Sal stepped out into the thick, warm air of the evening, streaks of orange and purple spilling across the sky as the sun set in the distance; the last fraction just disappearing over the building studded horizon. He squinted in the bright half-light.
"Hey, Q." he beamed. "How comes you're here?" he added, almost as an afterthought.
"You seem cheerful" Brian remarked. "A good day, or?.."
Sal smiled, and nodded slightly. "I've just got off the phone with Clarabelle."
"Ah, how's she doing?" he interjected, almost trying to hurry away his thoughts of her. "And how's, uh, Jason?"
"She and Jamie are both fine" Sal smirked, merry mirth-lined dimples sitting along his bunched cheeks. "She's doing quite well, actually."
Q nodded, and rubbed his beard slightly. "And, uh, how are you doing?"
Sal faltered, taken slightly aback by this. He could bring forth few words, so just nodded blankly, and mumbled: "Good. Yeah, still... Good."
Brian squinted at his friend of so many years, standing in his doorway, looking slightly more dishevelled than he had a week ago.
"No, you're not." he said quietly. "come on, Sal: you can tell me. I know you miss her, but this isn't doing you any good at all." he spoke in soft, deep tones, and beckoned the other man forth with his outstretched arm. "please. I'm worried about you, cooped up in there all by yourself."
~~~~
They walked together along the cracked pavement, hands buried deep in their pockets. The air had grown thin and chilly with the loss of the sun, and nipped slightly at their bare faces and rosy cheeks as they strolled through the quiet streets. They spoke of a great many things that evening, just walking down that lonely road. Not alone, as they so often were, but together, joined in their solemnity.
"The job sounds amazing, and the kid seems sweet, and her apartment ideal. It'd be a wonder if she ever comes back at all." Sal groaned, face illuminated unflatteringly by the dim overhead light that stood sentinel about the bench upon which they perched. "It's literally her dream job. Even the people she's working with, I mean seriously. How am I supposed to compete with that? She's home and she's with people she adores and admires, and what's here for her? Hm? Me?" he spat. "What am I, compared to Sherlock fucking Holmes?"
Q looked at him with sad eyes, unsure of what to say. After some time with his hand resting on Sal's shoulder, he said slowly "You're you. If she doesn't love you for that, then she doesn't deserve you."
"But I love her!" he erupted. "Does that count for nothing?!"
His hardened eyes were met with those of his friend, who had been there through good times and bad.
"There's nothing to suggest that she's lost any feelings for you, or gained any for Benedict. She loves you, Sal, and you love her."
"Then why isn't she here?" he whispered, all malice and anger gone from his being, as he trudged back home in the darkness, leaving Q alone on the bench in the cold night air.