[Kemp Oates] It was nearly noon on Sunday and he was sitting on the raised steps of a falling down tenement building where he could easily see the little bit of traffic that passed this broken street. At his side sat a plain bag, grease soaking through. Next to that rest a big gulp, stripped straw extending from the lid.
He watched snowflakes lazily drifting down as he chewed. Cold had seeped up from the cement steps into his ass, unlike summer when he would of burned his ass sitting on the cement. He wore an old black knit cap. Jeans with one knee showing through it and the old stained olive coat.
[Rory] Nearly noon, and Rory has been wandering for some time now. She’s run a patrol, and checked in with some of the folks she barters for in order to help feed herself and her pack. She’s getting a bit of a reputation as someone who can fix damn near anything in the small mechanical realm. Her quiet ways, her shy demeanor, her weird way of speaking – it all works together to have them calling on her talent again and again, despite the powerful rage that thrums under her skin.
It’s snowing, lazily, and warming too. It’ll turn to rain soon enough, but it doesn’t seem to bother the young Metis – she just doesn’t notice. She walks down the street in front of where the Fenrir sits but doesn’t notice, completely engrossed in the little thing in her hands, slender, nimble fingers tugging and pulling and pressing and examining the item she’d found, with an charmingly innocent curiosity written across her face.
[Kemp Oates] He stuck a finger in his mouth, then held it up high as if testing for something. Then he wiped the finger on his thigh and reached down into the bag again. After another moment, he lobbed a round object into the air in a perfect arc. It spun, it turned, it wobbled, that round object and then started a downwards flight after reaching the apex. And down it went, down, down until…..
BOING
It struck Rory just behind the left shoulder and plopped to the ground, leaving a white starburst on the girl’s coat.
[Rory] Something hits her, and jerk her attention upwards, as she spins to look for what hit her in the shoulder, one hand going to the spot that’s marked with… a white starburst. Brows furrow slightly as she looks at her fingers, bloodred curls bouncing as she searches for the culprit – and finds only the Adren.
Whatever flash of concern, of annoyance, instantly fades as she meets his eyes briefly then drops them immediately [submission, instant], hands holding the little mettle whatsit close to her chest as if suddenly sure he’s going to take it from her. Nevertheless, she turns toward him, and closes the distance ducking her head to hide a shy little grin as she does so.
“Hi.”
Single words are easier.
[Kemp Oates] As soon as Rory took her first step, it was to feel something give under that foot. When she lifted the foot, she’d find the smooshed remains of one of those little powdered donuts.
“Well hello there Rory.”
Feigning surprise when she started towards him and spoke.
“Ain’t seen ya in a long time. What’s new Magoo?”
[Rory] She looks at her boot, briefly, and then to him and his pretend innocence and surprise, her brow furrowing briefly, before it clears again. Caught, he is, but she just lets him pretend – after all, in the realm of things that she’s been hit with – a powdered donut is the least of her worries.
She lifts a hand to rub absently at the side of her nose, leaving a little smudge from the whatsit in her hands in it’s wake as she closes the distance. “Nothing new.” Some words are easier than others. She stops when she’s close enough to the stoop for easy conversation, but doesn’t invite herself to sit. She’d never presume. Ever.
“You?”
[Kemp Oates] “Me? Nothing ever happens around me. Why, I live in a virtual void of activity.”
He reached up and touched his nose.
“Got something on your face.”
[Rory] She makes a sound – disbelief maybe. In others it might be a scoff, but with Rory, all things are tinged by the curious innocence about her that it’s almost sweet. She’d make an effort to believe even the most outrageous lie, if just to ensure the Adren is respected.
She has something on her face, and she uses the heel of he hand to rub at it, but then just shrugs. “Grease.” from the little thing she’d found. “thound fis. Sot nure what it is yet.”
She looks down at the little thing again, shoulders shrugging briefly as nimble fingers go back to poking and prying at it. It looks a little bit like a high end [broken] model race car, without the body or wheels…
[Kemp Oates] He barely glanced at the thing she held, instead he was busy shaking his head and pointing at another spot on her face.
“No, ya missed it. Over there.”
While reaching for the Big Gulp to take a pull from the straw.
“More like…there.”
Another point.
[Rory] She just shrugs, as he keeps trying to get her to rub more smudges on her face – she’s used to this game. That shy lil grin appears again and she sinks to a crouch, the pack on her back clunking and jingling with the movement. There’s no telling what she has in there, though it’s likely more gadgets and gizmos she’s found.
Though she does absently rub under her chin. Hopeless, she is, as she rest the thing on her knees to keep poking at it. She look up at him, briefly, before dropping her gaze again. “You hive lere?” Curious.
[Kemp Oates] He glanced at the building at his back and shook his head.
“Nah. I don’t live here. I don’t really live anywhere, yet the city is my home.”
“So, whatcha been up to? Ain’t seen nor heard nothing about ya recently. Then again, I am out of the loop.”
[Rory] She tips her head slightly – much as a wolf who is curious would, and looks up at him again. The glances never last long, but at least they exist now, where before she would not dare look him in the eye even briefly. She seems more comfortable now, even if still achingly, painfully shy.
“Have pew nack. Edwin and Delmar and Annie.” There’s a small bit of pride there, having found a home that accepts her, and a diverse one at that. Even if Delmar picks on her relentlessly.
[Kemp Oates] He looked at her good and hard like maybe he didn’t understand her this time.
“Delmar? Delmar the one who is a Jackass to you? The same Delmar ya beat the fuck out of, who claimed innocence?”
His breath cuffed out.
“Huh, well fuck me upside down and call me ms piggy.”
[Rory] She furrows her brow slightly, and then nods. “He’s not mo sean anymore. I heat bim up when he is.” But it’s not that though, that brought her to fox. “Edwin is Alpha. He accepts me. Fox mound fe.”
Fox found her. Fox lead Edwin to her, and Fox accepted the little metis as something of worth, something of value. Elliot always tried to change her, never accepted her. Chloe abandoned her. Fox found her.
And then, curious as she looks at him, head tipping all the way to the side… “…Ms… piggy?” as if trying to determine if it were possible to do that to someone upside down…
[Kemp Oates] “Yes Ms. Piggy.”
He was trying to place which one Edwin was. There were many he didn’t even have a passing knowledge of. It took him a moment before it finally clicked.
“Well then, I’m glad you found your spot.”
[Kemp Oates] He rose, brushing his hands across his rear to clear any debris from it. Then bent to snag the bag and drink.
“Here, ya look hungry. I gotta run.”
He handed the things over, and when she looked in the bag, if she looked in, she would find fresh powdered donuts.
With a wink he was off.
((Sorry, gotta run to the folks real quick!))
[Rory] Her brow furrows slightly. “Who’s Ps. Miggy?”
Poor Rory. Pop Culture Fail. She pricks her finger on a pointy part of the little object in her hand, and absently sucks on her fingertip briefly, before simply returning to what she was messing with. It’ll heal faster than it takes to examine the little piece of metal that jabbed her, after all.
Then – curious. “…you pack?” She’s never heard that he was in a pack, but then again – she keeps to herself most times too.
….and then… he’s gone, leaving her with some donuts and unanswered questions as she stares after him.