The cool night breeze kicked up a stray newspaper that had been abandoned near a trash can by "The Place" restaurant. It was accompanied by quiet footsteps that came out of the well kept building and through the streets.
After a hard day at work, most of the employees had already left, off to either sleep until their next shift or go out for a drink in the Captive Creeper. Nothing like the lone man had planned as he walked calmly through the empty streets.
Feeling the breeze on his hair and face, Billy couldn't help sigh. Cold weather always seemed to calm his nerves after work. It was different from the euphoric scurrying about, distributing one's meals or beverages in the restaurant or, occasionally, messages from the shady characters that often frequented the fancy meeting point that was "The Place".
It wasn't that bad of a life, even though it was filled with fatigue and lacked a bit of rest when he had such a tight schedule.
Unlike his coworkers, Billy had more to do after he finished his shift then one would think.
Instead of going home to rest, he went there to get changed and pick up his canine companion to go for a walk. Most of the time, they ended up by the docks, both sitting down by the ledge and watching the night sky or the waves that made the boats docked there, sway ever so slightly.
Mr.Fuzzbottom being the adorable corgi dog he was, ended up napping on his lap while Billy kept looking up in thought, smoking a cigarette or two.
Anything to keep his mind from wondering to the liquor cabinet in his house. He couldn't pick up that vice again...
Tonight was no different. Like usual, he got home, changed his attire to something a little warmer and less sweaty from work and grabbed his dog's leash.
They were out of the house two minutes after he first entered it and reached the docks in less then 5 minutes.
Only, tonight they seemed to have company.
"Britannia." Billy politely acknowledged.
"Billy." The girl nodded back. "I told you to stop calling me that."
"It is only polite to call one by their name, specially a young unmarried maiden like such."
"Poetic aren't you Yolanda?"
Brit was an interesting young lady in Billy's opinion. She was nice and kind and often a bit clumsy when it came to walking in high heels like her mother. She was the kind of girl that would prefer going around in less female like attire. The only reason she didn't do so, was for her family's sake.
She had to keep a good image if she wanted society to keep from alienating her relatives. Specially her brother who had still not been able to find a job.
What made Billy so interested in her, was how loyal she was to her friends and the fact she wasn't scared to bark back if she felt the need to correct someone or defend herself.
Most girls would probably shrink away in terror if they looked at Billy and tried to insult him. Mainly because of the right side of his face and what mysteries and rumours it implied.
Brit however, was willing to try and make the older and taller man feel outraged while he did so as well against his friend.
It was a game neither could lose nor win.
"If I keep from calling you Britannia, would you refrain from calling me by my full name?" Billy asked feeling himself pout ever so slightly. "Mother and Father as I have told you, simply could not decide a fitting name...And with Mother wanting a daughter and such...Things didn't quite work out for me in that department."
The girl laughed. Both had exchanged stories of their naming and while they were not quite happy at how much of a mouthful their names were, they couldn't help find it entertaining over how humorous each other's name sounded.
"It's a deal." Was her reply.
They ended up sitting down and watching the waters, counting the few fish that swam by or the stars above that were reflected on the water.
They didn't speak for a long time, it felt much more comfortable to simply stay silent as the breeze picked up and took away the stresses of the day.
Both had their reasons to be here, they simply did not wish to discuss it.
Finally, Brit's voice cut the silence in half like a fine knife through butter.
"Can I ask you something?" She asked.
He nodded instead of talking, absentmindedly stroking Mr.Fuzzbottom's fur as the corgi curled up on his lap and yawned tiredly, feeling at home in his master's protective arms.
"How exactly did you get those scars on your face?"
It took him a while to process the question, and a little longer to reply. It was a topic he had not quite thought about in, well...Ages.
His face if looked at on the left, appeared quite normal.
A pointed nose with a slight bump at the top; cold amber and honey colored eye; fuzzy eyebrow that was fixed into perfection; well kept platinum blond hair and no facial hair to be seen. Skin as smooth as a baby's behind and slim lips that held an eternal frown.
If you looked at it on the right however...The story was something else...
The skin was rough an angry reddish-pink and warped, filled with nasty looking pale scars that reached his forehead and neck.
Part of his hair was missing near the ear which was slightly notched, like someone or something had bit off a small part of it.
He had no right eyebrow and his eye had been sewn close due to the impossibility of even substituting it with a fake one since the socket was basically ruined.
His lips were scarred and the skin was slightly broken.
Overall, he was hideous and had quite a bad reputation due to rumors of him having been a deranged criminal at some point.
All lies born from judgmental strangers that he walked passed on the street which then began to gossip with their friends and neighbors.
So far, the only one who'd never really spoken of it had been Brit or the gang members that frequented "The Place".
"I was a soldier once." He replied finally. "Got cocky and ended up getting my face nearly ripped out."
The girl listened intently, expecting more of an answer. Maybe questioning why a soldier would work at a restaurant instead of going back to the battle field?
"After they patched me back up, I was disorientated and my wounds were still very painful to bare. I ended up shooting my own fellow soldiers by mistake and was suspended." He took a long drag from his cigarette and sighed. "Decided to quit since I wasn't exactly useful anymore. We were all young, our leaders could get newer better recruits anyway."
To tell the truth, Billy had been devastated to leave. The other soldiers had become close friends, almost a family to him...And a few years after leaving they'd been killed mercilessly in the battle filed.
He'd been alone for quite a long time before he got Mr.Fuzzbottom.
"Your ear doesn't look like it was shot." Brit suddenly said.
Smart girl.
"That's because it wasn't. An attack dog bit part of it off." He couldn't help smirk. "That was the day I gained an affinity to canines."
He remembered that afternoon quite nicely. It was before he started working at "The Place". He'd been wondering the streets and ended up getting mugged.
He'd chased his attacker in fury and ended up stepping through a gate of private property.
The owner had not been happy and sent out his attack dogs after him and the mugger.
While Billy got part of his ear torn off and a few nasty bites on the arms and legs, the mugger hadn't been so lucky. He'd gotten his neck torn out and bled to death.
"You've lived quite a life haven't you?" His friend asked.
"It could have been worse, and it could still be." Billy replied after disposing of his cigarette.
The girl nodded in turn and got up. It was getting late and neither wanted to get caught by some opportunistic mugger at this hour of the night.
After taking his younger friend home, Billy and Mr.Fuzzbottom went their way, thinking almost like one collective being as the prospect of a warm bed with soft covers came into mind.
Getting home, locking the doors and windows and then undressing, Bill Xavier Yolanda Tolstoy and his canine friend Mr.Fuzzbottom, got into bed, under the covers and went to sleep, unaware of what things could await them on the next day.
