Enterprise Center, St Louis, Missouri, Saturday Afternoon

[pocketpretzels]

After they'd found their seats- nothing extravagant, though also not high up in the nosebleeds, but something reasonable in the lower bowl- Watts had almost immediately sprung back up to head to the concessions, coming back several minutes later with popcorn, nachos, a pretzel, a beer, a glass cup of wine, and two hot dogs (all beef, he'd checked). How was he managing to carry all that? Good question, don't worry about it.

"I wasn't certain what sort of fixings you'd care for," Watts said, as he handed the beer and one of the hot dogs to Marc. "So I brought some of everything." From a pocket, he produced ketchup and mustard packets, as well as several condiment cups with things like onions, hot peppers, and whatever else one might put on a hot dog.

Had Marc requested any of that? Possibly not, but he was getting it anyway.

Comments

[hasaknightjob]

"I'm not asking how you're carrying all that," Marc said. He did take as much off of Watts's hands as he could. "What do I owe ya?"

[pocketpretzels]

"Your company," Watts said, shaking his head. "This was meant to be my gift for you. Wouldn't do to have you spending your money."

Were their finances in a weird state of shared-but-also-not anyway? Not the point.

[hasaknightjob]

"If my company's payment I'm still going to end up owing you," Marc said with a wry grimace.

[pocketpretzels]

"I think it's been well established that I find you unobjectionable," Watts pointed out.

[hasaknightjob]

"Your loss," Marc replied. Though he did hold out his cup to toast against Llewellyn's. "Ditto."

[pocketpretzels]

"Cheers," Watts said, carefully clinking his plastic cup against Marc's. No, it wouldn't break, but there was a chance of overpriced liquor sloshing over the edge.

[hasaknightjob]

"You doing okay?" Marc asked before taking a healthy bite of his hot dog. Or as healthy as the bite of a concession stand hot dog could be.

[pocketpretzels]

"This is surprisingly good for- sports arena wine," Watts replied, after a tentative sip of his wine.

[hasaknightjob]

"Didn't even know they had that," Marc admitted. Of course he wasn't a wine guy in general so he wouldn't have thought to ask.

[pocketpretzels]

"They've mixed drinks, even," Watts reported. Which wasn't really either of their thing so was unlikely to go sampled during this excursion, but they did exist.

[hasaknightjob]

"That makes sense," Marc said. "You can hide the taste and charge more."

[pocketpretzels]

"Ah," Watts nodded. "Devious."

[hasaknightjob]

"Must've dealt with that a lot," Marc said. "Devious people."

[pocketpretzels]

"Me?" Watts asked. "Hm. Yes. You're not incorrect. And that includes more than just criminals."

[hasaknightjob]

"Does it make it hard for you to trust?" Marc asked.

[pocketpretzels]

"I am a doubter by nature and a cynic by experience," Watts informed Marc. "Part of that experience being acquired through my capacity as a policeman, yes."

[hasaknightjob]

Marc nodded, since that made sense to him. "I see the worst of the worst. But way I figure it's my job. I take that so other people don't have to."

[pocketpretzels]

"A heavy burden to take on," Watts noted.

[hasaknightjob]

"Someone's gotta," Marc said. He took a deep swallow of his beer. "If it's not me, it's someone worse than me."

[pocketpretzels]

"I suppose so," Watts said. "All told, I am glad I have you in- my corner, as they say in boxing."

[hasaknightjob]

"I used to do that," Marc said. He finished off his hot dog and wiped his hands on a paper napkin.

[pocketpretzels]

"Boxing?" Watts asked, not sounding even remotely surprised about this revelation.

[hasaknightjob]

"Yeah." Marc then made a so-so motion with his hand. "Fighting. Included some boxing. I know a few things."

[pocketpretzels]

"Never been much of a pugilist myself," Watts noted with a grimace. "More of a walking target."

[hasaknightjob]

"Yeah, we're gonna keep that from happening," Marc said, firmly.