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Post by Deleted on Aug 31, 2014 22:39:55 GMT -5
There were exactly thirteen Lush stores in the state of Florida. One of those stores was a thirty minute drive away from his home in Winter Haven, inside the airport. But no. Alice couldn't just go to one of those, let me repeat, thirteen stores in her home state. She had to call her brother all the way across the country and ask him to send her a special facial wash that apparently was only sold in the Nevada stores. James didn't believe that for even a second, but he still came out to the shopping center to find the ridiculously girly store to buy his sister's ridiculously expensive face wash. And while walking into the store wasn't nearly as embarrassing as he thought it would be, all of the attendants offering him make-overs was a source of extreme discomfort. So he was more than eager to find whatever it was he was looking for--it had the dumbest name ever--and get out of there as quickly as possible.
Luckily for him, he got in and out in less than ten minutes. (It would have been five, if the stuff hadn't been so hard to find.) But now he was left wondering over what he was going to do with the rest of his day. It felt like a waste, going back to the dorms. But he didn't really have an interest in shopping, either. And it wasn't like there was anything he particularly wanted, or needed.
Despite that lack of interest, he did walk around for a while. Having met a designer in real life, he was able to appreciate the clothes that were on display as he walked around the block. And he could never resist a music store, or two. He even picked up some candy, some for him but mostly for the girls back home who weren't getting anything else. He'd probably pick up a few other little things for them as well, and maybe something for his mom too.
Between those thoughts, and the music pounding into his ears, it was safe to say that he wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings. All he knew was that the green light had come on, signaling that it was okay for him to cross the road. He wasn't really counting on someone to run right through the red light, and he couldn't exactly hear the shout that told him to wait before he started crossing.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Sept 1, 2014 16:03:15 GMT -5
Cyrille hated shopping. Perhaps that was a bit redundant to say. He hated a lot of things. But he hated shopping in particular. It was always unnecessary, as Cyrille was good with working with what he had. He had to go to sports stores a lot too, as there were always less females there. Incidentally he didn’t like what they sold there. America had a much less colourful selection for male clothes than France did.
Oh well. Cyrille needed a break to get out every now and then. He hadn’t bought anything yet, but was still enjoying the fresh air. There weren’t enough people on the streets for him to feel too panicked either. Today would be a nice day, hopefully. Cyrille needed an occasional nice day where he allowed his mind to think exclusively about happy thoughts.
That was the idea anyway. Cyrille wasn’t expecting a bunch of idiots to be running amok. Cyrille was the kind of person to always be paying attention to his surroundings. He had to. He wasn’t the biggest fan of having panic attacks, especially when it just meant more and more people would crowd him causing his panic to only worsen. This meant Cy noticed the person almost getting hit by a car running the red early enough to do something about it. Cyrille might have been slow, but he was just fast enough to grab the person from behind before they were hit by the oncoming car.
James may or may not have begun to panic as he was suddenly grabbed from behind by a rather muscular boy much, much, much taller than him. Didn’t matter. Cyrille was far too strong to allow him to move very much, and only held him there until the car had passed. And was it did, he released the boy. Cyrille let out a sigh, honestly not having been sure he’d get there in time. He then fiddled with the braid in his hair absentmindedly. ”Il a pas inventé l’eau chaude...”
These words were muttered. James probably wouldn’t hear them over his music. Good, because if he spoke french he’d know that Cyrille was calling him an idiot. Erm, provided he knew common french insults as well. Not really an insulting thing if translated directly into english. Cyrille didn’t say anything further. He was a bit annoyed that so many eyes had been drawn to him because of that nonsense. He’d just continue crossing the street like he was doing originally.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 2, 2014 0:05:29 GMT -5
One minute, he was moving forward. The next, he was jerked back into a situation he wasn't entirely sure he found himself comfortable in. Suddenly he was in the arms of someone much bigger than him, and though his mouth was wide open in protest his body stayed stock still, especially after a bright red car flew past him. His body began to relax in the arms of the mysterious other, mouth now wide open in shock. Well...I almost died today... And that thought didn't traumatize him as much as it should have, oddly enough. He was actually wondering how many times that thought would pass through his head from now on. He didn't exactly pick the safest of occupations. (Not that he really picked it.) Then he began to wonder when that would change to a I died today. And it would just be his luck that he died some stupid way, like getting hit by some asshole who was in too much of a hurry to stop at a red light.
He stumbled a little as he was allowed to stand on his own again, and immediately he ripped the ear pieces out and turned to face the person who had kept him from making possibly the dumbest mistake of his life. If he gave himself any credit, his only mistake was listening to music. And zoning out a little. Unfortunately, neither of the males were willing to give him that little credit. He turned a little red in embarrassment, his thoughts already stumbling over themselves in his head before they can even reach his mouth. "I'm so sorry, I-ah, I mean, thank you so much...I, uh..." There really was no saving himself from this travesty, so he just faded off with an awkward scratch at the back of his neck.
The street was clear now, at least, and as the taller male began to cross James could do nothing but scurry after him, not sure of what to do next. What did you say to a person who no doubt thought you were the most idiotic human being on the face of the planet? "Hey, man, I...um..." The sentence pretty much cut itself short, and he felt even more like hanging himself. I really owe you one? How lame is that?
Extremely is the answer we're looking for. So finally he settled for a quiet and defeated sounding "I'm James."
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Sept 2, 2014 16:35:11 GMT -5
The boy Cyrille had just saved begun to stutter, probably from shock. Not that Cyrille cared. He had first hand experienced seeing his life flash before his eyes, and did not exactly plan on consoling someone over something so silly. Besides, the boy stopped soon enough. And Cyrille was already walking away. The boy never particularly cared for praise, so he didn’t stop until he had reached the end of the cross walk.
Cyrille expected that to be it. Most people didn’t seem to want to talk to him all that much, so he assumed this’d be no different. In Cyrille’s mind the events had really been no big deal anyway. It made sense for James to think differently, of course. But, funnily enough, the boy had followed Cyrille. He begun to say something, but trailed off. Cyrille halted. Clearly his attention was wanted. It wasn’t like he was really doing anything anyway.
It was a good thing Cyrille had stopped, as he probably would not have heard what the boy had said if he had not. Why on earth did his voice sound so defeated? Perhaps he had a bit more pride than the average person. Eck. Cyrille couldn’t stand people like that. He was probably just jumping to conclusions, though. Whatever. The boy’s name was James; a name he had heard more than once since coming to Death City. Must have been a common name in America.
The fact he was saying his name in of itself was confusing. Ah, whatever. Cyrille wasn’t the type to question everything someone did. ”Cyrille.” He replied, simply. One might have expected a bit of a more booming voice judging by the build of Cyrille, but his voice was actually rather subdued. An obvious french accent also clung to his words, though James would have already known he was french if he had heard the french he had spoken earlier.
Though Cyrille still didn’t know what the boy wanted, he didn’t immediately walk away again. He was a bit curious about this odd “James” character.He looked familiar, so perhaps he was a student at Shibusen. Maybe even a meister? Cyrille really needed to get to know some more... calm meisers.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 4, 2014 23:57:48 GMT -5
James really wasn't sure what to do now. To be frank, he hadn't expected to make it this far. Sure, typically people stopped walking away when you started talking to them. But it was still a huge surprise when not only did the boy stop walking but even turned to face him and gave a name. Cyrille, huh? That was definitely foreign. There was an accent with it, too. French, maybe? James didn't know much about accents at all, though he was sure any of the members of his family could name the accent immediately. But he wasn't going to be stupid, or well even more stupid than he had already been today, and announce his theories on the accent. He was probably wrong, anyway, knowing his luck.
It was quiet for a moment, and the cold realization that he would actually have to start a conversation was starting to settle in his stomach. He'd had a few random encounters already, but each time the other members of the conversation had been much more proactive than him, often asking him more questions than he asked them. But it didn't look like Cyrille was going to say anything to him--which was kind of a plus, because that means he probably wouldn't give him hell about that stunt back there. But it was still frightening, having to try and instigate a conversation. James really just wanted to walk away, to go home and maybe take a nap. But at this point he already had one foot in the grave, and he couldn't back out now.
Thankfully, he remembered a few of the standard, cookie-cutter questions for the people around these parts. "Are you a student?" A rather dumb question, he'd admit, but sometimes you couldn't be too careful. Though he was wondering whether he needed to tack on a At Shibusen or not. But it had kind of been too long now to add it in, and if he did it would be really awkward. Though, he was pretty sure Shibusen was the biggest thing this town had going for it at the moment.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Sept 6, 2014 9:17:41 GMT -5
It seemed as though both parties weren’t really the talking type. Funnily enough, Cyrille had yet to converse with any “quiet” people since he had arrived at Shibusen. Everyone always seemed to say at least twenty words for his one. In a sense, this was nice. In another sense the silence in of itself was annoying. Perhaps the boy was actually quite the talkative person but Cyrille had scared him. Well, if that was the case, the boy would not be conversing with him.
Ah, whatever. Cyrille really needed to stop jumping to conclusions about people before they had even said more than a couple of words. Soon enough, James had started to speak again. Again, only a few words. Asking if Cyrille was a student? Ah, right. He did look and sound out of place for the American crowd, didn’t he? ”Yes,” Cyrille responded. ”Meister.”
He was thinking it before, but the kid was probably enrolled too. Question was what classes he was in. Cyrille wasn’t great at memorizing faces, so it could be either NOT or One Star. Well, if he was in One Star he probably would have recognized Cyrille. Apparently he stood out. A lot. Must have been the hair and the colour of his clothes. He wasn’t too fond of the whole arrangement itself, honestly, but to change it now would be... heartless.
Perhaps the boy had indeed recognized him. Or the name. Or both. And perhaps that was why he was asking if Cyrille was enrolled or not. Ah... Generally when people recognized him it was for some things Cyrille didn’t exactly like being recognized for. Did people commend Cyrille for his excellent combat ability? Nope. How about that super rare soul he had? Nah. People tended to note his gynophobia first. Not exactly flattering. What was even worse was when people asked him why he had it. Eck. Hopefully this boy didn’t want to know about that nonsense. ”Why do you ask?” Cyrille asked him, his voice sounding not nearly as stiff as it had only a few seconds ago.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 8, 2014 21:03:16 GMT -5
James nodded as the other answered him, relaxing a little as the conversation was starting to take a natural flow. "Ah! Me too!" he replied, though he quickly tacked on a repeated "I'm a Meister, too..." So far he'd only ever met Meisters, though it wasn't so much of a punch in the self confidence anymore. Now he actually really liked talking to them, especially after the adorable little fashion designer he had met the other day. So yeah, Cyrille was probably a billion times better than he was, but now it was less of a competition and more of an excuse to learn some more. "What class are you in?" They could even be in the same class, for all James knew. He felt like he would have remembered someone as unique as Cyrille, but at the same time his first week consisted of him trying not to make eye contact with anyone and trying to survive. He'd be a bit more relaxed for the second week, he decided.
Even Cyrille sounded a little more relaxed now, and now James could definitely hear the French accent. That was enough to make him smile, though it was rather sheepish because of the words that had actually been spoken. Why had he asked? There really wasn't a particular reason, besides trying to make small talk, and James really couldn't think of a lie right off the top of his head. "Honestly, it was the only thing I could think of to talk about..." he admitted, breaking into a self-deprecating laugh. "Pretty sad, huh?" It really wasn't his fault he wasn't used to talking to people. Well, maybe a little bit his fault. But he was going to try and get better, maybe. If the idea of talking to people wouldn't scare him so much.
"Do you live in the dorms? Or...?" he'd actually met people who lived in the apartments, too. But if Cyrille lived in the dorms, they could at least walk back that way together. He'd like to talk a little more, though offering to buy him coffee or something seemed a little...odd. Girly, even. And James was trying to repair the already low opinion Cyrille probably had of him.
It would be fun to actually know someone in the dorms, though. He couldn't think of any explicit reasons why it would be fun, but he felt that it would be comforting nonetheless.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Sept 9, 2014 8:40:19 GMT -5
Ah. So this guy was a meister too, was he? Looked to be a bit more the weapon type, but Cyrille supposed that not every meister was especially trained in combat, especially if they were in the NOT classes. In any case, Cyrille found it odd that someone who knew they’d grow up to be a meister or already was a meister wouldn’t spend most of their time practising combat. Easy to get killed out there.
Looked like James wasn’t aware of Cyrille’s infamy. Good. Cyrille mentally sighed in relief, of course he remained as stone faced as ever. ”Hm?” “Pretty sad, huh?” Was that a question? Cyrille’s brow furrowed a bit. If it was a question, it was very odd. The question of being enrolled seemed like a good enough conversation starter to Cyrille. Alas, he best answer the question anyway. Even if it made little sense. ”I suppose.” The answer was almost said like another question, but James might have missed that subtlety.
Odd, odd kid. Ah, whatever. Cyrille wasn’t exactly the most “normal” specimen either. He’d let it pass his mind.
Then, James asked him yet another question. Perhaps that was because Cyrille wasn’t answering them with more than three words at a time, or giving James much to say afterwards. Hm. Might want to change that. ”Yes, dorms. I don’t think I’d make a very good roommate, so...” Cyrille’s voice trailed off, before he spoke once again. ”And you?”
Hopefully James wasn’t getting bored of how little Cyrille talked. Perhaps he would talk more if he actually knew more words in English... The language made no sense to him...
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2014 14:17:00 GMT -5
In all honesty, James could say he had never met anyone who made him feel talkative. James was the listening type, the kind who didn't mind sitting and listening to someone talk for hours as long as he wasn't the one who had to do the talking. But here he was, trying to keep a conversation going. This was weird, and almost a little tiring. How did talkative people even think of things to say? He was already out of ideas. And he'd sooner shoot himself in the foot than talk about something as dumb as the weather.
He was a little taken aback by Cyrille actually answering his sad question. It had been entirely rhetorical, and the normal thing to do would just be ignore it. He almost vaguely wondered if it was a culture or language barrier thing, but he snorted out a laugh nonetheless. After all, he had asked. "Haaa, yeah..." Definitely a barrier thing, because Cyrille didn't sound quite so sure. He didn't mind, though. If anything, James was perfectly capable at laughing at himself.
Some progress was finally being made, because Cyrille had actually given him an entire sentence. He had even asked his own question, even if it was just parroting the previous inquiry. "I get that," James agreed with a tiny grin. "I'd be a pretty crappy roommate, too." Even if living by himself was a little depressing after how many people he was forced to live with before. A little lonely, too. He was slowly starting to get over that, though. As he met more people, he was a little thankful for a space to get away to. "I'm in the dorms, too. I've never lived in a dorm before, so it's pretty interesting."
He hadn't been there long, either. Which inspired him for the next topic. "How long have you been here? Got a partner yet?" He liked hearing people talk about their partners; usually, they got along really well and had more than enough to say about them. It was always fun to hear about.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Sept 10, 2014 19:16:49 GMT -5
To Cyrille’s surprise, James had laughed at his answer. Apparently that wasn’t the correct answer or something. But, even so, he agreed. Huh. Conversations seemed to be full of so many pitfall traps. Ah, whatever. At least James wasn’t yelling at him. Cyrille didn’t like being yelled at, especially by people much smaller than him.
James then went on to say he’d also be a poor choice for a roommate. Huh. Perhaps that was a much more common thing than Cyrille had originally thought. Though Cyrille had mostly said that because he liked his alone time and probably wouldn’t actually talk to his roommate very much. Plus he liked keeping certain things to himself. Having a roommate made that harder than it needed to be.
Unlike James, Cyrille was a bit more accustomed to living in dorms. Not to say he ever had, actually, but he had lived in an apartment for a short while. That was when his father had lost his job and they were tight for money. It wasn’t like Cyrille could even look at his mother, so things had been rough for a while. Ah, that’s why he ended up convincing himself to even attend Shibusen, wasn’t it?
No sense remaining on such distressing thoughts, though. James had asked him another question. Two, to be exact. ”I haven’t been here for too long. Was supposed to attend starting four years or so ago.” Cyrille said, completely unaware that he had just said something James would probably ask about. That’d be troublesome if he did. Cyrille didn’t like to talk about that sort of thing. ”As for a partner, I do have one.”
Speaking of such things reminded Cyrille that he needed to practise ranged combat a bit more. It just wasn’t as fun as swords. Gah. ”And yourself?”
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2014 20:42:14 GMT -5
James didn't actually have specific reasons as to why he'd be an awful roommate; he just felt bad for anyone who had to room with him. He was kind of awkward. And didn't talk a lot. But he was a pretty neat person, now that he didn't have children to watch over. But he'd probably worry over the roommate, and that's pretty annoying. It was probably best that he just live alone for now, until he figured life out a little more.
Cyrille was actually talking a lot more now, which was a huge relief because James was sure that he'd have to drag him through this whole ordeal. Now things were becoming quite pleasant. James would even go so far as to say he was enjoying himself, though he couldn't really be sure if the same could be said for Cyrille. But the fact that he was actually participating had to count for something, right? And every answer got a little more personal. He made a little face, though it wasn't a negative one. "Four years?" he teased, though he didn't really have the right to do so. He waited several years as well. And the next part he just kind of blurted out, though the joking tone remained laced within it. "What took so long?" Once again, the pot was calling the kettle black. And Cyrille probably had a legitimate reason for not shipping himself off to school so soon. But he was a little curious, and he was kind of starting to like this person.
James shook his head, giving a little sigh. "Nope. Not yet, anyway." It was a little worrisome, actually. If Cyrille hadn't been here long, and James hadn't been here long, but Cyrille already had a partner, then what did that say about James? Maybe he'd never get a partner? Sure, it was a bit too soon to be throwing in the towel. But he still felt a little icky about the whole thing. He tried not to let any of the ickiness show, though. "What is your partner like, then?"
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Sept 10, 2014 21:40:35 GMT -5
You really are an idiot sometimes, Cy.
Shoot.
Cyrille wasn’t known for excelling in charisma. Hell, he wasn’t even known for being the smartest guy around. Might as well be known for being a complete and utter idiot at this rate. How had he not noticed the fact he was saying something so stupid? Saying anything about four years ago was idiotic, to say the least. You brought it up by mistake did you now, Cyrille? Do you really think that’s an excuse for being so incompetent?! Let’s hope the gods don’t decide to whack you with the idiot stick one more time, less we’ll really be in hot waters.
Even though his mind was screaming at him, Cyrille’s face remained for the most part equally expressionless as it had before. His eyes might have gotten a bit wider, and they might have shifted towards the ground, but James might have not noticed that. Or he might have. Didn’t matter. Cyrille had no idea what the hell James was doing or saying. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to worry about someone else’s.
Or perhaps Cyrille was kinda listening. Kinda. He at least moved when James had finished talking. Though it probably wasn’t a movement James had been desiring. At the very least he wasn’t lashing out at him. He had done that to his new partner, even though the words had been, as per usual, Cyrille’s own damn fault. Cyrille had brought his good arm up to pinch the bridge of his nose, looked down, and turned his body away.
James had asked something, though. Cyrille had kinda heard. Something something partner. About Ophelie? No, wait. He didn’t know about her. Okay, Spike then. Cyrille didn’t want to talk about him. His mind was just thinking about Ophelie right now. It wouldn’t stop thinking about her. Not good. Not good at all. If Cyrille started freaking out now he’d deter yet another person who might actually like him.
Not that that mattered at this point. Cyrille would just go. He clenched his teeth together for a moment before speaking in a shaky voice. “Désolé, je dois y al-” Wait, no. Wrong language. Gods why did he always do that when he was stressed out? After a moment of silence, Cyrille worked up the nerve to speak again, still not looking at James. ”Apologies, I must get going.”
Cyrille tried to spoke in as calm a voice as possible, but that was hard. Instead it ended up being just a little bit shaky. Without waiting for James to say anything, he turned a bit more as to walk away.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2014 23:16:10 GMT -5
And suddenly, just as they were making progress, things got quiet again. Cyrille was pretty much unresponsive at this point, and looked incredibly plagued by something. In fact, he had even moved away from him. Had he annoyed him, or something? Pinching the bridge of the nose was usually a sign of annoyance. Or a headache. Was he not feeling well? He knew that headaches suck, because he gets them a lot. Oh, but he didn't have any medicine on him...he could run buy some real quick, though, because this looked really serious. Unless it wasn't a headache. There was still the annoyed theory, and while that was very possible it seemed like there was more to it than that. Something much more. It was almost like Cyrille was in physical pain. He began to run over everything that was said, trying to think of what he had said that could possibly bother the teen. And honestly he couldn't find the culprit; he hadn't said anything stupid in the past fifteen or so minutes.
"Hey...are you alright?" He tried to move closer, mentally noting that he was hovering. Like a mother hen, almost. But he didn't really care right now, because something was seriously wrong and he was going to find a way to fix it. That's what he did; he fixed things. He was an older brother, after all. That was his job.
Now there was French, that he knew without a doubt. A pretty language, but he couldn't bring himself to appreciate it right now. What he assumed was a translation followed quickly after, though it wasn't anything James was okay with. "W-wait a minute!" he very nearly demanded, which sounded weird even to him. He used that tone on his little sisters, not someone much bigger and probably older than him. But this person who was supposedly bigger and older was acting like one of the little sisters, and was now trying to run away. James' face hardened and he stomped after him.
This was weird. He didn't pry. He didn't like pushing these buttons. He let people run away. But maybe that was his problem all along? He always let people get away from him. But not this time.
"I said wait, damn it!" He managed to catch up to the longer strides, and reached out to grab onto the other boy's arm. "Let me help you...if...if something's wrong, I'll fix it." Don't you dare cry. A threat directed towards himself, of course. "But I can't do anything if you run away." He hadn't meant to say run away out loud. He meant to use something a little kinder. But it kind of slipped out, and he couldn't take it back now.
The problem could have been something simple, that he could actually help with. Or it could be something major, that he couldn't even begin to imagine how to deal with. But whatever the case, he wasn't going to let this person suffer on his own. This was a stranger, and it really wasn't his business. But it hadn't been Cyrille's business when James was about to get squashed by some douche bag, but he stepped in anyway. It was only fair that James return the favor.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Sept 11, 2014 12:40:04 GMT -5
Had James said something? He might have. Cyrille wasn’t sure. He couldn’t hear much over the loudness in his own head. Perhaps that would quiet down soon like it sometimes randomly did. His soul seemed to work randomly. Or maybe he only noticed it working based on how much madness there was. Gah. Whatever. For now he had to go.
When Cyrille had finished talking he thought James had said something again. Of course, he once again wasn’t sure. Though this time - provided the thing he had heard was indeed James’ voice - the sound was much louder. Perhaps he was being yelled at. Made sense. Cyrille wasn’t exactly being the nicest person right about now. But, right now Cyrille just wanted to go to someplace that was quiet. Shouldn’t be too hard. Or perhaps he could unwind at the dojo or something...
Though Cyrille might have been unable to hear much at the current time he was not exempt from feeling. But a forceful grab of the arm wasn’t going to exactly calm him down. Quite the opposite. People did that a lot and it tended to not end well. Cyrille had a habit of lashing out when he couldn’t get away from something. Sure, he didn’t actually try to punch anyone out but he still might grab them by the collar or something. ...That’s what he had done to his partner when they had first met.
But James was a bit lucky. Cyrille kinda liked him. The most he got was Cyrille glaring at him. Intimidating enough that someone so angry was towering over James, the french boy had also tensed up and clenched his fists together. Fortunately they stayed at his sides.
Wait. James had said to wait? Why on earth would he want Cyrille to be around for any longer? Most people wanted him to be gone as soon as possible. Made sense. Being around someone who was upset was never fun, especially when you barely knew the guy. But, James had managed to get Cyrille to stop and turn to look at him. Now the boy was talking about how he wanted to help. He thought he could help? Magically turn all of Cyrille’s problems to dust?! Oh how fun it was to be patronized.
Next, James had said that there was nothing he could do if Cyrille run away. Yes, that was kinda the idea. Cyrille didn’t want help. Sure, he might need it, but talking out his problems had never ever helped him. Therapy had just been a waste of time. It might have even made things worse.
James had grabbed his bad arm. The pull had caused his shoulder to hurt a tad, but that was the last thing on Cyrille’s mind. He tried to speak. ”I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do.” A pause was placed in between each word as to remove some of the venom from the french boy’s speech. Not well. Perhaps that had just made things worse. Cyrille made no further attempts to leave. He didn’t want his arm to be tugged at again. The amount of times he had had to get that damn thing restitched was ridiculous.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 11, 2014 15:57:19 GMT -5
Still unresponsive, but at least he waited. There was no punching, kicking, screaming. Things were going much better than James ever could have expected, though he was trying really hard not to burst into tears the entire ordeal. He wouldn't back off, and he wouldn't let go, though. Something was definitely wrong, though he was starting to suspect that it was something entirely mental. And when something was wrong mentally, terrible things happened and James was not going to let anything terrible happen to this person. He swore it on his life.
There was a glare, one that legitimately made James want to throw up. He hated confrontation. But he remained strong, kept his eyes focused on the warmer colored pair. Cyrille finally spoke, and it literally took everything James had not to run for it. There was some of the hatred he was expecting, but he had to remind himself that this probably wasn't an expression of the boy's true feelings. He was upset, and he wanted to hide. And he'd say anything to get away; James knew the feeling well. There's nothing you can do meant I don't want your help, and James could understand that too.
He was a little worried that Cyrille would storm off after that, but he didn't. He kept still, probably thinking he could intimidate James out of this. (Well, he certainly was intimidated to say the least.) "There isn't anything you can do, either," he muttered, not entirely sure where that thought came from. "So, since we're equally useless, let's go somewhere quiet and I'll buy you something to drink." He tried to force a smile, a vain hope to try and catch the tatters this nonexistent friendship was falling into. "You don't have to talk about it--in fact, I don't even want to hear about it. But maybe you can give me a list of taboos, so that this doesn't happen again." The last bit was a joke, but he was actually kind of serious about it too. He'd live much longer if he could avoid anymore of these little fits.
It was only slightly, but James loosened his grip a little. He felt like Cyrille would make a run for it before he finished with his lecture, so he quickly tacked on a "But I'm not gonna let you sulk by yourself. I'll stalk you, you know."
Though it wasn't close to the levels of what Cyrille was feeling, James had been in this sort of situation, where he ran away to brood on his own. And the ugliest thoughts came from it. It was easier to keep those horrible things away when you were with someone else, particularly someone annoying. And James would be annoying, if it kept this person sane for at least another day.
"...okay?"
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