#future shot

[forevermore-quoth-the-kitten]

Bump, a fumbling for books and papers that fall. "I am so sorry." The ginger woman breathes, crouching to gather her thing, the man kneeling to help.

"It's alright mate." The blonde man smiles at her, she stares at him.

"Where are you from?"

"Australia. You?"

"Here, New York City. What are you doing here?"

"Headed to college mate."

"Oh my gosh, me too!" She laughs, grinning. They stand and she takes her books and papers from him. "Thanks."

"Next." The woman at the cash register calls, and they both head over to the counter. He nods to her, and she smiles, ordering first. On her backpack are two little stuffed charms, and he stares at them but she moves and he orders. Once he does he taps her shoulder.

"Sorry, but I couldn't help but notice, the two little charms on your backpack-" She smiles.

"Yeah, no one ever believes me, but those are two little mice who saved me-"

"Bianca and Bernard." She stared at him, reflecting his own shock.

"You know them too?" She suddenly gasps, and they grin at each other excitedly.

"Yeah! I got kidnapped once by a poacher who was huntin' down a golden eagle."

"An old lady tricked me into coming with her and used me for my small size to find her the Devil's Eye."

"I heard about that." He breathed. "You are one brave girl."

"You too, I bet. Wanna trade stories?" She asked as they both moved to grab their coffee, blushing when they almost held hands while reaching over each other.

"I'd like that mate." He smiles, nodding, before offering his hand and taking some of her books again so she wouldn't drop then.

"Thanks. I'm Penny by the way."

"Cody, nice ta meet ya."

[rc-1262]

The Dark Side

It wasn't every night that Scorch found himself in a seedy bar, half drunk and all conflicted. The last few weeks had been difficult, job after job, one take down after another. But lately, the pain in his chest had settled in, cloaking his usual smile with something darker and more subtle, a tinge of shadow and hurt.

He signaled for another drink, some sort of dark, almost black rum that clearly mirrored his mood and nodded once when it arrived only to shoot it back in a go. The bartender gave him a glance, part pity and part shame, all of it less then worthwhile. He wasn't here for pity, he was here to forget; the last job had been horrible, things he never would have agreed to had he known the final cost. And when he'd found out the truth behind the assault, he was disgusted with himself, just as much as his employer. Free-lancing paid the bills, but it was leaving a hole where his heart had once been.