Native Son.

Ronan Gilmour / 38 / Professor of History at Columbia University. "Until lions have their historians, tales of the hunt shall always glorify the hunters."

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wthscarlett:

Scar laughed when he did, secretly enjoying how confused he seemed to get whenever she made a joke. “Sounds exciting,” she mocked. “I, for one, can’t return to my plans until I find that goddamn portfolio. So, as much as I was looking forward to revising work with a carton of re-heated noodles, I’m stuck.”

“What exactly is in this portfolio of yours?” Ronan asked, completely oblivious to her amusement. “Unless you’re a CEO or an international drug lord with a fluency in writing hieroglyphs, I can’t imagine what you’ve got in there.”

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wthscarlett:

“That’s good,” she said curtly, giving him a nod. She now felt kind of bad for lashing out and judging him too fast. He was even smiling now. Sort of. She clicked her tongue. “Yeah, maybe. Perhaps when I was checking my mailbox, probably.” She looked back at him. “I can go alone, if you’d like to go back to your regular evening schedule.”

“My evening schedule?” Ronan repeated, uncomprehending for a moment. When he realized she was being facetious, he did his best to laugh. “I haven’t got one of those. All I have to do is finish my lesson plan for the week, and that isn’t something I’m particularly looking forward to.”

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killaxkenna:

Kenna looked back at the man and furrowed her brow. “No need to go all Vader on me. Was an honest mistake.” Maybe he could do with reading them, might relax him slightly and from where she was standing that was something he may benefit from.

Ronan didn’t like the look in her eye, but he wasn’t exactly unused to it. Most people had that very same look upon their first meeting with him. “It seemed like an accusation,” he said almost defensively. “I don’t want to be thought of as a person who reads dime romance novels about pirates.”

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killaxkenna:

“I think you need to check the postage address when you order this shit. It keeps turning up at my door. While I enjoyed the first book, I can’t say that much for the seven that followed.”

“Considering that isn’t my address, I would say you need to check your facts before pointing fingers at strangers. I assure you, I’m not ordering pirate romance novels. I would like to avoid the one who is, though.”

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thescottishdeejay:

Misty took her normal place in the back of the bar. It was raining out, so her hair was a bit matted down. She saw a man, reading his book, and she was interested in him She had seen him here many times, and yet no words have ever been exchanged. That seemed like it would now change. “A conversation, maybe.”

“About what, exactly?” Ronan grumbled. He was fond of that word. Exactly. It left no room for interpretation, nothing that could be taken as something that it wasn’t. “If you’re one of those millenials looking for vague and empty experiences for the sake of hipsterism and aesthetic, leave me alone. I’m nobody’s experience.”

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joshuamadley:

Joshua glowered at his words, gripping the book tighter in his hands as his words started to come out slightly more spiteful, but they held not one bit of regret as he tips his head to the side to continue staring the other man out. ‘‘What if I have nobody important in my life to haunt?’‘, he spat out, he had no emotion toward the people who had brought him up, they’d done a horrible job anyway so it seemed, and all of his ‘friends’ disappeared once he started losing his very own mind. He slowly leans closer in to the man, probably seeming very parculiar to anyone looking onto the situation, tapping his own chin twice firmly. ‘‘How dare you. How dare you assume I’m alive. Don’t act like you know everything because you quite clearly do not know me!’‘ It was like he was shouting but in a very whispered and chilly tone, ignoring his comment about a book, he continued, but his face suddenly dropped back into a neutral expression. ‘‘Never heard of the walking dead?’‘ He asked, stuffing the book back to his chest with a smirk. ‘‘Going to buy me a drink then or what?’‘ Joshua enquires, clearly not having any set boundaries at all.

Ronan stared, dumbfounded despite all his wit, at the younger man. “Do you even understand how insufferable you’re being?” he chided, curious of the swell of anger bubbling in his chest. “What kind of person walks up to someone they don’t know and insists that they’re dead? You don’t know me, you have no idea what effect that kind of statement could have. Fortunately for you, I’m sane,” he said, ripping the book back from the other’s hands. “Of course I’ve heard of the walking dead. I’m a college professor for Christ’s sake, not an infant. I just don’t buy into ghost stories. I leave that kind of tomfoolery to those without doctorate degrees,” Ronan said slickly, feeling almost proud of himself. Though his jaw nearly dropped again when the man asked for a drink. “What need do you have for sustenance?” he asked. “You’re dead.”

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wthscarlett:

“I don’t know, I always get the feeling my accent betrays me…” she confessed, mostly as an apology for bursting on him like that. Not that she was wrong. Scar had to try her hardest not to smile. Finally, she’d gotten through. “Maybe…” she mused. “I’m not sure, but I’m almost certain I had it with me when I arrived to the building.”

“It does not,” he said matter-of-factly, deciding that maybe she wasn’t as annoying as he’d previously judged. At the slight hint of a smile on her lips, he tried to make himself look pleasant. Not that he exactly knew how. “Well, perhaps you just set it down somewhere and someone’s taken it to the front desk. We can always try the front desk.” 

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wthscarlett:

Scar was tired and panicked. This condescending asshole wasn’t really helping, either. Soon, she was going to explode, and it wouldn’t be pretty. “look, I know what you’re thinking: that I’m just another country girl who knows nothing about living in this city and is too gullible for it anyway. Well, let me tell you something: that folder is literally my life’s work. I’ve stayed up entire nights drawing those pieces, so you could just please take your head out of you ass just for one second and help me that would be wonderful. I swear I will never talk to you again. I just need this one favor.”

Ronan came to a complete stop at the onset of her outburst, his brow furrowing ever so slightly at her words. Some semblance of humanity overcame him, and he waited patiently for her to finish. “How would I have possibly known you were from the country? And you’re right, perhaps you are too gullible for this city. There’s a chance we all are.” He sighed audibly. “Where did you see it last?”

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greylormand:

Still, thank you.

External image

Indeed. I suppose the proper response is ‘you’re welcome’. Perhaps you should keep better track of your items.

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amber-parkinson:

She shrugged unabashedly, seemingly at a lost for words. It’s not like she didn’t expect this sort of response. Hell, she’d only been living in New York for two years now, and her tendency to trust others was slowly beginning to diminish. “The offer’s still on the table. You’re more than welcome to take it.”

He thought for a moment: it wasn’t logical, no, but when had he been even remotely logical in the last few years? If he placed that much value on logic, he should’ve been dead. “I suppose,” he relented, gingerly taking the bottle from her outstretched hand. “What kind of person goes around listening to peoples’ conversations to try and decipher whether or not they’re thirsty?”

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lorenzadimatteo:

Jumping slightly in surprise, Lorenza moved her hand away from the mess of wires and turned to face the man behind her. She smiled slightly, a nervous chuckle threatening to escape her throat as she broke eye contact. Glancing toward the rapidly decreasing numbers on the top of the bomb, she took a deep breath and stood from her position of the floor. “Well,” she started, brushing an invisible spec of dust from her sleeve, “Are you just going to stand there? You can either run or try to help me defuse this bad boy.” Lorenza shrugged, lightly tapping a loose bolt.

Ronan’s eyes drifted back and forth from the possibly delirious woman and the heap of multicolored wires she had implied as a bomb. What little instinct he had of self-preservation warned him to run, but his feet stood rooted to the ground. “I haven’t got the slightest clue of how to diffuse a bomb,” said the professor, “and what’s more, I haven’t got the slightest clue as to how there could possibly be a bomb in this building. So I’m going to call the police now.” He took a step backward, waiting for her reaction.

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smokeandcherries:

“Well,” She stood, smiling at him, “I know my fair share of addiction.. and I don’t think you’re insane if that’s any consolation.” Cherry glanced at the bottle before tossing it into the river, watching it float downstream. There wasn’t much left anyway, she thought to herself. “How about we take a walk? I’m Cherry.” 

It wasn’t much of a consolation to know she didn’t worry about his sanity, but it did bring him a very brief respite. He, too, watched as the flask moved its way downstream, his eyes going with it until it veered out of sight for good. He took her hand, yanking himself to his feet. “Ronan,” he said quietly, sizing her up with the most inconspicuous of glances. 

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wthscarlett:

Scarlett was taken aback by his tone. Like she was someone who just couldn’t understand the simplest things. Almost like he thought she was stupid or something. “Well,” she started bitterly, “I’m sorry for my abundance of trust. Where I grew up, things weren’t stolen. Most people had principles.” She looked him square in the eyes, defiant. “What would you have me do, then?”

“Trust,” he said thickly, as if the word were foreign. “Principles? This is New York. If the rats and the cockroaches don’t wander off with your things, you can bet somebody on the street will.” Ronan wasn’t truly annoyed; he was used to responding to the inelegant problems that other people had. How easy, he thought almost bitterly. “What would I have you do? It isn’t for me to decide. I don’t think buildings here have lost and founds. Perhaps you should invest in some tracking devices.”

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wthscarlett:

“Thank you.” Scar noted an annoyed tone. Well, too bad. I need my work. "Guess I should… Sorry to be bothering you with my problems, but since you live in the building, I thought you might’sve seen it. I’ll leave you now. Hum, if you do find it, you can leave it at my apartment. 11C. I’ll probably be home, but if not, just leave it on the doorstep.”

Ronan listened half-heartedly, as he did to most people, but he had to stop himself emitting a curt laugh when she suggested leaving her lost things on her doorstep. “If I do find it,” he began, “why would I leave it on your doorstep? Wouldn’t that provide further opportunity for it to be stolen, which it very well may have been? Perhaps this is why things like this are happening.”

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smokeandcherries:

Cherry could see his struggle, her brow furrowing as she noticed his line of sight. She had her own trouble with this stuff and she didn’t want to see someone who had pushed it out of their life ruin all their hard work. “I know that feeling..” She replied, glancing at the bottle. “The only joy?” It just sort of slipped out, she didn’t mean to pry. She was curious though.

“It’s not something that anyone cares to talk about,” said Ronan, stony-faced despite repeating what he knew to be true. He’d repeated it so many times, to so many mirrors, it no longer had the same effect. “To the legal system, addiction is best treated by lengthy prison sentences. And those of us who manage to avoid that are social outcasts. We’re insane.” He didn’t like the way the conversation was going.

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smokeandcherries:

Cherry grinned a little, closing the flask and laying it beside her. “You’ve got some serious will-power, man.” She replied, looking up at him. “I wish I could do that.”

“I wouldn’t call it will-power,” he said, his eyes were fixated on the flask in her hand. “I would call it the rehabilitation system working to destroy the only joy in my life. That’s what I would call it.”

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wthscarlett:

“Have you seen my portfolio? It’s like this large, black folder. It’s really important…”

“Not exactly like I’ve been on the lookout for a black folder, but I suppose I could keep an eye out for it. Perhaps you should be more careful with your important things.”