"I thought you seemed like that type."
"What?" Matt asked, startled by the voice that came from his left. He turned to see a gentleman sitting at the stool next to him. The man had a scruffy beard, curly hair, and spoke with a barely there Irish accent. "Are you talking to me?"
"Yes, I am."
"You thought I seemed like what type?" Matt asked quizzically.
"The type who would drink red wine," the man offered with a smile and a slight shrug. "I used to bar tend. You start to pick up on those sorts of things after awhile."
"...... Ooright...." The word came slowly from Matt's mouth, his lips curving around the word in such a way that his Devon accent was physically visible. Matt squinted at him. "You look familiar...why...?"
The man shrugged. "I'm not sure. Do you know people from Vladivostok, Russia?"
Matt shook his head. He sipped at his wine, glancing periodically at the stranger sitting next to him. "Actually, I've never been here before," he said finally, finding himself volunteering the information. "Which is strange, considering I've been all over the world."
"So why are you here?"
Matt shrugged and sipped at his wine again, staring into the glass. "It's a long story I guess."
"I've got time."
"And I don't know you. So why should I indulge any information to you at all?"
The man shrugged again. He seemed so at ease, comfortable. "Because sometimes a stranger is impartial?"
Matt turned his body to completely face the man now, looking more closely at him. He had the sleeves of his button up shirt rolled up around his thick forearms. He must be warm here. Matt was actually cold. It was Russia in autumn after all. And Matt was rail thin. And getting over a cold. The man was drinking a beer, and from it's thickness, Matt thought it might be a Guinness. But... Irish... right....
"You're not from here," Matt blurted and turned the question around. "What are you doing here?"
"Travelling. For work."
"As a bartender?"
"I used to be a bartender, remember?"
"Oh. Right. So what do you do?"
"Well, right now I've been hired. As a body guard, more or less. So I've been travelling around with my client."
Matt nodded. Made sense. The man certainly had muscles, though he wasn't so heavily built like some of the security guards he'd seen at his own concerts. "I don't see a whole lot of body guarding going on right now," he quipped with a slight smirk, sipping at his wine again.
The man chuckled. "Spending twenty four hours a day with someone can get tiring. I get kicked away from time to time."
"I know the feeling," Matt said with a frown.
"What, the getting kicked away or the spending twenty four hours a day with someone?"
"Both...?"
"I see," the man said, sipping at his beer. "So which is it tonight? Escaping constant company or getting kicked out and the bar was the only place to go?"
"Neither, actually. I just needed some time to get my head straight about where I should go next..." Matt played with his fingers, picking at his fingernails and studying his callouses.
"Ah. So we come full circle. What brings you here then?"
Matt smiled a soft smile. "I've been challenged to travel round the world in eighty days. Y'know. Like the book."
"And you're stuck? Ran out of money? Lost? Backing out?"
Matt cringed slightly. "The last one, I guess... I mean... I don't want to... I don't know what to do... I just sort of... left everything behind... I- Everything that was ever important to me. I just- I left it all... And I don't know why I would have done something like that...That's not like me.... I was upset... but-- This is all-- I'm not talking about this with a stranger," Matt said, his voice hardening and his back stiffening.
"Alright," the man said, raising his hands placatingly. "I'm not making you talk about anything. Sounds to me like you'd be missing out on a real life changing experience though."
Matt stared into his glass of wine, watching it's contents swirl around as he tilted the glass back and forth.
"I'm sure you also had a good reason for leaving," the stranger continued.
"Guilt," the word tumbled off of Matt's tongue in what was beginning to be a slightly alcohol induced comfort around this stranger, though there was something warm and inviting about his presence.
"Pardon?"
"Guilt. That's what it is. I feel guilt."
The stranger nodded. "Okay. Well that's to be expected I suppose."
"I don't like it!" Matt cried, "I've- I've never experienced it! I mean, not really! Okay the time I broke my mum's mirror and she told me I cursed the family for 7 years- and then my parents split- no but this is different. Cos this is like... it's like betrayal."
The stranger nodded again, listening quietly.
Matt chewed at his lip. "I'm a good friend. Loyal. They're probably my only really good qualities. And leaving your friends behind... for a- for a whim- that is not something a good friend would do."
"But you had a reason for leaving, didn't you?"
Matt nodded, feeling tears brim under his eyelids. He blinked rapidly. He couldn't cry here. Stop it you big, pathetic, stupid baby.
"Then you know what I think? I think you should do what's best for you. Don't doubt your choices. Which is going to make you a stronger person? Help you figure yourself out? Which decision is going to be good for you?"
Matt nodded again, more rapidly this time. He took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah. You're right. You're right. Okay. I'll just-- I'll--" His hands fumbled around, and briefly he almost knocked his wine glass over, catching it at the last minute, though there was little liquid left to spill. He finally managed to pull his phone out of his pocket. "Thank you," he mumbled quickly to the stranger. "Thanks I needed to hear that. I--" he opened up his phone and opened up his contact list, and pressed call. Standing up from his spot he wandered outside and leaned against the wall of the building.
The line rang a few times. "Hello, Alyne?"
