[ it's impossible to block out the competition in its entirety with the announcer providing commentary and terrible ball puns. with most of the bar paying attention to the chowdown with wagers being put down on victors, keith has even less of an opt out of caring. the guy he sits next to at the bar is an overly friendly sort, curious to know why someone obviously not from gloucester decided to show up to the festival and then seems to find it funny when keith has absolutely no cover story for his goddamn existence in this reality.
if he'd forgotten how much he hates small talk, this brief little interaction is a potent reminder. head swimming slightly, he cuts off the conversation with a slightly overaggressive do you want to hook up? like a man who is determined not to be waylaiid from his mission by stupid chatter. predictably, this does not go well, and keith earns himself an incredulous laugh and a scoot away from the "drunk out of towner."
feeling increasingly exhausted, keith slumps at the bar, just waiting for the thing to be over. of course he's curious to know if shiro's doing okay, but when he chances a look at his best friend chugging down beer, not even looking like he's enjoying himself, the sight only makes keith feel even worse about everything.
shiro doesn't win. as unsurprising as that is, given the glimpse of his face that keith got was, it just solidifies the depressing, irrational feeling that somehow this whole thing is his fault. he doesn't want to get up and face shiro right now, but seeing shiro stumble off after the competition, keith drags himself up one limb at a time to approach the table.
he stands there at first, scrambling for something to say that isn't pointing out the fucking obvious like second place, huh? and in the end doesn't even manage that. ]
You're uh... [ gesturing to his own neck, he makes a quick motion. ] Bib.
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if he'd forgotten how much he hates small talk, this brief little interaction is a potent reminder. head swimming slightly, he cuts off the conversation with a slightly overaggressive do you want to hook up? like a man who is determined not to be waylaiid from his mission by stupid chatter. predictably, this does not go well, and keith earns himself an incredulous laugh and a scoot away from the "drunk out of towner."
feeling increasingly exhausted, keith slumps at the bar, just waiting for the thing to be over. of course he's curious to know if shiro's doing okay, but when he chances a look at his best friend chugging down beer, not even looking like he's enjoying himself, the sight only makes keith feel even worse about everything.
shiro doesn't win. as unsurprising as that is, given the glimpse of his face that keith got was, it just solidifies the depressing, irrational feeling that somehow this whole thing is his fault. he doesn't want to get up and face shiro right now, but seeing shiro stumble off after the competition, keith drags himself up one limb at a time to approach the table.
he stands there at first, scrambling for something to say that isn't pointing out the fucking obvious like second place, huh? and in the end doesn't even manage that. ]
You're uh... [ gesturing to his own neck, he makes a quick motion. ] Bib.