(2018-07-28) How Rude!
How Rude!
Summary: Dylan is just trying to be friendly and gets punched by Besa for it.
Date: 201807-28
Related: None
NPCs: None
Scene Runner: NA

Main Street – Shady Cove

Main Street is built with sidewalks lining each side and a residential area at each end. In the center is the heartbeat of town, with a courthouse square and the road going around each side of it with old fashioned lamp posts lining the sidewalks in front of the businesses and a sporadic stone bench placed for shoppers. Several side roads lead off to other businesses and more residential areas.

Unlike the previous night, Dylan does not look like a homeless kid. In fact, all of his clothes are brand new looking. He is wearing a ball cap and sun glasses. He seems to be doing the touristy thing and taking selfies. In fact, he takes several of them across the street from the bank, across the street from a jewelry store. The boy occasionally glances around to see if anyone is watching him - and it's not the occasional police officer that seems to make him nervous.

Besa knows that Rian said that he'd make more money selling his mugs online, but he feels like he owes the coffee shop, so today 3 mugs were delivered much to the managers excitement. The potter walks out with a small amount of cash plus the free iced tea that the custom made for him. It's very much not sweet, but the ice makes it nice to sip on. No Cocoa today, he's pushing those boundaries trying to get a little better and not lean on her so much. At least during the day. Nighttime seems to be getting worse, not that he'd admit that. A long sip as he glances around, actually overlooking Dylan as he's dressed so differently. Instead his gaze focuses on a woman who's juggling a toddler in her arms and several shopping bags that are doomed to go tumbling to the ground. He starts making his way towards her to offer assistance.

There is a man that is easily three times as big as Dylan. He tappes his foot on the concrete in front of the bank, then moves off, while talking on the phone. Wandering to that same spot, Dylan moves to that exact spot. He laughs and takes another self. It's then that he notices Besa and the woman, child, and armful of shopping bags.

Besa smiles as he approaches the woman, "May I help you? You look to have…much in your arms?" The toddler aches their back as only toddlers can, a squirmy thrashing movement that gives the woman only to choices, drop the bag, or the kid. She looks at wits end, so the kid might have gone if Besa didn't offer. "Damn it, Jamie, stop!" She looks to Best, unsure, but she's out of options, "Y-yes…please." Another screech from the kid and Besa's reaching to take the nearest slipping bag. "I have this one, what else can I hold?" Looks like her purse is also slipping off her shoulder.

Dylan watches to make sure that Besa has the situation in hand. Even though he continues to do his selfie thing, though his attention is set to the woman, toddler, teen, and bags. It almost sounds like the setup to a bad joke.

Oh, it's totally the set up to a joke. The lady will probably tell it later, and Besa is totally unaware. He holds the bag and reaches to take her purse. "Once you are situated, perhaps we can combine some bags?" She frowns, not liking hat he's got her purse, but he doesn't seem to be running with it. "Yes, yes. Sorry. Jamie's just been…" Another screech and not there's tears. Besa winces, partially from the noise, but also in empathy for the kid, "Is he in pain?"

The tall blond mountain of a man nudges Dylan a bit. The teen looks up and grins slightly. There is a brief exchange between the two, before the huge man pats Dylan on the shoulder and heads off down the street. Dylan, on the other hand, leans back against the bank building and watches junior super hero in action.

Besa's not being so super hero-y as he is trying to be a good person. But that gets harder when the woman's phone rings and she shoves the rest of the bags and toddler at him. His eyes widen as he's suddenly holding another human being. Apparently the woman has gotten over her worry about Besa. Or maybe she's hoping he'll run with the screaming child. Instead of running or dropping him though Besa bounces him as best he can, singing a very soft lullaby in Coptic. It's different and yet familiar enough that the kid stops crying to look at this strange person holding him. The woman is explaining the situation to whoever is on the other end of the phone, which isn't really helping the situation at all.

Dylan smirks and just shakes his head. No good deed goes unpunished. You see that's what being a good person gets you - screwed over by just about any and every body around.

Eventually the lady gets off the phone and will start to combine bags until she's able to take her purse , bags and finally the kid back. She gives Besa a strange look, "You're not American, are you?" It's not necessarily snotty, more confused. He smiles softly at her, straightening his shirt and picking up his tea, "No. I am Egyptian." He's tense though, now waiting for some backlash. She doesn't give it, instead nodding as she shifts Jaime on her hip, "Well….thank you." He visibly relaxes and waves to the toddler as they leave. Well….that was exciting. He raises his tea to sip again and spots Dylan across the road…watching him? A head tilt and Best starts to move to cross the street. You've been spotted, Dylan, run. "Tom?"

Dylan doesn't try to move and pretend that he didn't see or hear Besa. He gives a slight nod in ply. "Besa, right?" He cocks his head, "Sup?"

Besa's brow furrows slightly, but he's got the manners to not comment of how different Dylan looks. "I hope you found the burgers well enough last night?" Another sip of the tea, free tea is the best tea, right? "Are you having a pleasant day?"It looks like he is, playing on his phone and all.

Dylan gives a bit of a shrug, "Yeah, they weren't too bad… but you were right.. the fries were pretty damn good." He gestures to the woman and kid walking down the sidewalk, "So, do you have to like do so many good deeds a week in order to get an A in super hero 101 or something?" He cocks his head, "Yeah, I guess I'm having a pretty good day. So how's it goin' your way?"

Besa nods about the fries. He usually doesn't like that type of food, but those fries are good. But then his brow furrows, "That s not a class, Tom." What a strange class that would be! "I am well, I delivered a few mugs to the coffee shop, so I have coin now." Not as much as Dylan had yesterday, but it's better than an empty pocket. "Were you doing the facebook?"

Dylan shrugs, "Sounds like it could be, huh? At least I think so… " He looks at Besa blankly, "I wouldn't be announcing that so loudly on the streets, otherwise someone might decided to relieve you of it…" He chuckles, "Yeah, you could say that I was doing the facebook page. Just letting some friends see how much of a great time I'm having of."

Besa wonders what kind of school Dylan ever went to if that sounds like a class. He raises an eyebrow, "You think someone would try to steal my money?" He's used to people stealing his blood, his heart, him. But the idea of a common theft of money makes him laugh, "That would be silly." Heck, if people need money, he'll give it to them. His smile fade as does his laughter. Something feels…off about what Dylan says, "Oh…okay." While he doesn't understand social media, he does know that a person needs to be doing something after selfies. Or before. But… whatever. Maybe Dylan's just vain. "Well….have more fun then taking pictures of yourself." Maybe Besa would like selfies if he could take them himself. Maybe.

The phone is slid into Dylan's pocket, "I was pretty much done." Dylan is kind of an oxymoron. He is antisocial that craves interaction, but does he crave the interaction because he is antisocial, or is he antisocial because of the interaction he has already had. He reaches up and turns the baseball cap backwards so that the bill is angled downward behind him. "So you go to some school for kids with powers. What kind of powers do you have?"

Yes, very oxymoron indeed. Besa eyes him concerned, a lock of his bangs falling into his eyes. "I do." Go to the school. "I am a healer." Hence all the offers of healing. He's thinking that talking about magic with Dylan won't go over well or will earn him heckles, so he doesn't say that for now.

"Yeah, yeah… That's right…" Dylan says. "You offered to fix me last night." The black-eye looks to be a couple of days old as do most of the bruises, though there are a few of the finger bruises that look hours old fresh. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a zippo lighter, "You mind?"

Besa feels the urge to offer again, but resists and nods, instead just stating, "I am very good at it." The healing. Dark eyes lower to look at the smokes, he actually is gleaning at the brand, not that anyone smokes anything that's actually good anymore, "No. My brother smokes." Rain will just have questions if Besa smells of it. Or not, she may assume it's from Sky.

The pack is dark red, edged in orange Native American Spirit, which is organic tobacco. The teen taps the cigarette a couple times before lighting up. The first drag is not inhaled, but blown up into the air. Dylan offers one over towards Besa, with raised eyebrows, wordlessly offering the other boy tobacco. He then leans back against the bank building, propping one foot up against the brick behind him. He glances around, watching the people pass for a moment, "So… does your brother… I mean.. is here… does he heal like you?"

Besa shakes his head, but doesn't seem bothered by the scent of the smoke. That's much better than what Sky smokes. Maybe he can steer him towards that. "No, thank you." When Dylan leans Besa glances around to before also leaning giant the building, although he's facing the other teen more than people watching, "No. He is a telepath." He says that like it's so simple. "The school should be moving back to the island this coming semester. I will not be around as much to bother you with random meetings." He sounds amused by that.

Dylan glances at Besa for a moment, "You're not bothering me… at least not at the moment." Up close and in the light, those dark eyes are actually blue, who would have guess. He shrugs, "Besides it won't matter anyway… I'll probably be gone in a couple of days. We never really stay in one place long enough to get to know anyone." He frowns, "I almost never get to talk to the same person more than once." He grins widely, "You should feel blessed then… you're one of the exceptions."

Besa wasn't going to roll his eyes, but the last comment is just too much. "I think perhaps you should rethink your definition of bless-" He suddenly stops when a middle aged woman stops right in front of him. She looks to be of Arabic decent although her accent is American, "Excuse me, you are Besa Ini-herit, correct?" She seems a little too excited to be asking that question and Besa tenses, the tea quickly switched to his left hand and his right drops to his thigh. Just in case. "I think you should go, Tom."

That tone isn't something many hear from the ancient teen. It's almost…cold. He's glaring up at the woman, not answering, but she takes that as an answer, "Please….please. I know you don't want to have anything to do with any of us, but…we need your help."

Dylan chuckles, as he was obviously joking. Wait, was he joking and being… friendly. The smile fades from his lips. "Now I think I said something similar last night, and you weren't too keen on listening when I said it…"

The woman ignores Dylan, fixating on Besa, "I know you'll help us. You have to. It's…it's what you do. Please. All our high priests are dead…The others won't help us…" She steps forward reaching out for the teen.

Best actually pulls back, a snarl forming on his face, "Get away from me. You have mo right to ask anything of me!" He's not yelling, but his voice isn't quiet either. A quick glance to Dylan, but he's not going to waste time arguing with the teen. He pushes off the wall and starts edging away.

Dylan just looks well aghast at Besa's sudden behavior, and Dylan had thought that he was the dick. "Jeez, Dude, rude much?" He looks at the older woman, "Sorry lady, don't know what's up, but maybe you ought to just go."

Dylan is ignored, how can Besa explain this? He can't, so he doesn't. The lady looks panicked and reaches into her pocket to pull out her phone. "Please. You are the Ankh. You are needed! It is your duty!" Her eyes stay on Besa, but she's clearly quick dialing someone.

Best considers tackling her for the phone, but last time he touched one of the cultists (Even if it was from a different cult) he got stabbed. Instead he backs away more, "I owe you nothing. Any duty I had was fulfilled long ago!"

Okay, this is getting to be more than a touch creepy. Dylan looks down the street, trying to find a location that isn't heavily crowded - no need to freak anyone out more than necessary, plus a spot that has an amount of people between here and there. He sighs, "I am so gonna get my ass kicked for this." He takes a step, grabbing a hold of Besa's shirt, and suddenly the two teenagers are several blocks down the road from where they had been just a second before.

Besa yells out something in an ancient tongue, whatever it is he's saying, he sounds surprised and scared. As he's grabbed it doesn't register by who, just who's in front of him, and that there's still clearly groups out there that are in….need of him. So with that in mind, he's grappled and he does what he's learned to do in Hell. He attacks back. His fist curls up proper and he takes a swing at whomever has him. Dylan isn't that much taller than him, so looks like that eye is going to be blackened again. Besa pops him solidly in the face, again yelling something in Coptic. That tone though is scared, he don't want to go back to what he was. He doesn't realize he's in a different location till he's gotten himself free.

Dylan was not prepared for that reaction. Not only is he hit solidly, he's knocked off his feet. He looks up at Besa from the ground, "Fucker! What is wrong with you?!?" He runs the tip of his tongue over the corner of his mouth before spitting on the ground, "See if I ever fuckin' try to help you out again." He doesn't bother getting up, he just rolls to his hip, glaring up at the Egyptian boy.

Besa's shaking, fear or adrenaline, maybe both. "I…" He looks around, confused as the lady is clearly not there anymore. Or they're not where she was? "I am…I thought it was one of…" But that won't matter, will it. 'I am sorry….I did not realize it was you." The tiny boy's hands open , finger splayed out. "I am sorry…please….let me heal you. I did not mean to…" Well, he did mean to strike him, but it wasn't Dylan he thought he was hitting. "Please Tom. I am sorry…"

Dylan gets up on his own, holding his hands out in front of him, "Just leave me a lone… " The palm of one of Dylan's hands is scraped up a bit from the concrete. "Better yet, just go fuck yourself." A fact that he discovers when he starts to dust himself off and he slaps his hand against his leg. He sucks in his breath. "Just… just never… forget it.." Whatever he is talking about seems to be directed more to himself than to Besa. He gets up and storms off, turning sharply at the very next corner and disappearing.

Besa stands there, knuckles throbbing as Dylan leaves. The ancient teen stands there, trying to get his heart to a slowdown and now wondering if he should have just went with the woman. He hurt Tom , and that's…not acceptable. Instead of going home he wanders the streets looking for the woman.

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