rome could (thinkaloud) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-04-19 12:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | elizabeth bennet, todd hewitt |
Who: Rome and Eli
What: Theft, swearing, a lot of stupidity of varying forms.
Where: Behind a poorly-manned Goodwill.
When: Say... yesterday.
Warnings: Some mature topics in conversation and a lot of bad language.
Rome had new digs. He was pretty proud of them, walled up in this building called Ham-Art that was falling apart so bad he was pretty sure the city would have taken it down if anybody actually owned it. It was a one-room, and the walls were cardboard, but it didn’t stink and it had running water. Cold, rusty, but definitely running water. It was the Ritz, man, seriously. Seattle was colder than L.A., but the gangs weren’t as bad, and he liked it here. More excuses to wear high-neck shirts and jackets with big shoplift pockets.
Earlier that afternoon he’d managed to swipe a pizza from a really stupid delivery guy’s car (he’d gone back into the shop to get something he’d forgotten) and so Rome was running on high spirits and a full stomach when he casually moved into the alley behind the Goodwill. He was shopping, in a way. The Goodwill volunteers never paid any attention to the trucks they were loading, and there were always people crawling all over the place.
There was a television sitting right on the back of that truck and as long as he could look confident in carrying it--and keep his Noise down long enough to get away--he might be able to hack some airwaves and watch a soap opera or something. Wicked. Rome sidled up and hoisted himself into the truck, a steady stream of commentary really quiet accompanying his movement: In and out, not a problem, just in and out, this can’t be that heavy, nope, not heavy at all, bend your knees, they say, don’t want to have back problems later on, bend your knees, shit, that’s heavier than I thought once you got it in your arms for a while, shit, how do those moving guys do this?
“I’m quite certain they have training.” The voice came from around the corner of the truck, the speaker not yet visible. Eli was in search of an old camera, and places like Goodwill tended to provide the most unexpected finds. He had seen the truck, and he’d approached it in the hopes of taking a look at whatever was sequestered within before it went to be priced. The reality of places like Goodwill, Eli knew, was that the employees kept all the good finds for themselves, and one had to work quite hard to best them at their own game.
Eli assumed the young man with the television had spoken the words he’d heard; he didn’t quite registered yet that they were in his mind. “You are rather smallish for it, aren’t you?” he asked, looking around for whoever was meant to help the young man unload the truck and seeing no one in the immediate vicinity.
Shit, someone is coming. Need to hurry, go faster. The steady stream of commentary did not abate, even the split-second when he listened to Eli’s question only lasting a bare moment before it picked up again, this time a little faster. Like you’re any stronger, and I bet smallish isn’t even a word, nobody I know has ever said it, anyway, maybe it’s some dumb English thing, go away and get your own, this one is mine. He had to put the television, which was far from a flat-screen, down to scramble off the truck bed, and he started pulling it toward him again with metallic scrapes, hunching his shoulders to hide his jaw and mouth from the other man.
Eli thought, funnily enough, of Preston. Preston would advocate running in this situation, he suspected, and it made him laugh under his breath. “I see. You aren’t employed here at all. You’re merely taking advantage of the Goodwill’s good will, is it? Do you mean to carry that the entire way home? Or do you have a vehicle nearby for your stolen item?” he asked, glancing into the back of the truck as he neared it.
Good will, whatever, nobody has good will, rich people drop shit off and these people sell it to poor people, that’s not good will, that’s fucking money-making right there, how does he know I’m stealing, anyway, mind your own business, asshole, leave me alone, could lie and say I have friends and a car but no, I can’t, fuck, fucking Noise, leave me alone! This all increased in speed, but not really volume. The grammatical changes moved at the same rhythm, without change or direction. Rome pulled on his tv and got it into his arms, staggering a little and hastily stepping back. Drop it if he yells, he thought fiercely, in a loud hiss.
“I have no intention of yelling,” Eli said calmly, pushing his hands into his pockets. He was dressed in corduroy slacks and a vest over his shirt, and he only needed glasses to possibly look more academic. “Goodwill is meant to give affordable items to those who cannot purchase them on their own, but I find they sometimes come up short. Don’t you?” He pulled his keys out of one pocket, and he nodded toward the vintage charger in the parking lot. “Come along. I’ll take you wherever you need to take that device.”
Rome lost some of his aggression as he stepped away again and Eli’s hands went in his pockets, the picture of non-confrontation. His eyes widened slightly in disgust. Fucking lecturing me on Goodwill, seriously, who the hell is this guy? He turned his head around and the Noise temporarily abated as he caught sight of the Charger. Whoa, that’s a nice car, I wish I had a car like that, I’d drive it onto route six-six or something and break all the speed limits, how does the professor have a car like that? He turned his head back to eye Eli again suspiciously over his television set. Fucking thing is heavy, he thought absently. He’s not going away, he wants me to get in the car, he a pervert, or something? Rome started to turn with his television, still keeping a wary eye on Eli. Take it myself, bet he’s lying, bet he’s stalling me or something for security.
Eli chuckled. It reminded him of Julian and Georgie, of how they said whatever came to mind, and it made him feel even less worry around the young man, despite the fact that his language was very different from the two children in his care. He was not childlike, not at all, this thief; he was more disgruntled teenager, when it came down to it. Still, Eli did not fear him, and he walked to the car and opened the driver’s side door. He tossed the keys inside. “You can drive, if you like,” he offered, walking around to the passenger’s door after doing it. “I believe it will fit in the back seat,” he added, before grinning again. “And I am not a pervert, though I’m entertained you think I look the type to be a deviant. Come along.”
Rome didn’t move, except to shift the weight of his prize and glance again over his shoulder. Should put it down, too heavy to carry, this guy saw me, should pretend I didn’t know, who’d believe this guy, he talks like a butler; it really is his car, son of a bitch! he continued, finally stretching his neck over the tv to look at the Charger’s long, pretty lines. He tucked his head back almost immediately as the stream of thought picked up again. I’m not stupid, not getting into that car with someone I just met, there’s not a type there’s just guys with hands that grab at you and think you owe them and want you to pay with your ass, but I’m not paying, not going, fuck this. He tucked his knees down without warning and dropped the tv an inch off the ground. It cracked across the screen. Fuck this, he added. His mouth wasn’t moving. He backed away another step.
The crack of the screen distracted Eli from noticing that the young man’s lips had not moved. He looked shocked, hurt. “I do apologize,” he said. “I was merely trying to help,” he said, motioning to the now useless television. He closed the passenger’s door, and he walked back around, all indication being that he was going to get in the car and drive away. He stopped, however, just short of doing so. “I really had no intention of harming you. You remind me of someone I know, somewhat,” he said, stubbornly trying again instead of getting in the car like a rational human being. “I own a shop, and I’m certain there’s an old television or two lying about. I have antiques, you see, things people have no need for any longer.”
Rome put distance between himself and the tv, which now sat in the gutter at the edge of the alleyway. The several steps brought him closer and his Noise a little louder. It didn’t turn off, and he had his shoulders up again, though he didn’t automatically turn his shoulder in concealment. He had a naive face but old, sharp eyes that squinted suspiciously. Right, someone you know, I bet you know all kinds of stupid jackasses that steal tvs, antiques, only old ladies collect antiques, but I bet you got the money for it, with a car like that, what do you want me for, then, so you can have the tv? Not an expensive tv. Could buy one, with a car like that. Nice car.
It was impossible not to notice the lack of mouth movement as the boy neared, and Eli managed not to stare, but only just. The realization brought about another realization - he wasn’t actually hearing the young man, not in the traditional sense of the word. As soon as he noticed it, he wondered how he’d ever mistaken it. He had a momentary thought that introducing him to Julian would be bad, and then he cleared this throat and pretended he had not noticed at all, that it was nothing out of the ordinary. “I don’t know any stupid jackasses that steal televisions, if you would know the truth. I suspect you need a television, and you do not have the means to obtain one.” He smiled. “I’m of a mind to donate one of my older televisions. Can you think of any good reason why I shouldn’t donate it to you? Rather than to this fine place of business?”
Truth, right, can’t tell if you’re lying, you talk too smart, and you know I want a tv, bet it’s like bait, nobody needs a tv, not like I’m going to starve without a tv, got a whole pizza, last me until tomorrow or day after, not going to starve, I don’t need anything from you. Rome started to move, throwing his chest out to make sure he looked confident about it, but he circled around the Charger rather than moving away. What kind of shop, antique shop, televisions aren’t antique? His ‘voice’ had emotional inflections in it, just like audible voices, but the difference is that when it went up and down, the emotions were not perceived by tone or social implication, but the words were actually tinged with the appropriate ‘sound.’ Curiosity, in this case.
Eli quite liked his car, and he was perfectly willing to let the young man look at it all he liked. “You’re certain you don’t wish to drive her?” he asked, keys jangling in his hand. “It is a coffee shop,” he said. “And teas, but I suspect you’re more of a coffee type. And I have antiques because I like things that are no longer popular. I have rooms upstairs that I’ve used before I moved into my current apartment, and the televisions there are in a perfect state for donation,” he said. He decided, after a few more minutes to think this through, that the young man was a Creation; there was no other explanation for it. “My name is Elijah Pride. Eli.”
Rome’s sharp eyes narrowed on the keys, and he stopped moving and tensed in his jacket. Not getting in a car, I got into a car once I shouldn’t have ever gotten into and I’m not ever getting into your car so stop fucking asking me. It took people a while to realize that words didn’t come out of his mouth, and most of the time they figured he was doing some kind of ventro-quill act or something. It lasted long enough for him to leave the conversation, usually. He didn’t yet think it odd Eli hadn’t noticed. He stayed far out of reach, and now the car was between them. Coffee, like that coffee chain that steams the milk, waste of fucking money, in my opinion, just buy a coffee at McD’s it’s like eighty-nine cents, or something, but I guess you have a lot of money, Eli Pride, pride like lions, like the Lion King, I liked that movie, I saw it with dad. Rome gave a little jerk of his head in irritation at himself. Don’t think about dad.
Eli did not ask about dad. He shrugged his shoulders, acting for all the world like nothing bothered him, and he tossed his keys to the kid, underhand and easy and nothing aggressive about the throw. “It’s down this road, just shy of the university. I’ll call a cab,” he said, actually meaning it, not saying it to get the boy to agree at all. There was something about the last sentence the young man had thought, the one about his father, that made Eli all the more stubbornly determined to help.
Rome’s eyes widened. Catch it! He caught the keys, and stared at them. Trying to set me up? he wondered, slowly, obviously not addressing Eli. Can’t tell, what the hell, is this guy crazy? You’re crazy! He looked at the car with fairly transparent longing, and he was obviously considering it, even if his Noise hadn’t made that perfectly clear. It would be so hot to drive this car, damn, like a movie star, or something, but I bet I would get caught, by the cops, or something, or crash, I don’t have a license, I crashed a car once, but I bet it’s a set up, I don’t know him, I don’t trust you. He threw the keys back and shook his head. Crazy mother fucker, throwing keys at people, can’t be that smart, maybe charity, one of those Soul-Saver guys?
Eli rolled his eyes. “Oh, honestly. You make it bloody impossible to give things away,” he said with exasperation. “There is no trick. Honestly,” he repeated in an almost-mutter.
Rome looked back at the car. If he means it I wonder where I can sell it? Maybe get few thousand bucks, wow, I’ve never had a thousand dollars before, is there a thousand dollar bill? Should I ask for more?
“I was referring to the television, not the car. You’re not selling my bloody car,” Eli said. Instead, he reached into his pocket and began unrolling twenty dollar bills, which he stepped forward and set in the middle of the space between them - ten of them. “Go inside and purchase a bloody television.”
What’s he got, what’s he getting out, that’s MONEY. Faster than a snake striking, Rome took two steps, climbed on the open door’s step beside the driver’s seat, and swiped the bills off the top of the Charger’s roof. He clutched them in a fist and darted back again to see what he’d claimed. Ones, fives? TWENTIES, holy shit, one, two, three, buy food for the next month, maybe some soap, YES.
Eli felt quite certain the universe was cursing him with unwashed teenagers, and he sighed in an entirely dramatic and put upon manner. “Honestly, if you ceased being such a frightened child you could have soap and warm food and something to drink in addition to a working television and a ride in a nice car, but you’re over there acting like I’m a bloody serial killing rapist.”
I’m not afraid, or I am but not of you, asshole, I could take you, as long as it wasn’t in a car and I could get away, I could take you. Rome gave Eli an accompanying disdainful look. Don’t know who is a rapist, do I, nobody knows who is, and I’m not a fucking kid anymore, so keep your stupid opinions, like anybody’s ever gone after YOUR lily white ass, anyway. Rome was counting the bills, meanwhile, nine, ten, what’s ten twenties, seventy? doesn’t matter, buy things later. he shoved it into his coat pocket, the black leather torn and repaired with duct tape in several places. Lifted, like everything else Rome owned.
“When you get done with that pride, you may come by Reliquary. Tell them you’re the infernal young man from Goodwill, and there will always be a hot meal ready for you, on the house,” Eli said, watching the counting and wondering how many young men and women from Musings were like this boy, like Julian. It was something to think on, perhaps something to work with. “Do you have work?” he asked. “We could always use good workers,” he said, speaking of EIT now and not Reliquary. “Can you hear thoughts, or merely project them?” he asked bluntly.
The stream of muttered Noise that matched this line of statements went like this: Nobdy’s got pride when they’re hungry, still think of that lion movie instead of the stuff rich people care about, what kind of name is Pride? Work, right, he thinks I work, that’s stupid-- The Noise abruptly cut off right when Eli mentioned thoughts. It just cut off, and the sudden silence was even more audible than anything else. He knows! burst through, and without warning, not even a thought to preface the action, Rome turned and bolted down the alleyway, so fast that a second later his Run! was barely detectable, and the accompanying panic like an echo of the real thing.
Eli watched him go, and he considered banging his head on the roof of the car. He knew he wouldn’t be able to let this go; he hadn’t even gotten a bloody name to follow up on this time. Julian had been much, much easier, and he wondered if he was perhaps developing some odd fetish he should consider therapy for. In the end, he decided that no, that was not the case. He got into the car and he started the engine, and then he stopped. He turned the engine off again, and he went into Goodwill and paid entirely too damn much for an outdated television, which he then left further down the alley than his arms felt was entirely necessary. After doing so, he got in the car and started the engine once more.
Rome got three blocks down before he realized that no one was following. He hid for a while in the shadow of a dumpster, and he waited to see if anyone was coming while he vibrated in a cloud of his own Noisy worries about someone recognizing what he did. He counted the money to make him feel better, and tried to think about what he would buy with so much money, like a pack of new t-shirts or some socks to go with his soap. He waited a good ten minutes, but nobody came, and it came to him that the Professor would have driven off by now to go get his latte, or whatever, and maybe the tv he broke had been put out for the dumpster. He folded his cash and tucked it away, and sneaked off back toward the Goodwill alley to see what he could see.
It wasn’t possible to get a view of the lot from the other side of the block, but it looked like they’d put the tv out, alright, sitting out by itself. Rome could only see the back, but they wouldn’t bring a new one out, so it must be his. He waited for the echo of this thought to die out, and then he stuck his hands in his pockets and affected casual stroll while he approached the old television. He remembered how heavy it was, and he’d have to stop on the way to the Ham-Art building, but that was cool. He picked it up, bending his knees, and, not noticing the screen was intact, moved back the way he had come. YES.
Eli watched the collection of the television in his rearview. He felt like a man trying to catch a feral kitten, and he laughed at himself. At least this boy was not like Julian. If he wanted a television, there had to be electricity somewhere for him to plug it in, and that was already better than Julian’s situation had been. He waited until the young man was out of sight, and then he pulled the car out and waited. As expected, the television required regular stops, and Eli stayed at a far enough distance not to attraction attention. Still, he followed until Hamartia came into view, and he watched the young man go inside with his prize. It was a starting point, he felt, in his pursuit of the elusive kitten.