Bethany slid onto a stool near Ames, Noam taking a low seat at a nearby table. Noam’s gaze followed Leo around the bar as Leo filled up a glass for Bethany at the spigot, like he still expected Leo to whip out a gun and a badge at any second.
“So,” Ames said. “What’s ... new, I guess? Latest updates from the barracks?”
“Nothing, really,” Bethany said. “Taye’s working his way through all the original James Bond films, so we’re all being subjected to that.”
“Not the worst thing in the world,” Ames said slyly. “I mean, that blond Bond was pretty fucking built, right?”
“I’m more intrigued by Vesper Lynd, actually.”
“Fair. Shewasthe most interesting of the Bond girls—”
“I’m interested in most of them,” Bethany said.
“Really?You can’t tell me Pussy Galore had character development.”
“Not interested like that.” Ames still looked confused, so Bethany added: “Interested.In a gay way. Because I’m gay.”
“Oh.”
Dara covered a laugh with a quick gulp of club soda. He’d known since—well, always, of course; telepathy didn’t allow many secrets. But as far as he knew, this was the first time Bethany had put it into words.
He had, however, thought Bethany’s being lesbian was a tiny bit obvious.
“Cool,” Ames added lamely. “Like ... no, I mean, it’s cool. Of course it’s cool. Dara’s gay, so.”
“Let’s not make this weird,” Bethany said.
“Nope, no weirdness here,” Ames said, and after a second she reached over and grabbed Bethany round the shoulders, pulling her in for a rough sideways hug. Bethany yelped, and Ames laughed, said, “You’re weird enough in other ways.”
“Look who’s talking.” Dara quirked a brow at Ames, who let go of Bethany to flick some of her drink at him.
They managed to shift the conversation back to Taye and his movie preferences, which transformed into a lively debate about whether James Bond or the hero of a newer Carolinian spy movie would win in a fight, and Dara ate his way,again, through all Leo’s bar snacks trying to fuel his argument.
Pig,said a voice in Dara’s head. It sounded a lot like Lehrer’s.
“I’ll get more,” Leo said, moving to get off his stool, but Dara stood first.
“No—I ate them all, so I’d better take responsibility for my own gluttony. Where do you keep the rest?”
“Back room.” Leo gestured over his shoulder, past the bar, toward a shut door. “In a big box labeled, unsurprisingly,bar snacks.”
“I’ll go with him,” Noam said swiftly, pushing up from his chair and flashing a brief smile in Dara’s direction. “I wanna check out your beer collection, anyway.”
More likely he didn’t want to send Dara into a room full of booze alone, but Dara didn’t call him out on it. Noam trailed him into the back room, wandering past Dara as Dara searched for the snack box, both of Noam’s hands thrust in his pockets, gazing up at the labels on all the beer crates. As if Noam had actually developed a nuanced palate for craft ales in the past six months on top of everything else.
“You and Ames doing okay?” Noam said eventually. He still had his back to Dara, was pretending to be fascinated by a box of IPAs. “Anything ... do you need anything?”
“Not really,” Dara said.
“Is she ... I mean, she was kind of spiraling, back in Level IV. She’s been spiraling ever since her dad. So ... I don’t know.”
“She’s okay,” Dara said, which felt like an oversimplification, but he wasn’t sure Noam would really get it even if Dara tried to explain. Dara and Ames had built a friendship out of mutual self-destruction, chasing oblivion because it was easier than facing reality. And sure, maybe Noam enjoyed a drink every now and then, but he wasn’t like Dara. He wasn’t like Ames. He didn’t have that sickness inside him, constantly threatening to swell up and overtake everything.
Dara had talked to Ames about it a lot, lately. Sobriety, withdrawal, how difficult it was to face the emptiness that all the drugs and alcohol had been covering up for so long.
But ... frankly, Ames probably needed more help than Dara could offer. Professional help.
Not that Dara would say that out loud.
