2 angry men (Juror 3 × Juror 10)

3's house

Once they got to 3's house, 3 opened the door for 10
"Come on in." 3 said. "Sit on the couch, don't touch anything." 10 did as he was told. As he did so, 3 walked in and closed the door and wondered why he was letting a stranger into his home, let alone a sick one. It wasn't something that he would normally do. But then again he had kind of been questioning his morals since the trial so maybe it was that. Or maybe it was this stranger in particular with his pitiful pale face and pink cheeks and red nose. Perhaps he was just lonely and wanted company. Whatever the reason, he had offered to take him in almost immediately, without even thinking about it. But as 3 walked over to 10 he started to wonder why 10 had accepted his offer, I mean surely he had better things to do.
"We should probably make this fast." 3 asked. "Don't you have a family to get back to?" Upon hearing this 10 got a grim expression on his face and looked down. After a moment, he spoke bitterly in a rough quiet voice.
"Don't got none."
"Not even a wife?" 3 asked. 10 looked a little embarrassed. He blew his nose and shook his head.
"So you live alone too?" 3 asked as he started to leave the room.
"Yeah" 10 said quietly as he watched 3 leave the room. A few minutes later 3 came back with a bucket and a box of tissues.
"Here," he said handing 10 the items "If you have to puke again, puke in that bucket." 10 stared at him.
"Alright," He said quietly.
"If you don't have anywhere else to go or anything else to do then I suppose you can stay here as long as you want. Do you want me to take your coat?" 3 said. 10 nodded and took off his coat and handed it to 3. 3 took it and hung it up and then hung up his own coat.
3 sat down in a chair and began to think about the trial, there was something he needed to do. Slowly he stood up.
"There's something I need to take care of, could you be quiet for a second?" 3 asked
"I don't think I could be loud if I wanted to." 10 responded
3 walked over to the phone and started to dial a number
"Who are you calling?" 10 asked. 3 sighed.
"My son." 3 muttered.
"What?" 10 asked
"My son, ok! Now could you please shut up?!" 3 shouted angrily. He steadily dialed the number and let it ring. He let it ring for a few minutes, no one picked up. He sighed and hung up.
"Brat." He muttered.
10 watched this.
"Well I'm sure you can try again later, kid's got to pick up eventually." 10 commented as he blew his nose.
"I will." 3 said bitterly as he walked over to the fridge.
"Wanna beer?" He asked.
"Sure," 10 said
"Ya sure?" 3 said, reflecting on it. "I don't think you're supposed to drink while sick."
"What? Are you worried about me or something?" 10 asked.
"Worried about my couch." 3 replied.
"You think I can't handle it or something?" 10 said. 3 looked him up and down.
"No, I don't." He said flatly. 10 looked annoyed.
"Well, I can. Just give it to me." He said.
"Alright, if you're so sure." 3 conceited. He took out a beer for each of them, handed one to 10, then sat down in his chair. He couldn't help thinking about his son again.
"It's not the kid's fault, ya know." 3 said taking a sip of his beer. "I pushed him away. Just like I do everybody else."
"People don't like me either. Don't know what it is." 10 said.
3 scoffed "I could tell you why."
"Now what is that supposed to mean?" 10 asked.
"You're a bigot." 3 said flatly. 10 look offended.
"Oh, come on. You spent the whole deliberation talking about how slum kids are all liars who can't be trusted." 3 said.
"They are! That doesn't make me a bigot!" 10 said. 3 looked at him.
"Whatever, forget it." 3 said. "Wanna watch TV?"
"Fine." 10 said, still upset by the previous comment. 3 turned on the TV. They drank and talked and watched TV for a little while. 10 knew after the first beer that 3 was right, he was already feeling worse. He kept on drinking despite this. He felt worse the more he drank. After his third beer, things started to get really bad and he knew he needed to stop. He changed his mind when 3 asked if he wanted another and he said no.
"I knew you couldn't handle it." 3 said.
"I can! It's not that!" 10 declared, his voice fading.
"Oh really? Then what is it?" 3 asked.
"Uuuuuhhhh... Nevermind that! I want another!" 10 said, his voice fading even more as he tried to speak louder
"Listen, if you can't handle it you can't handle it. Don't push yourself." 3 said.
"I can handle it! I'm fine! Look at me!" 10 insisted, his words slurring slightly. He did not look fine at all and he started coughing right after he said that.
"You look like shit." 3 said, "I'm hungry. I haven't eaten all day. Are you?" 10 didn't get a chance to answer. That's when nausea hit, hard. He quickly grabbed for the puke bucket. 3 noticed this.
"Goddammit." He said. 10 threw up into the bucket. 3 shook his head.
"I shouldn't have given you any in the first place. That's my fault." When he finished throwing up, 10 looked embarrassed.
"Alright," 3 said, "I'm going to try calling again." He muted the television and walked over to the telephone.
"Try not to puke in the background." He said. 10 blushed. Once again, he dialed the number. It rang for a minute. Then it picked up.
"Hello? Son?"