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A Temporary Truce

"Today's wonderful, isn't it?" Ankita said, smiling. Sarava was wrapped around her neck, her tail periodically brushing up against her hair and her face. She took a deep breath, feeling the cool braze against her face. Her eye closed, she could only imagine how beautiful it must have looked to match the wonderful coolness.

Hadrian, while he hadn't been following Ankita had been a few paces behind her for a handful of seconds and responded to her hypothetical question.

"Quite," he said quietly, a horribly uncharacteristic smile playing on his lips.

Not that she'd be able to see it.

Sarava's head quickly snapped back, eying the voice. You again.

Ankita looked around, somewhat confused. Sarava had never spoken before, and she was fairly certain that she was, in fact, a girl. And then she finally realized who it was.

"..H. Hadrian?" She was fairly sure that was his name, but she still said it fairly quietly in case it wasn't. "How are you? I feel like it's been a while since we saw each other." she snorted. Because in all honesty, she didn't expect to ever see him again.

Hadrian once again offered up an orange to try and quell the huge-eyed beast's anger for whatever time remained.

He'd actually taken to carrying them with him.

"It has been," Hadrian said, "I got promoted. And found a zebra in a box. How's your life been?"

Ankita chuckled, "A Zebra? that's quite the discovery to have made." she smiled half nervously. Sarava on the other hand was quiet pleased with the peace offering, and quickly began tearing apart the orange rind and getting to the juicy fruit.

"Me? Hm." She thought about everything that had happened, "Well... Made some friends... and some enemies." She mumbled, remembering the little quarrel she found herself in. "But other than that, uneventful." She nodded.

"OH! You got promoted!" her voice seemed to have raised an octave in excitement. "How was your performance? Was everything good? How are things now with you? Liking the upgrade?"

Hadrian nodded out of habit.

"Yeah, but everyone needs some enemies. It makes life more interes--" he laughed when Ankita began rambling, "Slow down! Ah...my performance was...fine. Everything's...okay. Things are...lonely, frankly, but who knows. And, yes, I'd much rather turn all pruny than have to lift boxes all day."

It was only a half-lie.

Ankita's expression seemed to fluctuate from Happy to somewhat sad to happy again depending on his responses.

"Well, I'm glad that some things are working out for you." she nodded. "It's always good to not have to do the heavy labor though." She grinned.

"Yeaaah," Hadrian droned, "but, you see, I'm going to have to start lifting other people now or something. Gotta keep up the image." He snorted slightly.

Oh, how he hated the 'image'.

He accidentally let an awkward silence grow.

"So..."

Ankita snorted, and grinned.

Sarava was enjoying the orange, not paying any mind as the juice stuck to her fur, she was far too distracted by the sweetness to pay any mind to it. Him, on the other hand, was a different story. She continued to eye him, slowly blinking.

"You and Sarava seemed to be getting along very well." she said, nodding.

As long as he pays at least. Sarava snorted.

"Ah, the beauty of bribes," Hadrian snorted and looked to the aye-aye warily. There was absolutely no way he was going to allow her to attack him.

Again.

"By the by? You have a very sticky aye-aye. There may be a bit of an issue removing her from...your person."

Ankita reached over, petting Sarava between her ears. The aye-aye's eyes went euphoric as she began to purr.

"She's an easy one to please if you just know what to do." Ankita grinned, pulling her little companion's face close to hers and kissing it. "She's just a little baby." her voice went soft between the kisses she planted on the orange covered fur.

Ankita shrugged at his comment. "She's always stuck to me, whether or not there's some sort of stickiness involved." she giggled quietly to herself.

Nothing about that statement seemed funny to Hadrian, but he smiled anyway. Ankita was damn cute in an innocent kind of way.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I guess I'll just have to learn, then."

"You can pet her if you want." Her eyebrows raised with a slight hint of happiness. She leaned forward a little bit to get Sarava closer.

The hell do you think you're doing? Sarava's eyes grew wide as she saw herself being moved closer to him and she snorted, quickly turning her head and hiding it in the unruly mess that sat on top of Ankita's head.

"Aww, come on, don't be so shy, you like getting pet anyway." Ankita said softly, trying to get her out of what mess she burrowed herself into.

"Uhhh..." Hadrian voiced, the last few syllables turning into a nervous laugh. He knew quite well that the little freak of nature (as if he was one to speak) didn't like him much.

If at all.

So instead of petting her, he held out his hand, palm-up, like one would do for a cat. He figured if she bit, scratched, or spit on him, then that was a definite no. He could take that.

"Be nice..." Ankita said, whispering into Sarava's ears. Sarava snorted in response, sniffing at the man's hand, her nose brushing up against his palm every now and then. Finally, she simply lowered her head for him to pet, eying his every movement.

Hadrian smiled slightly and reached forward with a pointer finger, gently rubbing Sarava's head. He only moved in the direction her fur naturally grew, and didn't push hard enough to move her head.

Every precaution was necessary.

Sarava took the petting, and to both hers and Ankita's surprise, began to purr. Curse you pleasure seeking personality.

Ankita's smile grew bigger and bigger, Finally, No more bickering and fighting. "See! she likes you!"

Hadrian laughed slightly.

I doubt it.

"Well, it's nice to not be bitten," he said finally. He gave the aye-aye a last gentle head-rub before pulling his hand away, sighing.

"I'd like to stay a bit longer, but I'm afraid I should go practice. Promotions up the ante tenfold. I'll see you later, alright?" He gave Ankita a soft pat on the shoulder, and began walking away slowly.

It was annoying to keep world -hopping, he realized. As soon as you got used to a certain body of water you had to find a new one on a new planet.

"It just takes her a little while to warm up to new people, I swear." her smile was large but slightly crooked. She knew there was very little truth behind it, but she hoped there'd be more than she knew there to be.

"Oh, I don't want to keep you from your practicing," she said, nodding, "Good luck with it all!"

Far Too Early

It felt like it was far to early in the morning to be up and moving around intelligently. Charlot was leaning against one of the park bench style tables, cigarette hanging limply from the corner of his mouth. He'd been out too late last night drinking and had little sleep to catch up between- it felt like a marching band had set up camp between his ears.

He let out a sigh, closing his eyes for a few moments trying to 'zen' the sensation of pain away. It wasn't really working.

The day was far to warm and sunny for his hangover. He ran a hand across his chin, idly wondering where he'd find a razor to shave the bit of prickles that had begun to form.

It may have been too early for the general populace, but Hadrian had been practicing since he'd woken up. When there was nothing to do, he retreated for water.

Dripping and half-naked, it took him a moment to notice Charlot looking not-so-very happy. It wasn't hard to assume why, and it was because of this assumption he approached slowly and spoke comparatively softly.

"Hi."

It was a quiet morning, no doubt to Charlot's relief. Actually it was rather beautiful outside - one of those clear, sunny days where you wanted nothing more than to find a patch of good grass and watch clouds trawl slowly across the horizon. Peaceful. Pleasant. Serene.

"JOOOOOOOOOHN JACOB JINGLEHEIMER SCHMIDT! HIS NAME IS MY NAME TOO!"

Someone, a good distance away from the bench, was "singing." It was hard to tell what the words were exactly through the nigh-impenetrable Russian accent, but the sound alone was probably enough to make anyone want to run away.

"WHENEVER I GOES OUT, THE PEOPLES THEY ALWAYS SHOUT, THERE GOES THAT JOOOOOOHN JACOB JINGLEHEIMER SCHMIDT LALALALALALA!"

The source of the voice soon stepped into plain view - a large man, missing an eye (Iosif had decided not to wear his eyepatch that day) screaming a children's song at the top of his lungs. His trademark grin was pasted onto his face, though only between verses; the singing itself was gratingly off key, and more than enough to instill a headache in the sober, let alone the hungover.

For a moment it seemed like Iosif was going to march right past Charlot and the wet man, but he came to a sudden halt and reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a cigar and holding it out towards Charlot. "Hey you maybe got fire?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

At least if he was smoking a cigar he wouldn't be singing. Hopefully.

Holy Mother of God.

Charlot's eye twitched visibly at the noise, head tilting lightly as if pushed by the sound. His teeth had bit so hard into the cigarette... he'd managed to snap it in half. He spit the pieces aside with a sigh, glancing at Hadrian with a reply- only to be interrupted by the Russian thrusting his cigar forward.

"Ello, er... " His brow knit slightly at the LOUD creature, then he pasted on a pleasant smile and nodded, reaching into his back pocket to produce his lighter.

"A'courz mate." He stepped forward, snapping the fire to life and offering it out toward Iosif.

Hadrian's ears were ringing, his eyes set wide. WhHen he recovered from the immediate shock, he saw spots.

Only for a moment did he suspect the singing.

Mm. Here for two seconds and already snapped to the third wh-OH SHUT UP. Hadrian scolded himself mentally. He wanted to say something, anything, and found that nothing was proper.

'I now understand why you lost your eye' seemed barely kind.

"...ow," was all he voiced, and shielded his eyes from the spots and flame for a moment.

"You are a pal!" Iosif replied, tucking the cigar between his lips and bending forward a bit until the end of the cigar glowed red. Straightening, Iosif inhaled deeply and blew smoke upwards, holding the cigar between his thumb and index finger. There was a brief, blissful moment of silence.

Apparently Iosif was allergic to quiet, as he soon began speaking again - loudly. "Eh, your problem is what?" Iosif asked, wagging his cigar in Hadrian's direction. "You make this funny face, eh? You not know the words to the song? I teach you! JOOOOOOOOOOOHN JACOB - " A merciful pause as Iosif took a puff from his cigar, and immediately turned his head to the side, coughing daintily into his palm.

Hmm. Perhaps he ought to smoke his cigar first, then sing. Content with his new logic, he pat Hadrian on the back. "I teach you later, this is all right? We sing all day! Is like party. You can come." Iosif motioned with his head towards Charlot, grinning broadly. There was something a little menacing and devious about his expression, as if he were some crazed supervillain. Perhaps it was just the scar.

It took him a few moments to actually take in the scene around him. His head had stopped pounding enough to be a dull ache in the list of his current 'problems'.

He cast a glance toward Hadrian, wondering if the poor kid was dying on him or something. He couldn't blame him for croaking on the spot.

"Y'alright, 'Adrian?" He murmured softly, compared to the boisterous sound of Iosif across from them. Charlot's attention snapped to the cigar, eyes narrowing a tick as he attempted to distinguish what brand it was.

"Oi, got one a'those oi can 'ave?" He gestured toward the cigar with a finger, eyebrow raised slightly.

He avoided the song completely.

Hadrian, feeling completely alienated and replying anyway, removed his hands from his eyes. They twitched rather violently back and forth now, the nystagmus he was generally afflicted with was running rampant in response to the light.
"I'm fine," he nodded, laughing nervously for a moment, "and I know the song, sir. The light hurts my eyes, that's all."

His brain tweaked at his marred sight. New guy's shoulder, new guy's neck, new guy's shoulder, new guy's neck...all in less than a half-second.

Iosif raised an eyebrow in Hadrian's direction, though he hadn't quite caught the constant vibrations of the wet man's eyes yet. "Light hurt eyes, eh? Then maybe you should not be in the outside, yeah? 'Cause it is morning and morning usually has the light!" It made sense to Iosif, anyway. Or wear glasses! Something. It just seemed silly otherwise.

He didn't seem put off by Hadrian calling him "sir." Perhaps he was used to it.

Iosif was briefly distracted as he searched his pockets for another cigar. The one in his shirt pocket was the only one he remembered bringing, but his pockets often had contents that surprised him. In his quest, he found the following: a balled up wad of tissues (unused, thankfully), some bullet casings (which he dropped idly on the ground in a strange sequence, creating a series of tings that were almost musical), and a chewed up pencil. Other pocket! Stuffing everything save the casings back in his pocket, Iosif reached into the other and, with a cheerful "A-ha!" pulled out a cigar. It wasn't even squished.

Beaming, he offered his prize to Charlot, taking a victory drag off his own cigar. "Lucky you," he said, grinning. Then he turned back to Hadrian, prepared to offer more suggestions on how to handle sensitivity to like, when he paused. It was hard to tell whether his eyes were playing tricks on him, but were his eyes... moving? Not in a normal fashion, mind. In a weird kind of way.

Iosif stuck his hand back into the pocket from which he had procured the cigar and pulled out his eyepatch. He held it out towards Hadrian - an innocent, if not somewhat unusual gesture.

Charlot accepted the cigar with a smile, nodding his head in thanks. He didn't want to smoke Hadrian out, so he decided to enjoy the special smoke later.

He tucked it away, turning his attention back toward Hadrian who appeared to be having some... issues. The way his eye twitched it look painful. He looked upwards at the sunlight, figuring it must be damn painful with his skin condition and all...

"Oy, 'Adrian..." He tugged his hat off, setting it on his head. The brim of the cap provided a bit of shade from the sunlight... it was really all HE could do. He grinned at Iosif and the patch. "Mmm... y'got one of them with two patches?"

Hadrian gave a short bark of laughter at the offering of the eye patch, a pleasant but unusual sound, and clapped a hand over his mouth.

"No, I have a conditio--oof!" He looked up and took a moment to register what had just been shoved on his head.

"Thanks," he nodded, blushing slightly and pulling the brim lower in an attempt to shadow it. He was grateful for the shade and, of course, for preserving his precious lung capacity. His sore eyes began to slow.

"What's your name?" he asked the new guy, not quite sure how said new guy was going to interpret Charlot's question and thusly providing a backup.

Iosif, realizing his eyepatch was no longer needed since a better solution had been provided, smiled haphazardly and tucked the accessory away. He used to wear it all the time, until Iosif realized that there was such a thing as an "eyepatch tan" and that it was the least flattering thing known to man. Besides, air felt good on his face.

He didn't seem to quite understand Charlot's question. "Two patches? What is it you talking?" Iosif asked, laughing loudly. "I have two patches I wear? I can't see! I walk around and then I would bump into things." Closing his good eye, the Russian provided a quick demonstration, taking a few steps forward and bumping (intentionally) into Hadrian. Cracking his eye back open, he grinned childishly at Charlot and took another puff off his cigar before responding to Hadrian's question.

"Iosif Davidovich Zaslavsky. I am the new man here! I shoot things." 'I shoot things' was almost becoming his catchphrase. "Who you are, eh?"

Charlot regarded the Russian with a grin, watching him bump into Hadrian. He was an amusing fellow, Russians always tended to be either CRAZY as hatters or fair weather friends, good drinking buddies too. They could hide a body like no one else...

Charlot blinked, snapping back to attention. I shoot things? Fascinating. He offered his hand out to Iosif, eyebrow cocked.

"Me names Charlot, plea'sha t'meet you. I throw knives at things."

Hadrian gave a strangled cry, his personal bubble exploding momentarily. But then he laughed.

"I'm Hadrian," he stated simply, not offering his hand as Charlot had already stolen Iosif's, "and I feel very, very vulnerable at the moment. Guns, knives..." He trailed off and itched idly at the large scar on his chest.

Only then did he realize that he had no shirt on.

His hands moved frantically to find the bit of cloth hanging from his back pocket. He unfolded it, wrung it out, and pulled it over his head.

Iosif was having trouble interpreting Charlot's thick accent, but soon as the man offered his hand to Iosif the Russian eagerly seized it, shaking it up and down with an admirable vehemence. Hadrian was spared having his wrist nearly fractured - instead he got a powerful clap on the back, and Iosif rumbled out a laugh. "Is pleasure! Is really very big pleasure, though maybe you not need be nervous eh? Is too early to be shooting the people anyway."

Wasn't a good idea to do his kind of work in broad daylight, out in the open like this. Though that probably wasn't very reassuring.

"Knives! Guns!" he exclaimed, expression bright. He turned to Charlot, twisting his cigar between his fingers and grinning as if he wished to break his own cheeks. "Is dangerous crowd here, yes? We maybe have draw, like the cow children in the West." Laughing again, he took another drag off his cigar; the cigar itself was dark and well-made, and Iosif smelled faintly of it and coffee. "Maybe not to dead though. Aim for leg. No kneecaps, eh?"

The scary thing was it seemed almost like a serious offer.

Charlot raised an eyebrow at Hadrian's odd behavior- he'd seen... weirder from the kid. Was he trying to hide or something? He looked back toward the Russian, shrugging at him.

As Iosif seized his hand he grit his teeth, feeling the iron grip and the bone jarring shake he gave him. He'd fallen down stairs more pleasant. Hey, the guy was enthusiastic.

"Cow chil'dren?" He squinted, trying to figure out what the hell he was speaking about. He didn't know calves fought... maybe that was some crazy Russian thing.. like c**k fighting only with little cows. "Y'fight cows were y'from Isis?”

"Cowboys," Hadrian piped up, "I think he meant cowboys. Yanno, wide-brimmed hats, a walk three paces and shoot kinda thing."

He felt his arms starting to burn and pulled them into his shirt.

"Yes!" Iosif exclaimed, giving Hadrian a slap of approval on the back. "Yes, cow boys is what I meant - cow children is also working?" He shook his head dismissively, and thrust his hands into his pockets, but his face was all mischief as he looked Charlot over, seemingly sizing him up.

Eh, he could take him. With one hand! And one eye, but that went without saying. Of course, he kept these thoughts tactfully to himself - for the time being.

"Hey," Iosif turned to Hadrian suddenly, raising an eyebrow in the "merman's" direction. He was a bit confused about the shirt thing. "Hey, is problem?"

Charlot regarded Iosif with a smirk. So, pops thought he could take him in a duel. Maybe... maybe now. It's be one hell of a show, either way. He shrugged at him, grinning.

"Sounds like a fun way t'pass t'time, eh?" He nodded to Hadrian, understanding what the Russian had said with his help. That was one hell of an accent and use of words.

When Iosif spoke up again he turned his attention back to his friend, wondering if he was alright as well. From the look of his slightly turning pink skin, he figured the sunlight was getting the better of Hadrian.

"Y'need to get in t'shade?"

"No," Hadrian responded sharply at first. He loathed being babied for a simple genetic mutation. He soon recovered his composure, though, and replied evenly.

"No, I'll be fine," he nodded, "I'm covered now." He looked to Iosif.

"You ever seen a squirrel what's all white n' with the red eyes? That's what I have. I burn easy." He wasn't entirely sure if the Russian would take the statement the right way, or if he even knew what albinism was.

One could always hope.


Iosif furrowed his brows at Hadrian, hand tilting to the side as he looked the albino over slowly, putting the pieces together. After the silence dragged on long enough to be uncomfortable he straightened and shook his head at Hadrian. "Eeeh, I am not think you look like squirrel!"

No tail, no teeth, no acorns! What kind of trickery was this?