#iictbt

The way those tiny shoulders stiffened and the man continued to avoid eye contact told Dan he'd hit the nail on the head. Dan gave a small smile anyway.

“You're in the right place if you are. Plenty of food here that'll last ya a while. Y'know, I think we've got some pastina that just came in, should be perfect for ya. Hang on.” 

With that, Dan pushed himself up to stand, and did his best to ignore the stomach-sinking feeling of completely looming over the bloke who definitely had wide eyes on him now. He strode quickly to the shelf he'd been stocking to find what he'd promised. The box was small enough to find easily among the other pastas, so it didn't take very long at all to find. Dan peered through the little viewing window in the box to see the teeny-tiny star shapes of the pasta within, and nodded to himself.

He was surprised to make his way back to the little fella to find that he'd managed to stand. His weight wasn't quite on his injured leg yet as he leaned against the nearby can, but he seemed to have tracked Dan's movements since he walked away. That was a guess on Dan's part, considering the way those cobalt eyes were glued to him. 

Taking a knee by the shelf once again, Dan carefully opened the box and angled it in such a way that the pasta was carefully shifted to just meet the short end. Then he held the box against the shelf's edge so the man could inspect the offered food.

After more suspicious glances between the pasta and Dan, he gently insisted, “Well, go on. Y’don’t have to take it, but it won't bite youse.”

The man puffed up a bit at the implication that he was scared, and so limped the few steps toward the box. One tiny hand reached in to scoop up a fistful of the pastina to look at it more closely. Indignation seemed to melt into bafflement as he pinched one miniscule star shape between his fingers. It was just about the size of his eye, which was quite small indeed.

“The hell…?” he muttered.

Thinking it might be something new for the fella, Dan explained, “It's pasta. It's all hard and tough now, but it softens up when ya boil–,”

“I know what pasta is,” snapped the man, but his tone wasn't quite as sharp as before. “Just never seen any like this before.”

Dan blinked and did his best to hide the amusement he could feel tugging at his features. He rather liked the wee fella’s attitude, now that he was seeing more of it.

“If you want it, take as much as ya like,” he offered. “It'll keep for ages. I think it's good in soups if you can cook it down in some broth. Add whatever ya like to it, then…”

He trailed off awkwardly, finding himself once again locked in a sidelong stare from the bloke. Less wary than the others, though, Dan noticed. This time, he looked bemused.

Before Dan could read any further into it, the guy shook his little head and tossed his handful of pasta back in the box, muttering something too quiet for Dan to hear. He untied something from his belt and rolled it out to reveal a drawstring sack about the size of his torso. Still grumbling, he held the sack near the box and swiftly scooped up enough pastina to fill it.

Dan moved the box out of the way once he seemed to be done, hefting the miniature bag to rest on the shelf as he cinched and tied it securely shut.

“Name's Dan, by the way,” he finally introduced himself. Or tried to, since the most acknowledgement he got was a flat glance from the man as he turned to pack the full pouch into his knapsack. Dan noticed his limp had nearly gone, and he didn't seem to have any trouble crouching with weight on both of his legs. That had to be a good sign!

“Alright in there, Dan?”

Wilma's voice calling in through the door sent a jolt through both men. The smaller one jumped to his feet, knapsack still in hand. Once again he was tense from head to toe, and it didn't take a genius to guess why. He'd been wary enough with just Dan around, but to add another human into the mix would make anyone so small feel completely outmatched.

The desperate, almost pleading look sent Dan's way sealed the deal. He gave the fella a subtle nod, then rose to his feet.

“Alright,” Dan replied to Wilma, stepping away from the shelf and toward the open door where his resigned associate was turning the corner. “Didn't get very much unpacked, though. Whatever whoppers ya had in here before us stacked some cans all creatively, been cleaning up after ‘em.

The look of resignation that carried over from the conversation Wilma had been having over the phone melted into an amused smile. “Kids these days gotta have their art,” she shrugged.

Dan grinned and made his way back to the food left to unpack, glancing between the shelves toward one in particular. Only the cans were left, with no trace at all that a tiny man had been standing there moments ago.

“Finally taking something home, are we, Daniel?” Wilma prodded.

He blinked at her, but his “Eh?” caught in his throat when he realized he was still holding the opened box of pastina. Thinking quick, he nodded.

“Seen a few recipes for this stuff, thought I might give it a go,” he said sheepishly.

Wilma gave a resolute nod and stepped past him to pluck something from a different shelf. “That'll go nicely with this chicken broth. Catch.”

She tossed the container his way, and he just managed to snag it out of the air while keeping his grip on the pastina box.

“I expect to hear all about this tasty meal of yours next time I see ya,” she asserted with a look that was kind yet brooked no argument.

Dan decided it was best to simply nod and accept it. Ever since he started volunteering, Wilma tried to get him to put aside his pride and bring home something for his own admittedly-bare pantry. His cover-up for the strange encounter he'd just had seemed to give her the green light to encourage him even more strongly.

Dan hurried to kneel next to the mess, shaking his head when he noticed some volunteer before him thought it would be a bright idea to stack the cans on their side in a pyramid one shelf up from the floor. No wonder they'd gone rolling.

He was about to start reorienting them, but paused at the sight of something tucked slightly under one of the cans that remained on the shelf, near the base of the former pyramid. It seemed at first to be a tiny bundle of dark cloth, until Dan looked closer and saw part of it moving ever so slightly up and down. Like it was breathing, quite quickly.

Before he thought better of it, Dan reached out a hand to brush back some of the fabric.

The little bundle flinched, and Dan jerked his hand back with a choked, startled sound. Some of the cloth fell away as the thing twisted to face him, revealing it wasn't an it after all. Seemed to be a he.

Dan and this tiny figure stared at one another with wide eyes for a moment, the latter with what seemed to the former like little pinpricks of cobalt blue. Now that he had the context of what he was looking at, the wee fellow looked human-like, only he was small enough to fit in Dan's hand.

The bloke had a darker complexion than Dan's fair one, and short copper-red hair that he'd kept hidden under a hood before. His chin had a bit of scruff in a similar color, though Dan noticed a patch or two that were turning white. Among all the questions flooding Dan's head, he briefly wondered if he and this little person were of similar age.

That all went away as he took in the rest of the teeny figure, and found that one of his legs was jammed under the can.

Dan’s hand moved in again the second he saw that, pausing only when he saw the little fella recoil and raise an arm in defense. He tried not to let his heart sink to realize just how frightening he was.

“S’okay,” Dan whispered in a way he hoped was reassuring. “Not gonna hurt ya. Let's just get you outta there.”

The tiny man frowned but didn't seem swayed. Dan went ahead anyway, moving slowly so as not to startle him again. With one hand he held the other cans in place to keep them from rolling about again, and with the other he lifted the one pinning the poor man's leg.

With the weight lifted, the man wasted no time rolling away and jumping to his feet, but he gave another pained grunt and stumbled away to lean on an upright-standing can. Dan put down the one in his hand and made sure it kept the rest in place before he removed his hands just as slowly.

“Alright?” Dan asked, watching with concern as the man slid himself down to sit. He got a sharp side-eye in reply before the man focused on examining his leg. Biting back a wince to watch him tenderly prod at his ankle and shin, he added, “I could fetch a first aid kit if you're hurt–”

“I'm fine!”

The little man seemed almost as surprised by his sharp response as Dan was, and they ended up in another short staredown. When Dan seemed to back down without further argument, the man huffed and mumbled, “I will be fine…”

Dan was quickly distracted from the observation that the little fella didn't sound Scouse and the curious thought of how far he'd come to get to Liverpool, when the man drew up his trouser leg for a proper look at the state of his ankle. Bruises dark enough for even Dan to plainly see mottled the lower half of his leg, and the deeper parts were a little swollen. 

Then he blinked when he thought he saw the bruises were getting smaller. Sure enough, he watched the edges slowly turn purplish, then yellow, and then return to light brown much more quickly than Dan had ever seen a bruise heal.

“Are you one of them aliens, like?” Dan blurted before he could think twice about it.

He found himself once again locked in a wide cobalt-blue stare as the little head whipped around. Dan couldn't tell if he was defensive or simply surprised by the question.

“I…what?”

Dan gave a shrug. “Wouldn't be the first I met. Couple a’ my mates were aliens! And if ya want, I could put you in touch with someone who's worked with em a lot, if you're stuck here and need any help gettin’ home–”

“I'm not a bloody alien, man!” he snapped, shutting Dan right up. “And I don't need your help!”

“Alright, mate, easy now,” said Dan, putting up his hands in surrender. “Only a suggestion…”

He saw the man tense up to see his hands, so Dan put them down. Miniscule shoulders released the slightest bit of tension as he went back to tending to his ankle.

Dan noticed the swelling hadn't gone down much near the joint, nor had the bruises lightened yet. “How long does, er, that usually take?” he asked tentatively.