Liam McLintoct

“This is all rather vague, but I suppose I can try to speak with her.” He looked over. The group, smoking and laughing together, reminded him of the kids who would tease him outside the library he frequented as a child, who would trip him and make him drop his scrolls as he walked past. Determined to not show his intimidation, he walked up to them, internally cringing as silence fell among the teens as he approached.

“Hello…youths.” Not the best start. He focused on the girl, staring at her for a moment before speaking, the first thing that came to his head being the first thing he said. “We…have a special…ladies…event…happening. For ladies only. If you’d like to attend.” He shuffled a bit, and heard the first scoffs begin. “Right. So you don’t want to…?”

With the continued muffled laughter and her confused face, he assumed he had failed and walked back to Liam, shrugging nonchalantly (or as much as he could after that failure.) 

“What did you say to them?” he shook his head though, “No, forget it. We need a different approach,” he was back to the whole physical violence theory in his mind, but he remembered something about deep breaths and counting to ten and set the idea as a last resort. Given how well they were doing now, they might still reach it.

“You can’t tell her I’m looking for her,” he added, his voice carrying more edge than absolutely necessary, “she doesn’t even know I’m....” what? here? alive? a person she ever knew? If he was being obtuse, it was simply a defense mechanism. Against what, he couldn’t say precisely.

“I haven’t seen her since she was a little girl. She probably thinks I’m dead,” at this point, it was the best possible thing she could think, really. Maybe he was a ghost, set on a pedestal in her mind. Still the all-powerful superhero from when she was all skinned knees and mud pies.

“I can’t have her involved in this shit, though. I should’ve been there-” he stopped himself, “no. You were being too nice to them. You have to be forceful. Threatening. Make something up about...I dunno...Werewolves who are cops and wouldn’t think twice about making their night a lot worse,” that would barely be making anything up at all.

He had already been spilled on, yelled at and pushed around by hundreds of drunk teenagers. As he stood outside the rollercoaster his life’s duty was to guard, he half hoped to hear it crack and break behind him.

At least then there’d be a reason for all this screaming.

He did notice, in the corner of his eye, a group of teenagers looking particularly sneaky, holding cans of something. Unsure what they were doing, Abasi had leaned out to watch, seeing them deface the side of the ‘pyramid’. While he knew he should probably do something, his internal monologue wasn’t exactly stressed.

Oh no. What a shame. I did so love that hideous fake pyramid. Whatever will I do now.

He leaned back against his wall, determined to pretend he didn’t notice it. Almost drifting off into his fantasy world where he was Pharoah and all these terrible creatures his beloved servants, he jumped slightly, shocked, when Liam approached and began to speak to him.

Well, no one had called him ‘kid’ before, but he didn’t have time to argue. The man before him seemed rather distressed, although looking out at the group, Abasi couldn’t tell why. He leaned back out, peering over the corner at the vandals behind him.

He didn’t even want to begin processing the whole ‘happy with them’ bit. It was true, he saw it plainly as anyone, but to admit it? To concede that his youngest daughter was, of her own volition, caught up in this sort of bullshit? He prickled with rage and with something else, something much closer to guilt.

“I can’t,” he finally grunted, chancing a peek at the kids to see that they were still well at work with their destructive diversions, “it’s...complicated,” he stressed, “I can take care of the guys, but she needs to get out. And safe. And not banned,” his stomach clenched. What were the chances he would see her another summer regardless? She was grown, they were all grown. Still, it was all he had to cling on...

“Look, she’s...I know her,” he finally admitted, “and that means I can’t talk to her. Rules. And as much as I’d love to take the express to hell because she’s caught up with these punks, I can’t be involved,” he wanted to hit something. One of those guys, in the face, preferably. Instead, he opted to turn away from the scene for a second, folded his hands behind his head, let out a grunt that seemed suspiciously wounded-animal in origin.

One day into June and Koa was ready to fast-forward a few months for the coolness which fall promised. The heat only made him feel distracted and heavy. The temperature had always effected him that way, and while he missed a multitude of things about home the heat wasn’t one of them. Not even in his black tank and muted green cargo pants did he have any relief as he walked the lot. Adding to his crabby state he needed to get to adjust some bearings on he ferris wheel which meant he’d be having to climb. Parked out front of the attraction he was waiting till another staffer came to let him in. 

Resting against the fence post he felt it creak under his weight, and sat up before he added another thing to his to-do-list. Noticing he wasn’t alone any longer he thought to make small talk, “I think nature has it all wrong. I just assume hibernate and sleep right through the dog days of summer.”

“Holding the post up?” had the weather been just a little more bearable, hell even if a cloud or two could make an appearance, he might have quickened his pace to Koa’s side. Instead, he trudged with some added drama, dangled the keys ahead of him with a groan.

“You and me both,” he huffed, sidling right up to lean against the fence himself, any creaking either unheard or simply unheeded. He took a glance above, something more of a wince. There was protocol and safety and all that to consider, but hell if he didn’t hate heights even in the best of times.

What she didn’t like were thunderstorms. As embarrassing as it was to admit, the booming thunder scared her, and the storms themselves amped her up with more energy than she knew what to do with. But the charge in the air told her that’s exactly what she’d be getting tonight, so she sighed and turned to head back home, resigning herself to a night of loud music under a pile of blankets. 

When a figure stumbled out into the downpour, it took her a moment to recognize it as Liam, and by that point he was already calling out. 

“The rain is nice,” Liam shrugged lightly, then tilted his head toward the falling precipitation. After the workout, it was an especially welcome cool down. She did have a point, of course. While it was a gentle sprinkle at the moment, the clouds were moving with increasing speed, and the low growls of thunder weren’t so far off, “more convenient than a shower,” he kidded.

He looked Natalie over, his inclination always toward worry, perhaps over-protection. Not that there was really anything left to worry about. It wasn’t as if she could die again, or that he had even been able to prevent in the first time. Still, she reminded him so damned much of Alice, and the whole ‘dad’ thing- however poorly he’d done at it to start- never exactly left him.

Glad he could bend a sympathetic ear with Liam it was time well spent despite the downpour. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of standing outside the condo’s with a boombox in deceleration of his feelings as several onlookers stop from their regular scheduled to take notice. Never claiming to know the inner workings of the fairer sexes mind, but he’d like to think he knew a thing or two about Isabella. Being the center of such a public display would most likely embarrass the somewhat shy woman. “Yeah, I’m going to have to think of something eventually, but maybe softer and less public.”

Koa felt stuck and frustrated without being able to express his feelings, and it was something he was going to have either make peace with, or do something about it. “I just don’t think she’s ready for any kind of deceleration at the moment.”  

Given the hour he thought they were slowly meandering back home. Looking to shift the subject he asked, “Ya think you’re going to make this workout stuff a regular thing? I really could be of some use. I know my way around a gym, and at the very least could be a spotter for when you bench press.”  He couldn’t help, but want to encourage his friend embrace the healthy lifestyle change. Really anything that pulled him from the clutch of the bottle made him happy.  

“You never know until you try,” he did offer a hint of argument with this and a shrug. Deep down, he supposed it wasn’t right to push it. Koa would know when it was time, would certainly know better than Liam did when it wasn’t, but that didn’t do much to quell the inclination. There was something...maybe not inspiring, but...hopeful about the situation. Liam may have been long past the point of love, but seeing a friend try for it warmed him in a way he couldn’t- or wouldn’t- say.

“I dunno,” Liam rubbed at the back of his neck, the base of his head, his usual response to discomfort. He had gone to the gym on a distant, barely-remembered suggestion that it might take his mind off things. And even he could see he might have been diving a little too readily, too face-first into the bottle as of late. His body had a way of reminding him that youth was gone, even more than Koa’s issues of heart at times.

“I might be too old for this shit. Creaky knees and all that.”

Silas wasn’t haven’t a good night. From the rowdy early-twenty year old, human males at furthest corner of his bar top downing drinks like water, to his beer cooler deciding to break during the busiest time of his shift, he was desperately needing a smoke and time to himself. But, unfortunately for him, he had to wait to take his break until most of the guests left and work order he had placed had been completed, and when he spotted Liam walking through the front door of the bar, he leaned against the bar with a warm smile. “How wonderful it is to see you, Liam. I owe you for graciously helping me in these troubling times.”

“Just my job,” he offered, pleasantly but suitably loud over the crowd. He tapped the faulty machine and made a displeased face, “some time for a breakdown, this.”

“You know, I did collect citations. I’d still have them if I hadn’t burned them all.” Finn’s expression pinched for a moment, but he smoothed over it with a sunny laugh. “I used to make big fat cigars out of them, rolled with the prettiest tobacco you ever tasted. Those little pink slips are about the same texture as cigarette paper. The ink wrecked the flavor, but we - I liked the poetry of it.” 

Rowland rolled those stupid pink cigars and sealed them with honey. Rowland nursed the tobacco on his magic. Nicotine stained sunrises on Rowland’s fingertips. Nights with Liam teetered on the edge of brainless regrets like those. Finn bit his lip, considering. If he was going to wallow in memories like a pig in shit, he ought to come equipped. “I’ll grab it off my door on the way up. We’ll have one to celebrate.” Finn threw his arm up as if toasting the sky, a pantomime cigar cocked in one hand, and sang out, “To our continued imprisonment!” 

Someone shouted “keep it down, asshole!” from a nearby window and Finn whirled around with a poisonous look. A gale of wind just-so-happened to slam against that window, rattling the glass. Finn shot Liam a wry look. “Some storm, right?” 

“Is it really considered a cigar if it’s rolled from transfer paper?” he lifted a brow as they walked. Or he walked, at least. He tried not to look too closely at where Finn’s feet were. See nothing, say nothing, something like that. Instead, he focused his mind on the proposed smoke. And reached a good thirty years back for terminology.

“I think, if it’s fat, that makes it a doobie,” he nodded sagely to himself, then frowned, “except, tobacco,” he rubbed the back of his head, “obviously. I mean, what else would it be...” he was rambling, about utter nonsense at that. Something to fill the silence. He wasn’t terribly interested in quiet tonight, which was good. Netflix and chill with Finn was never quiet.

“Guess it don’t matter what it’s called. It sounds terrible, though.”