****

The next night, Dutchy found himself drawn to the dingy bar.  He pushed open the swinging door as he had the night before and scoured the room with his eyes.  Dutchy felt a strange disappointment when he didn't see Specs anywhere.

With a sigh, he crossed to the bar and sat on a stool.  Pip brought him a Guinness and Dutchy nodded his thanks.  He took a swig and set it back down with a thump.  Dutchy stared at the back wall and heard the bell above the door ring.  He heard the footsteps and recognized the shoes as boots.  Dutchy smiled.

Specs sat on the stool next to him and placed his order.  He took a sip from it before glancing over at Dutchy.  Dutchy looked right back.

"So what's your story?" The blonde asked, leaning against the bar top.

"Ain't a story."  Specs replied, harshly. "Just a jumble of things."

"Let's hear it." 

"What's it to you?"

"I'm curious."

" 'Curious'?"

"That what I said, isn't it?" Dutchy answered.  "Aren't you a little too young to be back-talking?"

"I could ask you the very same thing."

"How old are you, then?"

"How old should I be?"

"Never answer a question with a question."

"Yes mother."

"Are you going to tell me how you ended up in this neighborhood?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Your story."

"I grew up in a small town in Connecticut."

"What town?"

"Danbury."

"Nice place."

"Better than here."

"That goes without saying."

"Then we had to move, my father's business." Specs paused and stared at the bar top for a moment.  "Everything was fine.  I was a straight-A student, had a bunch of friends, and a beautiful girlfriend."

"So what happened?"

"Life happened."

"Anything specific?"

"My girl left, my friends left, my parents split." He summed up.  "They were always fighting and bickering over me so I ran."

"You 'ran'?"

"Away.  Ran away.  Do you need everything spelled out for you?!"

"It helps."

"Your turn."

"My turn?"

"Your turn."

"My mother was a sociopath." Dutchy said impassively, as though he'd said it a million times before.  Specs noticed a sort of dead and encased look in his blue eyes.  They were flat and glassy…nothing enclosed within. "She had a lack of conscious."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"I told you more than that."

"You didn't go through what I did."

"So I'm a lesser being!  Just because I didn't suffer enough."

"You don't even know what it was like!"

"Try me!"

"Forget it."

"You were saying?"

"Saying what?"

"About your mother."

"I told you.  That was it." Dutchy growled.  "She was a sociopath, there's nothing else to tell."

"She beat you?" Specs asked after a brief silence. 

"I don't see how that's any business of yours." Dutchy replied, calmly.  "Tell me more about you and I'll tell you more about me.  What was so scarring about your experience that it made you rebel with spiked dog collars?  Did your heart break when your girlfriend dumped your pathetic self?"

"Shut up!" Specs yelled, lashing out with his fist.  It made contact with Dutchy's nose and he fell backwards and off the stool.  Breathing raggedly, Specs brought his arm back and waited; staring at Dutchy's still form.  He felt dread growing in his stomach with each passing second and thoughts began to whirl in his head.

Did I kill him?  Is he all right?  I don't punch that hard!  Specs looked down at the form.  He nudged Dutchy's side with his toe.  Dutchy's arm shot out, grabbed Specs' ankle, and twisted it painfully.  Specs fell onto the hard floor, cursing when his head cracked on the wood flooring.  He froze when cool metal was again pressed to his neck.

"If you ever, ever hit me again…" Dutchy threatened, his warm breath washing over Specs' face.  "…You'll wish you were never born." 

Specs glared up at Dutchy whose face had again taken on that impassive look.  Dutchy-not taking his eyes from Specs' face-stood back up.  He again replaced the knife in his belt and turned away, taking his seat.  Specs got to his feet and also resumed his seat.

"Did it hurt?" Dutchy asked after a long silence.

"Did what hurt?"

"Your tongue."

"It hurt enough."

"Do you constantly have a metal taste in your mouth?"

Specs swallowed what remained of his drink and leaned forward.  Dutchy didn't move, frowning at how close he was.  Specs glared.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He hissed.  Specs saw something in Dutchy's eyes…like he was searching.  Searching for what?  Specs looked closer, curious to what emotion could be shrouded within.  Dutchy started to feel considerably uncomfortable at the intensity of Specs' eyes.  They sat in silence for a long time until Dutchy dropped his payment on the counter and left the bar.

Continue to part 3...