Ficlet: Most Wanted II
**
The piece of paper is much too light for this to be actually possible, but he can feel it in the back pocket of his jeans every time he gets up to stretch his feet. If he weren't so adamant about the fact that St John Allerdyce may be many things, but not a hypocrite, the people working at and visiting the small market in front of the Oak Ridge town hall would frequently see him pull out the folded page torn out of the Boston Gazette, would see him read through the words he knows by heart.
Only the distinct feeling of deeming it pathetic beyond measure if someone like, say, Bobby were to do such a thing, continuously arrests his hand.
During the long hours he spends slumped on the most comfortable spot on the broad town square fountain edge, several market vendors, two old women, and one cop come up to him, and only the thought that he's supposed to wait at this very fountain keeps him from running. In varying degrees of obtrusiveness, they all ask
“Whatcha doin’ out of school on a Monday, boy,” and
“You runnin’ away from home?”
Somehow, he manages to deflect even the cop’s interest with polite, non-committing phrases without striking a match, without exploding a single cigarette. Stunned eyes following the man’s unburned, retreating back, he realizes he’s being regarded as a minor disruption to a fairly dull start-of-the-week routine, vaguely but not overly interesting and, although he knows he could change it in a heartbeat, not threatening.
He dozes off a few times, and thus cannot be sure whether he actually told one of the old ladies he isn't in class because he's run away from boarding school, "but my teacher's picking me up, so it's all right."
Around lunchtime, a young clerk watches him while finishing his French fries and hands him his newspaper before sauntering back into the town hall. Distractedly munching an apple imposed on him by an elderly market vendor, St John frowns at mutant-unfriendly headlines and wonders where Mr Lensherr and Mystique are now, what their reactions were when they found Pyro and all the clothes they'd given him gone.
He wonders what they thought of Magneto's purse being emptied of small change, of the short letter he'd left tucked inside, whether they understood what he meant to say by leaving them his shark lighter.
Belatedly, he also wonders how many of the strangers approaching him these past hours have, in fact, been Mystique.
**
Short, yes, but the part where Scott picks him up will be out tomorrow.
The piece of paper is much too light for this to be actually possible, but he can feel it in the back pocket of his jeans every time he gets up to stretch his feet. If he weren't so adamant about the fact that St John Allerdyce may be many things, but not a hypocrite, the people working at and visiting the small market in front of the Oak Ridge town hall would frequently see him pull out the folded page torn out of the Boston Gazette, would see him read through the words he knows by heart.
Only the distinct feeling of deeming it pathetic beyond measure if someone like, say, Bobby were to do such a thing, continuously arrests his hand.
During the long hours he spends slumped on the most comfortable spot on the broad town square fountain edge, several market vendors, two old women, and one cop come up to him, and only the thought that he's supposed to wait at this very fountain keeps him from running. In varying degrees of obtrusiveness, they all ask
“Whatcha doin’ out of school on a Monday, boy,” and
“You runnin’ away from home?”
Somehow, he manages to deflect even the cop’s interest with polite, non-committing phrases without striking a match, without exploding a single cigarette. Stunned eyes following the man’s unburned, retreating back, he realizes he’s being regarded as a minor disruption to a fairly dull start-of-the-week routine, vaguely but not overly interesting and, although he knows he could change it in a heartbeat, not threatening.
He dozes off a few times, and thus cannot be sure whether he actually told one of the old ladies he isn't in class because he's run away from boarding school, "but my teacher's picking me up, so it's all right."
Around lunchtime, a young clerk watches him while finishing his French fries and hands him his newspaper before sauntering back into the town hall. Distractedly munching an apple imposed on him by an elderly market vendor, St John frowns at mutant-unfriendly headlines and wonders where Mr Lensherr and Mystique are now, what their reactions were when they found Pyro and all the clothes they'd given him gone.
He wonders what they thought of Magneto's purse being emptied of small change, of the short letter he'd left tucked inside, whether they understood what he meant to say by leaving them his shark lighter.
Belatedly, he also wonders how many of the strangers approaching him these past hours have, in fact, been Mystique.
**
Short, yes, but the part where Scott picks him up will be out tomorrow.