His Saint || Murphy Macmanus

ᴠɪ. ʟᴇᴛs ᴛᴀʟᴋ, ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ ᴊᴀᴄᴏʙs.

warning:
some bigotry in this chapter.
please understand this does not imply to my personal views. this is part of a character's thought process and personality. I in no shape or form support any kind of ignorance.

xx

Watching a small drop of water slowly roll down the side of his unchanged glass of cold on the tap beer, Ty Jacobs sat at the counter of a small rundown bar. A hole in a wall. The places he enjoyed going to back in the day before all of this shit began. His fingers tapped along with the rhythmic tone coming from the old jukebox sitting at the far corner of the bar. Hidden deep from anyone outside looking in. Many people missed this place. Far too busy looking for the newest attractions in Boston. City life can do that to wandering souls. Blind them from the smallest beauty.

Not that this place is beautiful but it held a charm. The smell of stale cigarettes and alcohol covered every surface. The stools wore down. Most ripped right in the middle, showing off the yellow padding to any customers. Business at times was slow but Ty didn't mind, he always kept the employees on their toes, and that is where he met his wife, Pamela Jacobs after all. If it wasn't for this place, Ty would still be sleeping alone with his cat, Mittens.

Grace named the kitten. Mittens being the only choice he could accept. No matter how embarrassing the name was.

Owned by an old veteran from world war 2, the once soldier still held on to his youth. Attending the bar, giving it the old southern vibe. His birthplace somewhere in Alabama Ty recalled. The old man named Bernie would talk about his great grandfather who was once a slave. The stories were terrible, however, Ty saw no difference from today's society.

"That white boy is still staring you down, " Bernie growled lowly, drying the inside of a glass cup. Ty touches the cool glass of water with the tips of his fingers. His hazel eyes fall on the metal napkin dispenser. Moments before, Ty gently nudged the dispenser enough to see the reflection of the man who sat directly behind him.

How absurd. Ty knew that Connor Macmanus knew he saw him or at least Ty hoped the man wasn't dumb enough. Murphy was the idiot, right? Ty couldn't quite keep up.

The two men share a grimacing glance as one of the quiet employees named Reggie went to the front of the small shabby bar, flinging the open sign over to sorry, we're closed.

Connor's ears perked once he realized what was happening. Removing his hand away from his beer bottle, scraping the front of his cigarette within the already full ashtray. As Ty stood, so did Connor.

"Ty Jacobs, " Connor says lightly. His voice is airy as if they went way back. Ty slowly turns his body around to face Connor. "It is good to see ya man."

Ty couldn't understand it. Why Ariana would date outside her race. Why she would mingle with these bottom feeder Irish men. Ty always wished his cousin thought more plainly than with clouded glasses. White men didn't belong in their future. Isn't that what his uncle and father fought for after all? To crush this systematic slavery the so-called founders of this country created. How disappointed Samuel would be.

"Don't fuck up my place too much, son, " Bernie spat from behind the bar as Ty slipped his hoody from over his head. Allowing it to fall to the ground. His fairly large muscles outline his tight gray t-shirt. Connor swallows hard, not quite remembering ever seeing Ty without his doctor's wear on. Connor regrets passing up that offer to talk with Ariana instead of Ty. To think Ty is the more compassionate cousin. How wrong Connor truly is.

"Hey. We just need to talk, Doctor Jacobs -" Connor awkwardly touched one of Ty's biceps without thinking too much. "How much steroids did ya take?"