Sam Thompson (steelsoldier) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2012-07-16 02:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, omar calderón, sam thompson |
WHO: Sam Thompson [USA] & Omar Calderón [Puerto Rico]
WHAT: A little racial profiling before lights out
WHEN: Saturday night, during the social events and after this
WHERE: Campus Grounds
STATUS: Complete log
OMAR: Mario Kart? Not enough blood. Bingo? Not until he turns 80. Karaoke? Not on his life. Omar missed home. He wouldn't admit it, but he was pretty miserable so far at IVI. As little as he was at home except for meals on any given day, Omar Calderón was a homebody. He didn't have to be there but he needed to know it was there and that his family was there. He might ignore it, but that didn't mean he didn't want it within reach. So now that he was a few thousand miles away and trying to cope with (unwillingly) quitting smoking, he was cranky. And didn't want to be around people. That included his roommate, who didn't seem awful but still was a person and therefore something Omar wanted to avoid. He left the dormitory building around the same time that everyone was going down to karaoke and headed out across campus. After all, there was nothing better to do. SAM: Sadie had finally cried herself through her bout of homesickness, and decided to retire for the evening rather than sample the evening’s festivities. Sam had only been planning to try his hand at Wii tennis at his sister’s insistence, so with her change of heart he was relieved to find himself with a free evening. The residence hall was too noisy with all the revelry, so he’d set off in hopes that the gym would offer quieter respite. Sam was halfway to the gym facilities when he spotted a figure moving among the buildings to his left. He didn’t get a good look, but a lone body skulking around the grounds at night set his hackles on end. After the briefest of pause Sam changed trajectories to follow, as well as his gait - he began moving quietly and with purpose to follow his target. OMAR: It took about ten minutes before Omar noticed that a figure was following him. Normally walking around at night he wasn't alone, but he no longer had his brother and his other friends with him 24/7 to have each other's backs. But eventually he did realize, and after another few minutes he knew for sure he was being followed. It would have made more sense had he been actually going somewhere for him not to notice, but Omar chalked it up to being in a new environment. He was distracted by his thoughts. Rounding the corner of a building (the gymnasium, to be precise), Omar stopped. He closed his eyes and a moment later, his feet lifted off the ground. He rose into the air, five, ten feet before stopping. He stepped onto a window ledge. And waited. SAM: For all his training, Sam had never done any time with stealth ops, so his tailing was more mimicked from movies than anything else. He edged up to the building’s corner and listened for a moment before rounding it, only to find an empty stretch of moonlit grounds on the other side. The boy stopped sharp, twisting from side to side to scan the shadowy surroundings for signs of his mark. There were no doors or hiding spots that Omar could have accessed in the time he had, leaving one very befuddled American scratching his head. OMAR: It was a boy, one Omar didn't know (though that could be said about most students at the school). Still, he was relieved it wasn't some IVI staff. He didn't think he was doing anything wrong, and he didn't entirely care if he was, but he wasn't particularly looking for trouble. Not tonight. So he jumped, floating down from the second story window ledge like a feather to land quietly behind the boy. It was a trick he enjoyed - jumping off buildings was a lot more fun when there was less gravity in his path. It didn't hurt. And the boy more likely than not would not have heard him. "So. You followin' me?" SAM: Sam’s reaction was immediate, pivoting one eighty degrees on his heels to face the surprising voice behind him, both hands balling into fists and lifting to defensive positions on either side of his face. Omar might get the feeling that if he’d been in arm’s reach, he’d have been met with a doozy of a haymaker. As is the reaction was born from sheer impulse, and upon seeing Omar standing there oh so casually, Sam’s hands dropped and his posture slackened, though not by all that much. “What’re you doing out here?” Sam answered Omar’s question with one of his own, his expression stern and his tone firm and demanding. He may not have been in a uniform, but from the barking this boy may well have been a guard. His narrowed eyes flit up and down Omar in a quick assessment, and judging from his expression, he wasn’t much regretting his suspicions. OMAR: Tensing up immediately at the boy's tone, Omar clenched his own fists at his side. Who the fuck was this boy demanding answers from him? If anything, it should be Omar demanding answers from him. After all, Omar was the one being stalked. He cocked his head slightly to the side, voice dropping the casual tone it had before. "What's it to you?" SAM: “Look man,” Sam’s tone softened ever so slightly in what was probably meant to be more casual, but which came across as patronizing at best. “We all just got here, everyone’s on edge, people are tense. The last thing anyone needs - and I mean both the school and the students - is people causing any sort of trouble, right?” The accusation in his tone was married with a bit of self-described generosity, at the fact that he was obviously offering to let Omar get off scott free on this one. “How about you just call it a night and head back to the barracks, huh?” OMAR: People causing trouble? Omar let out a loud laugh. This holier-than-thou motherfucker was under the impression he was some sort of hero or some shit. Maybe he even thought he was 'on their side' when it came to the people in charge. Damn, was he ever deluded. He was just a student too, and nothing would change that. "Y'know," he said, shrugging, "you're right." He loosened up visibly and shrugged, then gave the boy (what he hoped was) a friendly grin. "Don't want any trouble around here." He took a step toward the boy, then slung his arm up and around Sam's shoulder. It was a bit of a reach for him, but Omar was used to being short, and if nothing else he was strong. He grabbed Sam's shoulder tightly and started to lead them back toward the dormitory buildings; Omar meant business. "So how 'bout you stop stalking me and there won't be any trouble here, huh?" SAM: As Omar loosened up so did Sam - in terms of his posture, if not his attitude. He was still regarding the other boy fairly suspiciously, though he didn’t flinch away when Omar’s hand found his shoulder. The muscles it touched, of course, were tense and ready for action if need be. Sam had taken a couple of steps before Omar dropped his punchline, and with a sour expression he jerked his shoulder free of the Puerto Rican’s grasp. “Funny.” He snapped, in a tone that made it explicitly clear he found the situation to be nothing of the sort. “Look, you can go where you want, but I’ll be letting the patrolmen know you’re out here. So if anything funny happens, I’ve got your number.” Sam hoped his tone was firm enough to be threatening, and not just a trumped up threat to tattle. OMAR: "Yeah okay, Uncle Sam." His voice dripped with sarcasm. He didn't, however, realize that he got the boy's name right by calling him Uncle Sam, the American icon. It was only a fluke, though easy enough to make when the boy was clearly from somewhere in the United States. "Bet they'll be really appreciative of that, poking your nose in where it doesn't belong. Just like an American." SAM: “You don’t have to be American to do what’s right.” Judging from the slight wince that followed his words, Sam was acutely aware of how corny his sentence was, if not how ironic. Instead he took a few steps back towards the corner that led to the gym’s front entrance, though with a pointed glare locked on Omar as he did so. “Just keep it on the up and up, man. I’ll be watching.” OMAR: Shrugging, he turned around and headed the other way. "Watching your back, I hope," he muttered. Fucking asshole. |