Finding his way back from the little cabin Knives had holed up in, after he'd been so unceremoniously pulled there from across reality, had taken more time than he'd liked. He'd barely been able to make it back before the room rental he'd paid for for a few days had been up and he'd lost all of his belongings, and honestly, that had been scarier than the fact that he'd been thrown across the world to who knew where. He didn't own much, never had. But the things he did own were his, and after so long, and living with so little, he had become rather attached to them.
Still, it meant that he hadn't had time to really look around the city properly, to try and get in to where the Plants were being held and try and talk with them, and he was out of money for the room.
It wasn't an uncommon occurrence; truth be told, he probably spent more nights sleeping under the stars than actually in hotel beds, anyway, which didn't exactly help his back aches. But when you lived your entire life on the road, traveling from town to town without any real job to speak of, money was tight, and modern conveniences were even tighter.
So he'd been wandering around town, his coat stuffed in his duffel bag and his hair styled down, looking for odd jobs that he could do that would get him some money for food. It was easier to get lost in a large crowd, and Octovern was if nothing else, for the past year, one giant sea of people. Still, he didn't want to take any chances.
For the past few hours, he'd been helping to wait a tiny cafe, and by midday, the morning rush had died down and the owner was talking about closing up for the evening. He was listening quietly as she counted out the tips when he saw, through the front windows, a small form taking shelter under the awning. They had to have been very young, dark haired and clothes that looked like they'd seen no small amount of wear and tear, and he couldn't help but watch with growing concern.
Where were their parents? Were they one of the refugees? What were they doing wandering the crowded streets like that?
He was so worried that when the owner called back out to him again, he didn't immediately respond, and gave a start when he felt her tugging at his arm.
"What? Oh, Sorry! You said something?"
"I said here's your wages, Val. Are you ok?" He gave an embarrassed sort of laugh and scratched the back of his head, turning to glance at the child by the window again before looking back at the cafe's owner.
"Oh, yeah, sorry! I just...have you seen that kid around here before?"
There was a soft hum as she glanced over, and then shook her head.
"Not that I can remember. Why?" He shrugged, his gaze lingering on the tiny form. "Well, maybe he's one of the refugees. It's hard to keep track of everyone, these days. Here you go, sweetie, and go ahead and take one of the leftover sandwiches out of the cooler display when you head out. Will we see you again tomorrow?"
He turned, blinked at her a little owlishly before smiling and taking the small handful of bills she held out to him, and shrugged again.
"Sure, if you could still use the help. I think I'm gonna be here for a while."
"Honey, we're always in need of a helpin' hand. Just come on back in the mornin' around 7, and we'll get started."
He waved at her as he walked towards the front of the store, chirping out a friendly "Sure thing, see you tomorrow!" before he paused to glance down at the sandwiches that hadn't sold for the day, selecting a simple ham and cheese with lettuce and tomatoes and tiny nuts and seeds in the bread. And then he turned back to the door, happy to see that the kid was still leaning under the shade of the awning, and walked outside the door to join him.
"Hey. You hungry? I had a lunch earlier, so I'm not really hungry, and it seems a shame to let it go to waste." He slid down to sit on the sidewalk against the front of the cafe and, with the sandwich held out in his hand, turned to look up at the kid, now that he was close enough to see him properly. Strangely, something in the back of his mind twitched, some tiny bell of familiarity ringing out. Had he met him before? Had he seen him wandering through town? Or had he been in one of the refugee ships he'd seen sailing in back home? It was an unusual sensation, and he was usually pretty good at remembering everyone's faces.
III: Because Nick is a bit preoccupied rn and Ghostwoo would be very careful to avoid being noticed
Still, it meant that he hadn't had time to really look around the city properly, to try and get in to where the Plants were being held and try and talk with them, and he was out of money for the room.
It wasn't an uncommon occurrence; truth be told, he probably spent more nights sleeping under the stars than actually in hotel beds, anyway, which didn't exactly help his back aches. But when you lived your entire life on the road, traveling from town to town without any real job to speak of, money was tight, and modern conveniences were even tighter.
So he'd been wandering around town, his coat stuffed in his duffel bag and his hair styled down, looking for odd jobs that he could do that would get him some money for food. It was easier to get lost in a large crowd, and Octovern was if nothing else, for the past year, one giant sea of people. Still, he didn't want to take any chances.
For the past few hours, he'd been helping to wait a tiny cafe, and by midday, the morning rush had died down and the owner was talking about closing up for the evening. He was listening quietly as she counted out the tips when he saw, through the front windows, a small form taking shelter under the awning. They had to have been very young, dark haired and clothes that looked like they'd seen no small amount of wear and tear, and he couldn't help but watch with growing concern.
Where were their parents? Were they one of the refugees? What were they doing wandering the crowded streets like that?
He was so worried that when the owner called back out to him again, he didn't immediately respond, and gave a start when he felt her tugging at his arm.
"What? Oh, Sorry! You said something?"
"I said here's your wages, Val. Are you ok?" He gave an embarrassed sort of laugh and scratched the back of his head, turning to glance at the child by the window again before looking back at the cafe's owner.
"Oh, yeah, sorry! I just...have you seen that kid around here before?"
There was a soft hum as she glanced over, and then shook her head.
"Not that I can remember. Why?" He shrugged, his gaze lingering on the tiny form. "Well, maybe he's one of the refugees. It's hard to keep track of everyone, these days. Here you go, sweetie, and go ahead and take one of the leftover sandwiches out of the cooler display when you head out. Will we see you again tomorrow?"
He turned, blinked at her a little owlishly before smiling and taking the small handful of bills she held out to him, and shrugged again.
"Sure, if you could still use the help. I think I'm gonna be here for a while."
"Honey, we're always in need of a helpin' hand. Just come on back in the mornin' around 7, and we'll get started."
He waved at her as he walked towards the front of the store, chirping out a friendly "Sure thing, see you tomorrow!" before he paused to glance down at the sandwiches that hadn't sold for the day, selecting a simple ham and cheese with lettuce and tomatoes and tiny nuts and seeds in the bread. And then he turned back to the door, happy to see that the kid was still leaning under the shade of the awning, and walked outside the door to join him.
"Hey. You hungry? I had a lunch earlier, so I'm not really hungry, and it seems a shame to let it go to waste." He slid down to sit on the sidewalk against the front of the cafe and, with the sandwich held out in his hand, turned to look up at the kid, now that he was close enough to see him properly. Strangely, something in the back of his mind twitched, some tiny bell of familiarity ringing out. Had he met him before? Had he seen him wandering through town? Or had he been in one of the refugee ships he'd seen sailing in back home? It was an unusual sensation, and he was usually pretty good at remembering everyone's faces.