Did You See I Waved?

The inappropriately chirpy voice’s last comment caught his attention, and Simon scowled, turning the light up towards it’s source to catch more than just a silooette for the first time and found instead another guy with a curly mop-end of brown hair and a pale pallor to his skin, the trace of gauntness around his face suggesting that he wasn’t exactly /new/ to the streets. About Si’s age, he reckoned, sixteen of seventeen. He didn’t…/look/ like a drug baron or anything like that. Well, maybe a drug /dealer/, but more in the sense of that one kid in your school year who you knew was a bit of a stoner, but was cool enough and would pass you some along for a couple of quid if you asked nicely.

Maybe, uh, not too dangerous then. As in, uh, evil-to-the-core. At least, not with that haircut.

Jesus Christ.

He squinted up at the beam-bleached face. “…Wow. Gee, thanks, that is /fantastically/fucking reassuring. Like, as long as the rest of this junk-pile is about to come down any second then, hey, whatever, right?” He replied with a thick layer of forced jovility, rolling his eyes as he ran the torch briefly across the walls. He fixed the dude with one last look – that’d teach him for his stupid tardiness and, and just being a general ass-hat – before he started turning the light around the room, more deliberately this time, investigating the suddenly exposed underworkings, the intestines of the house. Nothing, nothing, something crawling, nothing…/there./ That one. In the proper darkness under where some of the floor was still partially supported, clinging on, there was a water-stained metal door. It had a bunch of crappy beams in the way, which Simon dealt with heatedly, breaking up the soaked wood like each piece had personally betrayed him, with a couple of well placed stamps. He kicked it away before making a grab for the door handle, yanking it hard. It just bounced, meeting firm resistance and even when he tried again, and again, and again, it still yielded nothing. Stupid thing. It must have been broken. Or stuck. He snarled and swore loudly, because it wasn’t /fair/, it wasn’t fucking fair, all of this, being stuck here in the first place, in a pattern each time of a thing looking like a stupid gift from God and then biting him in the arse. First finding the damn house in the first place, and now the stupid chance of escape being snatched away. He leaned his shoulder into it, shoving with all his weight, but still, it wouldn’t budge.

“STUPID-PIECE OF-DICKSHIT.” Si yelled, marking each consonant with a fierce kick to the door. It was only on the final one, as a cloud of…something dusty and a little sharp descended past his face that he did his best not to breathe into his undefended lungs. He looked up, and it was only then that he realised the whole fucking overhang was shaking that he darted back quickly, keeping rapt attention on the tremors racking the frame of the collapsed flooring.

  As the bright beam of the torch flashed up into his face, Nathaniel staggered back and instinctively shot a hand up to protect his eyes. “Will you fucking mind where you’re pointing that thing?” he groaned, any bond he felt with the other guy immediately melting away and replacing itself with annoyance. And suddenly, for the first time in a good few weeks, Nathaniel felt self-conscious about his appearance. It was ridiculous, really, because it wasn’t like the kid was going to care what he looked like, but he hadn’t spoken properly to anyone else for a while and now there was suddenly a brand new person that he was supposed to interact with. A good impression would have been far easier to achieve if said newcomer hadn’t fallen through the damn floor, but in any case, he would have preferred not to look quite as, well, homeless.

  Nathaniel ran a hand through his matted, messy hair, pushing it back from where it had fallen over his eyes. He felt tired. Grubby. The beginnings of a beard were attempting to make their mark on his jaw, but he hadn’t been near enough to a reflective surface to actually analyse how well that was going. By the feel of things, though, the beard was winning. If he’d have been at home, he’d have been proud of himself.

  Sarcasm was all well and good, he thought as the kid in the basement gave a bad imitation of happiness, but not when the meaning was so malicious. Not for the first time, he fantasised about leaving the little shit down there, but thought better of it.

  “Keep your hair on,” he grumbled quietly, crouching next to the hole and being careful to keep his weight as spread-out as possible. The other boy, by the time Nathaniel got into a comfortable position, was already aiming sharp kicks at what sounded like a sturdy door. The whole house was making slightly disturbing creaking noises after each impact, but luckily the kid stopped kicking before he had to yell any obscenities down there.

"…Yeah. No.”

"Well, you can deny it all you want, but I'm pretty sure it's the truth. What the fuck do you mean, no carbs after three o'clock? Do people eat before three o'clock?-