More rum. Gabby had taught Max that little trick, that little philosophy. Of course, when Max was not drinking, the dark haired man though the very idea of it was idiotic and barbaric, but Gabby found that his friend usually agreed with him on almost any matter after a few mimosas and a Fireball or two – except when to leave, of course. When Max was sober, he was definitely the responsible friend to a tee. And while Gabby did have worse judgment all around, sober or not, it was he that found himself with the clearer head when they went out to paint the town. It was a strange switch for Gabby, but he suffered through it for Max’s sake. Besides, they were more similar when they drank. Gabby had molded drunk Max. It was he that had first answered the very question at hand. What was the solution to being out of rum? More rum. Gabby rapped his knuckles on the bar for another round.
Always more rum.
If he recalled, rum was a particular favorite of Max’s new roommate, Jack Dyllan. Gabby being who he was and Jack being who she was meant the two of them had drank at least once in their acquaintanceship. It was still strange – Gabby had seen them in all their domestic glory on Christmas, but he could not get over how two people so utterly unalike had come to share a come. To happily share a home, it seemed. And yet, from what Gabby had ascertained, nothing between them. (Gabby had a tendency right around the third drink to begin asking Max all the questions the taller man would never have the decency to answer if he was sober). At their age, two people platonically sharing a house while splitting the duties of childrearing and housekeeping sounded absolutely bonkers. Still, cheers. Gabby was a fan of anything bonkers.
And Max seemed happy too. Gabby had always long suspected that his friend was not exactly satisfied with his life. Gabby was big believer in the idea that carefree did not necessarily mean fulfilled or happy. Max was a wonderful bloke, but he lived a safe, cushioned life typically. And while safe was nice for some people, it wasn’t for anyone with a brain. Safe often led to be boredom. He didn’t think Max needed tragedy in his life, of course, but something to spark him, to give him a noble fight. Something had sparked inside the dark-haired man – it was dim right now, but Gabby saw hope in it.
Gabby grinned at Max’s words. “We’d go out more often if we were allowed to return to the places we went out. You have a tendency for overstaying your welcome once you’ve had a taste of rum.” Nevertheless, he handed Max a fresh shot and said, “Enjoy it, darling, it will probably be the last of the night. You have to be home by midnight or you’ll turn into a pumpkin. And your caretaker suggested rather rudely that I attempt to bring you back even before that. It’s-“ he checked his watch. “Christ, it’s not long ‘til midnight. I don’t know how terrified you are of Jack, but I’ve never knocked a healthy fear of a woman scorned. Finish up your rum, Maxxie-poo, we’d best be on our way soon.”