Comments | neverendingbeat: 42 // [Action]

neverendingbeat

42 // [Action]

Mar 13, 2010 19:25

[He's in the way on your sidewalks...leaning against a wall, standing or sitting. The rich are having a great time in this decade but the poor? Not quite so much. And this is one of the worst sort of the poor. Wild eyed, maddened expression, hunched into a heavy grey overcoat and holding a pageboy cap in hands covered in ratty grey wool fingerless ( Read more... )

the hat is for the effect, at least he won't spend it on booze?, affected by curse, crazypants, hobo!master

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Action livingmyths March 14 2010, 02:08:49 UTC

Sister Rain approached the poor man huddling by a building. "Sir, might I give you a blanket against the cold?"

Action neverendingbeat March 14 2010, 02:24:03 UTC

He tilted his head to look up at her sideways, frowning slightly at her and contemplating her and the offer. "You might." His voice seems strangely cultured for a street person.

Re: Action livingmyths March 14 2010, 02:27:22 UTC

She crouched down beside him, handing him a heavy gray wool blanket as she shook her head. "You seem unlike most of the people I see here. You've fallen on hard times, no doubt."

Action neverendingbeat March 14 2010, 03:19:53 UTC

He took the blanket, wrapping it carefully around his legs.

"One could say that, yes." Hard times. if an asylum fits into your definition of that.

Re: Action livingmyths March 14 2010, 03:49:24 UTC

"I'm very sorry," she said quietly. "If you'd like to come back with me to the mission I could get you a hot meal. Or I have some bread and cheese with me."

Action neverendingbeat March 14 2010, 04:56:39 UTC

Harry gave her a tight-lipped suspicious look.

"I wouldn't be restrained, would I?" he asked. "Are you trying to trap me? Master Saxon's no fool, oh no. I'm not letting it happen ever again!" He'd worked himself up, now. "Food here, please." Even though a hot meal does sound amazing. He can't, though, he can't.

Re: Action livingmyths March 14 2010, 21:18:40 UTC

Sister Rain gave him a look of compassion. She'd wonderd if he might have been one of the poor souls tha asylum had let go for lack of room. "No restraints," she said quietly. "Though I understand you must have little trust for anyone."

She pulled the bread and cheese from her bag and offered them to him. "It's not much, but perhaps eventually you will come to trust me and come."

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