Sean Jones crossed his arms, trying to look more pissed off in an attempt to hide that he was scared, and took another long look around the room, a sneer curling his lip. He couldn’t help but be envious of the nice, big house, huge shaded yard, the fine furniture and decorations in the hall he’d been led through; he even liked the all hardwood, strong, masculine feel of the place, not to mention just the size and the expensive car that he’d been picked up in. Stuff we should have, seein’ as how we’re the ones payin’ for it, he thought to himself jealously. His gaze dropped to his wrist again, to the bright red, newly healing scar on his right wrist, going into the palm of his hand. He gritted his teeth, his jaw tightening, anger swirling in his gut.
He’d known ever since he was eight that his family’s bloodline was just used as ‘scapegoats’ for the Williams family. He still didn’t fully understand – magic and witches and warlocks seemed like something out of a movie, but… he couldn’t deny that when that blade had snapped on the carpentry saw in shop class, there did seem to be something supernatural that had guided it as it had flung itself across the room, seemingly curved around and missed the column in the center of the room, missed everyone else… and slashed his wrist and palm when he’d thrown up an arm to deflect it.
Sean growled to himself and pushed off the wall to pace in front of the windows. He didn’t like being here, it made him nervous, and even his dad’s call telling him to go with the strangers who picked him up from school didn’t make him feel better – not when he could hear the worry he had tried to suppress even as he said that everything would be fine, they just wanted him to meet someone.
He whirled back to the door as he heard the knob turn, eyes wide, before he scrambled to cross his arms over his chest, trying to settle into a semi-confident stance and to control his apprehensive breathing, green eyes fixed on the door to see who would come in.
Shawn Williams slouched, hands in his pockets and wishing that the floor would crack open and swallow him whole. Shouldn’t be too hard, he thought wryly considering he only felt a few inches tall after the tongue lashing his grandmother had given him. He had broken family law, cast a Hex for free, for no real reason besides he was feeling vengeful and flexed his power over his teacher.
He expected karmic backlash for it, waited for it to come back on to him that he was willing to use his verve, his magic and willingly harmed another. It didn’t come and Shawn was utterly confused, all his life he was taught about The Law of Return, warned of the consequences, just no one in his family told him about the loophole they made, binding another person with a mystical bond that would make that person. his scapegoat, take the backlash as if there were the ones who made the spell. When Shawn found that part out, he felt sick to his stomach, that was yesterday. When he got out of school today he discovered that his grandmother arranged for him to meet his scapegoat face to face and his mind was still whirling with that.
"It's proper etiquette to have a gift when meeting one's scapegoat." Kristoffer, the employee serving as Shawn's driver spoke up. He walked the few steps behind Shawn, a vicious scar slashed across the bridge of his nose, the corners of his mouth downturned in a frown that showed displeasure. Now, Shawn was wondering if Kristoffer was a scapegoat if the scar on his nose was the result of karmic backlash that had nothing to do with him but one of Shawn's relatives.
Shawn flinched unable to meet the gaze and disapproval on Kristoffer's face. He had been thinking about that tradition too and knew that it was a very bad precedent he was making here. A gift was given at the first meeting, at subsequent times and Shawn already broke rules, injuring his scapegoat before they met, before the first gift. He traced his tongue over his teeth, spotting the door to the study that he was told to go in and paused, standing outside of the hall, his mind racing trying to figure out how he could make this not be the disaster that it was setting up to be. He turned to Kristoffer, extending out one hand.
“Car keys.” Shawn noticed the confused expression on the driver’s face, he stared up into the man’s face, determination on his own that he would not be turned down from his gambit of salvaging this. “Please,” he politely asked, seeing a flash of recognition go through Kristoffer’s eyes, a grin on the driver’s face as he handed them over.
“The kid’s my nephew,” Kristoffer murmured as he placed the car keys into Shawn’s hand. “I can arrange to get the title changed over.”
“Arrange he pays for nothing,” Shawn ordered his right hand wrapping around the keys and key fob while trying to place this new information into his head. Nephew. He was meeting another male. He almost wanted to ask Kristoffer about him, to get any and all information he could but Kristoffer was already briskly walking away as if a man on a mission, leaving Shawn alone to the hallway by the door. “Right,” Shawn’s stomach plummeted, nerves roiling through him as he took a shaky breath, left hand reaching out and opened the door, his head high, forcing his body to be relaxed as he strolled into the study that used to belong to his grandfather, his dark eyes meeting hazel eyes that caught him off guard how intense they were.
“H-hey.” He couldn't help the stammer, not when suddenly he felt hot anger that wasn’t his own, like standing near a bonfire and getting hit by angry sparks. His eyes widened and his hand tightened around the car keys. He paused a moment, mind trying to figure out the right thing to say and not remembering if it was mentioned at all. “Name’s Shawn. Can I... can I get you anything?”
