Re: Bus stop: Misha & Lou
Ugly was something Misha had seen plenty, and he was usually real good at looking for the reason behind the ugly. Bullies, they had things made them the way they were, and the empathetic boy had always been cursed with understanding, with seeking out the why, with not hating the person who curled their fists in balls and threw the punches. Unfortunately, he wasn't feeling real giving just now. The glimmer he always found in humanity, it was faded some, and he sat on that bench and wished for simpler days. Once upon a time, he'd reckoned himself incapable of making a fist, but them days were gone and never coming back. Now, he was sitting and not even paying the woman's comment 'bout the fiddle case being an accessory any mind.
As for the men coming near, it just wasn't their night.
One of the men reached for his shoulder, and Misha just silently wished him off. There wasn't nothing to it. No glow, no wings, no real wishing. He wasn't using his abilities none when he wished the man to change his mind and keep on, but he did wish it. Or, least, he reckoned he did.
See, Misha, he was real good at itching for a fight. In the past, when he was feeling dreadful, he deliberately sought fists to break him, on account of it made him feel alive again. A good beating, it went on back to his childhood, and it became front and center in a way that took everything else and made it disappear. Pain, it was real good as a distraction, and tonight was a perfect night for a broken nose. But, see, Misha had changed some, and there was anger to the boy that had been kept real wrapped up 'fore. He wanted the punch, but he wanted to throw one back just as badly. Or, if not a punch, something real similar.
So, still as could be, he let the man grab his shoulder, and he just turned his face and looked at him. And the woman, Misha knew there was something 'bout her that made her different, though he hadn't gone poking at what that was. Suffice it to say, he wasn't worried none 'bout needing to protect her honor.