outsiderslogs | like a big pizza pie (open)

[ Marco is striding along the street at a brisk clip, despite the fact that his legs aren't properly long enough for a good stride anyway. An insulated square bag is slung over his shoulder, and he's careful to keep it parallel to the ground and not jostled too much as he walks. It would be nice if no bored hungry goon decided to jump him for a free pizza, because it wouldn't be that hard to get one here.

Feel free to either assault Marco, save Marco from am impending assault, or just bump into him! ]

One good thing about being a werewolf is the rather extraordinary senses one is gifted with. Perhaps it is a bit annoying, in a crowded and busy space-city with advertisements and street signs and people talking everywhere, but it is also eminently useful, particularly in quieter parts of Omega. Lyall is walking along himself, back from a trip to the merchant's to browse for something other than protein bars and drinks, and he nods to Marco in passing without a second thought for the boy. He even scents the fellow waiting for him in a recessed doorway, but thinks nothing of it.

Until he hears the knife comes out, anyway, behind him and just about when Marco would be passing that half-hidden fellow. He turns sharply and bounds back after the boy with every intention of yanking him back, hopefully in time to avoid some kind of bloodletting.

((poke me if none of that doesn't work! since you got to the open scene before me :B ))

Marco passes a lot of people on his runs around the district, and he doesn't think twice about very many of them. Sure, he's been keeping an internal roster of as many people as possible on the off-chance that being able to recall someone is useful later in life, but he doesn't remember every brief encounter on the street. Except when they eye him up and do something different. He returns the nod to Lyall with a neutral expression, but internally, he wonders about the acknowledgement from a stranger; it gives him an unsettling feeling that something is about to happen, but they pass each other without further incident.

That is, until he's feels a sharp tug that grabs him mid-step. The pizza pouch breaks his fall as he trips over his own feet and tumbles backwards. Adrenaline floods his system and he's kicking and throwing punches, as if he was an upended turtle flailing his limbs with a big red insulated bag as his shell.

"Hey, back off, dude, it's like a fucking eight-credit pizza, leave me alone!"

Back home, he's lived in a not so squeaky part of town, and he's seen muggings happening before. He's been lucky to avoid them, but he's suddenly mad that here, of all places, that luck has run out. And he doesn't even see the guy who just popped out of the doorway, knife in hand, pausing in slight confusion at the unexpected commotion.

It's only Victorian manners that keeps Lyall greeting people he passes on the street, really. That's not something he's managed to drop so far in his time here, and really, not something he even wants to try to drop.

Rather like he's not interested in letting muggings happen, even if the child believes it's his appetite he ought to worry about.

"Do not be ridiculous. I cannot even eat pizza." Lyall steps swiftly around the flailing boy with an expression of mild distaste-- he's avoided much worse, actually dangerous people before in his time, and poor Marco looks more silly than he does threatening. Instead, he pounces past Marco in an attempt to snatch that knife away before the actual mugger gets over his surprise. "I'll have that, thank you."

"Well, how am I supposed to know that?"

Marco is surprisingly fast at recovering his dignity. Lots of practice on that one. He stops thrashing about once he realizes that he's not getting pummeled, and picks himself off the ground. The pizza is unsalvageable; he can feel it squishing around inside the bag. Ew.

The mugger, meanwhile, is having second thoughts; he was aiming for a quick and easy target to snag a free meal and intercept some payments, but was now faced with someone far more prepared for such an encounter. "I don't think so, man," he says, backing down the street, but keeping the knife between them.

Now that he's seen what's going on, Marco manages to shut up for the moment and got ready to run the other way if an actual scuffle broke out. He'd deal with the squished order later.

For a moment, Lyall actually considers taking the knife by force, tempted by the thought of actually winning an encounter for the first time in this awful place since those undead monstrocities. But in the end he decides avoiding the slight risk of injury without a ready source of fresh meat available for more efficient healing, and the more palpable risk of letting more people know how fast and strong he really is, is better than removing one knife from one thug. "Then run along," he tells the mugger, making a shooing motion with one hand. "Try a different district for your free dinner."

Of course, if the mugger pushes it, he won't have any choice... but it's smarter not to push it, himself.

Fortunately for our heroes, the mugger decides that this isn't worth a fight, either, and gets shooed away.

Marco's been staring at this guy in confusion; on a station with an assorted bunch of aliens and other weirdos, someone who talks funny and wears old-fashioned clothes really sticks out. He would have overlooked it before when they were just passing each other by, but now that they've been in this shared experience, he's had a chance to process it some more.

"Who are you, some Monty Python sideshow?"

There's teenage gratitude for you.

Lyall watches the thug go until he's safely out of sight, and he can hear his footfalls receding in the distance. Then he turns back to Marco, just in time to get that response. He sighs a little. It's not an unfamiliar one.

"No, and to be honest, I have no idea what that even means. I happen to have been pulled, all unwilling, from Earth of eighteen seventy-five. This is how everyone looks." Though not generally quite so well put-together. Children these days. "Are you all right? I didn't quite mean to pull you to the ground entirely."

"1875? Wow, no wonder you look like you got lost on your way to a movie set. I've only ever seen people dressed like that on television." This whole space kidnapping experience seemed to be just as much of a crazy time machine trip as it was a scifi plot.

Marco shrugs at the question while he peeks into the delivery bag with a grimace. "I'll live, but I can't say the same thing for my friend in here. Why can't you eat pizza? Don't tell me you're allergic, 'cause that would be a terrible tragedy."

"The combination of tomato sauce with the proliferation of breads," Lyall shrugs, his own self. "I have rather particular dietary needs, I'm afraid. I am largely carnivorous, with some limited allowance for dairy and simple carbohydrates." Marco is lucky he even knows what pizza is, to be honest; he's picked it up since his arrival here.

He winces at what the proper response would be, despite the depleted state of his funds here. "Do you need the product... replaced?"

"Bummer, dude. Is that like the opposite of vegetarianism or something?" Marco's being pretty sensitive here, especially as he peels out a completely unpresentable piece of crust covered in red paste and garlic powder and starts to munch on it; the cheesy top had stuck to the inside of the box."And don't worry about this, I'll just go back and write this off as a mugging loss. There's a bit of sausage stuck to the cheese if you want some, though."

For someone who was just nearly shanked, Marco's surprisingly calm, but he just got himself a free pizza and his savior was such a strange guy that he felt bad busting him over this mess. He offers the bag to Lyall.

"The name's Marco, by the way."

Normally, Lyall would be above that kind of scrounging and probably not too keen on the cooked nature of the meat... but he's had so little that's remotely fresh lately, that he's not going to turn that down. "If you have no qualms parting with the sausage, then certainly, and you have my gratitude." He accepts the bag and opens it to daintily pick through the cheese for the meat.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Marco. I wish it could have occurred under more pleasant circumstances." Though to him? This is the most pleasant it's been in a while. Mmmm, sausage.

"Least I can do because you like, saved my life and all, right?" Because it isn't as if Marco's in a position to offer anything better; this is about as close to a thanks as Lyall's going to get.

"And come on, I'm definitely not a 'mister'. If any of us is a 'mister', it's you, Mister."

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professorwolf - 2013-03-25 22:45 (UTC) - Expand

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tradecraftdude - 2013-03-28 22:00 (UTC) - Expand

[unknown fact: north has been keeping an eye on marco since they'd first met on the kid's arrival. there's just something about someone that young ending up on omega that screams potential danger, and if he tries to deny that he's been going out of his way to make sure nobody messes with him .. well, let's just say that he's never been a good liar.

but, that aside. he pretty much makes his case by happening upon him as he's out for a delivery - ended up as a pizza boy, of all things - and it isn't all that surprising to find that there are people on this station that would take advantage of a skinny kid carrying an insulated bag.

he briefly wonders if this happens to all the pizza delivery guys, or if it's just the fact that marco is clearly new to the area.

he sees the man making a move to intersect his path, and with an unsurprising level of stealth and speed, north is intersecting him by grabbing him by the back of the neck, fingers curling tightly as he hauls him off to the side. the words that come out of his mouth are by no means polite, though he doesn't speak above a whisper:] I wouldn't do that, if I were you.

[and apparently it's enough, because the would-be accoster slinks back into the crowd, and north falls into step beside marco as if nothing had ever happened.] Keeping busy? [he asks, light and flippant as anything.]

[ Marco's oblivious to the exchange, but not to the danger; thus far, he's credited his survival to pure dumb luck and force of will. By all reasoning, he shouldn't still have all his limbs and organs (as far as he's aware), yet somehow, here he was, strolling down the street with a pizza bag bouncing off his butt. Definitely not mugged for the delicious disc of grease.

He's fully embraced his current pizza boy gig, at least in the sense of not feeling self-conscious about it when North vectors up with him. ]

Yeah, you know, I tried to tell someone about child labor laws and all that, but as it turned out, being cute and innocent doesn't exempt anyone from paying rent around here. I couldn't even get someone to cite me an exchange rate so I'd know if I was getting paid a fair wage.

[ His tone is pretty whiny, but there's a little smirk creeping onto his face that says he's mostly poking fun at his own expense. ]

Tips are lousy, customers are annoying, boss is a douche. I'd rather be on an allowance.

[it's a good thing that he's oblivious to the whole thing. because he really isn't up for explaining why he'd been keeping an eye on him since the first time they'd met.

that marco just keeps up with the flow of the conversation has him grinning just the slightest bit, and he keeps up with him in stride, though he has to admit that it isn't very difficult. short legs and all that, you know.] I think you're trying to talk to the wrong people if you're making an attempt at reason about kids not working on Omega. [it's offered helpfully, flippantly, and even though he hasn't been here very long, he's already getting an idea of how things work around here.

age doesn't mean a thing. if you're old enough to talk back, you're old enough to work.] Are you at least getting paid a fair amount?

Edited (tsuface/html =/= otp) 2013-03-22 10:48 (UTC)

At least it's way less boring than math class, and probably gives me about the same in terms of future career prospects.

[ Eyeroll. Help a dude out here, bro! ]

But sure, I'm probably getting paid as fair an amount as possible, given the relative and completely subjective notion of fairness in this nuthouse. What isn't fair is that the second I have more than two digits' worth of credits to my name, I have to give it all to some goon who comes by and makes fists at me until I transfer the funds over.

[ No bitterness here at all. ]

I'll give you that much, I guess. I was never much for math, myself.

[didn't mean he wasn't good at it, though. there had been very little in school north hadn't practically excelled in from an early age, and his attention to detail had bled into adulthood and how he chose to deal with things.

still. that eyeroll is met with another shake of his head and a chuckle. except that chuckle abruptly cuts off at the mention of someone messing with him. he's automatically back into protective mode, eyes narrowing.] .. Hold on a second. Who did that?

[don't mind him. he's not going to go beat anyone up for you.

~~yet.~~

it's all good in the neighborhood.]

I dunno, some pissy batarian enforcer dude or something?

[ He shrugs; after living with an equally overprotective giant robot for a little while, Marco's used to the hovering. But he's also never mentioned the thugs who roll by to shake him down for money whenever Prowl's not around, mostly to avoid getting a Cybertronian lecture about responsibility and punctuality with regards to paying up. ]

Sorry, I didn't think to stop and ask him for his calling card because I was mostly motivated to make him happy and send him on his merry way as soon as possible.

[ He pauses for a moment. They've reached his target, a machine shop that put in the pizza order. ]

I'll be back in a sec.

[the word batarian makes him twitch a little, just because on his arrival he'd been .. accosted by a group of such fine gentlemen and has since come to side-eye them at the very best. he knows they're just more of aria's thugs, only in it for themselves and what they can get out of it, and the idea that they're already taking it out on an innocent kid trying to make things work in his favor doesn't sit well with him.

he's scowling, pretty damn hard, and if marco catches on to it, well .. you caught him. congratulations.

he stops when the other does, sliding his hands into his pockets and trying to look as casual as possible, even though he's already upset at the fact that someone he's come to call a friend is being treated unfairly. this, ultimately, will be north's downfall: more-than-occasionally wearing his heart on his sleeve and caring too much about the people he meets.

but he nods at what marco says.] Sure, yeah - I'll be here.

[ Marco's noticed the scowling for sure, and he doesn't quite know what to do with it. As much as he likes knowing that someone bigger, trained, and armed has his back, he hates feeling like someone's going to feel bad if something bad happens to him. There's enough lingering guilt over his accidental abandoning of home that he keeps having to shove to the back of his mind already.

So he's glad for a breather for a moment while he ducks into the shop.

Except not two seconds later, Marco's tearing ass like a bat out of hell, pizza bag still over his shoulder. ]

Sorry, sorry, wrong shop! Lay off, you four-eyed assholes!

[ Because speaking of batarians, Marco just walked into a bunch of them who seemed pretty displeased that a small human boy was attempting to sell them a pizza. He sprints past North with an apologetic wave as one of them comes after him with a wrench the length of Marco's arm. ]

[it isn't as though he would feel .. bad if something ends up happening to him. it does have to do with the fact that he's taken to looking after him when he can, because it's difficult for him not to take a protective role with someone he thinks may end up needing it.

he nods as marco trots off, leaning against the wall of one of the shops to the side and folding his arms over his chest, gaze never straying far from the one the other had entered. theta is buzzing in the back of his mind, attentive as always, and he's just about to speak up and ask if north is all right when marco shoots back out.

it takes no more than a split second for him to fully block the batarian's way, shooting a glance over his shoulder just to make sure the other is well out of the way. he then turns his attention back to the alien, that scowl deepening and turning into something a little more menacing as he addresses him.

he's really had enough of these guys. he's still irritated about his first encounter with them.] Hey, now .. why don't you put that down? There's no need for violence against someone mistakenly trying to sell you a pizza.

[ A puny little kid is one thing for the batarian to threaten, but a big angry dude is another. Still, North's line isn't going to talk the raging mechanic down. Really, not much anyone could say at the moment could. Four eyes narrow to North's two; the wrench lowers a little, but the batarian isn't shy about giving a solid shove against North's chest as he growls a warning. ]

Stay out of this. It's not your problem.

[ Meanwhile, Marco slows his escape once he gets a reasonable distance away, far enough that he doesn't think a thrown wrench is likely to reach him with any sort of accuracy. He turns back at the exchange and pauses for a moment; he could just take off, sure, but he doesn't feel right just ditching, so he just stands his ground for the moment with a calculating look.

There's another batarian standing in the doorway, simultaneously glaring at both him and North. Multiple sets of eyes, man. ]

[after his initial run-in with the local "badasses" of the station, north has more than become acquainted with the fact that batarians don't let things go easily. it always seems as though they're looking for any reason for a fight, and this, of course, is no exception to the rule.

he isn't expecting this to end quickly, or easily, but he isn't going to rise to violence just yet. the shove to his chest has his eyes narrowing, and while he keeps his stance loose and nonchalant, the fact that he is a trained soldier has him more than prepared to react if this continues to escalate.] It's my problem if you're thinking about hurting someone that didn't do anything wrong.

[a quick glance over his shoulder assures him that marco is well out of harm's way, and then he turns his attention back to the alien in front of him.] Put it down.

I'll be putting you down, human, if you don't get out of my way.

[ The batarian's wrench hand tenses, and it's obvious that he's getting increasingly annoyed that North was neither escalating, nor actually stepping aside. His teeth are bared and he's puffing alien breath into North's face; he's on a hair trigger, and another millimeter of provocation is probably going to launch him into brawling mode.

Marco's seen enough schoolyard tussles to smell a fight brewing, but getting chased around the jungle gym is nothing compared to this batarian growl-off. He's more worried about the one in the door at the moment; North looks pretty confident in his ability to deal with one of them, but two on one is rarely a fair fight. Against his better judgement, he's now inching closer to the edge of the rage bubble. ]

like a big pizza pie (open)

OPTION B

Rescuing from impending assault, I say!

okay!

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