Post by Scribe on May 10, 2011 18:22:30 GMT -5
4 December, 2170
Planetside down on Gaia
Three days. He'd been on Gaia for three full days, having entered holiday leave for over two weeks. A lot of fun or damage could be done in three days yet Mason managed to cram forth full the fun, only to erase it all and sink up to his neck in damaged hell. All within his first three hours planetside on the 20th. The best turned worst night of his life.
Not remotely proud of this one, he remained at home drinking with his old man for the next few days, being the positive sounding board against his dad's lack of having anyone to talk to. Elsie's health and stability hadn't been good for years and had taken a turn for the worse in the past two months, putting Tony in quite a state. There wasn't much Mason could do but sit there, listening to dear Dad and be that supportive buddy his father relied on. It was beginning to wear him down, day after day, even if he could visibly see it helping Tony.
On the morning of the twenty-fourth, Mason got up and once more bypassed shaving (as he tended to do when on extended leave). If he left his bedroom to get breakfast, there his dad would be waiting with another am beer and before he knew it, he'd blink and it would be Christmas Eve dinner, drinks all over again with them passing out before Santa could pretend to come. Then again, if he played his cards right...
Maxy needed a break and to have a real conversation with a real friend. Granted, that person was also someone he managed to mess things up with too, having not spoken to Tennyson in the past three weeks. Stark's reaction to The Night of Justine (as Mason was beginning to call it in his head) was not good and freaked Maxy out to a degree, so he handled it like he handled most things of such a personal nature. Avoidance.
Until now.
INCOMING PM
From: Cmdr McCulloch, M.A.
To: CMO Stark, T.S.
Hey man, long time no talk. Hope you've been doing good and Medical hasn't been running you into the ground. I've been doing good. On leave for the holidays.
What are you doing today on Christmas Eve, during the day? I'm thinking drinks and skating around, slapping the puck. Interested?
From Maxy to Stark, this was a pretty long text and he hoped his best friend would read between the lines to accept the olive branch. He wanted to see if the medical officer was okay or how bad those stirred up memories messed him up. Another big part of Mason felt pretty bad because, at the end of the day, knowing what he knew now about Tennyson and his ex-wife Vera, if he had to do it all over again... McCulloch would have still asked Stark to perform the termination. What kind of a fucking crappy friend was that?
Determined to make things better, ideas already spinning off his brain, Mason let the written message flow through the technology information gateway and waited. If he didn't hear back from Stark, it was going to be beer and toast for breakfast again. Which, all in all, there were far worse fates than being drunk four days in a row with your dad.
INCOMING PM
From: CMO Stark, T.S
To: Cmdr McCulloch, M.A..
Drinks and pucks sounds good.
Throw in a couple of cheerleaders with crotchless undies and nice pom poms and it could be a date.
If Stark had to admit the D n C he had to do on Max's girl Justine didn't affect him, he'd be lying. He was conflicted, not for the girl or his best friend's choices but because it stirred up a hornet's nest of memories regarding Vera. It surprised him how much bitterness he still felt for the woman and the situation. Bitterness, he thought he had burried long ago. Of course that's the way the hard emotions were, they lay wait like a predator in the dark, waiting for the optimum to strike.
INCOMING PM
From: Cmdr McCulloch, M.A.
To: CMO Stark, T.S.
Cool. Had I given myself more time (a few hours?) I could have worked in the crotchless pom pommers. Instead, we'll make it fun.
1 hour? 2?
INCOMING PM
From: CMO Stark, T.S
To: Cmdr McCulloch, M.A..
Nothing is ever that much fun without crotchless panties but I'll show anyway. In an hour.INCOMING PM
From: Cmdr McCulloch, M.A.
To: CMO Stark, T.S.
In 1 hour. c u then
Mason sat on his bed for a minute before he realized something and shot up, running around his room. He'd bought Stark's present more as an I'm sorry although it was a Christmas gift, but it needed wrapping. And he needed to round up his equipment. One shower and thirty minutes of scramble later, Mason was kissing his mother good-bye and promising his paternal drinking buddy that he'd see him tonight before heading out the door. Having grown up in snow covered country, crunching out on Gaia's winterland always brought a smile to his face.
Too bad he hadn't a pair of panties to wrap up as a joke for Tennyson. With gear hanging off his body in the duffle and the wrapped box tucked under his arm, Maxy headed towards Stark's Gaia home. Whistling.
*****
The house that Stark called home was in the Marsi Quarter of Gaia. He could have had plush Starfleet quarters to replace the one he had given up when he divorced Charlene but Stark had no wish to live anywhere near his first wife. She had married someone in Gaia's civilian council and did the rounds as the society wife, such as it existed in Gaia's fragmented social circuit. He had opted instead to live in Han's old home in Marsi. The German doctor had liked the laid back manner of the Marsies and to tell the truth so did Stark.
It was a modest two bedroom home with a bit of grass he got some kid to mow once a forthnight for a couple of credits and though he was on Enterprise most of the time, Stark like this place to escape to. He could sit in Han's old chair and listen to the old man's vinyls. The only thing the old physician had saved from Earth, having taken them to Vulcan with him during their trip.
Listening to Brahms Piano Concerto No.1, he waited for Mason to arrive, knowing the pilot probably thought Stark was pissed at him or something. It wasn't that Stark was angry at the pilot, it was just he was still smarting from unresolved bitterness towards Vera. Mason had made the best decision for him and both the pilot and Justine had not regretted their decision to terminate the pregnancy. Stark did not begrudge them the right to make the choice that had been denied him.
Hailing the front door, when let in, Mason entered with his usual bravado and voice, "Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas Starky! Have you been a good boy this year?" He stood just inside, letting the snow drip off his boots looking nothing like a Saint Nick save the sack on his back. "You ready to go hit the ice? It's a beautiful day out."
Dressed for the pastime indicated, Stark finished off the cup of coffee he had been drinking and shot the pilot a look. "Santa's pissed at me because I've been really bad and he's jealous." Stark grinned, giving Mason the indication was all was right in his crotchless underwear wearing world.
That earned a laugh from Maxy and he shook his head. "I bet the old man's jealous. Hell. Some of the things you get exposed too..." There was a whole list he imagined on the doctor's behalf and didn't want verification. It suited him just fine to keep them as is, where they lay in his imagination. "Let's go then eh?" Heading out, they crunched through the snow, the air crisp and white from their breath. "What are you doing for Christmas Eve and Day?" Mason headed straight for Forest River, a wide river that was neither creek or pond and was fed by Hornblower Sea. The perfect space for practice and his favorite close-by spot year after year for hockey.
Stark shrugged. "I was thinking of going down to Ruby's and seeing if there are any lonely desperate women who are alone for the holidays and taking advantage of them in low and despicable ways," he remarked as they stepped into the snow. "Why?"
"Curious what you were doing." There was a bout of silence before Maxy suggested, "You know, you're welcome at any time to come over to my parents' house. They'd love to see you again." With a laugh, Mason remembered, "My mom's going to always call you the miracle doctor for putting me back together and my dad'll keep thanking you for not hacking off my leg... it's not the same as croutchless and desperate warm bodies... but ya know. If you wanted to at any point. The food's good, fire's warm and my dad will get drunk with us."
"Let me think about it," Stark replied, uncertain whether or not he was in the mood to do the whole family thing. Such thoughts had died with his parents and Hans. Though he missed the old doctor more, there were moments when the pain of losing his parents was almost as acute. Even his crazy mom and her notions that life was one long romantic novel. She probably would have come up with a fucking doozy about the whole destruction of Earth, like that crappy Cameron holovid - Titanic. "You know I'm not good around families and I almost always end up insulting someone whose a puritan." He smirked.
"No, I know," Coming to the edge of the pond-sized river, Mason plopped his gear down in the snow. "My family is far from puritans and it's just if you want to go someplace for a little while." Looking at Stark and nudging him in the arm, he leaned down and unzipped the bag, "Before you venture off to the next womanly adventure."
"Every adventure is a womanly adventure," Stark smirked doing the same. "Maybe I'll take you up on your offer, who knows a bit of wholesome cheer maybe what the doctor ordered."
"Spiked eggnog and holiday music. What could be better?" Mason plopped down in the snow, taking off his boot and unzipping the bag, dragging out pre-chilled six packs of Fabien's homemade ale and another of Heiss beer. "Merry Christmas, by the way," He relocated the wrapped present, a foot long box that was about as thick as it was wide. "Open your present." Patting the snow next to the gift, the cold whisked up his leg before his skates were banded on.
"Jesus Mason," Stark looked at him, "and I didn't have time to get you those triplets for your present." He smirked, reaching for the gift and unwrapping it, he looked up at his friend. "Very nice. How do you get your hands on Romulan ale?" The stuff was not only hard to come by but also contraband.
That proud almost cocky smile beamed, "I've got connections too you know." Grabbing the baggy Canucks jersey out of the bag, he threw it on over his coat. "You're not the only one who knows people on the ship." Standing with a few pucks in one hand and his favorite stick in the other, Mason added, "Besides, I couldn't very well go through you to get your own present and when I told my dad he needed to get a shipment through for me this past week, he didn't ask any questions." Besides, I owe you one, the pilot thought with a soft smile.
With a toss of two pucks on the 'rinks' edge and another out on the ice, Mason pushed off and began to skate backwards, looking at Tennyson as he talked to him, "Figured you might need to replenish for your Betazed nurse scam. Now we drinking beers, eh, and playing or what?"
"Uh," Stark had to think about this like it was a difficult choice. "Let's play first and then drink." The physician in him was still mindful of the dangers of playing ice hockey while tanked on Romulan ale which had the effect on your coordination and reflex like a brick against the side of one's skull. Putting away the gift, he headed towards the ice. "Come on Flyboy, show me what you got."
"Prepare to be dazzled," Mason caught one of the pucks on the blade of his stick and flipped it up, catching it with one gloved hand and shoving it in his baggy pants pocket. With a swift, tight spin, he commanded the other puck and began skating fast down the make shift rink, giving a verbal play by play as he did. "McCulloch, number thirteen on the ice, charges the puck. Side by side strokes as he races center, towards the goal," The stick swung back and he let it fly. "And shoots!" Slowing his skate while keeping his eye on the puck, the thick black disc flew the rest of the way against the smooth surface before hitting a large rock and richotting up into the air. "And SCORES! McCulloch gets the first point of the game!"
Making a mocking crowd scream noise, Mason held his stick over his head and pumped it a few times. His eyes beaming at Tennyson as years and years of practice came flooding up like home.
Laughing, Stark pushed out onto the ice, "Yeah, yeah, I'm letting you have that one as a thanks for the Romulan ale." With his own stick in his hand, he headed towards the puck where it had landed.
"I shot it thick and solid into that snow. Good luck finding it," the taunt was off his lips as he spun in slow, tight circles. He missed the ice. "I've got a few spares, if you can't see to find it Stark." Equally as nimble, he switched and began skating backwards, practicing sharp moves while his buddy went fishing.
"Show off," Stark snorted before he went to the place where the puck had landed, deep in a pile of snow. The doctor gave Mason a look before making an attempt at dislodging it, sending snow in all directions before the puck emerged from its hiding place, landing limply on the ice not far from the edge. "Hey I got it out didn't I?" He said defensively, cutting off any remarks from the peanut gallery.
Like a hawk, Mason responded to the visual of the puck and quit goofing off, a swift half-arced move to position himself facing Stark. "You got it out all right," the pilot turned mental NHL pro grinned almost evil. "Now let's see if you can get it past me." Instinct and a decade and a half of intense Canadian training almost had him lurching to go after the puck but that was only an initial response. Overall, he could play nice and wait.
Stark's eyes narrowed and started skating towards Mason, determined to throw the man off so he could get past him. Driving the puck with the hockey stick, he was almost to Mason when he added, "Oh by the way, did you know that Ka'eo's got a case of the clap?" As Mason was dealing with that piece of distraction Stark got past him and sent the puck flying towards the imaginary goal net.
"Wha..." Every nerve instantly strained and the rush of stressed adreniline flushed into Mason's upper body. He stood there, stunned at even hearing the name from Stark's medical lips before realizing he needed to lurch. To slap the puck out of line of Stark's fire.
Mason was too slow and too late, frowning as he turned to watch the puck puft up into a snow bank. Small bits of powder white fluttering up in the air. "That was below the belt," he grumbled, skating slow towards Stark as it was his turn to now dig. He didn't say anything at first, quiet as he coasted towards the edge. Kneeling down, digging into the bank with thick gloves, he glanced over where Stark was waiting. "You know Bethany broke off the engagement, right?" Why Mason phrased it like Tennyson should know, he wasn't sure, but it was an ice breaker to the conversation if nothing else. He was going to bring it up, at some point today, but probably not until they started having beers. With a shrug, he felt something solid and pulled out the puck, only it was a thick stick. Tossing it away, he went back to digging.
"How do you feel about that?" Stark answered with a measured response. Truth was, he didn't think that Maxy was the marrying kind and with all the tail that came by the guy's way, not to mention the fact that Bethany struck him as the type of woman who wouldn't be able to share Max with the life of a Grifter, didn't bode well for the marriage. Of course, Mason was stuck on the goal so Stark had shut his mouth. After all, even if he thought marriage was a fool's game, he didn't have to discourage those who wanted to roll the dice and take their chances.
A shrug was the only answer as Mason reached deeper into the snow, finally digging to snatch the elusive, black disc. "Got it," his voice said triumpantly and he tossed it out before him, getting quick on his feet and taking a shot at it. A perfect swipe, the puck went sailing across the glassy surface and slowed as if on command, just before Tennyson's feet. Mason skated over. "I don't know. Okay, I guess." He glanced back to the 'shore' to see where the gear and beer awaited. "Want one? Fabien's brew or the pale ale?"
"Let's try Fabien's," Stark said for Mason's benefit more than any need for a drink. As he said so, he hit the puck just enough to send it to the snow embankment near the alcohol cache Mason had brought them. "Okay?" He looked at the younger man. "You were engaged for a while." He feigned indifference. "I guess if that's the way you feel about it, its for the best then."
"I guess," the pilot jock repeated, accompanied by another shrug. Mason fetched two out of the six pack of Fabien's 'pre-packed' and tossed one to Stark. Impossible to get open with the gloves, he freed his fingers and coasted by Tennyson to free the cap before opening his own. The air was cold and the bottle was chilled, but his face felt warm as he kicked back a healthy mouthful. "She caught me in bed with somebody else. That's why she broke it off." He felt like he was in a confessional and half braced himself for any unexpected outburst. Just in case.
Stark caught the bottle with one hand, having foresight enough to remove a glove before Mason tossed it in his direction. He considered what Mason had said and then took a swig, letting the liquid burn warmth all the way down to his stomach. "Better she finds out now then later." He said without accusation. "You like women, you're not cut out to settle for one flavour when there's 36 different ones."
"Does that make me a jerk?" There was reason he used that particular word. Actually, there were dozens of them, all stemming back to the night Bethany walked in on him. "I've never thought of myself as a jerk before Stark. I mean, I know how I am... and..." This was getting philosophical for Mason and he cut it off. Chugged part of the bottle because he didn't want to feel the pain he knew he caused. "Thirty-six." A shake of his head, "You're right. Thirty-six. Or seventy-two. Or..." He shrugged and tucked the half drunk beer in his coat pocket, zipping it up to the tip of the neck so it'd stay upright. A move he'd done clearly before as he grabbed his stick and bucked the puck back and forth between the paddle in practice trick moves. "What difference does it make? I didn't want to marry Bethany. It's probably good, like you said, better she finds out now..." But that makes you the jerk.
"Okay," Stark nodded. "Being a tom cat doesn't make you a jerk. Asking the girl to marry you when didn't want to be, that's what makes you a jerk." He made no move to take the puck from the pilot. Better he take out his guilt on the puck then himself, Stark thought.
The puck slowed and stopped due to Mason's blade and weight coming down on the black disc with almost gentleness. Stepping off, he held the stick in both hands, paddle down on the ice, as if it were his cane. "I couldn't tell her no eh. I mean, it was something she really wanted." He thought of how Bethany was there when he was in the hospital and stuck at home and on the NX and planetside and... "Let's just play." His demeanor changed and he gave the puck a thick smack and shot it across the pond with no intent of having it go near Stark or Stark fetching it.
"Look," Stark held his ground, making no attempt to go after the puck when clearly Mason hadn't intended on passing it to him. "Truth and honesty makes a marriage. You go into lying to yourself or to the girl, it will bite you on the ass. If I learnt nothing else from two fucked up attempts, it comes down to those things. Sometimes saying no is a lot kinder than 20 years down the track, realising you never wanted any of it."
Abandoned on the other side, away from the snow so the exact landed location stuck out like a sore thumb, the puck listened from a distance. "I'm not trying to lie to anybody. Myself. Bethany. Any woman." He scratched the side of his head, just above the eyebrow. "I don't know Stark. I just... sometimes I think I want that though. And other times, I get so damn..." Scared? Come on Mason, really? "Confused on what I want." Almost accusatory, because it was easier, Mason bit forth, "Why did you get married then? Twice?!?"
"Because I loved them. Both times." Stark answered smoothly, not ashamed to admit. "Because I wanted to be with them, only them because at the time, being with anyone else was unimaginable. Because I knew, without doubt or hesitation that it was what I wanted." He added a rueful laugh. "Both times, it gutted me when it ended and I decided I'm not putting myself out there again. Its painful to admit that you're so dead inside the thought of caring someone like that again is like bile in your throat but its honest."
"But they didn't want to be with you. Or something changed? For better or for worse crap, but really, what does that mean at the end of the day?" He watched his breath filter out of his lungs, crisp and white before it dispated into the air. Mason unzipped his beer and drank again. "They both left you?"
Stark didn't like to think about his wives but he did. "When I met Charlene, I was young and stupid. I didn't realise that she liked being married to Dr.Stark, son of celebrated author Desiree Stark, more than she like being married to just Tennyson. She thought that me being a doctor meant the same things it did when there was an Earth, like it was a ticket to a better way of life. Once she learnt that I wasn't interested in having Gaia's version of a Park Avenue address, she was gone. I wasn't sorry to see her go." Of course it had been different with Vera. He had loved her. He had wanted a life with her. Family. "You know how it went with Vera. When she told me she had the abortion, without even talking to me about it, I left. Haven't spoken to the bitch since and I don't plan to unless someone's dying and I don't have a choice."
Both situations struck him as very sad ones, and Mason stood stock still, finishing off his first beer. "Another?" He was already going in the gear bag, pulling out two. If anything, Tennyson's could wait in the snow until he was ready. "Why was Vera with you then? Status too?" Or was she afraid to have kids? Period. There had to be a lesson in here, something that was insightful and put his mind at ease. Then again, maybe the worst part was like his dad: there were simply no answers.
"Oh she loved me," Stark said rather bitterly," but not as much as she loved the job. She was a career officer and a husband as a doctor wasn't too hard to carry around from assignment to assignment, but a baby? No way." He shook his head and laughed. "The irony is, if she'd bothered to fucking ask, I would have been happy to take the planetside assignment to raise a kid."
"Serious?" Again, the Grifter stood there shocked in listening to Tennyson. "You'd want to be a... a dad?" Something deep shivered down and he drank from the new bottle. "Did Vera think you'd be okay with the termination? She loved you but figured you'd support her and things would go okay?" Good god this conversation was turning philosophical and Mason was most uncomfortable with it, but pressed on. For now.
It was very hard to picture Stark playing around on the floor, on Gaia, with some snot drooling two and four year olds. Singing songs, riding bikes and... He was getting himself a little woozy until his mind switched to an older version of Stark and maybe a ten year old boy. Playing hockey. Maybe that wasn't so bad. The more Mason looked at Stark, the more the scenario seemed like it could be a possibility. Shit. Everything was fucked up all over.
Did he want to be a father? Yes, he had. Vera burned the desire right out of him when she terminated the child. "If she thought I'd be okay with it, she would have told me before she did it. Instead, she did while I was on Betazed so I wouldn't have a choice in the matter." The vitriol in his voice was evident. "And yeah, once upon a time, I wanted a family. You're lucky Maxy, you're one of the few people that didn't lose everyone when Earth went the way of the dodo. Other poor bastards who suddenly found themselves a family of one, well it matters."
He'd been told that before and simply nodded, knowing that was his facts of life that hadn't been changed. He'd been lucky. The explanation came all the same though, "I know Stark. I know." His voice was soft and respectful. "Had my dad not been Mayor, it wouldn't have gone that way, but it did. I honestly try to never take that for granted. Never." Mason took another long, slow drink. "Maybe someday, you'll find somebody worthy of you man." Tennyson wanted a family, that struck Mason hard. He might say it was a dead issue, but he knew the man enough, and had read enough of his father and others, listening. He'd bet his annual salary on it. "Someone who'll give you kids."
Stark laughed bitterly, "That boat has sailed my friend and frankly, the idea of having a someone who'll give me kids, makes me sick to my stomach. After Charlene and Vera, I rather just fuck em and don't call them in the morning."
"Yeah," the lie didn't wear well on the pilot. "Yeah, me too. Fuck em and forget em." The one that got away. Mason shook his head and put the new beer in his pocket, zipping up to the neck. It was near all the way full, so he was careful as he slowly skated away from Stark towards the waiting puck in the middle. "They're only good for one thing anyway," he was trying to convince himself, "Right Stark? Too much drama and trouble otherwise." Circling behind the black disc, he brought the stick back and then swiftly down. The paddle making perfect contact and it whisped right towards Stark's feet. The control he had over the puck made him feel better.
"Well never say never," Stark replied, indicating Mason more than himself. "You're young, you might meet some girl that will make you go weak at the knees, turning you into some pussy whipped shell of yourself." He grinned wickedly before striking back and sending the puck sliding towards the net.
"You're talking like you have decades on me instead of a few years," the thirty-three year old reminded Stark. He didn't like to hear about being 'pussy whipped' because to Mason, the minute a woman he liked showed interest, he felt rather whipped. And it happened far too often and man did he wish he had some level of control. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone in a million years. Never to Danny and not even Tennyson.
Heading after the puck, he mutterd still jovial, "Make up your mind Stark. I should be free and fuck em or meet some girl and play house?" Spinning around, the paddle flew and sent the disc skidding towards his friend again. With the open beer bottle freed, he drank as he coasted near. "You know, in all seriousness, the getting caught cheating on Bethany..." He took a slow, deep breath, "I think I'm going to regret that for the rest of my life."
"You can regret going down that road with her," Stark held the puck steady against the stick, "but you shouldn't regret that it ended. If she wasn't what you wanted, it was the kindest thing to do, over all." He slammed the puck towards Mason again. "And maybe not in years but I'm up on you on mileage."
Like a shark, Mason was on the puck the minute it moved, holding the flat of the paddle angled and steady to take the frontal contact before every so timed curving it forward to halt. A move taught decades ago so the puck didn't go flying in your face, and taken by your opponent. "You certainly are right on that one," he slapped the black back, "the mileage." Setting the beer down and away, because he was ready to give chase if need be, Mason's eyes were locked on the puck like a dog. "It wasn't Bethany I was referring to." His eyes narrowed, ready and keeping his attention steady on at the puck, "It was the girl I was with. It took a long time to earn her trust and... well. I wish I could take back a lot that happened."
Until now, who the girl had been didn't even figure on his radar but now that Stark had heard Mason speak, he wondered who she was. "That sounds serious," he remarked sending the puck towards the net again. "Who is she?"
"Um..." Mason intercepted the puck and shot it back. "You know her." He bobbed his head up and down quick a few times, sticking his tongue hard against the inside of his cheek. Deciding. "You earlier referred to her as having the clap."
Stark skid to a halt on the ice, creating a small wave of flakes as he came to a stand still and looked at Mason. "You're shitting me."
"I'm not." He stood upright now, holding onto the stick with both hands, fingertips turning semi-white because he hadn't bothered to put the gloves back on. "My mechanic." She'd gone onto flight school now, essentially leaving the NX and him. "Or ex-mechanic."
"Wow," Stark said surprised. "Didn't see that coming." He admitted readily. Mason had a type and Chanah Ka'eo wasn't it. The guy usually went for the vapid airheads with perfect nails and great tits. While he personally couldn't attest to the quailty of either on Chanah, he had to admit she was a nice kid, unpretencious and focussed. Once again, not Mason's type.
A nod, he exhaled, "Yeah. Me either. At least, not this ending." Pushing back, grabbing the stick, Mason nodded at the puck, "Send it back, eh?"
"Right back at you," Stark hit the puck and sent it gliding across the ice towards him. "So is it serious?"
The usual sharp slapping and extroverted exagerations of victory goals were not willed today, and Mason followed the puck only to stop it. Shooting it back, he looked at Stark. "As of three nights ago, it's nothing. Not serious. Not potential. Nothing." A glance over at his abandoned beer, he looked around for his gloves. His fingers were getting cold.
If Stark didn't know his friend better, he'd almost believe that Mason was kind of disappointed by this. "Did you want it to be?" He asked cautiously.
The answer came in an uncomfortable retort, "You sending that puck back or hogging it all day?" A shake of his head, Mason grumped quick, "Nevermind. Hang on." With stick lifted, he speed skated to circle skid in a half round near his gloves and bent over, putting them on. He spoke to the ground, "It doesn't matter Stark." Flexing fingers, fitting the gloves, he straightened, "She's going to be a fighter pilot come next year and end up out in deep space like the rest of the newbie rookies. I'd never see her and it doesn't even matter, eh."
"So you're just going to let it go at that?" Stark waited until he was ready and then sent the puck his way again. "You like this girl, work it out."
That laugh that was pure Mason came forth and even his eyes joked, "Have you seen me alone Stark? Come on." It had always been his fear, his obvious reality. "I...I don't do well alone. Look at Bethany. She's down on Gaia while I'm on the NX. I just." Jerk. "I know me and there's no point chasing a girl who never liked me to begin with, who I just proved how much of an Act One male bastard I am because she didn't know I was engaged and..." He didn't like what he was saying and shook it off. Mason went after the still puck before him and began slapping it back and forth, heading towards an invisible opponent. "Is shipping off and I'll never see."
Stark hid a smile because it sounded like Mason had feelings for this girl, enough to realise a few uncomfortable truths about his chosen lifestyle. "So maybe what you need to do is finish this game and you and me go on a bender?"
The black disc took the abuse and he beat the hell out of it, sending it to die in a patch of build up ice. A crack was heard before the puck flew skyward, silently screaming as it slammed back down on the rink. Mason left it alone. "It's Christmas Eve Stark."
"So we'll drink and we'll fuck some twenty year old into oblivion and you can turn up to unwrap presents in the morning," Stark grinned.
"I promised my parents I'd come back," the idea of getting lost in familiar turf sounded good. Too good.
"And you just got dumped by your fiancee'," Stark pointed out. "If that don't get you some pity, nothing would." he reminded.
Chanah and Bethany both came to mind, and Justine, and Mason struggled. "Okay," he gave in and nodded. With a soft push he headed towards the abandoned puck. "I need a drink."
"I think a keg and a harem full of girls desperate for soem comfort on Noel's eve. You can come with me and see what I had planned. I can share." He winked at Mason.
Defeated, a small smile and obidient nod to his best friend, Mason scooped up to pocket the puck. "You always do."
end