It was a part of Matty’s routine to run along the shore of the beach. Living in a boat made him spend more time at the beach and at the dock, obviously. So it wasn’t rare to see him around the area, he knew Mystic like he knew the back of his hand by now. Even if he wasn’t born in the small town, he felt like he did. He’d been reborn there in a way, his life completely changed since the moment that he stepped into town. Now though, instead of only going for runs in the morning, he’d been jogging most evenings as well, not because he needed it, but because he was aware of the panic in town. Matty was protective, so he took some of his free time and made sure that, at least, those that lived near him, were safe before he went to bed every night.
After his latest walk around town, Matty let out a small sigh as he walked along the beach, watching the sunset, hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts. “Pretty, isn’t it? I always like looking at it, especially these days.” He mumbled as he approached the person that was standing near the shore. “Makes me forget about everything that’s going on.”
Max felt like he was living two lives, most days. During the daylight hours, he could be found in a work uniform, hands coated in the slick, shiny sheen of oil. Or, maybe, on a slow day around the shop, he’d be over at Retrograde, hands wrapped in bandages, a punching bag bearing the weight of his frustrations. At night, though? He was almost always in all black. Sometimes a t-shirt, sometimes something a little nicer. A watch, always. And clean, always clean. Clothing felt like a costume — had to be, with a profession(s) like his.
So, with his nightly costume on, Max headed to the beach. A particularly self-conscious ‘client’ had insisted meeting there, with the daytime crowds now clearing out. And while the currently faceless, unsaved number in his phone would be able to maintain their dignity, Max felt like a ridiculous asshole with his boot-clad feet sinking into sand.
He was almost startled by a man speaking over his shoulder, gazing swinging over in the direction of the sound. Brown hues squinting, focusing, Max realized he recognized the man; he worked at Sea of Ink. Puzzle pieces were aligning. Except, what was he saying?
“Oh, honestly, I hadn’t even, uh..” he spared a chuckle, “Hadn’t even looked. Hey, I know you, don’t I? Well, sort of.”