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 Posted: Thu May 23, 2013 6:45 pm
It's a Tuesday. That means the streets are dead, and that at this hour of the night no one draws much attention, not even fluffy-haired boys wearing mismatched All Stars and floral button-downs with pinstriped skinny jeans and a plaid tie--which is in fact exactly what the attention-loving Sawyer has chosen, for some reason, to don. It means there are few people to interrupt Sawyer as he goes about the business of methodically defacing public and private property alike.
He's hit a few mailboxes, and a couple of light posts. One smooth piece of vinyl siding shopfront where it won't be too much of a b***h to wash off; a couple of walls that will need painting over. He's gone about two miles, depositing a string of ill-formed Sharpie tags. Like a territorial dog pissing on fire hydrants, Sawyer is thorough and generous in his marking, and like a territorial dog pissing on fire hydrants, Sawyer's run out of juice quicker than he expected.
He shakes the pen and tries again, and manages about half of a scrawl. So he shakes it again. And now he is distracted, with his back to the sidewalk, because the damn thing won't go and--he realizes, patting his pockets--he's somehow lost his spare.
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Posted: Thu May 23, 2013 8:30 pm
Well-worn sneakers didn’t make much warning sound as they ate up the distance between Zac and the stranger who was so industriously and generously scrawling his ‘mark’ on the readily available surfaces. He assessed the size of the other and determined that even in civilian clothes there was minimal threat to his person, after all, how likely was someone marking walls with a sharpie to be armed with anything more deadly than noxious pen vapor? That in mind he made a reach to stop the pen mid shake. “If I were you…I wouldn’t make one more of those marks for the next –three- blocks.” He said with narrowed eyes and an icy voice. “Consider it a warning that there are some people there who won’t take it well that the refurbishment efforts were vandalized.” Not that he couldn’t think of a few lieutenants who couldn’t learn a thing or two from being sent to apply fresh coats of paint, but that didn’t mean he wanted to encourage it. Except, there was something oddly familiar about the young man who was practically patchwork in his clothes, just…the manners don’t fit with his recollection, not quite.
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Posted: Thu May 23, 2013 8:39 pm
He'd jumped like a startled mouse at the interruption, having been wrapped up completely in his own headspace, but by the end of the warning he is staring at Zac with his remarkably-thick eyebrows furrowed. Apparently he is having the same thought.
"Jesus Christ. I don't know, are you one of those people? You sound like you--" he switches tracks abruptly, literally mid-sentence, without even drawing a breath. "Oh hey. I've run laps with you. Or sort of... walked around a track at the same time you were there."
Maybe that rings a bell and maybe it doesn't. If it does, maybe Zac remembers an introverted and thoroughly-weird boy, his same age, who'd surprised everyone by managing to graduate on schedule. A target of frequent mockery--that might ring true.
"You want a smoke?" He's already reaching into a pocket, generously.
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Posted: Thu May 23, 2013 8:52 pm
He blinks a few times, processing the information; it is whom he thought, for better or for worse the gangly introvert who’d always been in trouble for pranks was right here. Certainly he was more…forward than he’d once been, or was he imagining things?
“Sawyer?” He says astounded, as though by saying the name he lends a kind of credence to his presence.
Certainly the other seems to remember him; then again he graduated early and was known for keeping cryptic notebooks with their own odd sort of code. Doubtless there had been a few ‘serial killer in training’ jokes about him that no one took seriously.
After all he looked at the time like he might weigh in at 120 lbs. if you saturated him, he looked to be in a good deal better shape than that now though, he’d even put on some height so that he was eye to eye with sawyer.
“No!” he says with the same vehemence as he’s ever expressed to the idea of actually putting a cigarette in his mouth.
“No, no I don’t want a smoke thank you.” He looks a little off kilter now that his rant has been displaced. “And no, I was just warning you. I actually take care of the building, but I’d rather not have to find people to paint over your…enthusiastic marking of…everything. Good lord no wonder your pen is dry.”
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Posted: Thu May 23, 2013 8:57 pm
"I did most of these last week," he says defensively, and he doesn't bother asking if Zac minds if he smokes. He lights up. "Anyway," he says around his cigarette, "I'm ******** astonished you remember my name but I can't remember yours to save my life. Can I call you Arthur? You're Arthur now. You take care of a building? What? Like a super? Aren't you young for that? Can you get me a job?"
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Posted: Fri May 24, 2013 6:44 am
A small twitch at the corner of his eye formed for a moment during the torrent of words. “No, you may not call me Arthur, yes like a super, I doubt you want a job with my employer, she’s a bit of a hard-a**.”
That at least was the gods honest truth. Lord he wanted to go back and find his school note books to find whatever passing thoughts he’d noted about the gangling young man who was so intent on scrawling sharpie all over the world.
“Zachary, Zac… not Aurthur, not any other name.” He adds before there can be any more ‘creativity’ added to the situation. He considers for a moment offering a job as janitor in the event another name –is- invented, but the number of sharpie marks that litter their corner of the world imply that that would be something beyond counter productive.
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Posted: Fri May 24, 2013 10:57 am
He grins, and is at least polite enough to turn his head to the side before he exhales. He has a jittery, constantly-on quality to him--that's unchanged from high school, at least--and he hops absently from foot to foot as he talks.
"How's life been treating you, man?" And there's this to be said for him: he doesn't say it with the distracted flippancy of someone who's exchanging the expected social pleasantries. He asks it intently, with great care, and as though he genuinely cares what this person--a boy he knows only by sight--has been experiencing. As though he hopes, genuinely, that the answer is a pleasant one; as though he will be concerned and sympathetic if it is not. It's a lot of sentiment to pack into one question, but his face is unmistakably sincere.
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Posted: Fri May 24, 2013 7:56 pm
NO one is that sincere, at least not in Zac’s ‘humble’ and suspicious opinion. He either really wants a job or he views Zac as some kind of mark.
Consequently there is a not entirely inconspicuous lean in the direction of ‘away’ as Zac studies his all too sincere face suspiciously. He can’t quite decide what the ‘angle’ is though so after a moment he answers cautiously.
“Surprisingly well all things considered, some ups, some downs but hard work and perseverance pay off.”
He chews the inside of his lip holding back from something before adding. “And you? I mean… must have some free time to ah, draw.” He rubbed the back of his neck trying to think of proper small talk.
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Posted: Fri May 24, 2013 8:00 pm
"Oh, you know. Better than... better than it was." He pauses, a pregnant silence, and is obviously wondering how much Zac remembers. He'd blossomed after graduating, as though he'd been hanging on like grim death to the idea of just making it that far. "I panhandle," he adds soberly. This is strictly true. "How'd you become a building super at your age, man? You got that nepotism hookup or is it just... hard work and perseverance? Because if it's only that I may be ********." He grins.
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Posted: Fri May 24, 2013 8:28 pm
“…Not nepotism, just connections. I know an…older woman who felt I showed promise, so she decided I could handle the responsibility.” In a way that was true, if you could qualify a voice that powered the whole of the Dark Kingdom as an older woman.
“…You need the right connections.” He said and gave a small shrug. Never know when you’ll find someone who knows the right people, just… hmm…
“ He shrugged. It was an awkward moment to be sure.
“Ah…yeah, just be carefully around here. Some of the building residents really are, a little nuts.” He laughed a little like he really knew something that he wasn’t saying.
His mouth tightened into a fine line and then he dug into his pocket, fished out some terribly crumpled bills and stuffed them into Sawyer’s shirt pocket.
“…don’t mark up the walls.”
He said firmly
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Posted: Fri May 24, 2013 8:48 pm
"Oh, man," says Sawyer, suddenly very serious and very grateful. "Thanks, man. That... that means a lot."
It means a lot of extra Doritos later. Score.
"I won't, man. I'll avoid the s**t out of every building in a three block radius. Cross my heart. And if you see my tag you can track me down and I'll paint over it myself. You're a solid guy, man." He patted the shirt pocket somberly. "Maybe we'll run into each other again some time, but I'd probably better clear out before someone tracks me down." He exhaled--again being polite enough to turn his head--and then promptly tossed the cigarette into the street.
"You take care of yourself, Zac," he says seriously. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." And then he shoves his hands into his pockets and walks away.
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Posted: Fri May 24, 2013 8:55 pm
Zac watched him go for a long while, eyes narrowed but he didn’t pursue him, whatever thoughts he might have had were kept to himself for the time being as he turned back towards the apartment complex, pulling a small book out of his pocket and clicked open a pen, making a quick series of marks before tucking it back into his pocket and vanishing inside to the warmth of the building.
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