Who: Marion and Gus. When: January 31st, early afternoon. What: Sheriff Gus has a standard speaking engagement at the high school. Marion offers support. Where: Babylon High. Rating: PG Status: Complete.
Cold winters did things to people. The condition, of course, varied - both in severity and name - Marion believed the term for it nowadays was ‘cabin fever’, but that could’ve been an allusion to something different. It sounded a bit on the sinister side. Stir-crazy? That definitely sounded better, especially when applied to the youth of Today; particularly the students of Babylon High, who’d been stuck indoors with no sports in season besides football and hockey (such violent sports - but even that was indoors, now) ever since the big freeze in early December.
Their routine at school typically helped; as much as the young hated to admit it, structure offered them release from the responsibility of entertaining themselves or making themselves useful - an increasingly difficult task as their technology exploded. Unfortunately breaks in that expected routine did tend to stir them up.
That’s what happened today, with an assembly taking place in the school auditorium. A handful of community figureheads had been asked to come and speak about recent events taking place around the city, and new ordinances that came with them... truly exciting topics for the young ones. Marion had watched their faces, scrunched up in their palms and half-asleep (when they were actually facing the stage, that is), and understood a glimpse of their sub-language, sarcasm. But it was only a fleeting moment. As well as she knew her beloveds, there were still aspects of them she would never understand.
What she did understand was a long face and a weary soul, and that, she saw in the Sheriff. Not only was his heart not truly in the words he spoke on stage, but it was scattered into a hundred different pieces, floating above his head as a discontented cloud.
She saw reluctance in his thoughts, regarding his prompt return to a job that could be as taxing as it was rewarding - it had obviously been much more the former, lately. That’s why she forfeited her ‘lunch hour’ to meet him - by ‘chance’ - in the small nook of a teacher’s lounge down the hall from the art room. Apparently the smell of coffee lured him like hummingbirds to lilac.
“You know, I have a secret stash of peppermint mocha creams in the fridge, there.”
She was standing behind him a few feet, seemingly spotlighted by an overhead bulb that wasn’t actually there. A smile was on her face, warm as summer.
Gus turned, a shade of guilt on his face, but the woman that had crept up on him didn’t seem annoyed. He couldn’t help but return her smile - some people just had that effect.
“Oh, hey, no thanks,” he said politely, “Nothing fancy for me. Just thought I’d top up before I headed out there.”
He had seen her in the crowd, of course, in the sea of equally bored faculty. It had taken up his morning, the meeting, but only because there’d been nobody else who wanted to ‘volunteer’. Heavy lay the crown.
“It’s Gus,” he put out his hand, “I don’t really recognize you, though. You new?”
The last time he’d done one of these, it’d been shorts weather, and he didn’t really have many reasons to come by the high school otherwise. Thank fuck for that - it killed him to see kids on the wrong side of the law.
She took a step forward to shake his hand, the floor-dusting ruffle of her skirt had swirls of paisley and other random patterns, all in various shades of blue, with little reflective beads that grabbed the light and sent it back out in a million directions. It’s intricacy greatly contrasted to the plain ivory blouse she paired with it.
“Marion - I just started this term...” The woman’s smile brightened a shade or two, hinting teeth just beneath unpainted lips. “Surely that thing on your shoulder will tell you if you have to go, right?”
A few flighty fingertips flicked in the direction of the corded radio clipped on his uniform shoulder strap.
Gus made a noise in the back of his throat and glanced down at his radio. It was easy to forget about it, but he nodded, giving her a curious look as he shook her hand and then let it drop to the side. She had very soft hands
“Yeah,” he said, “But it’s probably not great if an elected official hangs out in a teacher’s lounge all afternoon. Mostly I’m just avoiding getting all rugged up again, Marion. It’s a nasty one.”
She nodded, still sporting a smaller version of her earlier smile, while settling into one of the chairs nearby. The space was small enough that she could reach (with a stretch) the counter for her own coffee mug, which had been drying on a towel by the sink.
“So are you trying to convince yourself to stay, or leave?” she asked with a hint of good natured humor. Once she had her cup, she reached for the pot on the warmer with another long stretch.
Gus chuckled deep in his chest, shaking his head as he automatically grabbed the coffee pot for her and offered to pour, “I haven’t made up my mind yet. Say when.”
Once she had her own mug he replaced the pot, glancing out the window and taking a swallow of coffee with a grimace. It wasn’t just the weather he was making a face at - seemed like the teacher’s lounge got the same bulk, instant coffee the station did. He’d at least stay until he finished his cup, and Marion was a good excuse as any to hang around. Nothing wrong with making friends with (relatively) new people.
“So what’s your thing here?” he asked, tilting his head and trying to guess, “Music? Art? Drama?”
Had he met her anywhere but the high school, he would’ve guessed that she was a Kindergarten teacher. Kimberly had had a teacher just like her, with the whole bohemian thing going on. She’d been a bit older, though, and Marion was definitely lacking in the matron department.
She answered him, at first, with an equally warm chuckle, smiling down into the reflection of the coffee he’d been generous enough to pour for her. Marion enjoyed his choice of words, they seemed somehow unique. She also smiled at the projected image of a young girl with hair the color of the tigerlillies that bloom in July, as well as a woman in a colorful skirt, with big, soft arms and greying hair.
“You nailed it - I’m the art teacher. I suppose it isn’t so hard to guess. I wonder the looks I’d get if I told parents I was teaching their child Calculus.” Of course, Marion would never do such a thing.
Gus laughed again, and it was earnest. He would’ve definitely raised his eyebrows, personally. Generally math teachers were less... flowy. Numbers did that to a person. Or that was Gus’s assessment, anyway. He had GED instead of a high school diploma.
“Kind of like me telling people I’m an accountant,” he joked back, “You been settling in all right? Where’d you move from?”
He didn’t think he was being too nosy. He’d asked two, anyway, in case one of the questions did stumble over a line. Gus rarely met people that didn’t like to talk about themselves, however, big city or small.
“Abroad, actually.” Marion tilted a slightly crooked grin at him, perfectly content with the conversation until it started to veer in a certain direction. There were truths she was bound to, unable to share in certain circumstances. The omission of truth was an often ambiguous thing, but when it was solely for the protection of the mortals in her vicinity, it was no more a sin than offering them a flower and a nice day.
So, she punctuated her statement with a small sip of coffee, to form the illusion of distance.
“Settling in as well as I can, though I do hope for an early spring. Everyone’s a bit stir-crazy right now.” The woman’s nose twitched in a quick wiggle, then relaxed. “You know, deny it if you want, but I’m pretty positive there were a few kids in those seats who were actually listening to you.”
“Hell, I hope not,” Gus grinned sheepishly, “I was kinda phoning that one in. Kinda funny, really. When I was a kid, I just skipped those kinds of assembly’s all together.”
He sipped his coffee, but he was obviously amused by the idea that some of the kids had actually listened to his droning on about how snowmobiles didn’t belong on the lake, even if it did look completely solid.
“Where’d you live abroad?” Gus wondered, “I haven’t even been to Canada, so if it’s someplace obscure, don’t be offended if I just smile and nod at you.”
“Well--” Marion’s fingertips twisted the mug between them smoothly. “‘Obscure’s a matter of perspective,” she said, adding a thread of ‘obscure’ humor to her words. “I’ve been all over. But feel free to smile and nod at me. I like it.”
She could tell many things from his innocent inquiries; curiosity coupled with a genuine desire to know and connect with others. Conditioning from his occupation. Also, the yolk of a poverty-stricken childhood that locked him in the cage of a city. His eyes were wisened by certain things, but still in their infancy in others; Angus Marshal knew the world around him was huge, but had innate difficulty imagining things outside of it. A common affliction of their kind.
She had a very strong desire to remind him of the beauty he already knew so well. It was veiled by so much.
“‘Gus’ wouldn’t happen to be short for Angus, would it?”
Gus was thrown off completely - at least for a moment - when she made a comment about him smiling. He’d been off the market for so long - had the art teacher just flirted with him? Gus didn’t think so. She didn’t seem like the sort of person who’d come on strong like that. More the type who’d probably wear sandals (or no shoes at all) year round if she could.
Luckily, she blurted out his full name, and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
“Yeah, it is,” he said, “I was a nine pound baby. I guess my mom had to get revenge somehow.”
He couldn’t help but think of Clara a moment. At least Francine still let the kids visit her regularly.
Marion just smiled at him again, a lilt to her head, which spilled blond waves and the thin feathers across her shoulder. A few tangled playfully in a handful of beaded necklaces. That was sarcasm she didn’t mind so much; the gentle hint of a root-deep affection. She understood that, but only because it’d been so clearly presented.
“There’s a lot of power in a name,” she said, raising her brows and her coffee as a sort of toast to him before drinking. Afterward, her lips rolled, catching the hint of sweetness in the vanilla-bean brew. “Angus is strong and protective. You wouldn’t go around calling a porterhouse a hamburger, would you?”
The Sheriff’s eyebrows had risen a little, but he still kept a polite expression on his face. He didn’t particularly ascribe to the idea of names having power, but she’d made a bit of a point. A weird one, but a point.
“Fair enough,” he said, “But most people still just think of a side of beef.”
This was a very, very weird conversation, but he didn’t want to abandon it.
“What about Marion?” he asked, “That mean anything fancy?”
“Eh--” Marion pursed her lips and tick-tocked her head to coincide with the same flighty gesture of her free hand. “I wouldn’t say ‘fancy’. It’s old French, a variation of the Latin version of ‘Mary’, which in this context means ‘star of the sea’.” The way the information flowed from her lips, one might’ve guessed she studied the subject in some depth.
The truth of the matter was, she had. That’s why she picked it.
“But most just ask me where Robin Hood is.”
Gus grinned and nodded. Yeah, that would’ve been his guess.
“Well, if you do see him...” he teased, winking at her. Was he flirting now? Honestly, he didn’t think so. The idea of being in a relationship made his stomach turn over.
It sure didn’t bother Francine, but he had a soul.
Gus finished his Styrofoam cup of coffee and peered around for the trash bin, “It was nice to meet you, Marion, but I should probably go drive around and scowl at loitering kids.”
He was a little reluctant, truth be told, but once the heater kicked up in his cruiser he’d be fine.
Marion let her expression reflect the small amount of disappointment that worked its way under her skin, but it was incredibly faint, and gone in a flash. By nature, she centered on the words he chose to convey what was in his head, however mainstream, they were honest. And she considered herself fortunate to have a path that crossed with his.
“Stay warm, and I liked meeting you, too, Angus.” She said it with a beaming smile aimed up his considerable height. “I’m sure it won’t be the last time.”
Gus gave Marion a funny look but managed to smile anyway, chucking his cup away and going over to where he’d hung up his coat.
“Small town, after all,” he agreed, “You take care, Marion.”
She was an oddball, that one, but he didn’t think he’d mind running into her again.