HE FEELS LIKE this had been his worst night. It was never great, he never even got more than a half-hearted chuckle and one or two jokes in a ten minute set, but GOOD GOD, the silence had been deafening. Hell, he’d not even dragged his friends along to make comments and pretend that it ‘wasn’t all bad’ – in fact, Richard is almost certain one guy up and left, actually LEFT, midway through. The response earns a smile though, and a muted chuckle of his own. “Please god, yes. Something liver-threateningly alcoholic.” He smiles, swearing that he’s seen this guys face before but entirely unable to place it. It’s not like it could be from here. No person in their right mind would see Richard’s set once and then WILLINGLY come back.
“I’m Richard… you’re not the COUGHING guy are you?”
The poor guy was only doing what he loved to do. Regardless of how others might, you know, NOT? Richard was being his best self and that was what was important. So said the inspirational quote on the subway he read this morning. Whether or not it, actually, applied to the comedian’s situation? Well…. Maybe there were funny jokes hidden in there somewhere he hasn’t tapped into yet? On the plus side? He made him chuckle at the drink he wanted. “Okay then. Something that should come with a stomach pump for just in case situations. Got it.” Blaine shrugged at the bartender who lifted a brow giving him the okay to add it to his tab and his round two plus Richard’s turpentine-like mixture was on the way.
“Definitely not coughing guy. I’d point him out but he’s too busy trying not to make eye contact with you now that you’re not stuck up there. Rough crowd tonight. Sorry about that. I’m Blaine,” their drinks were slid across the bar, “Nice to meet you Richard.”
“LIKE ‘ARE GONE’?ARGON. it’s a science joke, people!” it’s common knowledge that jokes work better when they do not have to be explained. there’s no response from the crowd – with the exception of one pity laugh from the barman before he walks down from the stage. and as if by magic, the simple act of him stepping off of the platform has the entire bar filling with noise again. fucking typical. heading for his usual post-gig seat at the bar, richard’s head tilts back in a loud groan.
“like argon…. that’s fucking funny.” it’s said to himself, only adding as he looks over to the person beside him, “what a way to spend a saturday night, huh?”
Dead silence followed each joke. Cringe worthy silence. Complete with occasional cough to clear someone who was really trying to be a jerk’s throat. Blaine was perched on his stool listening, a half smile parted his lips and he wasn’t sure if it was the jokes he was cracking one at? Or having a sympathetic moment for the performer who wasn’t just bombing? But was taking a nosedive towards the ground at full speed. Something Blaine has watched him do before. Repeatedly. Though his presence was usually easy to blend into the background of the sparse patrons. Just another soul hunched over the bar enjoying a free poured drink that had enough alcohol in it for two. Probably to numb the pain coming from the stage.
“There’s worse ways,” Blaine huffed a real chuckle this time tapping the rim of his glass with his pointer finger. “Can I buy us a round? It looks like you need one.” Or four?
pianokeysandbowties 