Scott, Wednesday afternoon

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

(OOC: Thanks to Willow for socking Thomas!)

Scott is befriended by a good Samaritan. Chess, hotdogs, and rude interruptions proceed to occur.



The park was quiet. Quieter, at least. Midafternoon, he thought a bit dimly. People would be elsewhere. Work. School. He walked across the grass instead of following the path, his shoes crunching in the fallen leaves. All red and gold and orange. Pretty.

The wandering man caught Thomas' attention early on. He had that lost air about him Tom knew only too well, along with the scrapes and torn clothes that were usually the result of a mugging. It was, however, his expression which gave Thomas pause - this wasn't someone who seemed in distress. A faint chuckle next to him, along with a nudge caught his attention and he turned to the knowing looks of the men seated beside him, playing chess.

"Going to take care of the stray pup, Tom m'man?" The rich laughter that followed brought a smile to his lips and he doffed his cap at his friend.

"You know, I think I will at that." And with that he rose to his feet, ambling towards the younger man.

Someone coming towards him. He stopped, staring at the old man coming towards him. Somewhere in the haze, something was telling him to back away, avoid him. But that didn't make any sense, did it?

Oh yes, this one was very much lost. Thomas called out to him in a deep, mellifluous voice, his decision having been made from the moment he caught sight of the man. "Well there, pup. And what are you doing wandering in the Park? Me and the boys were wondering, see, because it occurred to us you just might be wanting to play a spot of chess."

"I--" He looked around again, shaking his head slowly. "I'm not sure. It was here?" Then it struck him that there had been a second question, an implicit one. "Chess..." he said slowly. "I think I play..."

"You think?" Cheerful laughter greeted that reply, Thomas pausing a few feet away from him, just in case the younger man proved to be unpredictable in his reactions. The normal street clothes meant he likely wasn't an escaped patient, at least. "Pup, one knows those kid of things. Maybe you just need a small reminder, huh?" There was a cop walking the Park, regular like clockwork. If the man proved to be in need of help, there'd be no problems passing him along to him.

"All right," he said uncertainly. Wondering if he could find a reminder of who he was, too. That would be nice. But he'd been walking all day and nothing really had come to him. Just feelings.

Knowing looks greeted them, from up and down the row of men, all seated and playing chess - some of them playing alone and against themselves it seemed, others setting a rapid fire pace of tics and tacs and the pieces were moved within seconds of each other, non-stop.

"Have a seat here," Thomas settled Scott down on the chair facing his own board, carefully taking a look at the scrapes and bruises. Nothing horribly painful, from what he could see.

Scott blinked at the board. "I'm white?" he asked after another long pause. But there was someone else who was usually white, wasn't there? The image nagged at his mind, of sitting at a chess board, across from... who?

"If you want to be, pup," Thomas answered easily, pretending not to notice how he and the young man kept being glanced at by the others. Confusion but no fear. And he recognized the board, clear as day even if it seemed a bit distant to him, Thomas could tell. There was no need to rush anything at all.

Scott stared at the board for another log moment, then reached out and moved a pawn. It was automatic, almost. As if he'd done this so many times that it was second nature.

The response was lightning quick, Thomas selecting a pawn of his own and moving it before leaning on the table, giving Scott an amused look. The pace had been set.

Very quick. "I don't think I'm using to playing that fast," Scott murmured, his brow creasing. Frustrated, he was getting more and more frustrated, and the haze wasn't keeping it all beneath the surface any more. He reached out hesitantly, fingers brushing one piece before he withdrew, still thinking.

Grins blossomed from their neighbors, not a one of them mocking however - simply pleased with seeing that he could play, at least. "But you do play," Thomas smiled in satisfaction, the emotion reflected in his deep voice. "Just go ahead. It'll come to you."

How many moves ahead can you think? Scott blinked at the voice in his head, warmly affectionate despite the hint of challenge. He reached out, a little more confidently, and made a move.

A snapping motion followed by a tic, another piece moved with quick confidence. The game proceeded apace, Scott slowly gaining a speed of his own, until they reached a point where the sounds of play from the other tables ceased, heads craning to watch the game at the end of the row.

"Well. It's been a while," Thomas murmured, a hint of delight in his voice. "Quite a while since someome made me slow down while playing." He reached out and carefully moved one piece, smiling up at Scott. "Checkmate, pup."

Scott blinked, distantly chagrined as he saw the mistake he'd made. "I didn't even see the opening," he murmured. Wasn't he supposed to see things like that? He had the very strong impression that he was...

...but it had been a good game. He managed a faint, hesitant smile for the old man. "Good game?" he said, and it came out somehow as a question.

"Ha!" Thomas barked in laughter, nodding as his shoulders hook. The merriment was echoed beside them, a few of the players clapping in approval. "That, pup, was a very good game."

"I don't... I think I haven't played for a while," Scott said, trying to sort out the vague impressions. "Too busy... something like that."

"Pup," a shake of the head and a stern look followed the softly spoken word. "There aren't never too much busy that should stop a good game of chess. Whatever's going on now in your life, you'd do good to remember that. Sets things back in place proper and all." He reached forward, patting Scott's hand lightly.

"I'm... not sure what's been going on in my life," Scott said with a slight frown. "Lots... I think." He gave Thomas a look that mingled uncertainty and frustration. "I'm a bit confused just now, I think...."

"Yeah, I can see that," Thomas nodded understandingly. "But you still played a damn good game of chess, didn't you? That tells something about a man, that." There were nods of agreement nearby, accompanied by a few murmurs in support of the notion.

Scott smiled a bit helplessly. "Maybe I have it a little more together than I thought," he said quietly, part of him liking the idea. Right. He didn't know who he was, or what he was doing here, but because he hadn't been beaten too badly at chess he wasn't totally lost. A laugh slipped out, rueful yet with a touch of real amusement to it.

"That's the spirit, pup." Thomas smiled warmly, leaning back in the wooden chair which creaked loudly in response. "Well, tradition is after a good game like this is to celebrate. You wait just here." Pushing himself up, the man walked off, smiling to himself as he went down one of the Park's paths. It wasn't long before he returned, something in hand.
"Here you go." He handed Scott a can of pop and two hot dogs, chuckling at his expression. "Man's gotta feed the body as well as the soul," he grinned, nodding at the chess board.

Scott discovered that he was quite alarmingly hungry. "Thanks," he said with another bemused smile. "I haven't eaten since..." He paused, frowning. "I don't remember," he finally admitted, almost sheepishly.

"Yeah, me and the boys kinda figured that one." Chuckling, Thomas took a healthy bite from his own hot dog, clearly appreciating the fare.

Scott ate a portion of his own hot dog before he spoke again. "This is good," he said appreciatively, and then laughed again. "I'd say I can't remember the last time I had a hotdog, but I don't want to get repetitive."

Laughter greeted that comment, cheerful and unrestrained. "Well, I won't hold it against you if it happens." After taking another bite, steadily finishing off the hot dog while gazing around the Park, Thomas spoke again. "You remember your name, by any chance?" it was worth asking, after all.

"Scott," Scott answered after a moment and another bite of the hot dog. "Don't remember much besides that. I'm not sure what happened."

"Well, you're good for now, pup." A paternal pat on the shoulder and a faint grin, Thomas feeling distinctly proprietary about his latest stray, it seemed, to the amusement of the other chess players. "There ain't no rush at all, when you've the day to play chess."

Scott relaxed a little. "Sounds really nice, you know," he said a bit wistfully. "Having the whole day to do that..." He paused, frowning a little. "Do you hear that?" he asked, looking around.

"No, I didn't hear a thing," Thomas answered serenely, starting on the second hot dog with gusto. He took a look around the Park anyway though, just in case his latest stray might actually be hearing something. You never knew.

Scott, the whisper came again, along with a sense of warmth and concern. Scott stiffened, not registering Thomas' concerned look. Scott? Do you hear me, Scott?

Tilting his head to the side, Thomas finished his hot dog, watching the younger man carefully. He was listening to something all right. What that might be though, as another story entirely.
Session Close

Yes? Scott thought back hesitantly, sure he must be losing his mind. Sane people didn't hear voices. Even if they were kind-sounding voices...

Two tall, muscular men came around the bed of one of the paths. One of them spotted Scott and immediately took out his cell phone, speaking into it briefly. That done, both he and his companion continued towards Scott and Thomas, their walk deceptively casual.

"Oh ho, now them cats ain't subtle," Thomas remarked, not entirely pleased with this sudden development. "Pup? You know those men?" He took another bite of the hot dog idly, somehow not looking overly worried.

"I--" The voice was urging him to get up and go, and Scott swallowed. "I think I'd better go," he said, rising.

An understanding smile met that statement. "You go on then, pup." Just because he was going didn't mean Thomas couldn't keep an eye on him anyway. "Keep in touch, if you remember this, hey?"

"I will," Scott said, his eyes still on the men, but something made him linger for a moment. "Thanks for the game. And the hot dog," he said with a quick smile, and then started at a rapid walk in the other direction.

The two men lasted a whole ten seconds at their leisurely walk before they took off at a run after him.