York (freelanceryork) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2018-03-21 17:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed, !complete, !completed gdoc, !log, !match-up, ~2018 march, ~50 points, ~~agent york (freelanceryork), ~~george camarine (cursed_prince) |
WHO: George Camarine and Agent York
WHERE: Out on the Street
WHEN: Recently
WHAT: Intervention of bullying leads to coffee
RATING: PG
STATUS: matchup; log; completed
“Hey, loser!” George was fairly sure the slur wasn’t directed at him, but it was loud enough that it got his attention nonetheless, and he turned his head to see who’d shouted it. It turned out to be a young man, perhaps George’s own age or a year or two younger, who was approaching another young man, smirking. Behind him were three similarly smug-looking boys, whom George decided he disliked instantly. He had no patience for people who thought themselves better than others - at least without proving their worth. The target of the shout - the “loser” in question - shrank back, trying to make himself small enough to escape detection, but George knew from experience that sort of thing didn’t work. The encroaching bullies had smelled blood in the water, and they were going in for the kill. “Those are nice shoes,” the first boy said as he swaggered up to his victim. “How’d trash like you afford such nice shoes?” He took off the lid of the soft drink he’d been holding and slowly, deliberately, poured it on his victim’s shoes. “Oops.” George was normally a very laid back kind of guy. At the very least, he had immense patience. He had to, in his line of work. But when he saw that happen, all he could think of was when he was 10 years old, when his sister had slaved herself to the bone just to afford new shoes for him and his brother so they wouldn’t have to go to school in hand-me-downs all the time, and he decided these bullies didn’t deserve his patience. He swerved to put himself on a path towards the group of bullies, and when he reach them, he bumped into the lead bully with enough force (aided by a nice tip of the wrist) to empty the content of his coffee down the front of the boy’s white shirt. “Oops,” he said mildly. And then, “Oh hey, isn’t that the shirt that was at the front window of the Goodwill?” *** York liked to people watch. It was as good a way to pass the time as any, and the park was a great place to do it. The cold didn't really bother him, nor did Delta's chattering in his ear. The downside of not wearing his armor all the time was that there wasn't a way for Delta to project himself, but that didn't mean York couldn't hear him. York was just good at letting Delta talk while still paying attention to what was happening around him. Such as watching a couple of kids target another young man to make fun of him. York didn't particularly like that, but before he could do anything about it, he noticed that there was yet another man who altered his path to cross with the little scene unfolding. So much so that he ran into the leader of the pack and spilled his coffee all over him. As he watched the interaction, York couldn't help but chuckle and got up from where he'd been sitting to make his way over there. He knew he looked imposing, very military, and with the missing eye it tended to leave an impression. "There a problem here, boys?" he asked, his tone suggesting the answer had better be 'no' and to scram. The lead bully pointed to the guy. "Hell yea there is. That asshole just dumped his coffee on me!" York looked between the guy and the bully. "Kid, I'm going to be real honest with you. You deserved it. Get outta here." *** The lead bully looked like he was ready to argue, but one look at the big, one-eyed man looming over them got his friends to be more sensible. They tugged him away, muttering something about it not being worth it. The bullied kid, also not willing to stick around someone who looked like he came straight out of a First Person Shooter, scrambled as well. That left George on his own, without even his morning coffee to keep him company. He’d taken the man’s measure while he’d been talking to the other kids. A military man, that was for certain. But one who still had his humanity. Liked honour, relaxing, lost causes, and possibly long walks on the beach. “Hey man, I coulda handled it.” George’s accent was perfect Midwest; he’d been here long enough to take on the long, flat vowels. He put in just enough uncertainty into his protest to suggest that he was perhaps posturing more than he was capable of delivering. *** York held back his grin until all the kiddies were out of sight. His fellow bully interruptor got it full force though. He was sure the man standing in front of him would have had to employ a few more subtle tactics, whereas as York had just been able to scare him away. “Sure could’ve,” York agreed easily, clapping the guy on the shoulder. “But then it would’ve taken you longer to get another cup of coffee. No reason not to speed that little interaction along.” Bullies were usually going to keep on bullying no matter what, but he knew how to handle them. “Seemed like it might’ve touched a nerve or something? Figured I’d replace your coffee if that’s alright by you.” York needed to make new friends anyway, or so Delta and Wash kept telling him. He was trying to ignore Church so he wouldn’t have to face everything with Carolina. That was just hard to deal with. *** It was true: George had never been imposing, not physically, at least. He’d been a small and fragile boy, and now he was a slim and fragile-looking man. That was what happened when you used your life force to animate a whole army of undead forest animals. He was much stronger than he looked, but that wasn’t a trait that tended to intimidate bullies. It was, however, pretty good at scoring him free coffee. He pretended to think about it, though, like any normal person who’d been warned as a kid against going off with strange men. In truth, he was already sold on it. This military man reminded him of Declan, and he found himself missing his brother-in-law. “Yeah, sure,” he said with a shrug. A young pup trying to act nonchalant in front of a bigger dog. He peered into his coffee cup to see if there was anything left, then cracked a grin when he saw he’d emptied it out on the bully. His smile was like the sun coming out behind the clouds. His golden hair even glowed. “It was worth every drop. Did you see the look on his face?” *** York wasn't the sort to want to do any posturing or anything like that. He could certainly, but it just wasn't his style. He appreciated that the guy thought about it and once he agreed, turned to lead the way toward the nearest little cart to get some coffee. "Putting bullies in their place will always be worth it," he agreed, and grinned as he recalled the jerk's face. "It was a brilliant move. Quick thinking on your feet, too. Good on you." York kept the guy on his right side so he could see him. Only Wash got to walk on his left, in his blind spot. "I'm York, by the way." He always forgot to introduce himself. Madison Valley wasn't quite 'home' just yet so he wasn't the best at getting to know people. He honestly preferred to be quiet in the background, gathering information that way. *** George preferred it that way as well, but no one who looked like him - or the one-eyed man beside him, for that matter - could be easily ignored. It was why he dressed down most of the time. Even so, he looked like a lost prince from a fairy tale. “George,” he replied as they walked. He found a garbage can on the way and tossed his empty cup into it from a few feet away. Good shot, but not particularly remarkable. He slanted a look in York’s direction. “Didn’t expect you to get involved.” *** York inclined his head at the introduction and in acknowledgement of the comment. "Don't usually get involved myself, but you got me interested. Spilling your coffee on the guy like that was an expertly timed thing." He was a little impressed. "Plus, what I've observed of this world? People these days don't get involved much if it doesn't directly affect them." He sort of understood that on one hand, but on the other? It made for some very difficult interactions to watch. People were cruel to one another, dispassionate and unsympathetic. York lived in isolation by circumstance, not by choice. He didn't understand why people treated each other that way. He kept thinking that the more he watched, the more he'd understand. So far, he wasn't having much luck. *** George shrugged again. Young men in the Broken did that a lot, he discovered, so he mimicked their habit. “I don’t like bullies.” They reached the coffee shop, and George had to fight against the ingrained habit of opening it for the other man. Instead, he swung it open with enough force to let both of them in, and stepped in first. “You on the network?” He glanced over his shoulder at York as he spoke. “Sometimes it seems like all anyone does there is involve themselves in other people’s business.” *** “Words on a screen aren’t the same as getting involved in person,” he replied as they stepped inside the coffee shop. “The network’s an interesting place.” York watched it, too. He just preferred to do his watching outdoors so he didn’t become some cooped up maniac. He led the way over to the end of the line, which luckily was only a few people deep. “Seems to me it’s a way for people to hide. Ones and zeroes, you know?” Plus there were a few hackers around so nothing was truly private. He tried to be careful about that. “But in person, you can see who a person really is.” *** “Yeah, the whole anonymity thing makes people braver than they would be in person,” George acknowledged. It was an interesting phenomenon to him, since the internet didn’t exist where he came from. There were some people in possession of remote communication devices, but they weren’t readily available in general. “No one to punch them in the face if they get rude.” *** “That it does,” York agreed with a nod. Some people really were just that rude, but not too many. And, to George’s point, if they got punched in the face often enough, they figured out what was okay to say in public and what wasn’t. “I’ve done my fair share of punching,” he admitted with a grin. “Something tells me you manage it a lot smoother than me.” There was something about George that just made York think he’d be better at subtlety and the like. York could infiltrate as part of a mission but he wasn’t subtle. They got to the counter and York turned to George. “Whatever you want, man. Have at it.” *** The man was perceptive, but George would’ve been disappointed if he wasn’t. Maybe he was just homesick, but he liked to think that people like Declan existed in any world. He was willing to go with that theory. “Thanks,” he said, and stepped up. It would be nice to have a friend here. |