Teague strolled along, humming a tune, his hands in his pockets. He looked presentable, but somehow still scruffy. It was as if he was clinging to the last traces of his old habit of always looking like he'd only just crawled out of bed (or, more aptly, off a park bench that served as a bed).

It was time to go to work. He was meandering along as if he had all the time in the world, though, so you'd never guess it.

Keye hesitated a moment before calling Teague's name; he remembered the street musician being a bit unsettling. But he hadn't seemed malicious, just uncanny, so he waved.
"Teague! Uh...Hey! What's up?" he called trotting to catch up.

"Not too much, but more than usual," Teague smiled at him, further slowing his pace. He'd left home early so that he would have the time to go slowly. "And yourself, Keye - how have you been, lately? I'd heard you've been ill, among other things."

Keye shrugged, sticking his thumbs into his pockets and gazing resolutely at the ground.
"Um...um, yes. Yeah, I was sick, and last week I t...well, um, uh, what is it that's up with you, more than usual?"

"Yes, I'd heard..." He looked sympathetic for a moment, but the change in his lazy smile was so subtle it was difficult to tell.

Mm,...well.." he shrugged. His smile dimmed slightly. "A few things. The good news is, I'm going to be a father." (He's getting to be very proud of that) "The bad news is who the mother is."

"Oh, wow." Keye absolutely beamed. He loves kids. "That's awesome. But who's the mother?"

"Jetta." He seemed to droop, and his smile became sheepish.
That one word speaks volumes, doesn't it?

Volumes.
"Christ!" Keye started as if he'd been struck. "Fuck, how'd you get into that mess? I...you know, I'm not an advocate of abortion, but if I were you, I would not want her to have a baby. You're not gonna let her keep it, are you?"
He shuddered, and then his eyes widened with a new horror.
"You're not gonna marry her, are you?"

"No, and no," Teague shook his head. "Though it's no excuse, I have to say that this is what happens when I let m'self get drunk in a public place. But it's my mess, therefore my responsibility,... and I'd have to be totally insane to let Jetta raise the child."

"But you don't want it either...? You're only going to take care of it 'cause you think it's your responsibility?"
Keye was getting a bit worked up, reading a little too deeply into some of the things Teague said...and, unfortunately, if Teague didn't answer in exactly the right way, it could come to blows.

"Well, that's how it was at first," he said uncomfortably. "It came as such a shock... I thought it was only right. And Jetta should never be allowed to raise a child,... goodness knows the last thing the world needs is a mini-Jetta running aound. But more and more, now, I'm looking forward to having a daughter."

"So...so..."
He wrung his hands, staring almost desperately at Teague.
"You will...um, you'll love it when it comes, won't you?"

"Not it - her. And of course I will," he grinned. "I love her already. I don't think I couldn't."
Because the baby is his. His daughter.
(He likes thinking those words).

"Oh."
Finally, he relaxed and smiled.
"Well...well, that's great news, I guess! I'm happy for you."

"Well, thanks then." Teague smirked. He gestured to Keye, with a sweeping sort of hand movement. "So? What's new with you? You've been having quite the time of it lately, I guess. But you always are, anyway, hm?"

"Yeah, I guess I always am. Um..." he looked at Teague, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Why do you bother asking? I mean, you know already, right?"

"Well, yes, but - for one thing, it's just polite," he grinned. "Second,- while I might know what you've been up to, I haven't the slightest clue what's going on in your head. I guess that's what I really want to know."

"Why would you want to know that?" he grimaced. "I'm one of your 'night song' guys, right, the ones you don't sing in polite company? So...so it makes sense that the inside of my head is not very nice."
He sighed, shrugging.
"I haven't been feelin' so hot, lately. I mean, worse than usual."

"No?... Well, tell me about it, then. What's bothering you?"
It could be any number of things. None of his business of course, but he's curious. He always is.

Shrug.
"Oh, I dunno. I tried to kill myself. But you knew that. I should prolly tell my girlfriend. She'll be pissed. Not looking forward to that conversation."

"No, I can see why not," he nodded, agreeing. "But - well, like everything else it's got absolutely nothing to do with me but I have to ask - why would you try to kill yourself? Do you just not see everything you have going for you? The number of people around who would miss you? Explain that to me."

"I don't have that much going for me."
Another shrug. He was beginning to look morose.
"As for the people...well. It sounds really horrible...it sounds so mean, but I sort of...I get in this mood and it's like being in a vacuum. I forget them."

He raised an eyebrow.
"Kidding, right?... You're intelligent, you're attending university, you have a father who, while ...odd, is utterly devoted to you, along with a handful of others. Most people are lucky if they've one person they can rely on. And you forget? Yes, it does sound horrible."

Teague seems almost resentful. He's leaning on one foot now, as if he'd like nothing better than to be on his way. Which wouldn't be a bad idea, really, considering he ought to be at Alfons's shop in a few minutes.

"I'm...I'm sorry. I know. I know it does. I know I'm lucky." he takes a sidestep away from Teague, a little frightened. He's talking fast now, trying to explain himself...he doesn't want Teague angry with him.
"I can't help it. I don't know how to fix it. I get this feeling like...like I'm all alone, and no one's ever gonna...I don't know."
He slouches forward in defeat, his hands together almost pleadingly. He looks like nothing so much as a gigantic, pallid praying mantis.
"Do...do you have anybody? I mean, to rely on?"

The cold look that had begun to appear on his face melted away. "Try harder next time. Look around you - it shouldn't be that difficut," he said shortly, loosely crossing his arms. He outright ignored Keye's question. "In any case - I'm going to be late for work. I should be on my way."

"I do try hard..." he muttered. "It's like a train when it comes. Or a tornado."
He stares pitifully at Teague, a small wrinkle of concern forming on his forehead.
"Teague...did you hear me?"

He'd just turned around, and now he glanced over his shoulder.
" 'It's like a train when it comes. Or a tornado'," Teague parroted - even mimicking his voice with some success. "Yes, I heard you."
He was also aware that that wasn't what Keye had meant. He was just deliberately misinterpreting the question.

Keye flushes, opens his mouth...closes it again. He's holding back tears. Finally, he whispers "That wasn't it. I asked a question."

"What question was it?" Teague asked politely, turning completely around and resting his hand on his hip. He hadn't been able to dodge the question, so now he was doing what he could to delay it (which wasn't much).

"Don't you have anybody to rely on?"
His gaze is mournful. He doesn't know Teague very well, but he really can't think of anyone off the top of his head...
It would just be too bad, if there wasn't anyone.

He nodded.
"Yep."
Myself.

Bad Teague, trying to get off on a technicality...

"Oh..."
Keye looks fleetingly relieved, but there's something about the quality of Teague's answer...or rather that he had taken so long to answer. Keye was sure he'd heard the first time.
"Who?"
He tries to make it sound like idle curiosity.

"Me," Teague replied, with a smile that was daring Keye to contradict him.
"If you have no further questions, I really do have to go. I don't want to be late."

"You." he echoes flatly.
"Okay. 'bye, Teague."
He smiles and waves, but he looks rather sad. Poor Teague. All alone, and alone for real, not like his strange mood swings. It was really too bad.
He'd have to do something about that.