Meet Felix! / A very timely DitL

[itstopped]

Who: Felix Gaeta and YOU
What: The new guy shows up. His life kinda blows.
Where: Around and about
When: On Saturday of the breach
Warnings: Dude is missing a leg, so there's that

Comments

7 AM

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Felix is usually up with the sun, but he found shelter in the bus station last night and so he's sleeping in a little. He's stretched out on a row of molded chairs, his crutches tucked between him and the plastic so that no one will steal them; the bag carrying his meager possessions is being used as a pillow.

He stirs, wakes up grumpily, and swings up onto his crutches to wash up in the bus station bathroom.

8 AM - Breakfast?

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Felix still has a dollar left over from the night before, but he's hoping for a muffin or something, so he takes up a spot outside the local cafe with cup in hand. While he waits for it to fill up, he reads a discarded newspaper.

11 AM

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Saturday mornings, between the breakfast rush and the lunch-slash-shopping crowd, are incredibly dull. Felix has moved to the laundromat, but he doesn't have a lot of hope of finding much here. Someone gave him a cigarette, anyway.

1:30 PM - Lunch?

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After a brief nap, Felix limps downtown to the main shopping area. Saturdays in December are like striking gold, as long as he looks clean-ish and sad and tries to rein in the fact that he hates every single person with a shopping cart.

He already knows he'll be chased away from the shopping center itself, but he takes up his post nearby -- and upwind of the stupid bell-ringing Santa -- and watches the holiday-shopping crowds drift by, gritting his teeth against the pity in their eyes.

[to_be_caprican]

Out into the cold steps a rather elegant and well-to-do figure, pausing on the sidewalk so as best to fish lamb skin gloves out of the pockets of his coat and pull them on with a creak of fine leather at each knuckle. His coat is of wool and fur, shoes shined to an oily sheen, red silk at his throat and a grey top hat fitted on his head to match his attire. Gaius Baltar has enough money that he could send others out for his purchases, but who has better taste than he?

That he happens to be talking, too, to thin air, is merely an eccentric quality, tolerable with a hefty enough inheritance.

"An evening overcatered for, my dear, is perfectly seasonal," he is saying, as if talking to complaint that no one else can hear, buttoning gloves at the wrists, casting a disparaging glance towards where the tolls of Santa Claus apparently offend his sensibilities. "I certainly do not know what you mean by wasteful. No one should go hungry on Christmas, and certainly not my closer acquaintances

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There's something naggingly familiar about the man, but Felix chalks it up to the fact that there are a surprising number of so-called-eccentric, overdressed assholes in this town -- what's one more? The signs of wealth, at least, are enough to make him lean forward on his crutches, because sometimes rich assholes mean big donations, maybe even enough for a bed for the night.

But then he hears this Mr. Hyde's offhand remark to his own personal Jekyll, and his expression darkens. He narrows his eyes, a bitter smirk flashing across his face. "A dollar for the homeless, sir?" he asks, loudly enough that absolutely everyone within range can hear. If he can't get sympathy, some revenge humiliation will do. "You're right; no one should go hungry on Christmas."

[to_be_caprican]

His posture straightens a little when the homeless person he was coolly, distantly observing as if from miles away suddenly forces himself into Gaius' immediate reality - as do the milling shoppers, their glances less to do with his elaborate talking to himself and more to do with attention called. A downside of dressing more ostentatiously than everyone else is that winning sympathy is a little trickier.

His mouth pinches in a smile, a gloved hand up in a vague gesture of nothing to see here, but there is something secretly meaner in the glint of his eye when his focus settles properly on Felix.

Felix is not remotely familiar, if the poor were ever to be so to Mr. Baltar.

"Of course," he says, voice warm, slightly sudden as if something invisible had prompted him. His voice carries with it a rich sort of sympathy, but insincerity is like a glass plane dividing his true thoughts from the words coming out his mouth. "Of course they shoudn't. Here you are." He fishes a hand into his pocket, approaching Felix with the hesitancy of

8 PM - Dinner

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Felix hangs around until the stores are mostly closed before he moves on. As expected, he's done pretty well hanging out near Santa and Target. He decides to save his cupful of cash for tomorrow and heads to the church soup kitchen for dinner.

Re: 8 PM - Dinner

[terminatefate]

Sarah was filling in last minute for one of the girls out sick. It wasn't that she didn't have shit to do back at the ranch, but every few weekends she went in and did some evening shifts at the church. Most of the time, she brought batches of food, too. This time? Christmas cookies, because, fuck it, someone had to have some goddamn Christmas cheer. And she made the soup--chicken noodle with shredded chicken, chunks of carrots and celery with just enough pepper for warmth.

Standing behind a massive pot of really fucking good soup, she wasn't shy about giving generous portions, either. There was always someone having a shittier Christmas than she was. Sarah glanced down the line--not too many people around tonight after the 6pm rush--and rubbed her hands together.

Re: 8 PM - Dinner

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Having one leg made handling things surprisingly difficult. You wouldn't think it -- it wasn't like missing an arm, after all, right? But even though he preferred them to the chair, the crutches were clumsy and difficult to maneuver, and had been hard to get used to.

Now, he paused in front of the soup lady, debating with himself. It looked good, and smelled good, but now he had to decide if it was worth the struggle to carry a bowl without spilling it everywhere. Eventually, his stomach (and the guy whining behind him) won, and he shifted awkwardly onto one crutch, clutching both under one arm, holding out a hand for a bowl. "Thanks."

Re: 8 PM - Dinner

[terminatefate]

"You're welcome." She assessed the situation for and moment and shook her head lightly. "Y'know what? Take a seat, I'll bring it over," Sarah said quietly, her scowl aimed at the dickwad behind Felix. "And you can just shut up and wait for a few seconds. It's not like the goddamn soup is gonna go anywhere."

Fucking holiday spirit was everywhere, right? Jackasses.