottle a few times. "'course, the school ain't in Texas, an' that's what's drawin' us all back here." He looked out again. They definitely didn't want to fight any more, so maybe aligning with the school was a bad thing? There'd been SPECTRE and IMAC and all. Things were quiet now, but that stuff wasn't too far on the horizon.

"Hell, I'm gettin' contemplative," Matt said. "You know that's usually a sign to kick a few more back and see what sorta shit we can stir up," Matt grinned and chuckled before taking another pull, almost as if taunting that he'd do precisely what he said.

[Corey Spencer]

A snort of a laugh escaped as Corey's head shook. He'd brought the bottle back up to his lips, though had to pause after the lewd comment from his old Army buddy. "I don't remember any of the thirteen year olds you used to run around with being nearly that busty." Corey replied, gesturing at the boobs Matt was describing with the beer bottle.

"Yeah, guess you're right." Corey squinted a bit as he glanced about. He hadn't grown up with open plains and cowboys were only seen on TV westerns. He figured one quiet, unassuming town was as good as any other. Though his friend may have been onto something. "Well, maybe it's not so much giving it up as it is finding something worth fighting for." Corey replied. He'd always been driven by duty, something he took no small amount of crap for during his time in the Army.

"That's alright. Just go back to thinking about boobs and the skanks you used to bang." Corey didn't intend on testing Matt's threat. They'd been in this situation far too many times for him to make that mistake. "Because I am not bailing you out of jail. Again."

[Matt Wilson]

"You ain't rememberin' the right girls," Matt drawled back. He sighed, wandering into the misty, boob-filled halls of memory for a few seconds there. In actuality he'd been thinking more about the kind of girls they'd seen on leave, which were decidedly not like thirteen year olds and a little more like the ones lined up not too far away. But now Matt's mind was delving even further back, remembering some sweet Texas fillies and some of the girls he'd wrapped around himself back when he'd been a student at the school up the hill instead of a trainer.

Something worth fighting for: "you think this place has that?" Matt asked, actually curious. He hadn't been around enough to really find something like that. People he liked, sure, and he could stand by what the school did. But there was something more definite in what Corey said there, something that made Matt think that he was talking about something or maybe someone in particular.

"Man, you know I ain't that easy to distract," Matt replied, throwing a bit more country into it. "An' we both know that I make way more money than you, so I'd be handin' over the cash to your steroid riddled ass to be payin' me out," Matt tapped the bottle again, looking. "Now what's this about somethin' to protect? You holdin' out on me? There ain't, like, a secret lab of bunnies in the school or somethin', is there?" And no, Matt couldn't say for sure if he meant the actual animal or ones that would pose for Playboy.