Marshall's Perspective
Meanwhile, at The Scorpion and the Frog, Marshall was sweating, and the starch in his shirt chafed his neck, a reminder of how out of place he was. Alyx had ironed it carefully that afternoon—a silent gesture of support that now felt like a cruel irony. Marshall felt like a child dressed up as an adult amid the noise of the bar. Beside him, Barney was a whirlwind of energy and confidence, a beacon in the stormy New York single night. His impeccable, tailored suit fit him perfectly.
"Strategy number seven, brother: the mystery," Barney told him. "Keep the prey attentive all night long."
Marshall tried to put these techniques into practice with a blonde girl named Amy. The conversation was awkward at first until she subtly hinted that she had to leave, adding a "maybe another day... if you knew how to reach me." Marshall could only blink, confused. The hint had been so subtle that, clearly from the other end of the bar, you could see signs that read ask for my number.
Barney intervened then, seeing how confused and lost Marshall was.
"Hello! I'm Barney, Marshall's friend."
Marshall felt a flash of indignation. "Not again," he murmured, resigned to seeing him steal another "sweet." But Barney, with a theatrical bow, addressed Amy: "What my friend is trying to say is, would you give him your number?" Amy, amused and relieved, wrote her number on a paper napkin and handed it to Marshall.
In the taxi back home, Marshall radiated pure euphoria. The paper with the number was in his hand, slightly crumpled but held like a treasure—proof that he could pick up women. The window was down, letting in the night air of New York.
"I did it, Barney! And look, she has beautiful handwriting! Details like that say a lot about a person! Do you think she likes the Muppets? I love the Muppets." His laugh was broad and happy.
"Really? Let me see," said Barney, extending his hand with feigned curiosity. He took the napkin and studied it under the light of the passing streetlamps. He made a face. "Oh, buddy, I'm sorry. This is my number." With a fluid movement, he held the paper out of Marshall's reach.
Marshall froze, his euphoria shattered. "Twice, Barney? Twice! And now this one, which was my sweet!" Marshall roared, his voice laden with a betrayal that went beyond a simple phone number.
Marshall couldn't just let it go this time; he fought. He lunged at Barney in the cramped backseat. It was an awkward struggle, full of elbows and grunts.
"Give it to me!"
"Dream on!" Feeling cornered, Barney made a desperate decision. With a quick movement, he threw it out the taxi's open window.
"Stop! Stop the taxi!" Marshall yelled at the driver. The vehicle screeched to a halt. Without looking back, Marshall opened the door and leapt into the street.
"Marshall, wait!" Barney shouted from the window, but his voice sounded more ritualistic than a genuine warning.
Watching the door close and his friend disappear into the night, Barney leaned back in his seat. "Eighty-First and First, please," he said calmly to the taxi driver. Then, with the smile of a cat that just stole a piece of meat, he pulled from the sleeve of his impeccable suit the napkin with Amy's number. What he had thrown out was a piece of pizza flyer he had in his pocket.
"Yes... very nice handwriting," he murmured to himself with a lascivious smile dancing on his lips.
While Barney drove off in the taxi, Marshall stayed for over an hour searching the street, in the gutters for the little paper. In the end, cold and a bit dirty from the dust raised by passing cars, he waited until he saw a taxi, took it, and returned to the apartment.
Opening the door, he saw Alyx on the sofa, the dim light of her computer illuminating her concentrated face. She looked at him. She saw his clothes somewhat dusty, his previously carefully arranged shirt now wrinkled, and then looked at his face, which had an expression like a beaten dog, plus his defeated posture.
She didn't say anything. She briefly held his gaze with pity and understanding, seeing his defeat and fatigue. Then she turned back to her screen while Marshall silently crossed the living room like a ghost and locked himself in his room. The sound of the door closing was the final note of a long night.
A huge thank you to adiavts for the 2 Power Stones and to Sunduz_Karacaoglan for the 1 Power Stone!
Your support powers this story and fuels the magic (and the plot twists 😉).
You're amazing! 💙✨