milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

"Ma?"

He walks in, blinking around, a little confused. A small enough child, lame leg trailing behind him as he turns his head this way and that, obviously looking for someone. The cane in his hands is clutched tightly.

"Ma? Ma? Mister Stroker sir? Ma?"

He's starting to think this isn't home.

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"That must have hurt a lot."

And he looks sad.

"It did."

Gently, because she doesn't want to cry.

"I miss my mother, and my family."

He nods.

"I miss my Ma. I always thought I wouldn't but I do because she's not here and she's supposed to be and I don't know what I'm doing here and you're very nice but I'm a little scared because she's not here and she's always been here and I don't have any money and I don't know anyone and I don't want to get in trouble but I'm tired and I want to sleep and I can't because I don't have a room here."

And he looks pretty close to crying actually.

"Have you tried the door out yet?"

Start with number one, then,

"If it won't let you go home, I will make sure you have some place to sleep."

He blinks, gets a mildly-aggravated-with-himself look on his face, and turns back...and blinks again.

"Where'd the door go?"

"Oh."

She says after a moment. She's not going to take him with her...no clue where they'd end up. She pulls several heavy gold pieces out of her pouch,

"Set this on the bar and ask for a room....it should give you a key."

He. Blinks.

"That's gold."

"Well. Yes?"

So is the stuff around her neck, and the pins holding her tabard together, and the things around her wrists, and the clasp of her belt....

He staaaaaares.

"But that's gold! I don't...you can't give me gold. You don't give someone like me gold! It's gold!"

She frowns, and shoves it at him,

"Well I don't have anything else."

He stares.

"I wish I were you if that's all I'd have. I've never seen so much gold in all my life."

Ever so long, that.

"That's...that's a lot of gold."

She can't help it. She drops the gold on the table and turns her face toward him,

"No, you don't."

And now she's just waiting for him to run away without the money. Because she really is horrible to look at.

And he blinks and reaches out to run a hand along her face.

"Does that hurt?"

"Only when I breathe."

Which, y'know, sometimes she doesn't.

He nods.

"That's like my leg. It only hurts when I put weight on it. Or when I've done a lot of work or walking or running or the other boys have beat me up because my mother's a whore or something."

He doesn't move his hand.

"Does this hurt?"

"No, 'Po. It doesn't hurt to have you touch me."

She's careful, though, not moving at all. Her skin is cool, and feels like good leather.

"My leg hurts when I stand on it, and my hand when I use it, and my face hurts when I talk...but it doesn't hurt to be touched."

"Bet you sit a lot then and don't talk much."

He looks at her carefully.

"I didn't think anybody could hurt that much."

And he doesn't say it again, but another apology of sympathy is in there.

"I don't mind the pain. Its always been here."

She smiles at him again, and shrugs.

"I'd rather meet people than not."

He shrugs.

"I dunno. People don't seem to like me. Or they don't care."

"I like you well enough."

"You're a little different than most people. You haven't even kicked over my cane once."

"I know how hard it is to walk with a bad leg."

She says, and sighs a bit,

"When I was very little, my brother Jormungand would support me so that I could get around the house."

It is obvious that she misses him, horribly. Yamino is very nice, and very close to her brother in temperment, but the human form shakes her every time.

"He sounds nice. I wish I had someone like that."

"He is the best of brothers."

She sits up straight,

"I hope he isn't too uncomfortable where he is now."

"Where is he now?"