William Hayes đ Lord Wardwick of Hurog (lostthings) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2016-05-27 22:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | william hayes |
Who: William Hayes
What: Another day of watching and waiting.
Where: A family-owned warehouse in Boston.
When: Friday, May 27, near midnight.
Warnings: PG for cursing and ableist language.
The shipment had arrived after it was already full dark. If that wasnât enough to give away the fact that all wasnât well, the fact that the boys in charge of unloading were all twitchy about it would have been. Well, all the boys unloading it but one, one that was too old to actually be called a boy at all. The large, light-haired man that was hauling the boxes off the truck and passing them to another two, carrying together what the one could manage on his own, didnât seem to be all that worried about whatever it was they were doing. In fact, he was whistling, completely oblivious to the tension of everyone around him. Two other men were supervising, one another blond, the other red-haired, directing the workers that the big man handed the boxes to into the warehouse, with instructions on where to stack them, and how to stack them. The rest of them were quiet, nodding their agreement and keeping their heads down. A few of them glanced nervously at the large man slinging boxes off the truck with ease, like they were questioning what he was so cheerful about when the rest of them were hard at work.
They must have been new, if they didnât know that Doyle Hayesâs oldest son wasnât quite right in the head, after heâd taken a crack on it when he was a teenager. Theyâd learn soon enough, if not by watching him themselves, listening to the slow, halting way he talked, then by the whispers that they heard from the rest of the familyâs employees. It was one of their favorite stories, that the oldest Hayes boy was slow, the younger vanished into thin air, and the daughter⌠well, she was just a girl, wasnât she? Better hope that Hayes could find someone to marry her off to that would be a decent addition to the family business.
It was bound to happen eventually, the way that the man was slinging the boxes off the truck with reckless abandon, like he was completely unaware of his own strength, or the fact that whatever was inside the boxes could have been fragile. One of them slipped out of his hands before the men walking up to the truck for their next load were ready for it. They scrambled out of the way as the heavy box crashed down to the ground, the wood of it creaking ominously. It didnât break open, but there was a cracking sound that wasnât very encouraging when it came to its hardiness should the maneuver be repeated. The workers gaped, the blond man stared at the box on the ground like it hadnât quite occurred to him how it had gotten there, and the overseers took note and started stomping toward the scene. Finally, the blond man looked up, blue eyes wide and guileless as he announced, for the whole unloading crew to hear, âOops.â
âYa feckinâ retard!â The red-haired man reached them first, hand drawing back like he was thinking about hitting the large blond man. Just looking at the difference between their sizes was enough to remind him that it was a bad idea, though not enough to keep him from scolding him. âDo ya have any idea how much the gravel in that box is worth? And here yâare, tryinâ to spill it all over the ground.â His face was almost as red as his hair, and the larger man stared at him, as if he was fascinated by the whole process.
The other fair-haired man reached them before it could escalate, giving the redhead a warning jab in the side with his elbow. âYouâve gotta be more careful, Will. Your dadâll be pretty unhappy if you break the boxes, right? We donât want him upset.â He talked slowly, carefully, giving Will plenty of time to understand him. Then, he turned to the redhead. âAnd we donât need to go yelling whatâs in the boxes for everyone and their mother to hear, either, do we?â
âSorry, Niall.â Will did look contrite, when he stared at the other blond man. Slightly less so when he turned to the redhead and repeated the apology. âSorry, Rory.â Then, when they both watched him, apprehensive, he told them, âThatâs a lot of rocks.â He didnât question why theyâd be getting in a shipment of rocks, or why they were storing it so carefully in a warehouse. Just leaned over and picked up the box, holding it out to the two workers again, much more carefully this time.
Niall and Rory stayed to watch while he unloaded the next, as well, then Niall clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder with a reminder to be careful, and they were off. âHe might be a retard,â Niall told Rory, âbut if he can throw a crate like that, think what he could do to you if you pissed him off.â