Cal Lightman fic :)
Inspired by this screencap:
Light Man
pg
He's lost, last saw the group he was travelling with at least an hour ago. Not that it really bothers him. He's too busy taking in the new sights and strange smells of the town he'd wandered into.
Cal Lightman is 25 years old. Quick, moody eyes and sharp wit, a travelling storm cloud in khaki. Sunhat on his head and shades dangling from his fingers, he's enjoying the newness of everything, sense of adventure taking hold. This is what he was meant to do.
His stomach rumbles loudly, reminding him that it's been a long time since breakfast. Then a smell hits his nostrils; hot, a little spicy with a hint of smoke. He follows it through an open door and into a cool, dim room. Eyes blinking rapidly to get used to the sudden lack of light, he looks around and sees himself, distorted horribly in a cracked mirror. Plants are everywhere, the first thriving greenery that he's seen for days. Candles by the window, a table in the centre of the room with little terracotta pots on the surface. Inside the pots are tiny stones, each different. He reaches for one on top, dark with a pink vein running through it. A hand comes out of the shadows and grasps his wrist.
“And what were you going to do with that?”
He drops it. “I was just looking.”
“Ah, really? Well forgive me for thinkin' diff'rent child.” Ah sarcasm, a universal language. “Now git.”
He looks at her. She's in her late 40s most likely, with long dark hair that's braided back and bright earrings that brush her neck. Tall. Taller than him at any rate with narrow eyes, a wide nose, and full lips. Beautiful. He realises he's staring when she raises an eyebrow, “What'cha staring at now?”
He blushes. Looks down.
“You got a name?”
“Cal.”
“Cal what?”
“Cal Lightman.”
“Lightman. Light...man... What kinda name is that?”
“Mine. You have a name?”
Pause.
“Yes.”
He laughs. She folds her arms, yellow shawl slipping down her skin as she does. Tries to look annoyed but Cal caught the hint of a smile that had stretched briefly across her lips.
His stomach growls loudly. She looks at him for a long moment, then: “Hungry? I got dinner fixin'”
**
“You read faces...” Her voice is incredulous.
“Well,” he talks in between mouthfuls, “expressions really.”
“Kinda like a palm reader?”
“No... Uh, okay. We all have these things called microexpressions, right? You can't control them like you can a smile or... or raising your eyebrow. They're universal, they tell you what someone's really feeling about what they're saying. Whether they're lying or telling the truth.”
“I see,” she rolls her eyes at him, “You're a scientist.”
“Disappointed?”
“You studying me?”
“Can't help it.”
Her eyes flicker over him, a trace of amusement on her face at the unexpected honesty.
Cal grins.
“You got a place to stay tonight, Cal?”
It's an invitation, he knows it. But he also knows that if he doesn't find his group they'll leave the area without him. Something about the way he stared at their faces didn't agree with them.
“I actually have to find the group of people that I'm travelling with before it gets too dark, thank you though.” He pats her hands, “This was lovely, it was lovely to meet you, uh...”
“Go on Light Man.. It's gettin' dark.” He doesn't move. “Go on child before I go git the broom and sweep you out.” She gives him a serious look, “Think I'm lyin'?”
“Thanks again,” Cal says as he gets up.
“Yeah, yeah,” she waves her hand in dismissal then pats him on the shoulder fondly, “See you sometime Light Man.”
“Bye no-name.” Cal grins again then leaves.
“No-name,” the woman mutters, “I got a name.” But she can't prevent a smile.
Light Man
pg
He's lost, last saw the group he was travelling with at least an hour ago. Not that it really bothers him. He's too busy taking in the new sights and strange smells of the town he'd wandered into.
Cal Lightman is 25 years old. Quick, moody eyes and sharp wit, a travelling storm cloud in khaki. Sunhat on his head and shades dangling from his fingers, he's enjoying the newness of everything, sense of adventure taking hold. This is what he was meant to do.
His stomach rumbles loudly, reminding him that it's been a long time since breakfast. Then a smell hits his nostrils; hot, a little spicy with a hint of smoke. He follows it through an open door and into a cool, dim room. Eyes blinking rapidly to get used to the sudden lack of light, he looks around and sees himself, distorted horribly in a cracked mirror. Plants are everywhere, the first thriving greenery that he's seen for days. Candles by the window, a table in the centre of the room with little terracotta pots on the surface. Inside the pots are tiny stones, each different. He reaches for one on top, dark with a pink vein running through it. A hand comes out of the shadows and grasps his wrist.
“And what were you going to do with that?”
He drops it. “I was just looking.”
“Ah, really? Well forgive me for thinkin' diff'rent child.” Ah sarcasm, a universal language. “Now git.”
He looks at her. She's in her late 40s most likely, with long dark hair that's braided back and bright earrings that brush her neck. Tall. Taller than him at any rate with narrow eyes, a wide nose, and full lips. Beautiful. He realises he's staring when she raises an eyebrow, “What'cha staring at now?”
He blushes. Looks down.
“You got a name?”
“Cal.”
“Cal what?”
“Cal Lightman.”
“Lightman. Light...man... What kinda name is that?”
“Mine. You have a name?”
Pause.
“Yes.”
He laughs. She folds her arms, yellow shawl slipping down her skin as she does. Tries to look annoyed but Cal caught the hint of a smile that had stretched briefly across her lips.
His stomach growls loudly. She looks at him for a long moment, then: “Hungry? I got dinner fixin'”
**
“You read faces...” Her voice is incredulous.
“Well,” he talks in between mouthfuls, “expressions really.”
“Kinda like a palm reader?”
“No... Uh, okay. We all have these things called microexpressions, right? You can't control them like you can a smile or... or raising your eyebrow. They're universal, they tell you what someone's really feeling about what they're saying. Whether they're lying or telling the truth.”
“I see,” she rolls her eyes at him, “You're a scientist.”
“Disappointed?”
“You studying me?”
“Can't help it.”
Her eyes flicker over him, a trace of amusement on her face at the unexpected honesty.
Cal grins.
“You got a place to stay tonight, Cal?”
It's an invitation, he knows it. But he also knows that if he doesn't find his group they'll leave the area without him. Something about the way he stared at their faces didn't agree with them.
“I actually have to find the group of people that I'm travelling with before it gets too dark, thank you though.” He pats her hands, “This was lovely, it was lovely to meet you, uh...”
“Go on Light Man.. It's gettin' dark.” He doesn't move. “Go on child before I go git the broom and sweep you out.” She gives him a serious look, “Think I'm lyin'?”
“Thanks again,” Cal says as he gets up.
“Yeah, yeah,” she waves her hand in dismissal then pats him on the shoulder fondly, “See you sometime Light Man.”
“Bye no-name.” Cal grins again then leaves.
“No-name,” the woman mutters, “I got a name.” But she can't prevent a smile.