Samuel (voiceinthedark) wrote in low_tide, @ 2009-12-30 22:23:00 |
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Current mood: | indescribable |
Entry tags: | boden velmont, mallory quinn |
Changed Perspective
The park was rapidly becoming Mallory's favorite place to spend an afternoon, especially as Christmas loomed closer. It was both time spent outdoors and time spent pondering matters great and small, namely things that didn't revolve around her current situation. Not that that list was miles long right now, but still. She'd take what she could get.
The redhead was seated at one of the picnic tables, looking at the light traffic beyond the park's edge. Key West wasn't exactly a buzzing metropolis, but she liked the quiet of it. It sure beat someplace like Leavenworth, hands down. A scooter's horn beeped, and she lifted a hand at the driver, one of the book store's regular customers. felt more or less settled, at least for the moment. Life was kind of nice right now.
Afternoon was more like evening by the time Boden strayed within the limits of the park, having not been home since the altercation with something nasty in the alley near the place where this other him lived, its teeth had been far bigger than the size of its jaw would have had him believe. Thankfully as out of shape this body was for hunting its current owner knew exactly where to hit and did so with such precision that it had brought the monster to its knees before finally ending its life.
Not without a few souvenirs in the form of cuts and bruises, all of which would heal, soon enough. Boden just needed the time to rest and he didn’t feel as if he could get that at home – with that woman who was apparently quite attached to him – there’d be too many questions and he wasn’t quite ready for that.
Despite the time and the minimal chance he had for sun exposure Boden had his hood up and his hands in the pockets of his jeans, long legs meandering the path that took him through the park and past a scattered amount of people.
It was only when he lifted his head and allowed for a quick observation of his current surroundings that his previously smooth stride faltered, coming to a halt. A woman who looked exactly like Mallory was sat not that far from him and for one long quite agonising moment Boden debated what he should do: leave well enough alone or approach? How did he even know if she was the woman he knew? Given his recent run of luck he was willing to wager that she’d be somebody new, a different woman, one that wouldn’t even recognise him for who he was or what they’d gone through together.
His sharp blue eyes narrowed as there was something in her colouring that was... different, deeper than any of the other people around her, something very strange. Boden wet his lower lip, tasting a copper tinge on the edge of his tongue; a cut must have reopened in his mouth.
Ignoring it he steadily approached the familiar face and breathed in, “Is anybody sitting there?” His hand gestured to the seat next to her, Boden thought it was a good approach.
"Hmm?" She'd been distracted, wool-gathering as her ma would have said, and when the man spoke to her she started a bit, sitting up straighter on the bench. "Oh! Oh, no, go right ahead. Sorry, I must have been off in my head someplace."
He looked vaguely familiar, as if she'd seen him somewhere before, and after a second it clicked into place for her. "Aren't you the radio guy, the one who does that show? I could swear you look just like his pictures."
Boden settled onto a seat and then decided he didn’t really like it there so he moved up to perch on the edge of the table instead, placing his feet flat on the seat he’d just been in. He always did like having a higher view of things, made it easier to gauge a situation and assess the best angle of attack.
“Oui, that’s me.” He guessed as much, even if he didn’t much care for the career. It was the only one he had at the moment and enough came to him so he could piece together a fairly good show, even with a few odd looks from the other people in the studio.
Obviously this Mallory wasn’t the one he knew, she would have recognised him for who he was and not what he did in this world. He reached up to pull his hood back, scraping a hand and blunt nails through unreasonably short hair.
“Boden,” he affirmed with a nod of his head.
"Boden, right." Mallory suddenly felt a little embarrassed, as if she should have known that without asking. After all, the man was sort of a local celebrity, which meant he was probably used to people just knowing him by sight. "I listen to your show sometimes," she continued. "We play your station on the radio where I work, and there's a poster advertising the nights you're on. You're pretty good on there."
Was she supposed to ask for an autograph, or was he on his off hours? She'd hate to intrude if he was just being a private citizen right now. "Is it a lot of work, being on the radio?" she asked instead, tucking some hair behind her ear. It was getting to be time for another cut, she could tell. "Or is it just fun for you?"
Even if she had Boden wouldn't have a clue of what to do as he didn't know what a local celebrity was supposed to although the other him had left an interesting journal of thoughts.
"It's not that hard, I love it. It's..." He strained for the right words until settling on something that was more comfortable for him to express. "Tres bien." Boden had a ghost of a smile on his face for a few moments until he caught himself, wondering where that had come from. It wasn't him, it couldn't be.
Boden cleared his throat and took to rubbing his hands together until his fingers finally ended up laced, freshly cut knuckles more evident than ever. "What do you do?"
"I work at a book store. The Next Chapter? I don't know, you might have been there, its near Mallory Square. Which is weird, because my name's Mallory. I always wonder who they named it after, if they were someone important. I guess it'd be like if you worked somewhere that was named Boden Circle or something."
Her eyes drifted from his smile down to his hands, and she frowned a little when she saw the bruises and cuts. Was he into martial arts in his regular life? Maybe he'd taken it up for exercise. She pointed at the darkest bruise, the purple that discolored his knuckles. "I'd hate to see the other guy," she said lightly.
Boden sat back for a moment and allowed his mind to roam, trying to piece together stray fragments of memories that the other him had left behind in his absence. Vaguely he could recollect a bookstore by that name. "I think I've passed by there." He ducked his head and pulled loose skin on his lower lip into his mouth, acknowledging the offer of her name with a slight nod of his head. He was after all a man of few words.
"I guess," he murmured with what he hoped was a smile.
Her remark about his knuckles drew his attention to them and he drew his fingers in towards himself, lengths disappearing beneath a dark sleeve on either hand. "Disagreement in a bar."
He apparently didn't talk much, which was strange for a guy who worked in radio, but maybe it was just a case of the public persona being different than the private one. He probably got tired of talking all the time at work. She knew she would. Customer service was its own test some days, she couldn't imagine having to keep people entertained on a daily basis.
"Your accent sounds different in real life," she offered. "More French or something. I guess if you're talking through radio equipment, it makes your voice sound like it belongs to someone else. Is it kind of like acting?"
Boden lifted an eyebrow at her observation and ducked his head, once again mourning the loss of a fringe that would have been so easy to hide behind. "I guess it is." This other him had a far more relaxed way of speaking, that much he had learned from listening to the answering machines, previous shows and the interactions he'd had with other people. Boden had attempted to adopt it, to try and integrate himself into this life as much as was possible, but admittedly it was difficult.
"The equipment does muffle my accent." He wasn't entirely sure if that was a lie, he couldn't quite recall what the equipment did when he wasn't sat right in front of it. "But I suppose that's good for radio, wouldn't want listeners not knowing what I was saying."
He's shy. Or else he's really good at pretending to be shy. Mallory had to draw her mouth in tight at the corners to keep the smile at bay, because if it wasn't an act it would just embarrass him more. She supposed that she should be flattered that she could make someone turtle in her 'delicate condition', but she didn't want to give Boden a case of nerves.
"I like your show," she said, looking out towards the street instead of at him. "We keep a radio at work, sometimes i get to listen while you're on. I think you're really talented."
Shy? That was one way of describing Boden. Reserved, unfriendly and generally bad with people were other ways and probably more apt ways. He drew his lower lip between his teeth and lifted his gaze to allow it to roam, taking note of every face he could see and listening to conversations not meant for his or anybody else's ears. It never hurt to be aware of one's surroundings, even surroundings so idyllic and peaceful as this park.
"Merci," he responded almost without thinking. "I'm glad you enjoy it. Wouldn't be doing too good of a job if you didn't." His eyes cut to her and there was a moment of observation - intense observation - as Boden attempted to understand why it was that he saw a different shade of colour in her solar plexus.
And okay, so she couldn't help it, but that look gave her a not-unpleasant chill. She'd always been a sucker for intensity, and one of the reasons she was in this predicament now was because Dom had come on so strong at first. The redhead cupped a hand to the very slight swelling of her stomach, adjusted the way she sat so that he couldn't see what little there was to see.
"We're going to have a poetry reading thing at the store in the next week or so," she said a bit too quickly. some of the locals coming in if they want to read whatever they might have written, a way to drum up some business. I don't know if you'd be interested or not, but you could drop by for a little while. It'd be kind of, I don't know, performing arts. Or something."
The way she moved and how she cupped her stomach suggested at... something, but what that something was eluded Boden. He had his suspicions, but in the name of all that was holy he was not about to open that particular can of worms. He was still adjusting to the idea of Mallory being different, he didn't think he could handle anything else on top of that right now. Not when he already had enough to contend with, including a girlfriend who had so far left him... six voicemails and sent several text messages.
"A poetry reading?" He repeated.
Social gatherings were generally something to be avoided, especially as it meant being surrounded by absolute strangers. And yet... Boden could not believe he was even contemplating saying yes, but he blamed the other Mallory for that. She'd gotten under his skin. "Do you know when it is?"
"Um..."
Mallory went through her pockets quickly, found a business card for The Next Chapter. "It's the weekend after next," she said, writing down the date. "Ian, he's the manager, said it'd probably be better to have it after the new year so everyone's recovered from the whole holiday gauntlet. It should start around seven or so. There'll be coffee and maybe doughnuts for refreshments.'
Probably not a good moment to mention that the only thing he could eat was raw meat, yeah, definitely not a good moment. He took the business card from her and turned it over in his hand, committing the details to memory just in case he lost the card. "I'll remember that." He slid the card away into a pocket of his jacket and pulled his sleeves over his hands again, tipping his head as a conversation about chores and redecorating caught his ear as a couple passed them.
"Maybe I'll come more as an observer."
"Oh, well yeah, I wasn't suggesting you'd have to get up and read anything. You probably get enough of talking on a normal work day. Maybe you could show up early and browse a little. We keep a fairly wide range of books in stock, you might find something you like."
She felt like she was in danger of babbling, and she glanced at her watch. It was getting late enough that she should be on her way home to feed the dog and cook some dinner, and undoubtedly Boden had places to be. Mallory got off the bench, tucked some hair behind one ear. "I should probably go, it'll be pitch dark soon. It was really nice meeting you, Boden. Good luck with tomorrow's show."
Boden sat back a little when Mallory rose to her feet and began her departure. He gave a somewhat terse smile, trying for what he thought was a natural response to a parting remark. "Et toi aussi." Which basically meant 'you too', but Boden realised that Mallory probably didn't know that and gave an apologetic movement of his hand. "Sorry, force of habit. It just means, you too."
He laced his fingers together and breathed. "Guess I'll see you next week."
She did wonder about his knuckles, but it seemed impolite to question him when they'd just met. "Yeah, I'll see you next week. Enjoy the rest of your night." Mallory started off in the direction of the street, intending to drop by the grocery store on her way home and get a few things. She looked back once, waved at Boden before departing, thinking that maybe she should have asked for an autograph after all. Well, maybe next time, right?