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Post by Mister Stewart on Nov 15, 2010 0:03:11 GMT -8
Time: Mid-Late Afternoon
Weather: Cloudy
Warnings: Really bad rhymes (aka none, really XD')
Characters: Harry/Michael, Charlotte It had been...rather a long, busy morning. After the strange encounter at the diner and then the confusing meeting at the bookstore, Michael had been left feeling rather tired and bemused. Concerned that the boy would burn himself out, Mister Stewart suggested that they take a bit of time out for some relaxation. It was cloudy, but it wasn't raining yet...decent weather for an outing. So there the two of them were - Michael sitting on a bench upon the lookout point in the park, calmly reading while Mister Stewart sat reading his little console beside him. They both enjoyed quiet moments like this...even if they still looked an odd pair, they at least looked calm, at ease. |
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 15, 2010 0:19:26 GMT -8
I think the park is less busy than the graveyard Charlotte thought in amusement. It was cloudier now, but still a beautiful day. And she wasn't ready to head back to the hotel just yet.
Hence the reason she was now walking across the grass towards the lookout point of the park.
As she neared her current destination, Charlotte caught sight of a pair sitting on a bench. Well, one was seated on the bench, the other was seated in a wheelchair beside the bench. Both looked to be involved in something. The one the bench was... reading, it seemed like.
Her steps slowed. Did she truly want to take the change of meeting more people? They might start to think I'm actually friendly. Charlotte grinned. Ah, why the hell not?
Decision made, she picked up her pace.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Nov 15, 2010 0:54:32 GMT -8
The two men, upon closer inspection, were...pretty strange looking. The one in the wheelchair was sporting that bizarre skull-shaped gas mask, attention set on that odd little computerized console mounted to the arm of his chair. The other looked a bit more normal, despite the white suit and bizarrely straight posture (granted, there were a few splatters of blue paint marring the white suit at the moment). The younger man looked exhausted, but content enough with his reading.
Neither of them looked up to regard the newcomer just yet - they were both absorbed in their reading. At least...they didn't make any indication that they knew she was there. It was hard to tell with the man in the mask, but the younger fellow certainly wasn't looking up, back straight but head bowed to focus on his book. The wind tousled his hair, shifting it away from the back of his neck - there was some discoloration in the skin just peeking beyond his collar, dark reds and purple mottling noticeable only to the attentive.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 15, 2010 1:21:18 GMT -8
I wonder what he's reading?
Her curiosity as to the reading material of the man in the paint spotted white suit was soon drawn elsewhere. For as the wind tousled the younger man's hair Charlotte caught a glimpse of odd purplish mottling on the back of his neck. Curiosity peaked, she found herself studying him thoughtfully. What happened? Did it have something to do with the blue splotches on his suit? Who is he? Hell, for that matter who is the man in the wheelchair? Why is he wearing the gas mask?
Unfortunately this led to her paying more attention to them and less attention to her surroundings and where she was walking.
Charlotte eep'd in surprise as her foot tangled in a tree branch. She flung out her hands in a desperate attempt to regain her footing, or lessen her fall; SOMEthing.
It didn't work. She still fell. Charlotte slammed into the ground and pain exploded in her hip. She rolled a bit, coming to a stop several feet away from the pair.
“Fuckstockings,” she muttered, sounding breathless and more than a little pained.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Nov 15, 2010 1:35:55 GMT -8
It wasn't uncommon for mischievous kids to drag tree branches onto the lookout deck - building little towers, or even just playing with sticks. Unfortunately, this did tend to lead to situations like this one, and it certainly didn't lessen Charlotte's pain any. As she hit the wooden deck, the younger man - fully oblivious to what she had been looking at - looked up in surprise, promptly setting his book off to one side. It seemed like a day for unexpected falls, didn't it? That was, after all, how his suit had gotten splattered with all that paint....
Standing up, the young man walked swiftly towards the stranger, bending over and offering a hand to help her up. He didn't say anything just yet, merely looking at her with concern...at the very least, he was an attractive fellow, even despite the darkness under his eyes. The hand the wasn't offered was held behind his back in sort of a strange bow...or perhaps he was hiding it? (In truth, it was still sore from his own fall earlier that day.)
The man in the wheelchair spun around as well, watching his young aide move towards yet another newcomer. So many new people in Greenvale lately...he wasn't sure quite what to make of it.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 15, 2010 2:16:35 GMT -8
Charlotte blinked up at the young man who had set aside his book to come to her side.
He's kind of cute.
The realization caught her off guard. She didn't usually pay much attention to that sort of thing. It... she just didn't. Charlotte was so distracted that it took her a second for her to notice that he was offering her a hand up. She felt her face grow warm with embarrassment.
What is WRONG with me?
Offering him a shy smile, she took his hand and let him help her to her feet, though she couldn't help the sharp hiss of pain at the movement. Nor did she expect the ease with which he lifted her. She was somewhat at a loss for words; an occurrence that was extremely rare for her. So Charlotte went with the first thing that came to mind.
"Um... hi?"
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Post by Mister Stewart on Nov 15, 2010 2:47:12 GMT -8
The young man was, of course, still completely oblivious to what she was thinking. After all...in his mind, he wasn't at all attractive. He was sleepless, he was scrawny...he was far too weird for anyone. Obviously, like he had done earlier, she was only blushing because she had fallen - it didn't so much as cross his mind that perhaps anything else was factoring in.
Once she was on her feet, he removed his hand from hers, clasping his hands behind his back and standing quite at attention. Did this guy ever relax? Given the way he was sitting when he was just reading, it seemed unlikely. At first, he didn't speak, the man in the wheelchair moving up beside him...and then he leaned over, cupping his ear to listen to the man behind the mask. When he straightened up again, he finally spoke...and his voice was clear, every word enunciated.
Of course, there was...something a bit strange about the way he spoke.
"...Miss - I - that is to say, Mister Stewart, though I feel the same - hope that you are quite all right...that sudden fall gave me quite a fright. So says Mister Stewart." This dispensed with, he fell quiet again, looking as if he didn't think he had done anything out of the ordinary. The man in the mask gave a little nod of agreement - was he Mister Stewart, then?
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 15, 2010 3:27:20 GMT -8
What a peculiar manner of speaking. She liked it, though. Peculiar was not unfamiliar to her. It felt a bit like home, actually. Normal, on the other hand... Now that was very odd indeed.
Feeling a bit more herself, Charlotte offered them a friendly smile. There was dirt and leaves on her jeans and all over the back of her jacket. And I think I have a twig in my hair... She pulled said twig carefully from her now-tangled hair with a laugh, and let it fall from her fingers.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her poor, battered camera. She’d landed on the bloody thing when she’d fallen, which accounted for the ridiculous amount of pain. But it seemed to be in one piece, much to her relief. It hurt me far more than I hurt it. Reassured, she tucked it safely away again.
“I’m all right,” Charlotte replied, taking a moment to dust herself off a little. It wasn’t entirely the truth. In fact, it wasn’t the truth at all. Her hip was killing her, and she’d probably be walking with a limp for a while. But she was always all right... even when she wasn’t. “Thank you. For your help. And the concern.” She wasn’t used to the concern. It had been a long time since anyone had shown that sort of concern without even knowing her.
Charlotte bit her lip, wondering what to say next. Maybe I should introduce myself...?
“I’m Charlotte. Charlotte Jacobs. Charlie.”
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Post by Mister Stewart on Nov 15, 2010 19:20:43 GMT -8
The two men watched the girl as she dusted herself off and checked her camera, saying nothing as she surveyed the damage done. Neither of them were laughing at her in the least...it was hard to tell with the man in the mask, but the younger fellow looked gravely serious, standing at attention with his tired eyes focused forward. He looked faintly uncomfortable, if one was honest - and behind his back where he was clasping his hands, he rubbed a little at his sore wrist.
When she introduced herself, however, they both sprung into motion again...the younger man leaning down and listening, the older man whispering, then the younger man straightening up again. A routine they had clearly mastered long ago.
"Miss Charlotte Jacobs - we are pleased, we are sure, to meet you...so many people have come to this town anew. So says Mister Stewart." This dispensed with, the young man shifted his stance just a little, looking a little less straight ahead and a little more directly at Charlotte. He spoke again, this time without listening -
"My name is Michael, Mister Stewart's aide...and it seems like a day for sudden falls, I'm afraid." He didn't elaborate on this statement - he probably wouldn't - but it at least explained somewhat the blue paint on his suit.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 15, 2010 20:21:22 GMT -8
Charlotte watched the two of them interact. They must have known each other a very long time, to have such routines flow so smoothly. She appreciated that they weren't laughing at her fall. Just from her few moments interaction with them they didn't strike her as the types to find humour in others' misfortune.
And, from what the younger one - Michael, said, it sounded like he'd taken a similar tumble earlier. It could have been Mister Stewart, of course, but somehow she doubted it. The paint was sort of a dead giveaway.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Michael, Mister Stewart,” she replied, inclining her head slightly in greeting. She wasn’t sure how either of them felt about handshakes, and she wasn’t about to force anyone into awkward social customs. Hell, she barely tolerated them. Handshakes. Not social customs in general. Well... maybe a little.
I should probably leave. I think I’ve interrupted their day in the park more than long enough.
“I... I'm sure we'll run into each other again,” Charlotte said. “Quite possibly literally, from the way today has gone.”
She half-turned, fully intending to take her leave... only to have her injured leg buckle slightly. Wincing, she caught herself against the railing of the lookout point.
Way to make a graceful exit, Charlie.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Nov 15, 2010 21:05:05 GMT -8
The men would have been more than happy to let the girl simply leave, turning back towards their own devices...but when she suddenly pitched towards the railing, Michael's arm shot out again, ready to catch her if she continued to fall. He had no real desire to see her fall over the edge of the lookout tower, after all. There was a moment of hesitation as he tried to decide what to do about this...then finally, he spoke again, offering his hand.
"It seems as if your leg was hurt worse than it seemed...please, let me help you get over to a seat." He didn't hide the other hand behind his back this time - and while it was outstretched, the edge of a bandage wrap around his wrist could be seen poking out from under his sleeve. It seemed definitely that he was the one who had fallen earlier in the day, though at the very least he didn't seem too badly off. His expression was still calm and serious, but at the very least, his eyes were kind and filled with concern.
Mister Stewart gestured at the girl, implying she should accept the help. She was being respectful enough - it was only right that they would show her the same courtesy.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 15, 2010 22:07:34 GMT -8
Charlotte was reasonably certain her face had to be redder than her hair, the way she was blushing from embarrassment. This first impression is just going fabulously.
She was surprised when Mister Stewart gestured at her. It seemed like he was implying she should accepts his aide’s… aid. Perhaps… Biting her lip she tentatively started reaching for Michael’s hand. Catching a glimpse of something peeking out from the edge of his sleeve, she hesitated. Is that… a bandage?
“Is your wrist all right? I… well, don’t want to cause you more injury,” Charlotte said, pulling her hand back a little.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Nov 15, 2010 22:52:21 GMT -8
At first, he wasn't sure why she was hesitating...but when she pointed out his injured wrist, he shook his head a little bit, a bit of color rising to his own cheeks. He was rather embarrassed at the moment, feeling like he was looking weak somehow.
"My wrist is fine, d-do not fret...I only haven't gotten to unwrap it yet." He was minimizing the issue, just a little...but even as he did that, he moved his injured hand behind his back, instead offering the other hand. The slight stammer to his voice and a momentary averting of his eyes suggested that he was feeling less than confident in himself at the moment. It also made Mister Stewart look at him in concern, wondering what was going on in the younger man's head. He just...didn't seem like himself today for whatever reason.
But even in the eyes of a stranger, Michael's stiff movements, the bandage, and the mottling at the back of his neck that Charlotte had seen all sort of pointed at the idea that maybe, just maybe, there was something that the young fellow was hiding.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 15, 2010 23:12:32 GMT -8
Much to Charlotte’s chagrin, her concern appeared to only embarrass Michael, if the bit of colour rising to his cheeks was any indication. Good job, Charlie, she thought, closing her eyes briefly in dismay. Boy, I SUCK at talking to other people. At least the nicer ones.
She’d noticed that he switched the hand he was offering, however, and realized that it maybe wasn’t as minor an issue as he was making it out to be.
She took the other hand he offered, though she took as gently as she could. Why exactly... Charlotte couldn’t say.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Nov 15, 2010 23:38:29 GMT -8
Reacting no more than he already had, Michael began to gently guide her towards the bench, moving slowly so she would not fall. He wondered why her grip on his hand seemed so ginger...did he really come across as that weak? Or perhaps she simply felt like there was something wrong with him? It certainly wouldn't be the first time someone felt that way...after all, he was kind of a weirdo.
He kept his eyes down as he carefully helped her along, getting the burning in his cheeks under control. When they got close enough to the bench, Mister Stewart wheeled up, moving the book that Michael had set down and then moving back aside...all the while keeping his eyes on Michael and not the girl.
...Something's not quite right....
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