Cᴜʀɪᴏᴜs

Onyx eyebrows pursed in annoyance, another drag taken from crisp cigarette as the man in question subjected himself to yet another wait. Fifteen minutes had passed, of waiting for the BLU Soldier to collect his purchase, so they could go home. Bored mind questioned exactly why, as the soldier continued to berate the poor clerk, he had been asked to undertake this task. Limbs and brain would both rather he be at the base, tucked away as far as possible with a book and a glass of wine. Alas, he has ventured only as far as the nearest post, lean frame propped against it as he is treated to another chorus of shouts.

Then– without warning, sudden voice catches his ear, rips attention from its grave and gives it new life. Icy crystalline blue eyes see nothing around him, no adult ventured forth to vex him in vain; gaze drops to a more child-friendly height, and– he understands. A moment is taken, brief taste of nicotine on his tongue, as he resituates his memory. Pale gaze glances over youthful frame, once, twice, then lands on childish face at last. The boy looks alright, hair grown perhaps a little more than that when he last saw him. Stares finally connect, and something infinitesimally small settles in the back of restless mind. Perhaps he has been waiting for this, too.

Threat of poor memory lays heavy in the air between them, weighed down with uncertainty and fear. Did the spy remember? Apprehension soon gives way to praise, given easily to whom he considered deserved it; an attempt to soothe youthful nerves.

“The boy who saved Smissmas?” A pause; another drag. “Of course.”

After another heartbeat, grin immediately brightens visage and Jack lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. The unsettling prickle of worry soothed for once not from forgetfulness alone. Jack straightens, pointing a thumb to himself. “Boy who saved Smissmas is my Dad’s name,” He joked. “My friends call me Jack. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last time. It was like you’d suddenly disappeared.” The boy makes a pop and vanish from thin air. There was no exaggeration to his words his friend was there one minute and then pop gone. Jack gives something that almost looks sheepish yet there’s little pause nor hesitation between next phrase. “You can call me that too.”

Attention is easily drawn to the raucous but familiar. Small hands press to his mouth suppressing a small chortle at Santa fighting over the clerk and he gives a small wave in their direction as if it were something they could see while being so deeply entrenched in their disputes. 

There’s little the boy can do but nod along to the man’s explanation interjecting only to hum in slow agreement. Everything about his fourth cousin in-law’s brother’s aunt checks out. His explanation is sadly not the strangest or most outlandish that’s happened within the tiny town where no face could be a stranger if he could remember to remember long enough. And there it is that fuzzy blip in the memory, there one minute and gone the next. A twist of a smile curves features and he looks at the entirely upright citizen as though he’d spoken a foreign language. “…Don’t worry about who?” Jack shakes his head chasing away whatever is left of the thought and instead latches onto  onto one crucial bit of information that draws attention about this completely average (if a little bit nerdy) and almost ordinary model citizen.

Something is off. His mother would be proud of his ass-toot detective work.

“Not so fast, buster. Everyone knows,” And here comes the air quotes to encompass the word followed by a snort of amusement, “’S…kcool.’ was shut down to make room for the hang-u-torium. It’s really swell, there’s a noose and everything and they take your picture.” Tangent over he looks once over the should to ensure that no adults could could hear their conversation and beckons the man closer but is already shuffling forward a single step.

He’ll look a picture of himself as a kid and nine times outta ten he’ll not not even recognize it’s him. Just ‘haha cute kid :)’ 

Has a pet cactus it’s somehow miraculously still alive 

They’ll be a days when he does remember that his name is Jack but he’ll look down at his Official Employee Name Tag which reads Jim and get half way because doubts? ‘Jaaa--Jam?’ 

Got one (1) shoulder pat from Hale for doing a good job moving transport or more likely it was a PR move 

Doesn’t remember the mercenaries at all but has lingering positive feelings towards them like-- whomst the fucketh are the Teufort nine? But he’ll defend the mercenaries and not even know why 

He’ll tell you the same story five times over and not even finish it before restarting because he forgot what he was doing in the first place 

— Honestly, Jean couldn’t wrap her head around what sort of hero complex this guy had; Eyes narrowing as he had walked away. Fucking snobby nosed, ‘im-so-much-better-than-you’, know-it-all, sonofabitch. She could do a damn drop on her own. How hard was it to literally hand off a package? She did it nearly every-goddamn-day with people shooting at her, but no, he just has to give the job in perhaps the most godawful ways. Ugh. At least he had gone, and she could sulk in peace without random thrown in comments about real scouts and real jobs and whatever bullshit he spouted that she learned to tune out after a while.     But alas, the peace had been broken as a young child (one that looked vaguely familiar- was he in a paper or something?) approached her; Holding up a wanted poster. One of many that covered the town with the faces of her comrades and enemies alike, but this one bore her visage (although it didn’t do her justice; if they’re going to make wanted posters, the least they could do was do it right).     Gaze sweeps around the area; Hand tightening around the little, ring box sized parcel hidden in the hand-pocket of her hoodie before eyes fell back on the kid again. Shit. At least the corner wasn’t very crowded in the mean time, so she knelt down to the kid’s height. Okay. Don’t panic.     Even if he says something, who would believe a kid when they said that they saw a criminal? No one she knew as far as she knew at least.

“You sure ‘bout that?” She points to the picture’s nose. “’Cause, I dunno what you’re seein’ here, but that ain’t what I look like, but ain’t you a little too young to be able to read, kid?” (Especially with the water around here?) “Where’re your parents?”

“Hmm,” eye skewing shut in concentration and tongue poking out the corner of his mouth, brows knit in concentration. The boy uses one hand to cover up the wanted portraits picture still opened eye drifting back to the runner. Even with school out for an unforeseen amount of time there were words he was sure that he could read enough enough with clarity. Words like, hanging and bad criminul stuck out the most. After checking his work twice, he looked over the large lettering, reminiscent of those seen in old westerns. W-H-A-W-N-T-T-E-D. 

Questionable spelling aside Jack was sure, twice as sure now, that this was the same person in the picture. Beneath the inaccurate portrait eventually lead into misdemeanors detailing an impressive list crimes too small to discernibly read. If only half of the accusations were true then, Jack was dealing with a criminal of the worst type (Jay walking, and littering). After careful consideration he found himself little less than half now the longer he looked at her. “You’re right,” he admits, “You’re a lot prettier in person, Miss.” At lot less sinister too, he thought to himself.

Folding the sheet in half Jack felt unperturbed and perhaps a touch too at ease by the who he was speaking with and felt no sense of danger being around someone so WHAWNTTED. At her question about the whereabouts of his parents the boy pointed into a busy crowd of a people, he could just make out his mother’s the squabble of voices. Apparently, his absence had still gone unnoticed which was just fine to Jack.

It was a warm afternoon, the buzz of crickets, soft breathing of the big dog sleeping by her chair and rhythmic movements of her hands as they filed at the wood beneath her fingers lulled her into something just short of a doze- to say the kid was a surprise would have been an understatement.

Shaken out of her torpor by a few simple words, she at least managed to avoid flinching at the sudden but by no means offensive interruption before flicking her hat up slightly to peer at the vaguely familiar face. A kid.

Normally with a set response for a lot of questions, she just looked at the face, almost expecting him to elaborate as her mind worked to compensate for slacking off and tried to think of a response. 

At the suggestion, her gaze flew to the bow resting on an old crate by her. The previous item of interest lay discarded after its most recent polishing alongside her aviators.

“ You.. Wanna see me shoot? ” she asked, still a bit confused with the odd expression the boy was giving her, “ Yer lunch? ”

If her brain wasn’t working overtime to process what was going on, she’d probably be pretty embarrassed with that reply. No such luck though.

The woodwork- a small chunk of something slowly taking the shape of a bear- was set down beside her, her mind finally picking apart the given information. She straightened in her foldout garden chair, taking her legs off the cooler in front to better look at her current company,

“ Ya sure? ”

An nod answers each of her question every one becoming more enthusiastic at her final. “Really, really, sure Miss.” 

Jack recalls from grainy memory flashes of the fabled Robbin Hood beginning to recreate a scene within his head -- only this time it would be better than imagination, it would be real. There were no bandits running a muck, no threat of invasion save for the usual chaos of Teufort. But there was lunch, and an apple. After shining the fruit against front a faded red hoodie, he placed the apple on a discarded crate only a little distance away. Youthful features scrunching, brows knit as something was amiss. This wouldn’t do at all, there was hardly a challenge found here. 

“Wait wait-- no.” 

Backing away from the assassin it looks like the boy lost had nerve and would go back on his word taking apple in tow. After casting a look around to make sure neither of his parents threatened to making a surprise appearance (as neither would approve of his next choice of action) and finding neither in sight he flashes a pleased grin knowing they would remain uninterrupted. Jack took the apple back in small hands and retreated few more paces from her till youth became a smaller blip.