Who: Odin and OPEN What: Them's the breaks. Or possibly just "them's the hairline fractures." When: Monday, traditional business lunch hours. Where: The steps outside a deli in Midtown East.
The lunch rush was something that Ethan particularly enjoyed - the press of bodies, the anonymity of a million suits and skirts and raggedy blue jeans and everything in between. New York had no dress code, and he loved it. And whenever he had the chance to enjoy a lunch that wasn't crammed into some disgustingly lavish restaurant, he would take the opportunity to hit the streets, buy a coffee at a vendor, or wiggle his way into a deli counter corner store. The food tasted better, and there was the opportunity for a modicum of fresh air: for the relative definition of "fresh" in Manhattan.
It was a nice spring day, though: the breeze was pushing the stink of the day out toward the water, leaving the city with that idyllic sort of glow about it. He had a hoagie in one hand, and a bag of chips in the other, and was trotting down the narrow steps from his favorite sandwich counter back to the street. A woman walking a Scottish terrier dodged left; Ethan dodged right, went down hard, and could distinctly feel the toe of his shoe drag and catch beneath the weight of his body.
Something snapped.
It wasn't Ethan who landed, hard, right on his tailbone on the bottom step. His chips were about seven hundred yards east - jesus, how did that even happen - and his sandwich had been neatly squished into two pieces in the clench of his fist. It was Odin who found himself laying there in pain, as if the presence of trauma had snapped their identities into a protective stance. As interesting as that was, it was fucking painful. He lay there, staring at the sky, trying to figure out what would be the best idea to move first. There was some general murmuring from the crowd, but this was New York. People had places to be. Where was his cell? He could at least call for a car. ...possibly that rectangular shape he could feel digging into his kidney.