Arthur "Art" Murphy

Rory realized in that moment, as he was pulling her along in the store, that she would have willingly followed him anywhere. It was a nerve-wracking and scary thought, honestly. How could she be so smitten with him in such a short amount of time? She wasn’t going to think about it now, however. It was a thought for a rainy day at home - and those days had been a constant now. The redhead allowed a smile to appear when he reached for her other hand and her eyes trained on him to show him he had her full attention. “You thought about me coming to the store? To just read while you worked? I…” She paused to gather her thoughts. Meanwhile, her face took on a light shade of red. “I thought the same thing…that I wouldn’t mind just existing here. I could read and you could come by and say hi between customers and it would just be lovely. You don’t have to change anything. No one will disturb me. This place feels more comfortable than my own house, Art. You being here is…the best part of it.” The admission sent shivers up and down her spine. She had been thinking it, of course, for some time now but actually saying it was different. She looked down at their linked hands and then glanced back up at him from under long eyelashes. “You make me dizzy. I like it.” She hoped he didn’t think it was a bad thing. “Being around you…feels…this is so hard,” she told him, a smile appearing on her lips. “You’re my favorite person to be around. Even if it’s me sitting right here while you work…I think it would be my favorite part of the day.”

He manages to get himself to his feet, looking at the boy curiously, because there was obviously something bothering him.  He wondered if it had anything to do with the realization that Peter was his father.  “I know you’ll regret that forever”.

“ME?“ Aileen fell silent as Art came inches into her face, her eyes wanted to wonder but she felt she’d get stabbed if she did. ‘’I- er- well-…!!’’ Only for her eyes to widen like an owl and to arch her back until she got booped on the nose, she blinked and wiggled her nose and wipe it. She didn’t know whether to enjoy this new perspective or be concerned, he seemed like a terrified boy but now he wanted a chainsaw? ’‘Why would someone like you want a chainsaw?”

At first, she was laughing at his words, but the mention of a mother who lies actually takes her back for a moment because that didn’t sound like Art. “Is something going on? We need laws and barriers for different reasons, babes.” She explains, his next words making her move back a little. “Er, no, I would rather not risk harming my best friend or anyone or anything around me, thanks, but I appreciate the…faith that you have.”

Lydia honestly tried to stop herself from laughing but she couldn’t. Her lips were pursed together tightly and she shook her head to look away from Art. There was no way this kid could act tough or mean. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. At what point did I tell you what to do? Must’ve missed that one.” Lydia wasted no time retorting back, beating his attempt at being rude by a mile. She stood up straighter and pointed her chin up towards the sky. Lydia was shorter than most people but had a way of making herself seem tall around almost everything. If there was one person you did not want to go toe to toe with in a match, it was Lydia Martin.

Derek automatically put himself between the street and Art, it was an instinct he’d always had with him and he didn’t question it.  “Most moms are like that, as far as lying to you”, he shrugs, “did you ask her why she did?  She’s not the only one that kept Peter’s children from him”.

She could feel the chills go up and down her arm when he fully took her hand. She did not even care that his mom was right there. All that mattered was calming him down and making him feel safe. Maybe she could be that for him? Maybe when he was getting upset or worked up she could help him take a breather and concentrate on something else? She would be honored to be someone in his life that would center him and make him feel like he wasn’t losing control. 

“Oh. Okay. Yes. Before I leave I will make sure I write it down and give it to Art. I promise I will be around more,” she told his mother, a small smile on her face even as her cheeks heated up when she realized that her hand was still firmly in his. Just as she saw his mother enter the back, her eyes widened. “I forgot to tell her it was nice to meet her…” she mumbled, completely annoyed with herself for forgetting that nicety. Being polite had been drilled into her for as long as she could remember. 

“I noticed,” she said softly. “My mother does the same. She just isn’t so smiley when she does it.” It felt like her heart was beating in her throat as he rubbed the palm of her hand. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him and the butterflies were erupting in her stomach once again. “Th-thank you,” she stuttered, her heart beating so rapidly that it almost scared her. “I like yours…I like the way they feel in mine.” 

Art squeezed her hand reassuringly. “It’s okay. I’m sure she knows. You’re giving her the recipe after all, right?” His mother was like a whirlwind of energy, popping in and out as she pleased. He was used to it by now, but he knew others were not. Still, he gave Aurora a sad smile when she spoke about her mother. He knew he should be grateful to have such a cheerful mother in place of Rory’s but sometimes it was hard to see past the nose on his face. He vowed to be less ungrateful in the future.

He could feel the blush creeping up from his chest to his neck and cheeks and all the way to his ears when she admitted to liking the feel of his hand. He wanted to say the same back to her, but his voice wouldn’t come out and he only made  an odd squeak. He skin felt hot and he was a little self conscious about holding her hand without much context. He thought about pulling away to make himself feel better but then remembered how awful he felt the last time he pulled away, so he did the opposite. He moved to pull her to the corner of the store, the one near the windowsill with the herbs he’d planted and grown himself. It was also out of view of the kitchen so his mother wouldn’t bother him anymore. Art turned to face Rory, thinking that if he was already holding her hand, she might not mind if he reached for her other hand as well so that he could hold both of them in front of him. “When you first came into my store, I had a thought that I wouldn’t mind seeing you stay and read while I worked. And this was where I pictured you. There’s natural light from the window and... and I can move the tables so you won’t be disturbed.” He knew he’d have to leave the second a customer walked in, but he wanted her to feel like she was still welcome here when that happened. "You can sit anywhere you like, but I thought maybe you would like it here.” He gravitated toward her without realizing it.

Chris just lays back against the ground, “you’re no longer one of my favorites”.

“Didn’t know I was in the first place, so no loss on my part.”

Elliot was in his mother’s old civic, on the way back from a grocery run for his mother and sister ( just the though of eating normal food made him queasy anymore, as much as he hated to admit that ) when he spotted the familiar face holding a paint can. It was the tweaker who tried to take dandelions from his lawn and now there were black letters above the word ‘stop’ that said don’t. He sighed, gliding to a stop and rolling down his window. “What are you doing?”

When a car approached, Art make uncharacteristically excited, even going so far as the rub his hands together but.. then the car pulled to a stop. And not just a normal stop. A complete stop. And even rolled down the window. “No man! What are you doing? You need to keep going, you--” he stopped because he saw just who it was. Without a second beat, his demeanor stopped. Not from one of fear like he had when he’d been caught taking dandelions, but one of complete annoyance. “Oh, it’s the wendigo. What are you doing? Coming back from snacking on some foot? It’s not lunchtime, go home.”

Aileen only walked around, assuming thing had calm down but she was continuously weary. Looking around every corner and backward as she probably was moving further into the pit of hell but no, it was only Art. The one she scared with a clown mask and chainsaw, she, unfortunately, didn’t own it as her neighbors were kind enough to offer. ‘’What’s with that smug look on your face?’‘ She grinned, squinting her eyes as she moves gradually closer before following where his eyes peer at his work ‘‘Dude! Art? you can’t do that!’‘ She pointed at the stop sign. Can she really be saying this, however, she broke into people home for her own investigation which kind of made her a hypocrite but she didn’t care at this point, someone could possibly get hurt.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Art snapped immediately, but then he turned to see who it was and he threw his hand out, pointing. “YOU.” He stormed over to her, his face mere centimeters from hers. He’d let go of his previous qualms about personal space. “You think it’s funny to scare people with chainsaws.” He glared heavily at her.... and then suddenly smiled and booped her on the nose. “Where can I get my hands on one?”

Furrowing her eyebrows slightly at the smile, she shrugs the odd feeling away because she was probably just seeing things and smiles warmly at her best friend. “That sounds..really good actually, I’m proud of you for finally standing up for yourself, not that I didn’t like doing it for you, but it’s nice to see you wanting to do this, but why are you taking it out on a stop sign, babes?” She questions and sits herself down under a nearby tree. “It’s getting there, I just have to keep focus.”

Art puffed out his chest, proud that Rosie, his best friend in the world, had his back. “I’m taking it out on the stop sign because the stop sign is a rule put in place by society to keep entropy at a minimum. Remove the stop sign, remove the block on the universe from running it’s proper course. And that’s how the universe should be. Without barriers and silly laws and mothers who lie through their teeth every minute of your life.” He placed a confident hand on her shoulder. “We should go practice your magic. Remove all your barriers, too.”

He rolled his eyes at his childish answer. Just as he was about to ask what was wrong, Art was way ahead of head of him and was ranting his mouth off. Xavier made no means to interrupt him but instead just listened. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood more comfortably. “Perfect life? Perfect job? My life isn’t a breeze Art. I deal with stuff too so don’t just assume.” He said shaking his head at his words. “You have every right to be mad at your mother for lying but you really think writing ‘don’t on top of stop is really going to solve the problem?”

“Yes,” Art said immediately. Normally he would have asked about Xavier’s problems. He almost did, like there was some kind of knee-jerk reaction to it, but he squashed it down. That was the old Art. The art who didn’t see red tinted into everything. “It will make me feel better and maybe I’ll decide to go home. But it’s not enough so here I am. Not at home.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You should take it out on something, too. Don’t just let life throw things at you without wearing any armor. You got problems? Fight them. Fight the system. Punch someone.” He balled his hand into a fist the completely wrong way because he didn’t know how to make a point.

Lydia had expected one of the idiotic seniors who acted like they were in eighth grade to pull such a childish prank when she saw someone painting on the stop sign. She rolled her eyes dramatically as she walked over towards them but then stopped once she realized it had been Art pulling the prank. “You know, if you wanted to take a tour of the Sheriff station there are other ways to make that happen. Potentially causing an accident and hurting someone isn’t the smartest one.” Lydia pointed out as she shrugged her shoulders. She couldn’t imagine why Art would want to do something that could hurt another person or something that was just plain dumb.

Art kicked his paint can over but it didn’t fall over. It just hurt his foot. “The only thing I’m touring is the other side of the tracks, sister.” He sounded almost scripted with the way the words didn’t quite fit in his mouth. But he was mad and they wanted to come out anyway and just because he didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t mean he didn’t have intention behind it. “I didn’t realize you were in the business of telling people what to do.” He simply had an overwhelming urge to cause mayhem and clearly that wasn’t happening here.

Talia squinted her eyes and furrowed her eyebrows as she tilted her head at Art, honestly not sure what his goal was here. He seemed off, although she couldn’t really put a finger on how. He just was, and she didn’t like it. She could understand being rebellious for the fun of it, but she didn’t get why he seemed so intent on just causing trouble like that. Nothing was really funny about a car crash. “I mean, if you think so, but it’s not like you’ll get to see any of that stuff happen even if people did somehow decide not to stop.” She insisted with a shrug. “And switching peoples’ mailbox numbers would be boring too. There’s no reason for you to do that if you can’t see the aftermath. It just doesn’t make sense to me. If I was going to go around doing pranks, I’d want to actually see them.”

“Well that’s why I’m waiting around right now,” Art said pointedly, indicating the way he wasn’t really even going anywhere. A car approached and decidedly did stop, much to Art’s dismay, and then yelled at them for vandalizing. Art ended up flipping them off and the driver mumbled something that sounded like, “Why you little...” and then put the car in park. “Whoops, time to go.” Art said, turning to get away from the man. As rebellious as he was feeling, he doubted he could actually beat anyone up and he’d rather not get punched in the face. “Talia, you should take care of him if he starts running after us. You’re strong, right?”

“Hold up”, he says setting him more solidly on his feet, “I’m not trying to control you..I’m the least controlling person in the world.  What I am trying to do is keep you from being arrested”.  He figured he could get him out of it, but he didn’t want him to get into it in the first place.  “Where is this coming from?”