any way the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me.
In Grant Park this afternoon, there is a horrible, six-legged beast with bright blue fur, the talons of a hawk, and the face of a wolf. Said monster has spent most of the morning and afternoon terrorizing anyone who ventures into this part of the park, chasing them down and trying to munch them up like chew toys
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For the moment, Matthew is not paying attention to John and Lena. He's in the middle of an acoustic version of what might be recognized as a David Bowie song, but only to someone who's particularly tone deaf.
The monster seems to be enjoying it, but then again, the monster has its eyes on Lena and John rather than Matthew at the moment. It's most undoubtedly thinking in its oversized mind that two people would be a better meal than the confusing, thin creature with the guitar.
Matthew finishes his song in time to hear John speak, and turns around with a smile. "Hello," he says, and then his smile fades a little when he notices the gun. Matthew has about as much knowledge of firearms as birds have of swimming, but he recognizes a firearm when he sees it and he'll be stepping out of the way of that, thank you.
He sets the guitar down gently on the bench and says, "I was just borrowing that for the moment. No need for that."
Yes, Matthew has completely missed the point here, guys. Sorry about that.
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On the other, it was terrorizing the people in the Park until they all ran for their lives. They can safely say this has never happened to them before, in all their years of monitoring Rift activity. And they have been many, many years. They have seen many, many things.
Interesting! Lena waves when he says hello, studying the monster sitting on the bench as it stares back at her. She is deciding which vital organs to hit first when she gets the chance, but one might think she's also pondering its new fur-do.
John stares a little and bites back a smile. "No, we're not--" he lets out a laugh. Hoboy. "We're not here for you, we're here for...the thing. By thing I mean the monster, not the guitar. You can--keep the guitar. No one... is going to shoot you for having a guitar."
"Nice shoes, though," Lena adds to Matthew, as if this will help any.
John gives her a look. What is his life, even?
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Matthew notices none of this. After his song, he was going to decide on a proper name for the beast, maybe fix him up with a spot of breakfast. He's a giving creature, Matthew.
"Well, that's a relief," Matthew says when John says they aren't here for him. Matthew gets into trouble sometimes, but it generally has more to do with other people's girlfriends, or staying places past his welcome. Guns rarely come into the picture.
And then Matthew's eyes widen when John mentions they're here for the monster. "Him?" Matthew asks, as if there is... any other beast within the immediate vicinity. "Does he belong to you, then? Sorry about that. I didn't see anyone else around." He reaches up and pats the beast on its head, missing the point yet again.
Possibly he's too busy beaming at Lena's compliment. "Thank you," he says brightly. "I -"
But before he can say anything else, the monster has grown impatient with all of this smalltalk and leaped off the bench with a much louder growl. It's hungry.
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John is still giving Matthew a look, as if he isn't quite sure if the man is real or not. "Why--why would I shoot you for a guitar?" he asks, and he doesn't know who's missing the point, but he's pretty sure they're both missing something.
Lena rolls her eyes and lifts up the gun, ready to aim if it leaps off the bench.
"Yeah, it's ours. We're taking him to a real special zoo--"
And then it does just that, leap off the bench. They both fire at the same time before it can sink its claws in to them. John straightens up and looks over at Matthew. "He's not going to...lose it over the monster, is he?" he asks underneath a whisper.
"Ssssh!"
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Most people give Matthew this look. Usually it's because he tends to dress like a futuristic prostitute or because they're in awe of his hair, so Matthew's not bothered. "I've no idea," Matthew says. "You are carrying a gun, mate. I've been robbed for less."
Kind of a walking target for muggers, Matthew. It'd be a problem if he weren't so easy-going about it.
Matthew doesn't have time to respond before Lena and John start shooting at the monster. He's too shocked to move one way or the other, and before he can, the thing is rather... well, dead.
There is a pause as Matthew looks at his friend of the past forty-five minutes, and then over and Lena and John. His mouth is hanging open in dismay. "You idiots! You've killed him. What's he done to you?"
You mean besides try to have them for breakfast, Matthew? Apparently the answer to your question is yes, John, a bit.
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"A lot of people here carry guns," John says with the slight quirk of his brow. He registers as an angel to John, so he'd assumed he was maybe a native to Chicago. HE GUESSES NOT. "You new to the city?"
Oh, Matthew. Muggers are the least of your concern here in this alternate Windy City. Then again, the monsters seem to like you, so maybe not.
Lena lowers her gone and then looks mortally offended when she's called an idiot. "What do you mean what's he done to us? He was going to make us monster kibble, would you have preferred we waited until it started chewing on one of our limbs?"
John is scratching the back of his head. "Uh, what she means to say, though she is saying it rather poorly, is we both wanted the monster--to go to a better life."
They both look at each other. "... We can give him a proper burial?"
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With Matthew, there's no telling how long he'll stay. Chicago's not bad so far, but then, neither are most of the places he finds himself. ...Yeah, monsters won't be much of a problem for this guy, that's almost certain.
Unless they have a bit more of a sweet tooth.
Matthew manages to look slightly abashed at his outburst. He hates conflict of any sort, really. He looks from the very dead monster and then back to Lena and John. "Well, you could've done it a bit nicer, couldn't you? Let me explained the situation to him, taken him out for a last nice non-people meal, let him run through the park one last time... Quite harsh, you were."
He sighs, reaching up to mess with his hair before glancing at the monster again. Now that it's dead, it does look quite frightening, he supposes. Friend to all animals Matthew might be, but his attention span is about that of a fruit fly and it won't be long before he decides the monster is rank.
Still, they did have some moments together, and Matthew intends to honor them. "That sounds like quite a lot of work," he says. He reaches for the guitar he dropped earlier and plucks at a few strings. "Perhaps we could all just say a few words for him. I think he'd like that."
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It's like breathing is a crime, Jesus.
Oh, Matthew. The narration cannot explain how deeply she loves you now.
"There wouldn't have been time before we became monster chow," Lena explains gently, as she can see his reaction and she doesn't want a sparring match over what is, quite honestly, someone who means no harm and has wicked silver boots. "It's our job though I suppose we could've been...gentler. About it."
John gives her another look, like maybe she's drunk the kool-aid.
Lena barely covers up a small laugh as she nudges at John. "My friend John here always... has a way with words. I think he will also be able to properly." Whatever song Matthew starts singing, if Lena knows it, she will sing along~.
John closes his eyes, cannot believe he is doing this. "... Did he have a name?"
Cannot believe it.
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Translation: Matthew yammered on about David Bowie and the monster was too disappointed in Matthew's lack of abject fear to eat him. But as far as Matthew's concerned, they were becoming fast friends.
"Well, I don't know about that," Matthew says. "He didn't eat me, did he? Maybe he'd have had a change of heart." He nods, offering Lena an easy smile as if to say you have to do what you have to do. Really, it's the kind of look you'd give a dog after he decided to bring home a poor little squirrel between his teeth. Circle of life, and all that.
Matthew full on grins when Lena puts John up to the task. It's possible he's becoming a little more aware of John's reluctance to participate in the whole thing, but that doesn't mean he's going to drop it.
"Genius," he says. He starts strumming a few chords, playing softly, then says, "Well, we hadn't really gotten 'round to that bit yet. I was thinking something a bit noble like Henry or Charles, maybe. Charlie for short." He tilts his head toward the beast. "He was a bit of a runt back where he's from, you know. The other monsters weren't too keen on him."
At this point Matthew's totally just pulling your leg, John, but at least the music is surprisingly decent. It sounds a bit like a Bob Dylan song, although which song is anyone's guess - including Matthew.
He looks up from the guitar and then at Lena and John again, and although he keeps his eyes slightly averted, there's a gleam of mischief to them now. "I think he'd like if you two said a few words, now. Go on."
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Sorry 'bout that, Matthew.
"It could've been too late and by then I'd have lost a limb. We're not saying... Charlie's life wasn't important. We are just saying... human life above all is our main concern... here," Lena says helpfully.
John scratches the back of his head, fingers itching for a cigarette.
Lena is having to hide a grin of her own, not going to lie. She will probably regret this later when John exacts his own form of revenge but for now she will be secretly laughing her ass off. She clearly her throat helpfully. "If you know Dust in the Wind, that might be somewhat appropriate," she offers, before John snorts and gives her another look.
Thin line, Lena. Thin line. I clooooose my eeeeyes, only for a moment then the moment's gone.
Not that Bob Dylan doesn't work, either. Anyway!
"How would you know what his life back home was?" John asks.
"They are clearly spirit animals," Lena supplies, still helpfully.
Oh, Matthew. John's gonna rolls his eyes and refuse to say anything until Lena nudges him. It is important that the man who tamed the monster long enough to keep it from eating anyone else be given proper treatment. If he would like them to say a few words to Charlie, then that is what they are going to do. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me," John mutters, and at the next jab at the elbow--rather harsh--he straightens up.
"We are... gathered here today to honor the life of... Henry or Charles. Charlie for short. May he...rest in peace. Life is far too fleeting and...shit."
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He looked lost because he was trying to figure out where all his potential victims had gone, Matthew. Oh well.
Ah, Lena, the narration loves your sense of humor. And Matthew certainly appreciates it! Although he does make a face at her musical suggestion. "Ugh, Kansas," is Matthew's sentence of dismissal. It's clear he and Dean Winchester would be hard-pressed to get along musically.
Not to mention the whole monster business.
"You could see it in his eyes," Matthew tells John simply. "His teeth may have been a bit sharp and those talons needed clipping, but I'd say he had the eyes of a lost child who'd wandered too far from his mother at the supermarket."
All animals are Matthew's spirit animals! Cough.
Matthew waits patiently while John summons up something to say, tapping his boots along to the song he's playing, which has started to sound vaguely like "Mr. Tambourine Man." Very vaguely.
He nods happily, holding back a laugh at John's speech. "There, now," he says. "That was quite lovely. Bit on the short side, but you didn't have much time together." No part of Matthew's words imply because you killed Charlie. He's the forgiving type, Matthew.
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Maybe it would have changed had they spent a bit more time together.
Maybe the monster would have loved Matthew's singing and combing and shiny silver boots too much and spared him.
No one will ever know because John and Lena have killed it, alas.
Truly sorry about that, Matthew.
Lena snorts at the dismissal and lifts up both hands in a gesture of surrender.
Clearly, he is the one with the musical prowess here.
"Now it's your turn," John prompts to Matthew, eyes narrowing at the expression on his face--this guy's enjoying it too much. Like hell he's going to be the only one to give a speech to a monster's corpse.
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As he's shown, and will continue to show.
It's all right, guys. Matthew will find new friends! Possibly new monster friends, or he'll make friends with a passing leaf, or a group of gazelles...
It's difficult to say, but it's certain he'll never stay lonely for long.
Matthew keeps plucking at his little tune, meeting John's narrowed gaze with nothing but a simple, harmless smile. It doesn't bother him to give speeches for a monster - although the thing is getting a bit rank.
Ah, well.
He takes his hands off the guitar again, letting it hang on its strap, before he straightens up a bit to say his few worlds. "Not many people know this," Matthew begins, "but Charlie was a great explorer. Oh, he had a wife and kids back home, a few pigeons he kept on the rooftop - but Charlie's greatest ambition was to be an explorer of worlds."
Matthew pauses, less to think of what he's going to say next than for dramatic effect. "'Course, looking like he did, Charlie had a bit of trouble. Everywhere he went people ran off, and you can't very well explore new places if you can't even get acquainted with the locals, can you?" He shrugs. "Charlie never gave up, though. He found his way to a little park in Chicago and started mapping out everything, running round the place on his big furry legs, scratching coordinates into a large bit of canvas."
He reaches his hand out to pat the monster on its snout, then thinks better of it and pulls back at the last moment. Still, he gives the beast one last little smile. "You did good, Charlie. Rest in peace."
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