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 Posted: Mon May 26, 2014 3:45 pm
When Harland leaned in, Oliver unconsciously skirted away. It was probably the only reason he was able to leave Harland's side to grab his own food, a brief distraction in which he could grab a plain ham sandwich. One of those sad, premade sandwiches that you put in paper lunch bags and gave to picky kids for lunch. He also managed to grab a small carton of milk. Minus a straw. But he was very diligent when it came to staying by Harland's side, not once did he wander farther than he could dive to break the other hunter's fall should he topple over. Not that he expected that to happen, Harland had pretty much gotten his feet back under him and probably didn't need a shoulder to lean on. Yet... Harland didn't seem inclined to part ways just yet. So Oliver trailed along, following Harland towards the table, listening with no small amount of embarrassment. "Ah... um... " He paused. It sounded a bit magical, a way to behave in all situations. Short of changing his entire self around, there certainly wasn't any cure for his awkwardness. He looked away as he took a seat. "I-it's okay, all I have to do is be useful for a bit longer." That self-depreciating expression was back, with that smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It really would be magical...
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Posted: Mon May 26, 2014 3:56 pm
Harland took the biggest bite humanly possible of his chicken burger, trying to muffle a distinct sound of enjoyment as he bit into it. Delicious. Food not from the infirmary.
He wasn't, however, sure what to do about Oliver's seeming lack of confidence in himself. Oliver seemed to have one commitment, and that was to being self-depreciating for seemingly no reason and to no avail. "Oliver, I'd like to be your friend," Harland said, plainly, after he'd chewed thoroughly, swallowed, and taken a sip of his drink.
"An' there's only one thing we're goin' to work on for now: nothin' you say's goin' t' be down on yourself. There's no point here, it's not servin' anyone any good, an' honestly it's kind of a downer," Harland said, as if it was the most matter of fact thing ever. Normally he'd use a more gentle touch, surely, but he literally had no idea why Oliver had even said what he did.
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Posted: Mon May 26, 2014 5:08 pm
Oliver barely unwrapped his sandwich, picking at it like a ten year old. He didn't look up once until Harland spoke, and by that point his expression was incredulous, and more than a little nervous. Nobody was this open without strings attached! The kid even glanced around briefly to see if there was anyone else in on some sort of terrible prank. Nothing presented itself immediately so he could only fidget nervously and wait until Harland had finished. "Ah, s-sorry!" Oliver stammered. Was this his cue to leave? "I-I just, um... I-I mean... It's okay, I-I'm okay, really!" He glanced down at the ham sandwich, and fidgeted with the carton of milk without making any real attempt to open it. "I-it's not like, um, I have a long life expectancy," he started, words tumbling from his mouth against his better judgement. Anxiety was making him chatty in the worst way. "I a-am not that good in a fight, a-and I can't always let other people protect me, i-it's not right. I mean, everyone works so hard, a-and gets hurt, they have to go into terrible places and fight really frightening things, a-and..." He trailed off, trying not to think of all the burned hunters he had seen in the infirmary, or the deep stab wound in Ian's back, or the way Fini had gotten hurt in that dream keeping him safe, while he could only run away. "I-I'm really s-sorry, please, just ignore that..." He said, now back to poking at the sandwich.
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Posted: Mon May 26, 2014 5:19 pm
Harland listened without replying, slowly taking bites of his delicious sandwich, and growing more and more determined to be calm about the entire situation. He already felt bad being as blunt as he had been, because it wasn't terribly polite of him, but he wasn't sure that what Oliver needed right now was someone to just let him be so self-depreciating.
"Oliver," he started, once Oliver'd stopped talking in the sort of skittish no-breathing way, "it's alright to be scared. And we're all goin' to die, there's an abnormally high likelihood that we will," Harland admitted.
"But that's no reason t' apologize for things ye can't possibly apologize for, an' in that vein, can't possibly mean. For instance, can't apologize for havin' a personality," Harland said, levelling his calm, friendly gunmetal green eyes at Oliver. "When we're weak, it's up to us to stand up," he said, "An' it's that simple. You're young, abnormally so, an' as a result you've been given less time to equip yourself for this. Bein' hyper smart don't change that any, an' it's a shame you're here with us instead of livin' and growin' and maturin' at a nice an' slow rate," he said.
"But I believe you're smart, so you've got to stop apologizin' like that, an' one day you'll be the one helpin' others instead've bein' protected, so don't hurry to the future. It'll get here eventually," Harland said, leaning back in his chair as he set down the rest of his delicious sandwich. He surveyed Oliver calmly, tried to hold his eyes for as long as possible.
Harland smiled, beamed even, one of his radiant smiles to let Oliver know he had no intention of going anywhere, and he didn't think any less of Oliver.
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Posted: Mon May 26, 2014 5:52 pm
" S-sorry..." Oliver said in a tiny, squeaky voice, once Harland was done. Even though the other hunter had told him mere seconds ago to stop apologizing. He glanced up, expecting to see Harland looking irritated or angry, and was surprised at the big, honest smile facing him instead. With a smile like that there was no way he could argue. Keeping eye contact with Oliver was like trying to keep a hold of five greased ferrets, almost the instant he caught Harland's eyes he was looking back down at his sandwich. But the kindness was not without effect, his shoulders seemed a bit less tense, and the fidgeting had slowed. The kid wanted to believe he'd figure things out, and grow into someone much stronger than his current self. He picked up the sandwich, and then put it down. And then finally opened his carton of milk instead of merely pushing it around the table. Rather than succumbing to the overwhelming urge to apologize once more, he took a quick drink.
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Posted: Mon May 26, 2014 11:19 pm
Harland sighed, smiling still, and picked his sandwich back up to finish it; before he took his last couple bites, he said: "We'll work on that." Sure, the kid was young, flighty and scared-- Harland was sure he'd be the same, if he'd been recruited so young.
Harland would believe on Oliver's behalf that things would work out, because that was how Harland operated. He really wanted to believe that there was hope for Oliver to calm down a little once he got settled.
The apologizing thing definitely had to go, though. Harland didn't say much for a bit, just ate in jovial silence, occasionally looking around at the tables nearby.
Eventually, he felt like talking again. "Do ye have hobbies, Oliver?" Harland asked, pretty sure the answer would be no.
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Posted: Tue May 27, 2014 7:42 am
There were only a handful of people in Oliver's life at the moment, spread out across a range of abrasive, emotionless, heartbroken, and just as nervous as he was... But friendly, this personality was rare. During the period of silence he frequently glanced up, relaxing a little more each time he saw Harland was still cool with everything. Eventually the kid even picked up his sandwich and nibbled on the cut edge, avoiding the crusts like a ten year old would. Finally Harland spoke, and Oliver glanced up directly before remembering how nerve-wracking direct eye contact could be. He quickly looked back down at his sandwich. "Um... You can have hobbies?" Came his shy reply. But even if he couldn't quite look Harland in the eye, he did volunteer a bit of extra information. "I-I used to... uh... play video games."
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Posted: Tue May 27, 2014 9:15 am
Harland was observing Oliver quietly, on the down low. He smiled to himself when the young man started to eat again. Harland didn't need to be talking all the while. In fact, he often lapsed into silences. Those silences were some of his favourites: the moments where nothing really needed to be said, and he could just enjoy the company he kept, or his own time.
Honestly, Harland was not surprised that Oliver asked that, nor did he think it was sad. He, himself, only practiced his hobby actively because he could use it for his Division sketching what he'd seen and creating a guide. It was a useful skill, in that sense-- if it was just for fun, he probably wouldn't have been able to maintain it. "Video games? Sounds like Dylon's thing," he said. "What kinds of games did you play, Oliver?"
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Posted: Tue May 27, 2014 8:51 pm
"Dylon?" Oliver asked, hesitance creeping into his voice. Then an unreadable look crossed his face. "I-I think... I might have met him already." It was hard to forget being introduced to others with a nickname as outrageous as WildStyle by a guy you had only just met. But the talk about video games seemed to energize the young trainee. Even though he was still avoiding eye contact, he stammered a little less, and spoke with more confidence. "I- um... I really like RPGs. Where you can fight monsters and stuff and explore dungeons." He picked at the sandwich, and licked some breadcrumbs off his fingers. "I really liked playing online, with other people too."
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Posted: Tue May 27, 2014 10:58 pm
Harland had been starving. He had happily finished off the sandwich and was now just leaning back and listening to Oliver talk about RPGs.
"Oh, did ye?" he asked, smiling. He wasn't sure what that tone was for, but oh well. He was not going to ask. If Oliver didn't like Dylon, he had zero interest in knowing that.
He nodded, acknowledging what he was hearing, but had little to contribute. Still, one thing stuck out to him: "With others? Do ye not feel as shy there, then?" he asked, curious.
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Posted: Wed May 28, 2014 3:51 pm
The more Oliver relaxed, the more he began to look like a normal teenager who was not haunted by shadows of his past, or intimidated by the uncertainty of his future. He was just a shy kid who liked playing games. "Yeah, it's really easy. It doesn't matter who you are, there will always be people to play with." The trainee took a sip of his milk, but the ham sandwich received little more than poking. "You meet jerks every now and then, but most players just want to have a fun time."
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Posted: Wed May 28, 2014 8:25 pm
Harland leaned one elbow on the table, and rested his head in his hand. It was only rude to put one's elbows on the table if they were eating; Harland, for his part, was not. He was pretty tired, but he was trying not to let it show. Besides, he'd been sleeping forever and a day while he was recovering; why waste time by being tired, now?
It was nice to see Oliver's face and manner transform. "Unless you're not terribly good with video games an' all," Harland joked, "like me. Nobody'd want to play with me." He was really just kidding; Harland didn't have any insecurities about that kind of thing. It was whatever to him.
"Oliver, you're a good kid, an' don' let anyone at Deus cut that outta ye, okay? If there's ever trouble, come find me," Harland told him, serious about his offer. He wrote his number down on a piece of paper in a little notebook, using a pen he always carried, and slid the torn-free page across the table. In neat cursive was his name, above his number.
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Posted: Wed May 28, 2014 9:00 pm
Oliver actually smiled a real smile, and his pale eyes looked up from the half-eaten meal in front of him. It was the kind of gentle smile that seemed more suited to caring for small, helpless things than fighting wars against monsters. "A-a lot of people start off not knowing what to do, but even a group of new players can learn a lot playing with each other. And there are always veteran players who don't mind helping out." It was a concept that seemed so easy to grasp when playing video games, but Oliver had yet to realize it was also true in his current predicament. So when Harland slid his number across the table, along with that offer of help, the gesture hit him hard. The kid looked down at the paper and swallowed heavily. It was almost like a promise, that number, and piece by piece the hopelessness fell back into place. Harland didn't have to be nice to him, he couldn't bear the thought of this smiling, cheerful hunter getting hurt on his account. Oliver's lip quivered, and he quickly rubbed his face with his sleeve to hide the tears welling up in his eyes.
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Posted: Wed May 28, 2014 9:50 pm
Harland was beaming at the kid when his face fell and the first sign of tears appeared. Harland didn't waste much time: pushed his chair back, walked over to Oliver, and rubbed one hand on his back, his other arm tentatively holding him in a loose half-hug. "Hey now," he began, his voice soothing and low, "Tá gach aingeal ag breathnú thar dúinn," he said, in Irish. "But sometimes, our angel's got to be a person, an' it's no shame there," he tried to reassure Oliver.
Half in a language Oliver wouldn't likely understand, all because Harland had grown up lapsing in and out of it, and he truly believed his mother's lesson: Irish was one of the best sounds of comfort in the world.
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Posted: Thu May 29, 2014 8:47 am
Oliver wanted to push the paper back across the table, but Harland's actions were just too kind, too accepting, and the tears spilled over with a choked sob. "P-please don't..." The kid managed to stammer. Angels had nothing to do with life, he knew that much. "P-please, i-if I'm in t-trouble, please just... just leave me there!" The Life trainee was tense and shaking under the loose hug. He didn't want comfort, or reassurance, if he thought for a minute he was worth saving then it would also mean accepting his horrible cowardice, validating it, fooling himself into believing it was okay. His fingers tightened around the note with Harland's number on it. The paper was crumpled tightly into his palm, maybe a sign he was ready to discard it, but he held onto it a little bit too long, like at some level he was desperate to grab onto what little kindness he was shown.
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