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Repeating a mantra that had become commonplace over the last few days, a young man stepped into a convenience store. The music playing in his large headphones was just loud enough to drown out the chime looming over the entryway, but his thoughts seemed even louder. "I'm not crazy," he told himself once more, making his way to the coolers in the back. They had told him the same when he was appropriated by them on Thursday, after he'd left his father's place. The whole ordeal had saved him bus fare, as they had given him a ride to his home afterwards, but he wasn't the type that particularly enjoyed being picked off the streets. He hadn't even given them his address. "They're crazy. They're crazy. They're crazy." Piers stared blankly ahead to the selection of drinks, the glass defrosting and becoming clear as his thoughts became more clouded. The youth wasn't talking to himself aloud, yet he still felt like he was telling this to everyone he'd made eye contact with during his daily errands, as if at least he could convince them while he was so unsure himself. With a frown, his hand reached out to the first caffeinated beverage he could find and straightened his back. "I'm not crazy," he repeated inwardly as he met the man at the register and muted his music. His shaky hands nearly caused him to drop his change as he paid.

Piers left the store without having been called out or having been met with any critical stares, so he felt this excursion was a success. He was still normal. With the lack of music assailing his ears, his thoughts pulled back to the other evening. You're not crazy. This is a gift you're going to learn to accept and you'll be proud of what you're now capable of, they had said, wearing welcoming smiles as if they hadn't just kidnapped him. The room was barren of any real human comforts, simply a few places to sit and a table. It was not as inconvenient as an interrogation room, no matter how similar it felt to him. You are one of many. You're not alone. Piers shook at the thought of that man's face and fished for his music player in his pocket. Spinning the dial on the front, he rescued his inner peace for just a bit longer as the music resumed.

Lights were beginning to turn on in buildings as he strode by toward the park. He figured it would be too dead at this time to go through there now, relying on the bustle of town to keep his attention. Piers took to main streets out of habit since. You will learn to accept it, whether you believe that now or not, he recalled the man's emphasis, placing his hands on his lap in a folded and calm gesture, belying the intent in his voice. "I'm not crazy." The youth tapped his foot impatiently as he waited to cross a street, although no cars were passing him. His erratic thoughts kept him from realizing how completely silly he must have looked. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and in the attempt to retrieve it, he fumbled and it fell to the ground. Street lamps hadn't come on yet, and it was impossibly dark in the shadow of the building he stood by. As if on cue, the lamp above him flickered on and he quickly located the device, a delighted smile on his lips. Piers had missed the call, and then noticed that the other lights in the area didn't turn on with this one. The one that aided him grew bright and then faded out. "I'm not crazy," he spoke aloud, lucky that no one was within earshot. Hurrying across the street, Piers didn't dare glance back to the corner he'd left behind. He turned into the park as he passed and sat onto the metal bench that waited a short distance from the road. Piers slumped forward, closing off the world around him as he gathered his thoughts and the next song played.

The fair-haired youth stiffened to the sudden touch of his intruder, but his insides were reeling. He brought his head up to get a look at him as he listened to this man go on about all the things he didn't want to hear. While his thoughts shouted at him, "You're not crazy, just keep calm," he pursed his lips and tried not to flee. Piers felt this man was trying to sell him something with the way he spoke, but the content all to well coincided with all this magic nonsense. His name was Rasmus, the youth digested, and he was to be following him around much more than he probably already had been. At the thought, Piers inwardly panicked about how long he'd been watched. He was certain what had happened with the light was witnessed, and now he was being bombarded with all this new information. He inhaled, ready to interrupt, but felt he wanted to know more despite himself. What his partner had said was nothing further from useful information. Considering the false limb, he could make an escape, but he mentioned being able to use magic himself, and while Piers refused to give into the belief, he wouldn't want to risk it.

Nearly choking out a response, he thought it best to play along. "I'm Piers...Whalen," he spoke, hesitating on giving his full name, which might have been futile if he was sought out by this man. "Nice...leg." He wanted to give a usual greeting, wanted to say 'nice to meet you', but the level of bizarre this conversation was could only muddle his thinking. Recollecting himself, the younger man ran his hand through his hair, fingers cold from holding onto the cold metal drink he'd forgotten about. He decided to distract himself from the stranger's eager gaze and open it, giving him something to do when he had nothing else to say. "What the hell is going on?" Piers resigned, falling against the back of the bench with pure defeat on his features.

Offering a glance to his rambling companion, he saw beyond what was necessary in arm movements for a single conversation. "I'm not sure if what you're telling me I need an exterminator for my place..." Piers sighed, his lungs momentarily refusing to let air back in. He shook his head the slightest, uneasy of the idea his own haven could be bugged, but also unsure if he'd want this stranger knowing where that was. "Fine. This wouldn't be the first time I've been in strange places this week. Lead the way," he exclaimed, waving his arm out in a ways to casually send him off. Lifting to his feet, the fair-haired youth downed the rest of his drink and deposited the can in the trash receptacle a short distance away. "But I want honest responses. And I want to be able to ask what I want to. Then maybe I'll forgive you for all those untimely jokes." He only then noticed his music had stopped playing once Rasmus showed up, and his innards contorted at the connection, hoping he'd only hit the end of the playlist. "I'm not crazy," his inner voice encouraged him, "but following this guy is clearly not a sane move."

Piers couldn't help but smirk at the last one. "Blue. Elric. And I was caught shoplifting with some friends as a brat, which unfortunately put me on bad terms with my lawful-stupid father for a while. And I don't mind walking. I don't have the cash to spend on a taxi right now anyway, I'm only a part-timer." He shooed away his first questions with simple detachment, but felt he could answer impersonal things to someone that made a joke of everything. He was probably as harmless as he himself was, Piers determined. He glanced away when he noticed the street lamps finally kicking in, reminding him that he was still unsure of so much going on. "But what's so different about your place that's going to make you tell the truth anyway? I don't understand any of this." There was a bit of desperation and distress in his voice as he admitted this, clearly having his world exposed to him taking an effect.

The youth moved his hands to his pockets, feeling strange under the examination he was being given. "Those are some pretty bizarre names..." His lips contorted into a frown as he thought up his own interrogation. "So we're walking then?" he asked, following in step. "So what about you then, what do you do for a living? And well... What do you normally do when you're not following people around? I mean, is it a hobby to go talking to strangers or is it just this job that's making you so...." Piers struggled on how to really describe the man, his hands waving a bit, "frenetic." Heaving another sigh, the young man relinquished any ideal that he was going to get by without offending the guy he was told he's to work alongside. He grew quiet, not sure what to really ask. For a moment he considered his own feelings circling inside of him. "Aren't you afraid at all of all of this?" Unable to look to him, he kept his eyes on the ground.

Things went from bad to worse in an instant for the youth as he slapped his palms to his face and stopped walking in response, still feeling the pulsation in his cheek from the man's gesture. "Am I going to regret going home with you?" he muttered under his heavy embarrassment. He was completely sure his face took on color and was reluctant to move his arms back to his sides, but he did after gathering his resolve to keep moving forward. Flustered, he bundled his scarf up around his face just a little more snugly. "Honestly, this is getting a bit too weird for me so try to ease up on the innuendo. You already said you weren't picking me up." Piers made an attempt to laugh, but it only fell out with his breath in a nervous manner. His hazel eyes refused still to look at him and his hands burrowed even deeper into his pockets. Feeling his phone, he regained just the slightest bit of confidence for the night to come. He would use it if he needed to be rescued. "So you're just a shut in that got caught up in babysitting gigs, I guess, right? Should I be worried that you try on partners like new pants or something. I mean, you don't look old enough to have been doing this long... I don't think I want to know what's happened to them yet." With his voice shaky and questions spilling out of him, it was evident how troubled he'd become.