Mordecai was no expert on deer, but he did understand that fawns typically remained with their mothers for about a year before going out on their own. Thus, a mere six months suggested tragedy or abandonment. Based on how Lizbeth spoke of her mother, the latter was unlikely.
Having graciously declined the offer to partake of the fruit with a small smile and shake of his head, he asked, “Did somesing happen to—”
He stopped talking when the diner’s door opened again, the familiar jingle of the old bell ringing throughout the place. He could smell the man who entered before he saw him: alcohol, cigarettes, and body odor. Blue eyes flicking over, Mordecai frowned slightly, looking between where the quiet boy with the hot chocolate sat and where the loud-mouthed drunk stood at the door. Most of the other patrons turned their heads as well to see what all the yelling was about.
Beth, an experienced waitress in a small town full of hard-working men that often had too much to drink, was on the scene immediately. Leaving her customers, she stomped over to the drunken man and stood between him and the restaurant with her hands on her wide hips. She glared up at him but didn’t seem to notice how much shorter she was as she barked harshly, “This is a family diner, sir, not a night club. Get out and sober up.”
The younger waitress who had served the boy had just at that moment emerged from the back kitchen followed by a small bald man. Both halted in their tracks abruptly, watching.
Mordecai, meanwhile, had set down his coffee cup, eyes fixed on what was happening. His expression was like a stone, yet utterly calm, as he observed silently. Waiting. Once or twice he glanced at the doe. He assumed she’d also put two and two together, as the odiferous man had made it quite obvious as to who he was based on what the two of them had already overheard from the kid.
Having graciously declined the offer to partake of the fruit with a small smile and shake of his head, he asked, “Did somesing happen to—”
He stopped talking when the diner’s door opened again, the familiar jingle of the old bell ringing throughout the place. He could smell the man who entered before he saw him: alcohol, cigarettes, and body odor. Blue eyes flicking over, Mordecai frowned slightly, looking between where the quiet boy with the hot chocolate sat and where the loud-mouthed drunk stood at the door. Most of the other patrons turned their heads as well to see what all the yelling was about.
Beth, an experienced waitress in a small town full of hard-working men that often had too much to drink, was on the scene immediately. Leaving her customers, she stomped over to the drunken man and stood between him and the restaurant with her hands on her wide hips. She glared up at him but didn’t seem to notice how much shorter she was as she barked harshly, “This is a family diner, sir, not a night club. Get out and sober up.”
The younger waitress who had served the boy had just at that moment emerged from the back kitchen followed by a small bald man. Both halted in their tracks abruptly, watching.
Mordecai, meanwhile, had set down his coffee cup, eyes fixed on what was happening. His expression was like a stone, yet utterly calm, as he observed silently. Waiting. Once or twice he glanced at the doe. He assumed she’d also put two and two together, as the odiferous man had made it quite obvious as to who he was based on what the two of them had already overheard from the kid.
*curls up more....... I look terrified.*
The man that just made this loud unwanted intrusion, yelling for his possible son, was just drunk. No matter if not yet sober or still under obvious influence of too much alcohol, that man was absolutely drunk. Unfortunately, for him and others, he has obviously violent alcohol, which means that the person gets unconsciously aggressive, to the contrary of many other that seem to get pleasant and social when inebriated. Lizbeth shivers extremely as she knows that kind of person, that kind of uncontrolled behavior that leads to pain, if it is for himself or people around. Very astonishingly, the doe doesn't hide, no, she acts.
Lizbeth doesn't even answer anymore the pending question of Mordecai, the fruit on the table, forgotten, fear, wariness, bad memories of such men, gone, evaporated like snowflakes in the desert, this deer acts, acts against that man.
The man starts to gesticulate towards the waitress, stipulating that it is HIS son, that He decides and NOBODY will stop him. He takes a
step forward, almost reaching the innocent waitress, wavering on seemingly soft knees. His breath just stinks of swallowed cheap whiskey, Lizbeth has to concentrate not to smell this disgusting odor.
"Gedd oudda m-my way" he martyrs some words between his lips. The waitress will have lots of difficulties to hold that man, his force is tenfold as his intoxication leads to unconscious unlimited use of his natural force.
The doe stands up, her eyes fix on that man, slowly but deliberately she walks over to the kid, passed Mordecai, passed all other customer, passed the bald man and experienced waitress, and sits right next to that kid, a hand on his shoulder. Her look doesn't waver away from that man, she saw worse than that, he'll have to get over her body. That doe is in maternal mood, doing anything to preserve any child or fawn, against all odds capable of fighting.
Murmurs are heard in that diner, "call the cops", "that's just unacceptable", "poor kid", "can someone throw him out" are whispers turning around, not helping much to get a serene atmosphere in the place, all is electrical tension, ready to explode. Lizbeth is aware of this, she knows, she lived...
Lizbeth doesn't even answer anymore the pending question of Mordecai, the fruit on the table, forgotten, fear, wariness, bad memories of such men, gone, evaporated like snowflakes in the desert, this deer acts, acts against that man.
The man starts to gesticulate towards the waitress, stipulating that it is HIS son, that He decides and NOBODY will stop him. He takes a
step forward, almost reaching the innocent waitress, wavering on seemingly soft knees. His breath just stinks of swallowed cheap whiskey, Lizbeth has to concentrate not to smell this disgusting odor.
"Gedd oudda m-my way" he martyrs some words between his lips. The waitress will have lots of difficulties to hold that man, his force is tenfold as his intoxication leads to unconscious unlimited use of his natural force.
The doe stands up, her eyes fix on that man, slowly but deliberately she walks over to the kid, passed Mordecai, passed all other customer, passed the bald man and experienced waitress, and sits right next to that kid, a hand on his shoulder. Her look doesn't waver away from that man, she saw worse than that, he'll have to get over her body. That doe is in maternal mood, doing anything to preserve any child or fawn, against all odds capable of fighting.
Murmurs are heard in that diner, "call the cops", "that's just unacceptable", "poor kid", "can someone throw him out" are whispers turning around, not helping much to get a serene atmosphere in the place, all is electrical tension, ready to explode. Lizbeth is aware of this, she knows, she lived...
Mordecai noticed Lizbeth's sudden shiver even in the corner of his eye. He turned to her to try to say a few words of comfort, but she was already on her feet and walking down the aisle to where the drunk's son was sitting, hooves clicking on the dirty black-and-white checkered tile floor. In spite of the whole scene, the back of his mind had a moment to be surprised at the doe's height. When she'd been sitting down, it wasn't obvious to him that she was much taller than most women; taller than a lot of men, too.
Beth stepped back slightly when the man took an undaunted step forward, pointing his finger in her face. Normally, her wide, angry presence--though short of stature--was enough to turn away most drunken fools. But this one was probably the drunkest, most foolish man that had ever walked into the diner. And the most aggressive. As Beth was winding up to smack him and scold him, the bald man beside the other waitress had started forward reluctantly in order to help, sweating profusely. But in a moment, before Beth could provoke the situation further, another man was already there. It had taken him few lengthy strides on long legs, long overcoat flapping slightly, to walk there from the booth, having stood up as soon as the drunk looked likely to get physical.
Mordecai stepped between the father and Beth, towering over both, although the aggressor was not a small man himself. He was calm and composed, but as impassable as a brick wall as he blocked the man from making further progress into the diner. He had just before, as he'd stood, been able to glance at where Lizbeth sat, and had seen the shift in her shy, gentle visage. In her eyes, which had been focused laser-like on the drunken man, he had seen a fierceness that almost seemed impossible for her. A feeling of newfound respect had passed through him, but didn't last long as he confronted the boy's father.
"Let us talk about zhis outside, yes?" He said to the man in a low, deep voice, attempting to remove the problem at least from the diner before it escalated in front of all these people--including the son--although he didn't expect the man to be in any way reasonable. In spite of his placid words and relaxed body, he was fully prepared to engage in a physical altercation. Large hands motionless at his sides, they were ready to curl into heavy fists at any moment.
Beth stepped back slightly when the man took an undaunted step forward, pointing his finger in her face. Normally, her wide, angry presence--though short of stature--was enough to turn away most drunken fools. But this one was probably the drunkest, most foolish man that had ever walked into the diner. And the most aggressive. As Beth was winding up to smack him and scold him, the bald man beside the other waitress had started forward reluctantly in order to help, sweating profusely. But in a moment, before Beth could provoke the situation further, another man was already there. It had taken him few lengthy strides on long legs, long overcoat flapping slightly, to walk there from the booth, having stood up as soon as the drunk looked likely to get physical.
Mordecai stepped between the father and Beth, towering over both, although the aggressor was not a small man himself. He was calm and composed, but as impassable as a brick wall as he blocked the man from making further progress into the diner. He had just before, as he'd stood, been able to glance at where Lizbeth sat, and had seen the shift in her shy, gentle visage. In her eyes, which had been focused laser-like on the drunken man, he had seen a fierceness that almost seemed impossible for her. A feeling of newfound respect had passed through him, but didn't last long as he confronted the boy's father.
"Let us talk about zhis outside, yes?" He said to the man in a low, deep voice, attempting to remove the problem at least from the diner before it escalated in front of all these people--including the son--although he didn't expect the man to be in any way reasonable. In spite of his placid words and relaxed body, he was fully prepared to engage in a physical altercation. Large hands motionless at his sides, they were ready to curl into heavy fists at any moment.
The man, driven by alcoholic fearlessness, looks twice at Mordecai getting in front of him, he looks up, "C'm on big guy, I'll just blow your lights out if you don't step aside, I take my son, that...., with me and not you are going to hinder me." His words are incoherent, his courage just fake, blurred by a perception of invulnerability due to consumption of the wrong liquor. Yet Mordecai has to pay attention as such men are unpredictable.
Lizbeth lets know the kid that he's protected, with a soft grip upon his shoulder, a message of trust passing with the light pressure of her fingers, that kid must know that today, that said 'father' will not beat him up.
Lizbeth stands up next to Mordecai, always having that drunk in her vision, always ready to react faster than any of the present here, the doe is 110% alert, in state of pure awareness of the slightest movement of anyone. "Mordecai, I have a simple trick to de-escalate such dangerous situation. That man can just run over you at any moment and you will need help to stop him. I know such men, I had them..." she sighs once before continuing, "You just have to make him fall, make him lay down, no teasing, no searching to go into violence, he will be untamable, believe me. Just put him to sleep somewhere, he needs to get that buzz out of him, else he's a danger for anyone here."
The drunk father looks at that doe, up and down, "Darn, I first take care of my son, and afterwards you, don't mind that head, but that mmmmh... " but then he returns to Mordecai, as if he first has to get rid that one. He speaks to the kid, "You stay right there, I first handle big guy here, than you" Aggressiveness has risen, the more people will try to stop him, the more violence will make that man do very stupid things.
Lizbeth lets know the kid that he's protected, with a soft grip upon his shoulder, a message of trust passing with the light pressure of her fingers, that kid must know that today, that said 'father' will not beat him up.
Lizbeth stands up next to Mordecai, always having that drunk in her vision, always ready to react faster than any of the present here, the doe is 110% alert, in state of pure awareness of the slightest movement of anyone. "Mordecai, I have a simple trick to de-escalate such dangerous situation. That man can just run over you at any moment and you will need help to stop him. I know such men, I had them..." she sighs once before continuing, "You just have to make him fall, make him lay down, no teasing, no searching to go into violence, he will be untamable, believe me. Just put him to sleep somewhere, he needs to get that buzz out of him, else he's a danger for anyone here."
The drunk father looks at that doe, up and down, "Darn, I first take care of my son, and afterwards you, don't mind that head, but that mmmmh... " but then he returns to Mordecai, as if he first has to get rid that one. He speaks to the kid, "You stay right there, I first handle big guy here, than you" Aggressiveness has risen, the more people will try to stop him, the more violence will make that man do very stupid things.
He was not surprised by the man's response. In fact, he had expected a tad worse. Sighing slightly, Mordecai was about to speak but heard the clicking of hooves as Lizbeth came to stand next to him. Glancing at the doe, he listened to her advice although he already had a little plan of his own. What she said was sound, obviously spoken with experience, but he held up a hand to try to motion for her to stay clear of both him and the drunk. "Just for a moment, please keep back," he said kindly. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally collide with her, or worse, the drunk accidentally or intentionally hit her. It would devastate him if she--or any of the waitresses, for that matter--were to get hurt while he could do something about it.
His gaze was fixed on the other man immediately after, though, when the slurred words of foolish desire for the innocent doe erupted from the lips that so often curled around a bottle. Mordecai was only just able to keep his face from twisting in disgust at him. A subtle, involuntary jerk of a muscle in his jaw was all that displayed the anger that flashed through the large German. It was everything he could do not to just clock the guy right then and there.
Feigning a smile, he shrugged, "Okay," he said to the drunk, seeming to merely agree with him, perhaps even to give in to his threats. But in an instant there was action. Much stronger than he looked, and faster than an inebriated man could react, Mordecai grabbed the crook of the man's leg and arm and lifted them both, thus the man's whole body, into the air. Letting go, he let him fall flat on his back with a loud thud, temporarily paralyzing his diaphragm, or rather knocking the wind out of him. His overcoat had flailed with the motion, exposing briefly a white button-up shirt he wore beneath and an empty holster for a handgun on his right hip. In a moment Mordecai had him flipped onto his stomach and was on top of him with a large knee pressing his head hard into the tile floor and an arm pinned behind his back. Pain compliance wouldn't work on someone so drunk, but their body could still be mechanically limited; such as the head being immobilized preventing their ability to even attempt to rise.
"Call the police," the bald man said to the younger waitress as he tried to pull an indignant Beth further back, "I'm gonna trespass this guy." The waitress, waiting desperately to find something to do to be useful, obeyed immediately. She went behind the bar to a phone and started dialing a number.
If all eyes were not already on that small group before, they certainly were now. People twisted in their seats to gawk at the spectacle. Most of them were silent onlookers, some scoffed or mumbled, a few chuckled.
His gaze was fixed on the other man immediately after, though, when the slurred words of foolish desire for the innocent doe erupted from the lips that so often curled around a bottle. Mordecai was only just able to keep his face from twisting in disgust at him. A subtle, involuntary jerk of a muscle in his jaw was all that displayed the anger that flashed through the large German. It was everything he could do not to just clock the guy right then and there.
Feigning a smile, he shrugged, "Okay," he said to the drunk, seeming to merely agree with him, perhaps even to give in to his threats. But in an instant there was action. Much stronger than he looked, and faster than an inebriated man could react, Mordecai grabbed the crook of the man's leg and arm and lifted them both, thus the man's whole body, into the air. Letting go, he let him fall flat on his back with a loud thud, temporarily paralyzing his diaphragm, or rather knocking the wind out of him. His overcoat had flailed with the motion, exposing briefly a white button-up shirt he wore beneath and an empty holster for a handgun on his right hip. In a moment Mordecai had him flipped onto his stomach and was on top of him with a large knee pressing his head hard into the tile floor and an arm pinned behind his back. Pain compliance wouldn't work on someone so drunk, but their body could still be mechanically limited; such as the head being immobilized preventing their ability to even attempt to rise.
"Call the police," the bald man said to the younger waitress as he tried to pull an indignant Beth further back, "I'm gonna trespass this guy." The waitress, waiting desperately to find something to do to be useful, obeyed immediately. She went behind the bar to a phone and started dialing a number.
If all eyes were not already on that small group before, they certainly were now. People twisted in their seats to gawk at the spectacle. Most of them were silent onlookers, some scoffed or mumbled, a few chuckled.
*sneaks up behind the man, my drunken father, and in a fit of rage and survival, hits him on the head with my empty hot chocolate mug, to protect myself.*
Lizbeth immediately steps back as Mordecai warns her and the waitresses, as if she knew that this drunk was going to live a very unpleasant moment.
And yes, she can only watch as this one is lifted up like a lightweight, thumping down on the floor and returned within a second like a pancake. She puts a hand at her muzzle, eyes squinted as if she feels herself the pain. Behind Lizbeth, quickly the police is informed about what’s going on. The doe didn’t notice the kid standing up. Not only was that violent man out of harm’s way in a quite effective way, but also gets an innocent mug of chocolate onto his head, a really very unpleasant moment. Lizbeth feels a bit pity for that man, even if she knows that weren’t it this way, it would for sure end up very harmful for the kid and herself. The doe doesn’t like anyone to be hurt.
The man himself seems totally unaware of what happened, being thrown to the floor, kept violently secured to that floor and receiving a chocolate mug over his cranium. In fact, even if the mug leaves its traces, he wasn’t hurt, drunken men are like flexible puppets and could stumble down three stairs without any issue. The bruises will become ‘real’ when sober again… and that head will feel like run over by a train… poor guy are Lizbeth’s thoughts, revenge and helplessness those of the father.
All kind of swears and curses come over his lips, the fact of getting hit by a mug makes him go insanely furious, he needs to be held down for his own sake, he could just demolish the whole diner and himself. Reddish colored chocolate runs down his face, but in his rage he didn’t notice anything. He will notice tomorrow…
Whispers and rumors turn like fire in the diner, Lizbeth’s ears turn towards any of them, even with a very low voice, the doe can hear them.
And yes, she can only watch as this one is lifted up like a lightweight, thumping down on the floor and returned within a second like a pancake. She puts a hand at her muzzle, eyes squinted as if she feels herself the pain. Behind Lizbeth, quickly the police is informed about what’s going on. The doe didn’t notice the kid standing up. Not only was that violent man out of harm’s way in a quite effective way, but also gets an innocent mug of chocolate onto his head, a really very unpleasant moment. Lizbeth feels a bit pity for that man, even if she knows that weren’t it this way, it would for sure end up very harmful for the kid and herself. The doe doesn’t like anyone to be hurt.
The man himself seems totally unaware of what happened, being thrown to the floor, kept violently secured to that floor and receiving a chocolate mug over his cranium. In fact, even if the mug leaves its traces, he wasn’t hurt, drunken men are like flexible puppets and could stumble down three stairs without any issue. The bruises will become ‘real’ when sober again… and that head will feel like run over by a train… poor guy are Lizbeth’s thoughts, revenge and helplessness those of the father.
All kind of swears and curses come over his lips, the fact of getting hit by a mug makes him go insanely furious, he needs to be held down for his own sake, he could just demolish the whole diner and himself. Reddish colored chocolate runs down his face, but in his rage he didn’t notice anything. He will notice tomorrow…
Whispers and rumors turn like fire in the diner, Lizbeth’s ears turn towards any of them, even with a very low voice, the doe can hear them.
When he heard one of the waitresses talking to a police dispatcher, he closed his eyes for a second, wincing slightly. He would really rather not get the police involved, but he wouldn't speak against it: it was necessary for this situation.
As focused as Mordecai had been keeping the man down, he hadn't noticed the kid stand up either. He only saw his approach hardly a second before he swatted his own father over the head with the mug with a dull thunk. What followed was the drunk putting up an extra effort into trying to throw off the German, using his sudden spur of rage. It was almost an amusing spectacle that the son of this man had come over just to whack him on the head with a cup, but it had made Mordecai's job harder.
After a brief struggle, he was able to keep the man and his inebriated strength pinned to the floor, thanks mostly to his superior weight and an additional use of force.
Without looking up, Mordecai chided, "Take it easy! It is no good to hit a man vhen he is already down." He was mostly just trying to speak some good principles into the kid's head... even though he didn't mention the fact that there were various situations where it was indeed very necessary to hit a man as much as possible no matter what position he's in. But this wasn't one such case in his mind. "...Vhat is your name?" He asked as an attempt to redirect the boy's focus on talking instead of anger toward his abusive father.
Then, he was able to spare a quick glance up at where the doe still stood. He struggled to read her deer-like expression in that moment. It could have been a look of surprise on her face, or fear. Maybe even sympathy. "Are you alright, Lizbess?" He asked genuinely. "I am sorry he spoke to you in such a vay."
The young waitress was still in the process of explaining the situation on the phone. Meanwhile, the bald man managed to redirect Beth's fury back to work. In spite of everything happening by the door of the diner, she took a fresh pot of coffee from the counter and started making rounds through the diner, filling cups, taking orders, and letting people know their food would be ready in just a few more minutes. The bald guy himself, dressed in the white smock and checkered pants of a cook, stayed near Lizbeth and Mordecai as he waited for the authorities. Although he was visibly uncomfortable standing near the doe.
The mumbling throughout the diner, discerned by the doe's keen ears, was mostly nonchalant comments about the situation. A few whispered about her, surprised to even see her in public like this, although many more were gossiping about the drunk. They saw him come in there once every few weeks looking for his son, and always made a scene out of it whether or not the boy was there. But there was a murmured conversation a bit different than the rest, all the way across the diner to the opposite corner, much too far for Mordecai's human ears--especially while one was still ringing--to hear, but not too far for a deer's if she cared to listen: "Well, suspect's not going anywhere for a while... but what the hell is that thing?" Asked the first voice. Both participants were men.
"The deer-woman, obviously," the second replied. "Locals know about her, see her around sometimes. They dunno where she lives but they don't bother her. You'd have known that if you'd read the file."
"Oh, get off it. I was busy."
"Right. Once you're not busy anymore, tell the guys in the van to find another spot. They're obvious as hell, the tall guy was watchin' 'em--"
"Shut up!" The first voice hissed, "I think deer-head over there can hear you."
"She doesn't care," the other said quietly, "she's a deer. Great figure, though. Man." There was a slight groan of annoyance from the first voice, then the men fell silent.
As focused as Mordecai had been keeping the man down, he hadn't noticed the kid stand up either. He only saw his approach hardly a second before he swatted his own father over the head with the mug with a dull thunk. What followed was the drunk putting up an extra effort into trying to throw off the German, using his sudden spur of rage. It was almost an amusing spectacle that the son of this man had come over just to whack him on the head with a cup, but it had made Mordecai's job harder.
After a brief struggle, he was able to keep the man and his inebriated strength pinned to the floor, thanks mostly to his superior weight and an additional use of force.
Without looking up, Mordecai chided, "Take it easy! It is no good to hit a man vhen he is already down." He was mostly just trying to speak some good principles into the kid's head... even though he didn't mention the fact that there were various situations where it was indeed very necessary to hit a man as much as possible no matter what position he's in. But this wasn't one such case in his mind. "...Vhat is your name?" He asked as an attempt to redirect the boy's focus on talking instead of anger toward his abusive father.
Then, he was able to spare a quick glance up at where the doe still stood. He struggled to read her deer-like expression in that moment. It could have been a look of surprise on her face, or fear. Maybe even sympathy. "Are you alright, Lizbess?" He asked genuinely. "I am sorry he spoke to you in such a vay."
The young waitress was still in the process of explaining the situation on the phone. Meanwhile, the bald man managed to redirect Beth's fury back to work. In spite of everything happening by the door of the diner, she took a fresh pot of coffee from the counter and started making rounds through the diner, filling cups, taking orders, and letting people know their food would be ready in just a few more minutes. The bald guy himself, dressed in the white smock and checkered pants of a cook, stayed near Lizbeth and Mordecai as he waited for the authorities. Although he was visibly uncomfortable standing near the doe.
The mumbling throughout the diner, discerned by the doe's keen ears, was mostly nonchalant comments about the situation. A few whispered about her, surprised to even see her in public like this, although many more were gossiping about the drunk. They saw him come in there once every few weeks looking for his son, and always made a scene out of it whether or not the boy was there. But there was a murmured conversation a bit different than the rest, all the way across the diner to the opposite corner, much too far for Mordecai's human ears--especially while one was still ringing--to hear, but not too far for a deer's if she cared to listen: "Well, suspect's not going anywhere for a while... but what the hell is that thing?" Asked the first voice. Both participants were men.
"The deer-woman, obviously," the second replied. "Locals know about her, see her around sometimes. They dunno where she lives but they don't bother her. You'd have known that if you'd read the file."
"Oh, get off it. I was busy."
"Right. Once you're not busy anymore, tell the guys in the van to find another spot. They're obvious as hell, the tall guy was watchin' 'em--"
"Shut up!" The first voice hissed, "I think deer-head over there can hear you."
"She doesn't care," the other said quietly, "she's a deer. Great figure, though. Man." There was a slight groan of annoyance from the first voice, then the men fell silent.
The situation escalated, the man fights with all he can, but Mordecai holds him down, seemingly professional. Lizbeth looks at him and wonders if this big man did this before. The father, groggy from the hit of chocolate mug, grunts, growls and snarls, if he could he'd even bite, just like a dog would do in this situation.
The police is on its way, surely somewhere blue flashing lights with a howling sound move towards the diner, they will soon arrive.
This doesn't intrigue Lizbeth, even if she'd rather be somewhere else than in this diner watching that violent scene. Something else catches her senses. The words coming from that drunk don't bother her, she respectfully answers to Mordecai, while her ears subtle turn towards an other conversation.
"I'm fine, thank you, unfortunately I'm used to such words, I don't listen anymore" she shakes slightly her head.
Yet she says that she doesn't mind, but that other conversation between two persons is different. What those two men ignore, or maybe forget, deer have a very good sense of hearing, perfectly capable to estimate the direction of any sound coming at them and they can easily differentiate mixed noises. As well as an almost all around sight, Lizbeth doesn't need to turn her head towards those two men arguing about that suspicious van lingering on a parking space outside, she just concentrates on their words. Words speaking of her, as some unknown creature, words about files and suspects, Lizbeth doesn't understand. Who's that suspect?, why is she in some file?, who are these men?, what is the relation to the van outside? Question on question runs through the mind of this deer, unable to get any sense on them.
Lizbeth feels some nervousness coming from a man standing almost next to her, the possible cook of the diner, perhaps the one having prepared her fruit bowl with sugar. She doesn't say anything, but still feels some discomfort emanating from this man.
- No Lizbeth, don't go to far, he's not 'the suspect', do NOT assume things you don't know - little voices speak inside the deer.
All is almost getting too much for this doe, this unknown man talking to her, this furious father and his fearing kid, those men, all the people... Lizbeth wants to disappear, nervousness rises, panic starts to climb all the way up her spine...
The police is on its way, surely somewhere blue flashing lights with a howling sound move towards the diner, they will soon arrive.
This doesn't intrigue Lizbeth, even if she'd rather be somewhere else than in this diner watching that violent scene. Something else catches her senses. The words coming from that drunk don't bother her, she respectfully answers to Mordecai, while her ears subtle turn towards an other conversation.
"I'm fine, thank you, unfortunately I'm used to such words, I don't listen anymore" she shakes slightly her head.
Yet she says that she doesn't mind, but that other conversation between two persons is different. What those two men ignore, or maybe forget, deer have a very good sense of hearing, perfectly capable to estimate the direction of any sound coming at them and they can easily differentiate mixed noises. As well as an almost all around sight, Lizbeth doesn't need to turn her head towards those two men arguing about that suspicious van lingering on a parking space outside, she just concentrates on their words. Words speaking of her, as some unknown creature, words about files and suspects, Lizbeth doesn't understand. Who's that suspect?, why is she in some file?, who are these men?, what is the relation to the van outside? Question on question runs through the mind of this deer, unable to get any sense on them.
Lizbeth feels some nervousness coming from a man standing almost next to her, the possible cook of the diner, perhaps the one having prepared her fruit bowl with sugar. She doesn't say anything, but still feels some discomfort emanating from this man.
- No Lizbeth, don't go to far, he's not 'the suspect', do NOT assume things you don't know - little voices speak inside the deer.
All is almost getting too much for this doe, this unknown man talking to her, this furious father and his fearing kid, those men, all the people... Lizbeth wants to disappear, nervousness rises, panic starts to climb all the way up her spine...
*Replies to Mordecai, asking my name....* It's...... Kris.
Soon, the van that had been parked outside, unnoticed by most of the unsuspecting patrons within the establishment, started its engine and rolled into motion, driving out of sight.
Shortly thereafter one police car arrived. Its siren and lights were turned off before it pulled into the parking lot. Two officers exited the vehicle and came into the diner. Mordecai, who had been sitting in the same position the whole time with his knee on the guy's head, looked up at them and smiled a little, but said nothing. The bald guy stepped forward to do the talking, explaining the situation to them in more detail than what was said on the phone.
One of the cops had been staring at the two-legged doe until his partner elbowed him to get his attention. The two of them took hold of Kris' father, allowing Mordecai to stand up next to Lizbeth and watch as they struggled with the man to get him up and out the door. The cop that had elbowed his partner was talking calmly to the furious drunk, immune to to his yowling and cursing as he'd dealt with this type many times before. Probably even dealt with him in particular.
"Kris, hm?" Mordecai acknowledged to the boy in the meanwhile, "You did alright, young man." He pulled a small, rectangular white card from his overcoat and handed it to him. It was a simplistic, if worn and wrinkled, business card for a mechanic's shop with a phone number on it, but nothing much else of note. "An old friend of mine, might still live in town. Call him if you haff any problem viss your fazher."
The bald man stayed where he was, waiting for the officers to come back so he could talk with them. While the cops were still outside trying to get the drunk into the back of their car, which would take a few minutes, Mordecai turned to Lizbeth, assuming that she was still standing there. He'd noticed she looked more nervous than he'd previously seen her--literally resembling a deer in headlights. Leaning a little closer in order to be heard, used to dealing with human hearing, he spoke to her quietly. "Lizbess, vould you perhaps allow me to valk you home?" He asked casually. It seemed to him a good time to leave before the cops came back to talk with them, those who had been involved. Even if they didn't wish to investigate any further, they would still be coming back to speak with the bald guy. And Mordecai knew they might come back for something else, too, and he didn't want to be around for it. He could leave on his own, but he and the doe had been having such a pleasant conversation, he would regret not getting to know this unique deer-woman a little better if given the chance. Besides, at the moment she didn't seem too inclined to want to stay here.
Shortly thereafter one police car arrived. Its siren and lights were turned off before it pulled into the parking lot. Two officers exited the vehicle and came into the diner. Mordecai, who had been sitting in the same position the whole time with his knee on the guy's head, looked up at them and smiled a little, but said nothing. The bald guy stepped forward to do the talking, explaining the situation to them in more detail than what was said on the phone.
One of the cops had been staring at the two-legged doe until his partner elbowed him to get his attention. The two of them took hold of Kris' father, allowing Mordecai to stand up next to Lizbeth and watch as they struggled with the man to get him up and out the door. The cop that had elbowed his partner was talking calmly to the furious drunk, immune to to his yowling and cursing as he'd dealt with this type many times before. Probably even dealt with him in particular.
"Kris, hm?" Mordecai acknowledged to the boy in the meanwhile, "You did alright, young man." He pulled a small, rectangular white card from his overcoat and handed it to him. It was a simplistic, if worn and wrinkled, business card for a mechanic's shop with a phone number on it, but nothing much else of note. "An old friend of mine, might still live in town. Call him if you haff any problem viss your fazher."
The bald man stayed where he was, waiting for the officers to come back so he could talk with them. While the cops were still outside trying to get the drunk into the back of their car, which would take a few minutes, Mordecai turned to Lizbeth, assuming that she was still standing there. He'd noticed she looked more nervous than he'd previously seen her--literally resembling a deer in headlights. Leaning a little closer in order to be heard, used to dealing with human hearing, he spoke to her quietly. "Lizbess, vould you perhaps allow me to valk you home?" He asked casually. It seemed to him a good time to leave before the cops came back to talk with them, those who had been involved. Even if they didn't wish to investigate any further, they would still be coming back to speak with the bald guy. And Mordecai knew they might come back for something else, too, and he didn't want to be around for it. He could leave on his own, but he and the doe had been having such a pleasant conversation, he would regret not getting to know this unique deer-woman a little better if given the chance. Besides, at the moment she didn't seem too inclined to want to stay here.
All goes quick now and Lizbeth hasn't even time to reconsider the situation, she's taken by the overwhelming urge to just leave this place.
The police officers clear the entrance of the diner by taking the drunken father away. Trying to invoke calm by serenity doesn't really work, the cop, experienced with inebriated evildoers, just decides to get him calm handcuffed and stuck in the police-car. That inflicted wound will be taken care of at station, an emergency doctor will be demanded.
But before they leave, all witness will be asked to deposit a testimony, the father will be left alone rioting on the backseat of the car.
Kris, that hooded kid, was given a mysterious card by Mordecai, Lizbeth feels a bit relieved that some kind of help is proposed to the kid.
All of a sudden the tall German proposes to accompany Lizbeth home, the doe wouldn't want less than that, get out of this place, get away from these staring people, just find her little Eden and calm... just quietness, the doe needs her forest more than ever.
Lizbeth looks with her big deer eyes to Mordecai, she wouldn't even have to say a word, her face speaking for itself.
"That would be very fine of you, I - I can't stay here any longer, I need to get out, as quick as possible." she answers softly, but her words tremble as much as her hands, as her whole body. She can't talk to any officer, she can't just be further locked in a room. That weird conversation, the stares, the violence towards her and other, Lizbeth needs to get away. NOW!
Lizbeth doesn't wait the cops to return, slightly weak at her knees, she would love to get a grip on someone, a lending hand to guide her out of the diner. The bill is paid, the kid is secure and the bald man will ensure witnessing, no need for a doe to stay longer. A last look at Mordecai, a soft nod to indicate that she needs his company and that deer moves out of the diner, a last time hearing that door-jingle and creaking. Air, space, direct sunlight feel as comforting balm for Lizbeth, she pants as pushing away that rising panic demands a lot of effort, but she's out, free again. The officers want to stop her want to question her, but she just walks away, ignoring them and secretly hoping that big man to follow her, to accompany her home.
The police officers clear the entrance of the diner by taking the drunken father away. Trying to invoke calm by serenity doesn't really work, the cop, experienced with inebriated evildoers, just decides to get him calm handcuffed and stuck in the police-car. That inflicted wound will be taken care of at station, an emergency doctor will be demanded.
But before they leave, all witness will be asked to deposit a testimony, the father will be left alone rioting on the backseat of the car.
Kris, that hooded kid, was given a mysterious card by Mordecai, Lizbeth feels a bit relieved that some kind of help is proposed to the kid.
All of a sudden the tall German proposes to accompany Lizbeth home, the doe wouldn't want less than that, get out of this place, get away from these staring people, just find her little Eden and calm... just quietness, the doe needs her forest more than ever.
Lizbeth looks with her big deer eyes to Mordecai, she wouldn't even have to say a word, her face speaking for itself.
"That would be very fine of you, I - I can't stay here any longer, I need to get out, as quick as possible." she answers softly, but her words tremble as much as her hands, as her whole body. She can't talk to any officer, she can't just be further locked in a room. That weird conversation, the stares, the violence towards her and other, Lizbeth needs to get away. NOW!
Lizbeth doesn't wait the cops to return, slightly weak at her knees, she would love to get a grip on someone, a lending hand to guide her out of the diner. The bill is paid, the kid is secure and the bald man will ensure witnessing, no need for a doe to stay longer. A last look at Mordecai, a soft nod to indicate that she needs his company and that deer moves out of the diner, a last time hearing that door-jingle and creaking. Air, space, direct sunlight feel as comforting balm for Lizbeth, she pants as pushing away that rising panic demands a lot of effort, but she's out, free again. The officers want to stop her want to question her, but she just walks away, ignoring them and secretly hoping that big man to follow her, to accompany her home.
Mordecai looked into her large caramel eyes. In them he could see the answer before she said anything. When she did speak with confirmation, her voice trembling, he offered a small half-smile. It was as much an attempt to reassure her as it was a reaction, for he hadn't been sure whether she would accept. But her whole body was shaking, too, making her look a little unstable on her feet. As soon as the child was rendered safe, her protective instinct seemed to cease and revert to the somewhat delicate shyness that was evidently more natural for her.
The German offered a large, rough yet gentle hand to guide the doe, an automatic response to how utterly nervous she appeared. Without thinking, he held out his other hand momentarily as well, hovering near her shoulder to be a steadying support should she for some reason stumble.
Though he'd forgotten about the uneaten fruit and his half-drunk coffee, he remembered his hat that was still on the table of the booth they had been sitting. Even though for now the morning sun shined, the gathering clouds that could be seen through the diner windows promised an eventual rain, so he was inclined to make a brief detour to collect it. Quickly he took his hat from the booth and planted it on his head, then, glancing at the doe to make sure she was still willing to follow, led the way not to the front door, but behind the bar where the waitresses worked, past the young waitress that had just hung up the phone. "Hey, you're not--" she started to protest softly, but the craziness of the whole other situation had dulled her inclination to react to anything else like she normally would. She stopped talking as soon as they were out of sight into the back kitchen. And Beth, who definitely would have tried to stop them, was much too busy bustling around the diner to notice.
Just as the two were passing the threshold between kitchen and diner, Lizbeth's acute hearing, if she was still listening and discerning all the murmurs of the diner, might have been able to hear one of the quiet, strange voices from before mumbling a message. Without immediate argument from his partner. "Suspect's going into the kitchen with the 'woman'. Probably coming out the back door."
The kitchen was narrow and filthy on the floor, but spotless from the countertops and up. Two men dressed similarly as the bald one were in there, one watching what was happening out front through a small window for passing food through, and the other deep-frying french fries. "Hey!" The one that had been at the little window turned to them.
But Mordecai didn't stop. While his eyes scanned the place for a back door, quickly located it, and started leading the way toward it, he replied, "Apologies, just need ze back door--my friend here is feeling ill. Vould be a bad spectacle for customers out front, ja?" Before the cook could retort or hardly consider what was said, the back door was open and they were going through it.
As they stepped out into the fresh air, he breathed deeply. He hadn't realized how stuffy it was in that place. "Police do not like it vhen vitnesses leave, you probably know. No need to give zhem a reason to be angry." He mumbled to Lizbeth, omitting his suspicion that they would probably have let the doe go, but not him. He had been surprised when they hadn't questioned him right then and there, but he had the loud-mouth drunk to thank for causing such a scene that the cops were forced to deal with him first.
If she'd taken his offered hand earlier, he loosed his careful hold and made a sharp turn down the first alley, trying to get out of sight of the diner lest the staff look to see where they went to inform the police. From there he would be following Lizbeth's lead, given he had no idea where she lived except for the direction she'd mentioned before: 'South'.
Blue eyes inspected the tall doe, still with the curiosity that had been in them since first he accepted the fact that she was real, and noted that she was still greatly shaken. If she expressed a need for something steady to cling to for a while, Mordecai was prepared to provide an arm.
But before that, as a cool morning breeze whisked around them both, causing the end of his overcoat to flap against his legs, he remembered something he'd thought of back in the diner. "Are you going to be varm enough?" He asked, honestly unsure of whether that fur and vest was enough to keep the slight chill at bay.
((There is a bit much there. I can cut it down if there's too many actions in one go.
))
The German offered a large, rough yet gentle hand to guide the doe, an automatic response to how utterly nervous she appeared. Without thinking, he held out his other hand momentarily as well, hovering near her shoulder to be a steadying support should she for some reason stumble.
Though he'd forgotten about the uneaten fruit and his half-drunk coffee, he remembered his hat that was still on the table of the booth they had been sitting. Even though for now the morning sun shined, the gathering clouds that could be seen through the diner windows promised an eventual rain, so he was inclined to make a brief detour to collect it. Quickly he took his hat from the booth and planted it on his head, then, glancing at the doe to make sure she was still willing to follow, led the way not to the front door, but behind the bar where the waitresses worked, past the young waitress that had just hung up the phone. "Hey, you're not--" she started to protest softly, but the craziness of the whole other situation had dulled her inclination to react to anything else like she normally would. She stopped talking as soon as they were out of sight into the back kitchen. And Beth, who definitely would have tried to stop them, was much too busy bustling around the diner to notice.
Just as the two were passing the threshold between kitchen and diner, Lizbeth's acute hearing, if she was still listening and discerning all the murmurs of the diner, might have been able to hear one of the quiet, strange voices from before mumbling a message. Without immediate argument from his partner. "Suspect's going into the kitchen with the 'woman'. Probably coming out the back door."
The kitchen was narrow and filthy on the floor, but spotless from the countertops and up. Two men dressed similarly as the bald one were in there, one watching what was happening out front through a small window for passing food through, and the other deep-frying french fries. "Hey!" The one that had been at the little window turned to them.
But Mordecai didn't stop. While his eyes scanned the place for a back door, quickly located it, and started leading the way toward it, he replied, "Apologies, just need ze back door--my friend here is feeling ill. Vould be a bad spectacle for customers out front, ja?" Before the cook could retort or hardly consider what was said, the back door was open and they were going through it.
As they stepped out into the fresh air, he breathed deeply. He hadn't realized how stuffy it was in that place. "Police do not like it vhen vitnesses leave, you probably know. No need to give zhem a reason to be angry." He mumbled to Lizbeth, omitting his suspicion that they would probably have let the doe go, but not him. He had been surprised when they hadn't questioned him right then and there, but he had the loud-mouth drunk to thank for causing such a scene that the cops were forced to deal with him first.
If she'd taken his offered hand earlier, he loosed his careful hold and made a sharp turn down the first alley, trying to get out of sight of the diner lest the staff look to see where they went to inform the police. From there he would be following Lizbeth's lead, given he had no idea where she lived except for the direction she'd mentioned before: 'South'.
Blue eyes inspected the tall doe, still with the curiosity that had been in them since first he accepted the fact that she was real, and noted that she was still greatly shaken. If she expressed a need for something steady to cling to for a while, Mordecai was prepared to provide an arm.
But before that, as a cool morning breeze whisked around them both, causing the end of his overcoat to flap against his legs, he remembered something he'd thought of back in the diner. "Are you going to be varm enough?" He asked, honestly unsure of whether that fur and vest was enough to keep the slight chill at bay.
((There is a bit much there. I can cut it down if there's too many actions in one go.
))
Yes, the doe accepted Mordecai's help, yes she lets herself guide out of the diner into open air, into freedom. Yet wasn't she prepared to have to do it this way. That large German man offered her an other way out of that trouble, or was it his trouble? Lizbeth was a bit confused as they traverse that kitchen in rather more a gallop than a walk. To the astonishment of the present, unable to react properly at that confusing intrusion in their laboratory of food, a man and a doe cross their place, or do they flee? Flee what? Some curious cops that have their issue to handle a complete drunk man or flee those men, dressed in black? Lizbeth got a flare of words as she was almost pulled through the threshold made of batwing doors. The panels flapping three times as Lizbeth passes with Mordecai, yet the words were clear, "suspect" flap "kitchen" flap "woman". Three words that were a revelation for the doe, three words that told books.
As Lizbeth slightly slithers with her hard hooves over the greased floor of that cook-room, all fits together like a some resolved puzzle. Even if she doesn't know what this man had done, she knew that they were after him.
Mordecai excuses himself outside, if one can call the backyard of a restaurant 'outside'. Between dumpsters and thrown packages of cardboard boxes with styropor isolation, they are both outside, in the fresh air, away of possibly angry policemen. Fresh and free air, if you make abstraction of an overfilled ashtray and rotting rests of food, but yes, outside.
Maybe to the astonishment of that man, Lizbeth followed him. Somehow this man was not what he seems to be, Lizbeth can't believe him to be some dangerous 'suspect'. Even soothed, due to her lingering cold, her inner voices didn't warn her, she didn't feel badwill or intentional harm. And now they stand there, few steps into an alley, few moments before others realize they are gone. The doe still trembles of all what happened and needs a few heartbeats to sort it all out, to find a decision, to get an answer for that seemingly waiting man.
His question makes the deer land into reality, "Oh, ehm, yes, no, I... I'm fine, I have my fur." A trained eye could see that the moment that cold morning breeze caresses Lizbeth's body, this one reacts immediately and makes her fur stand, providing a natural isolation against the hardest cold. Her fur was dry again, not subject to transfer the crisp anymore to the skin underneath.
A direction had to be taken for both, as inside the diner things start to move. The officers, eventually mastered the drunk father and started to gather testimonies, but two main protagonists were missing. Two other men dressed in black suits didn't wait long to follow their 'suspects', but were confronted to surprised cooks with sharp knives. "Hey this is no passing zone, this is a kitchen, GET OUT!" Some suspicious badges almost thrown at their faces didn't impress them, but a 10 inch chef-knife does.
Lizbeth hears the noises coming from inside, screams and curses, other curses. "I propose to go to my place, it's seclude and hidden, and I would be glad if you could be of some support, I feel a bit weird after all this. Thank you" The doe looks once at the sun and once around, "This way, we need to find the lake situated behind those buildings." her arm pointing towards the south.
Finally they were both out, out of that diner, out of that totally weird scene of brutality, violence that has been so long out of the life of this doe. A bit shook up and slightly trembling Lizbeth grabs the inviting arm of Mordecai, not in a sense of intimacy, more in a sense of comfort and seeks her way 'south', a deep sitting instinct driving the doe towards home.
As Lizbeth slightly slithers with her hard hooves over the greased floor of that cook-room, all fits together like a some resolved puzzle. Even if she doesn't know what this man had done, she knew that they were after him.
Mordecai excuses himself outside, if one can call the backyard of a restaurant 'outside'. Between dumpsters and thrown packages of cardboard boxes with styropor isolation, they are both outside, in the fresh air, away of possibly angry policemen. Fresh and free air, if you make abstraction of an overfilled ashtray and rotting rests of food, but yes, outside.
Maybe to the astonishment of that man, Lizbeth followed him. Somehow this man was not what he seems to be, Lizbeth can't believe him to be some dangerous 'suspect'. Even soothed, due to her lingering cold, her inner voices didn't warn her, she didn't feel badwill or intentional harm. And now they stand there, few steps into an alley, few moments before others realize they are gone. The doe still trembles of all what happened and needs a few heartbeats to sort it all out, to find a decision, to get an answer for that seemingly waiting man.
His question makes the deer land into reality, "Oh, ehm, yes, no, I... I'm fine, I have my fur." A trained eye could see that the moment that cold morning breeze caresses Lizbeth's body, this one reacts immediately and makes her fur stand, providing a natural isolation against the hardest cold. Her fur was dry again, not subject to transfer the crisp anymore to the skin underneath.
A direction had to be taken for both, as inside the diner things start to move. The officers, eventually mastered the drunk father and started to gather testimonies, but two main protagonists were missing. Two other men dressed in black suits didn't wait long to follow their 'suspects', but were confronted to surprised cooks with sharp knives. "Hey this is no passing zone, this is a kitchen, GET OUT!" Some suspicious badges almost thrown at their faces didn't impress them, but a 10 inch chef-knife does.
Lizbeth hears the noises coming from inside, screams and curses, other curses. "I propose to go to my place, it's seclude and hidden, and I would be glad if you could be of some support, I feel a bit weird after all this. Thank you" The doe looks once at the sun and once around, "This way, we need to find the lake situated behind those buildings." her arm pointing towards the south.
Finally they were both out, out of that diner, out of that totally weird scene of brutality, violence that has been so long out of the life of this doe. A bit shook up and slightly trembling Lizbeth grabs the inviting arm of Mordecai, not in a sense of intimacy, more in a sense of comfort and seeks her way 'south', a deep sitting instinct driving the doe towards home.
The filthy conditions behind the restaurant hadn't even fazed the German. Not only because of his years spent around similarly decorated establishments, but also because his sense of smell had declined drastically at one point in his life. So he breathed that tainted air with gusto, hardly smelling the trash and whatever other mysterious substances that lined the still-wet pavement.
Peering at the doe again, he did see that the fur seemed just about as thick as a wild animal's, which would keep her plenty warm. He hadn't been sure whether the transformation into a partial-human had negated the effectiveness of her natural coat. "Alright," he replied slowly, deciding that her lingering shivers were more likely due to the excitement from before, "if you insist. But if you need, you may haff my coat." Leaving it at that didn't feel good according to the values he'd lived by since he was a boy. There was a shivering lady--a doe, sure, but still a lady--and he was the one wearing the coat? It just wasn't right. But he wouldn't press the issue for now.
Just before the ruckus began within that diner after the two had left, one of the men in black had growled, "Where are you going? Are you insane?!" and then they both were challenged by the cooks, and the shouting and cursing commenced.
While Mordecai couldn't tell what was being said in there exactly, he could hear that people were shouting. He paused, tempted to go back to see what was happening and whether he might be of some help again. He was looking at the diner as Lizbeth grasped one of his long arms with her furred hand, surprising him slightly even though he'd already almost offered it. The man allowed it in a respectful manner, holding it steady for her in case support was needed, but assuming nothing else of the action. His eyes left the diner and landed on the doe, being reminded that he'd taken up another duty already--escorting this unique woman safely home. The diner would have to sort out its own problems now.
"A fine plan," he agreed as he walked along with her toward the buildings she'd indicated, very much looking forward to the idea of a 'hidden' place, "I imagine zhis vas all a bit upsetting for you. But I sink you handled it in excellent fashion." When he said that, he was thinking of that determined, almost dangerous look in her eyes when she had sat next to Kris, glaring at his father. The drunk was probably lucky, unbeknownst to him, that Mordecai had gotten to him before the doe decided to take action in defense of the boy.
The middle-aged man was then quiet for a while. He still had questions that he had been hoping to ask since their conversation in the booth, but his mind was already whirring with other thoughts that had to be sorted through, which were unrelated to what had happened in the diner. He wasn't coming down from any sort of adrenaline rush, having been plenty calm in dealing with Kris' father since it was a scene he was quite familiar with in more than one way.
As they walked, he was constantly looking around them, moving only his eyes as much as possible although he often turned his head to check behind them. His shoulders tensed up as they approached every corner or large object that he couldn't see around, relaxing only when they passed them.
But his facial expression and fairly deep voice were calm when he spoke at one point, not long after the walk began. "I vas vondering. Vhat brought you to zhat diner in ze first place, if you do not mind my inquisitiveness? It just does not seem like a place you might prefer to relax. Especially not viss how comfortable your home sounds." Plus, he remembered her saying that it was her first time there in spite of living in the area for a few years.
((Story continued in The Deer & The Dude))
Peering at the doe again, he did see that the fur seemed just about as thick as a wild animal's, which would keep her plenty warm. He hadn't been sure whether the transformation into a partial-human had negated the effectiveness of her natural coat. "Alright," he replied slowly, deciding that her lingering shivers were more likely due to the excitement from before, "if you insist. But if you need, you may haff my coat." Leaving it at that didn't feel good according to the values he'd lived by since he was a boy. There was a shivering lady--a doe, sure, but still a lady--and he was the one wearing the coat? It just wasn't right. But he wouldn't press the issue for now.
Just before the ruckus began within that diner after the two had left, one of the men in black had growled, "Where are you going? Are you insane?!" and then they both were challenged by the cooks, and the shouting and cursing commenced.
While Mordecai couldn't tell what was being said in there exactly, he could hear that people were shouting. He paused, tempted to go back to see what was happening and whether he might be of some help again. He was looking at the diner as Lizbeth grasped one of his long arms with her furred hand, surprising him slightly even though he'd already almost offered it. The man allowed it in a respectful manner, holding it steady for her in case support was needed, but assuming nothing else of the action. His eyes left the diner and landed on the doe, being reminded that he'd taken up another duty already--escorting this unique woman safely home. The diner would have to sort out its own problems now.
"A fine plan," he agreed as he walked along with her toward the buildings she'd indicated, very much looking forward to the idea of a 'hidden' place, "I imagine zhis vas all a bit upsetting for you. But I sink you handled it in excellent fashion." When he said that, he was thinking of that determined, almost dangerous look in her eyes when she had sat next to Kris, glaring at his father. The drunk was probably lucky, unbeknownst to him, that Mordecai had gotten to him before the doe decided to take action in defense of the boy.
The middle-aged man was then quiet for a while. He still had questions that he had been hoping to ask since their conversation in the booth, but his mind was already whirring with other thoughts that had to be sorted through, which were unrelated to what had happened in the diner. He wasn't coming down from any sort of adrenaline rush, having been plenty calm in dealing with Kris' father since it was a scene he was quite familiar with in more than one way.
As they walked, he was constantly looking around them, moving only his eyes as much as possible although he often turned his head to check behind them. His shoulders tensed up as they approached every corner or large object that he couldn't see around, relaxing only when they passed them.
But his facial expression and fairly deep voice were calm when he spoke at one point, not long after the walk began. "I vas vondering. Vhat brought you to zhat diner in ze first place, if you do not mind my inquisitiveness? It just does not seem like a place you might prefer to relax. Especially not viss how comfortable your home sounds." Plus, he remembered her saying that it was her first time there in spite of living in the area for a few years.
((Story continued in The Deer & The Dude))
Hotaru wandered into the diner, entirely oblivious to the chaotic scene that had so recently unfolded.
...Well, no... Maybe that was a lie. He was not incapable of sensing the tension that lingered throughout the diner and among its customers. He had heard sirens, and they might have been within the general area. If patrons murmured about what had just happened, his particularly sensitive, but totally normal human hearing might have caught some of them.
He was ignoring all of that. Not because he didn't care, but because he wasn't equipped to deal with any of it, and besides, he could surely hope it was all over, couldn't he?
And so, as Hotaru wandered into the diner, it appeared he was entirely oblivious to the chaotic scene that had so recently unfolded.
He chose a booth and slid into it. His eyes darted about, like they always did. Checking. Was anyone looking at him? Did anyone seem to recognize him? The usual checks.
Regardless of the results, he ordered a steaming hot mug of coffee, extra milk, no sugar, but lots of honey. He pulled out a notebook and a pen and settled into his seat, sipping and scribbling intermittently.
...Well, no... Maybe that was a lie. He was not incapable of sensing the tension that lingered throughout the diner and among its customers. He had heard sirens, and they might have been within the general area. If patrons murmured about what had just happened, his particularly sensitive, but totally normal human hearing might have caught some of them.
He was ignoring all of that. Not because he didn't care, but because he wasn't equipped to deal with any of it, and besides, he could surely hope it was all over, couldn't he?
And so, as Hotaru wandered into the diner, it appeared he was entirely oblivious to the chaotic scene that had so recently unfolded.
He chose a booth and slid into it. His eyes darted about, like they always did. Checking. Was anyone looking at him? Did anyone seem to recognize him? The usual checks.
Regardless of the results, he ordered a steaming hot mug of coffee, extra milk, no sugar, but lots of honey. He pulled out a notebook and a pen and settled into his seat, sipping and scribbling intermittently.
*A armored man walks in, silent as the cold dark of space. He sits and points at a coffee, points at the sugar and holds up two fingers, an points towards the whipped cream*
Lina'd been riding all night just to get herself home. Her leather jacket was damp from the rain and she had already worked up an appetite from trying to get as far away from her fathers funeral as possible. It was a godsend when she'd come upon the diner from the side of the road. Her phone was already dead and she lost her charger somewhere along the way...not that she really cared. She reached into her pocket to stand outside of the door, searching for the pack of cigarettes she'd set aside for stressful nights such as these. Her brows furrowed as the seconds passed and then finally, nothing. "Damn." She muttered to herself before slipping inside. She ran her fingers through he raven hair, but not before grabbing her helmet off of her motorcycle; a run of the mill honda shadow from 2009 that she got on the cheap. And as she walked over the semi-clean floors, she searched for an empty table and sat down. The smell of coffee overwhelmed her senses and reminded her of a life she'd walked away from as she gave a bit of a wry smile. She turned to the waitress and ordered a black coffee with three sugars while she took a moment to think of her meal. And as the waitress walked away...she realized that her back was to the door. She stood and moved positions, ensuring that she had her eyes on the entrance at all times.
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