Make the most out of a bad situation. That's what his mother had told him to do before he left home, always encouraging but never attempting to prevent what ever happened to him, what his father's mood and disgust would do to him next. He only resented her a little for that, though definitely wondered why she stuck around. His dad probably had a prenup or something, maybe that kind of scandal was unacceptable too. Maybe they were both trapped living a life they didn't want?
He stares hard at the shiny new fuel lines he'd just installed, the welds where each section had been attached, each turn and bend practically seamless. It made the heavy thoughts just a little lighter, licking his thumb to buff out a smudge on it. The bike wouldn't stay pretty for long, meant for use, but if the new owner would be anything like Abel, he'd spend weekends cleaning her up until she sparkled in the sun.
He had been given instruction to go show the competition, he didn't get it so much, big city boys don't understand podunk town rivalries, but he could do that. Straightening his overalls, trying to fight the urge to cuff the short sleeves, he made sure he was at least presentable as far as a mechanic goes, some dusting of oil like freckles on his fair skin, before he swung a leg over the bike and tried the ignition.
It turned over easy and he sat and listened to it work a few minutes, closing his eyes to just focus on the sound of the engine, listening for any pops or stutters as it worked. Good enough for a test drive and to break in the new engine anyways, and off he went, going that reasonable 25-30 that would be a gentle start of life for his new baby. He wondered if it would be too obviously gay to name each one as they went out, but how he'd even ask is beyond him. He missed DC, but no one was going to hear a complaint out of him. The change bothered him but it would be worse giving his father the satisfaction knowing that it did.
'Never give up, never surrender' he reminds himself as he pulls into the lot of the other shop. It isn't much, like most things around here, but he's getting used to it. He sets the kickstand at the front of the garage, attempting to see into it with his visor down but gives up quickly, pulling his helmet off and fussing over fixing his hair. He hated helmet hair. Hopping off the bike, he sets his helmet down on the seat and moves to the edge of the door, leaning over and in but not stepping over the line of transition from asphalt to concrete.
Maurice had been having...the most interesting couple of months.
It was making him a little crazy not talking to anybody about it, but what could he say that anyone would believe? He could show them the bite, he could show them his shredded sofa, he could even show them his unusually sharp teeth but...there were no wolves in Texas.
Except this one.
A pair of yellow eyes peer over the raised hood of a Firebird. Maurice doesn't recognize Abel. He does instantly notice that moon blonde hair though. Maurice stares openly for a long moment before tugging the bill of his cap down to hide his gaze.
He stands and steps away from the vehicle but does not approach Abel. Normally he would have--this could be a customer and being friendly was like a whole portion of his job. But his nerves were just too bad today so he stayed in the dim workshop.
When Maurice stands, Abel sizes him up too, if he's going to be staring he feels he has the right to. Standing so far away he can hide the fact that he's swallowing to wet his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. God why did this mechanic have to have facial hair? He could ignore it, it was fine. He was playing a role somewhere his father knew would be difficult to express his 'undesireable interests' and that was how it was going to be. At least until he could sock away enough money to get away and live his own life out of under his dad's thumb.
"Yes, sorry. I..." He sucks in a breath and tries to look more apologetic than embarrassed, "I was told to come show off to Mr. Cory, is he in? I just started working at the other shop in town for Mr. Cook a few weeks ago and I'm supposed to brag about this bike I just finished up." Which is definitely not how he likes to do things, but he kind of needed to keep his job. The man had liked his work enough that he thought maybe he could have gotten away with saying no, but he didn't want to push too soon.
"Oh, Mr. Cook!" Maurice's rigid stance softens. He ambles out into the light and scratches at his jaw which has become more and more prickly as the months wore on. He's almost given up on shaving at this point. "You just missed 'em, I'm afraid. Just me in here today. Well, me and..."
He glances back toward the inner walls of Fred's where he knew Meranda sat and stewed in her own vinegar. She used to be so fun to horse around with but lately she's been a real pill. Whatever. He has bigger problems.
Maurice shifts his attention to the bike and his expression becomes more open, his eyes alert. He takes in the details and lets out a low appreciative whistle when he sees his own reflection in the chrome.
"Beautiful stuff," Maurice says. "He's gonna love that."
"It's probably better that way. I don't sell myself well, my work speaks for me better than I can." He'd have preferred his boss just take a picture and send it off, though he didn't seem the type to want to pull out a fancy camera and send it off in an email. Any phone pictures would have been pretty grainy if you'd even had a camera on it.
He takes a few steps back, letting his eyes wander on Maurice's face as he looks at the newly finished bike, "Thanks. It was a fun project." Abel crouches down next to the bike to point out some custom pieces he added, "I was lucky that the client was so flexible, I showed him some things I'd done back home and it was an easy sell. Though honestly In a place like this I can't imagine it's going to be often I get to do something quite so fancy." Not that he thought no one was around just, the client pool for custom work would be much smaller. "Back in DC there was only a few a year that came around, so I expect its a little slower here."
He takes a minute to double check the lines, make sure there weren't any leaks on the way over before he glances up at Maurice, "I'm Abel by the way, I didn't catch your name?"
"I get that," Maurice agrees as he continues to scope out the bike. He feels along the welded edges, presses on the seat, taps at the gauge. Nice nice nice nice. What he wouldn't give to go flying down the street on this thing!
"DC? Man, you're a long way from home. What made you wanna move to this dump, hahaha!"
He kind of hates it here, but it's home. It's not his mother's house and it's not a hole in the ground. He'll take it.
When he's prompted for his name, Maurice leans up and extends a hairy hand. He's tried to keep his nails...claws...clipped down but they grow so freaking fast.
"Hey, Abel. I'm Maurice. I guess we'll be seein' a lot of each other if our bosses keep up the way they have been."
It was easier to introduce himself to someone else who worked with his hands in a hot garage all day while listening to an old man rant. It's not often he relates to folks his own age. He feels like such a weirdo.
Abel tries for a smile, laughing lightly with him, "It was...A choice, that's for sure. I needed a change of pace though, it's not that bad." It was that bad, but he isn't going to admit it to a local, palms to his knees as he pushes himself up to stand again.
He takes the hand, giving it a good shake like a good ole boy would give another man, just like his father taught him, noting his arms and appreciating them for a fraction of a second before he lets go. "Maurice, It's good to meet you. And I don't mind so long as it's just friendly rivalry. I'd rather not get caught up in a small town feud if I can help it." Attention aside from just admiring his work and work ethic wasn't necessarily what he wanted anyways.
But, Maurice seemed close enough to his age, and being new he thought it might be nice at some point to at least try and make friends. Having similar interests was a good way to start since those seemed to be hard to find around here. "Is there...anything to actually do around here? I feel like I'm just living to work."
"Well, that depends," Maurice says. His eyes move beyond the beautiful bike to the town itself. "That depends on if you like to get drunk or not. There's a place on the other end of town, The Pitbull. It's pretty good. Music, sometimes."
He scratches his neck in a rapid, raking motion.
"They're tryin' to revive town though. They're puttin' in some apartments and a school...man! I just want a Dave and Busters or something!"
Abel isn't huge on the drinking scene. He'd tried it once, but with it being far too public, far too open, he'd come and gone within minutes, finding some late night diner instead, sat by himself. Even just watching had felt a little too much, the temptation to participate far too great with the chance of being caught adding to the risk. No, he knew what he was like when he was drunk, and it would be a terrible idea to show that sort of face to the public, happy and affectionate in a way that that he was sure would easily out him in the small town, drunk or not. There was no playing that off.
"I'm not straight-edge, but no one wants to see me drunk in public. It's sloppy in the worst way." He jokes, as if it were just some other reason that was more socially acceptable, "But I wouldn't mind coming down for live music when they have it. That's enough entertainment I suppose."
And while a Dave and Busters is in his opinion, a rather low bar, he supposes with just the few options it would be fun. "Seems like a town like this could at least use a bowling alley, community theater?" Maybe not.
"Oh, yeah, there is the bowling alley..." Maurice snaps to the present, having gotten lost in his daydreams about a Dogtrot that was actually fun to live in. "I've lived here about two years and I haven't been, so I can't tell you if it's any good."
He gracefully drops the subject of getting drunk, it's clear this guy doesn't like the scene and he can't blame him. It's not like Maurice is actually having fun at the Pit Bull--especially now with the Everything.
He also pointedly doesn't comment on the theater because while he has seen the whole playhouse, he can NOT let this cool bike building guy know he's even a little interested in it.
JW pisses off a supernatural being and goes to Hanna for help also he is seven inches tall
Knocking normally was out of the question. He also had to really hope that this address was the right one when he reeled back a leg and kicked the door as hard as he could once--twice--three times.
He was only seven inches tall but he was mad enough to make a fair amount of noise.
Hanna had been just fixing himself some choice dinner selections when he heard the softest little taps at the door. If this was his land lady being a fucking creep and trying to drill a peep hole in his door again, he was going to throw a fit.
He opened the door, but when there isn't anything there, he leans out into the hall, confused. "Uh, Mrs. Blaney?" Not too loud or else he'll summon her.
James Walter leans aaaall the way back as he frowns up at Hanna. He doesn't look like a magic expert, but he can't be picky right now. He knows he himself doesn't look like much of a ghostbuster.
"Excuse me!" It is said with the same tone of a Karen pointing out wilty lettuce in her salad. He is trying so hard not to sound seven inches high right now.
The voice catches him a little off guard and suddenly he's looking straight down.
"Woah, dude. You're fucking tiny!" He takes a step back as if just looking at JW will squash him, and he looks back into his apartment, it's a fucking mess like usual. Well? "Um, come in?"
"You think I don't know that!" JW barks up at him. He takes the invitation and strides inside, eyes foreward. He doesn't think much about the mess, he's got other problems. "I heard you work with magic and that's sure as shit what this is."
He stops once he's a good few feet away from Hanna and turns around, hands on his hips.
"Also, I need to know how much this is going to cost up front. My pockets aren't deep this time of year."
Thankful that his land lady didn't actually decide to make an appearance, Hanna shuts the door, locking it just because it's necessary when you live in this neighborhood and leans against it. He feels like if he moves he's going to suddenly become the most clumsy man in the world. You don't get paid when client's get squished.
"Well. Um. I suppose it depends on how hard this is gonna be. There's a flat fee, but I don't think I can actually fix this. You want to sit down and tell me about what happened and maybe we can figure out some other way to get you all sorted?" He finally moves, kneeling down to offer his hand to JW, "You want to sit? I can just, put you on the table or something?"
JW is just frowning his tiny frown up at him--up until he says he doesn't think he can help. Worry strains his features instantly.
He hesitates at the offered hand. His pride wants him to stay on the floor staring upward at Hanna until he gets a crick in his neck. He's also not so sure about being so high up, but he's stressed out and his poor pride gets shoved into the back seat.
Light as a hummingbird, the tall (???) man steps onto Hanna's outstretched hand.
"What do you mean you can't fix this? It's magic! You do magic!"
Hanna is perhaps overly careful as he cups his other hand with walls just big enough to make it pretty hard to fall, rising and taking the few measured steps to the kitchen island. It's a little cluttered, but there is a clean enough spot to set JW down again, considering him and his tiny stature.
"I do magic, sure but not all magic in the same. What is this even considered? Like...Transfiguration? Not my strong suit. Like, I could probably make you appear taller but obviously that would be weird and wouldn't actually fix anything." He turns, pulling a chair over to sit on it backwards, resting his arms on the chair back so he was pretty level with JW. "Who did you piss off to get yourself shrunk?"
JW holds his arms out for balance as he is lifted. Once the table presents itself, he hops off Hanna's hand and quickly sorts himself back out. He wasn't scared! He wasn't scared of no thing!
He looks at Hanna with an expression of mixed frustration and desperation, though he appreciates not having to crane his neck back any more. This had been the basket he'd put all his eggs in. He didn't know of anybody else. All he'd had to go on was word of mouth and a scrap of paper.
"I didn't do anything wrong," JW states firmly, as though trying to convince himself. "It was...it was over some blackberries. They were on my side of the fence! But the guy threw a fit about them anyway."
"Hey, I never said it was your fault. Magic types can be pretty fucking petty sometimes, especially ones who have the fancy shit." His magic isn't all that fancy and he's sure that it's probably eating him like a cancer or something, but eh. It's not like he's planning on living forever anyways.
"You're neighbor did this to you?" That seems pretty domestic, dude. He's wondering why he didn't just apologize and give said blackberries back.
JW is soothed temporarily when he is absolved of blame. For the moment.
He nods and turns to look around at the stuff littering Hanna's table.
"Yeah...well. I don't know if you'd call him a neighbor. He doesn't live in a house that I've seen. He's just kind of...around. You know anything about people with horse's heads?"
He glances back up at Hanna, trying to hide how desperate he's feeling.
"You mean like...an Ipotane? I don't think I've ever seen one. Let alone around here. Most things that have features that are hard to hide don't really stick to big cities, but I mean, I know they have magic." Most creatures like that did, though there were definitely exceptions.
Well, that was something. "Do you think he was trying to warn you and not just mad cause you were eating cursed berries?" Because he can see that too.
Though, that makes him think. Wait a minute. "...you weren't fucking around with the Fae were you? They can look like all kinds of shit. And you definitely shouldn't be eating anything they've been messing with."
"Fae?" He thinks. "You mean fairies? Those little naked ladies?" He holds a thumb and forefinger a relative few inches apart. He's only been at this about a year and a half, so right now Hanna knows one hell of a lot more than he does about the Fae.
"I ran 'em out of this old lady's house once, but you're tellin' me that man-sized horse face man horse was a fairy?"
Hanna just stares at JW incredulously, his mouth slightly open. "What the fuck dude...how are you even still here?"
This guy is going to die. He's going to die and he has no idea. "The fae are a pretty varied people, like. I am shocked nothing else unfortunate has happened to you. Like, where are you even going? What forest is this?" Where does he need to go to put out a shit ton of peace offerings so they don't start attacking random people because of this tiny man?
"Behind my house?" JW answers as though it's the most obvious thing in the world.
He's trying not to freak out.
He feels like he's caught some kind of disease he should have known better than to get and now everybody knows it. JW shifts uneasily and kicks at some paper on the table, wanting to look anywhere but at Hanna's distraught face.
"I reckon it's my job to know about this shit...I'm the new Man on the Hill."
Oh great. His own property and he's butt against the court. You don't shit where you eat JW, how the hell...
"Okay, tell you what we're gonna do. You and I are gonna go buy some fancy cake, I know an Asian bakery a few blocks from here that makes some good shit that isn't expensive, and we are going to offer it to the woods. After we're done, if they decide to accept it, you might get fixed, but we are going to have a serious talk about fucking with fae folk. They don't play around."
JW listens begrudgingly. Right now Hanna was the smartest person he knew and Deuteronomy was miles away. He hadn't been able to find her at the house so as far as he knew she was out gambling with The Boys.
Were they Fae too? They were very strange looking.
"Right...let's do that...and what do I owe you for the diagnosis?" He tugs his wallet out of his pocket and cards through a few very small bills. "Wait. Shit. Put a pin in that."
With Jws money also shrunk Hanna realizes he's also going to have to foot that offering bill too, reaching into his own back pocket to check his wallet. Welp.
"How far is your house?" 25 bucks was enough for the bus and at least a small offering, right?
The tiny man on Hanna's desk suddenly becomes reluctant to divulge this information. He is suddenly very, very tired. He's come so far. He's rode underneath so many busses and cars and on the backs of birds and stray cats.
JW scrubs at the back of his head and actually looks sheepish.
Hanna was just about to put his wallet back in his pocket when JW reveals just how far he's traveled just to be right here.
He's quiet for a moment, trying to just stare at him, daring him to say 'gotcha' or 'ahaha, hilarious, no I'm on King street' But no. He just stands there looking dumb and small.
Hanna would have to map quest that shit to see how long it would even take. He can't just leave him like this, but what the hell dude? "Isn't that like over 24 hours of straight driving? I don't own a fucking car..." He could probably swing train hopping but that would take like two to three days.
"No, no. I've...I can do it, just give me a minute," He's going to have to make up another dead relative to get the time off again isn't he? God, he was going to get fired.
He looks around a moment before standing and walking over to the fridge, a jar of change sitting on top of it. He takes out a couple quarters and sighs, "I've gotta go use the phone down stairs. You uh...want anything to eat while you wait?"
A small human part wants to give Hanna a break. It wants to tell him that they don't have to leave right away. That he isn't getting any SMALLER. But the impatient asshole part of him is much louder and he wants to stop having to tip his head back to see literally anything. He has to remind himself that this is a transaction. Like going to the doctor or buying weed.
The question of hunger gets a cagey, noncommittal grunt out of him. He is very, very hungry but right now that feels like admitting to a failure and he's already fucked up enough.
The mac and cheese on the stove was at least finished when JW had knocked and set aside off the burner. He's not even going to hesitate to grab him a bowl, but judging by how small he is, he isn't sure how much he'll actually want. For easier access he just fills it and grabs a toothpick since that would be more manageable than a fork for someone just as big as one. Setting it on the counter, he heads out the door.
"Here, you obviously don't have to eat it all, I'll be back."
Once the macaroni was next to him and he could smell it, he whined inwardly. Maybe he'd just take a few bites while Hanna was gone.
"Hnn. Thanks." He manages. This is a transaction. But he's still at Hanna's mercy. He'd been pretty concerned when he first knocked. If he got the wrong address and the wrong person beheld a tiny person at their door, all it would have taken was a boot to wipe him out of existence.
God, he's so tired.
JW grabs up the toothpick and stabs at the macaroni. He manages to spear a single ronus like a fish and dunk it in the cheese before taking a bite. Itss kind of overwhelming at his size, but holy shit it's so good after all that traveling. He gnaws on it like a starved wolf and also makes a few starved wolf sounds.
Hanna isn't gone long, he had argued with his manager that his great aunt Jane was very important and no she hadn't died six months ago, that was Mildred, totally different side of the family, god.
He looked a little tired as he had come back up the stairs, managing to avoid summoning Mrs. Blaney again as he opened the door and slipped back into his apartment. Now to pack a few things and figure out how the hell they were going to get there.
"You want to give me your address, I was gonna just put it in mapquest, see what the internet tells us before I totally give up on it and find a fucking road map."
JW looks up, his eyes just a little wild. There is cheese on his chin. This wildness fades though in favor of his Uninterested face he liked to wear when he was hiding how freaked out he was.
"Sure. It's 29 Pecan Dr., Hawksaw Mississippi." He takes another big bite of macaroni. It's so good after his long journey.
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theattic2024-06-07 10:22 pm
Abel meets a man who could crush him and he kind of likes it?
He stares hard at the shiny new fuel lines he'd just installed, the welds where each section had been attached, each turn and bend practically seamless. It made the heavy thoughts just a little lighter, licking his thumb to buff out a smudge on it. The bike wouldn't stay pretty for long, meant for use, but if the new owner would be anything like Abel, he'd spend weekends cleaning her up until she sparkled in the sun.
He had been given instruction to go show the competition, he didn't get it so much, big city boys don't understand podunk town rivalries, but he could do that. Straightening his overalls, trying to fight the urge to cuff the short sleeves, he made sure he was at least presentable as far as a mechanic goes, some dusting of oil like freckles on his fair skin, before he swung a leg over the bike and tried the ignition.
It turned over easy and he sat and listened to it work a few minutes, closing his eyes to just focus on the sound of the engine, listening for any pops or stutters as it worked. Good enough for a test drive and to break in the new engine anyways, and off he went, going that reasonable 25-30 that would be a gentle start of life for his new baby. He wondered if it would be too obviously gay to name each one as they went out, but how he'd even ask is beyond him. He missed DC, but no one was going to hear a complaint out of him. The change bothered him but it would be worse giving his father the satisfaction knowing that it did.
'Never give up, never surrender' he reminds himself as he pulls into the lot of the other shop. It isn't much, like most things around here, but he's getting used to it. He sets the kickstand at the front of the garage, attempting to see into it with his visor down but gives up quickly, pulling his helmet off and fussing over fixing his hair. He hated helmet hair. Hopping off the bike, he sets his helmet down on the seat and moves to the edge of the door, leaning over and in but not stepping over the line of transition from asphalt to concrete.
"Hey, anyone around?"
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It was making him a little crazy not talking to anybody about it, but what could he say that anyone would believe? He could show them the bite, he could show them his shredded sofa, he could even show them his unusually sharp teeth but...there were no wolves in Texas.
Except this one.
A pair of yellow eyes peer over the raised hood of a Firebird. Maurice doesn't recognize Abel. He does instantly notice that moon blonde hair though. Maurice stares openly for a long moment before tugging the bill of his cap down to hide his gaze.
He stands and steps away from the vehicle but does not approach Abel. Normally he would have--this could be a customer and being friendly was like a whole portion of his job. But his nerves were just too bad today so he stayed in the dim workshop.
"Can I help you?"
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"Yes, sorry. I..." He sucks in a breath and tries to look more apologetic than embarrassed, "I was told to come show off to Mr. Cory, is he in? I just started working at the other shop in town for Mr. Cook a few weeks ago and I'm supposed to brag about this bike I just finished up." Which is definitely not how he likes to do things, but he kind of needed to keep his job. The man had liked his work enough that he thought maybe he could have gotten away with saying no, but he didn't want to push too soon.
"If he isn't I'm not bothered at all."
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He glances back toward the inner walls of Fred's where he knew Meranda sat and stewed in her own vinegar. She used to be so fun to horse around with but lately she's been a real pill. Whatever. He has bigger problems.
Maurice shifts his attention to the bike and his expression becomes more open, his eyes alert. He takes in the details and lets out a low appreciative whistle when he sees his own reflection in the chrome.
"Beautiful stuff," Maurice says. "He's gonna love that."
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He takes a few steps back, letting his eyes wander on Maurice's face as he looks at the newly finished bike, "Thanks. It was a fun project." Abel crouches down next to the bike to point out some custom pieces he added, "I was lucky that the client was so flexible, I showed him some things I'd done back home and it was an easy sell. Though honestly In a place like this I can't imagine it's going to be often I get to do something quite so fancy." Not that he thought no one was around just, the client pool for custom work would be much smaller. "Back in DC there was only a few a year that came around, so I expect its a little slower here."
He takes a minute to double check the lines, make sure there weren't any leaks on the way over before he glances up at Maurice, "I'm Abel by the way, I didn't catch your name?"
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"DC? Man, you're a long way from home. What made you wanna move to this dump, hahaha!"
He kind of hates it here, but it's home. It's not his mother's house and it's not a hole in the ground. He'll take it.
When he's prompted for his name, Maurice leans up and extends a hairy hand. He's tried to keep his nails...claws...clipped down but they grow so freaking fast.
"Hey, Abel. I'm Maurice. I guess we'll be seein' a lot of each other if our bosses keep up the way they have been."
It was easier to introduce himself to someone else who worked with his hands in a hot garage all day while listening to an old man rant. It's not often he relates to folks his own age. He feels like such a weirdo.
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He takes the hand, giving it a good shake like a good ole boy would give another man, just like his father taught him, noting his arms and appreciating them for a fraction of a second before he lets go. "Maurice, It's good to meet you. And I don't mind so long as it's just friendly rivalry. I'd rather not get caught up in a small town feud if I can help it." Attention aside from just admiring his work and work ethic wasn't necessarily what he wanted anyways.
But, Maurice seemed close enough to his age, and being new he thought it might be nice at some point to at least try and make friends. Having similar interests was a good way to start since those seemed to be hard to find around here. "Is there...anything to actually do around here? I feel like I'm just living to work."
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He scratches his neck in a rapid, raking motion.
"They're tryin' to revive town though. They're puttin' in some apartments and a school...man! I just want a Dave and Busters or something!"
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"I'm not straight-edge, but no one wants to see me drunk in public. It's sloppy in the worst way." He jokes, as if it were just some other reason that was more socially acceptable, "But I wouldn't mind coming down for live music when they have it. That's enough entertainment I suppose."
And while a Dave and Busters is in his opinion, a rather low bar, he supposes with just the few options it would be fun. "Seems like a town like this could at least use a bowling alley, community theater?" Maybe not.
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He gracefully drops the subject of getting drunk, it's clear this guy doesn't like the scene and he can't blame him. It's not like Maurice is actually having fun at the Pit Bull--especially now with the Everything.
He also pointedly doesn't comment on the theater because while he has seen the whole playhouse, he can NOT let this cool bike building guy know he's even a little interested in it.
JW pisses off a supernatural being and goes to Hanna for help also he is seven inches tall
He was only seven inches tall but he was mad enough to make a fair amount of noise.
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He opened the door, but when there isn't anything there, he leans out into the hall, confused. "Uh, Mrs. Blaney?" Not too loud or else he'll summon her.
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"Excuse me!" It is said with the same tone of a Karen pointing out wilty lettuce in her salad. He is trying so hard not to sound seven inches high right now.
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"Woah, dude. You're fucking tiny!" He takes a step back as if just looking at JW will squash him, and he looks back into his apartment, it's a fucking mess like usual. Well? "Um, come in?"
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He stops once he's a good few feet away from Hanna and turns around, hands on his hips.
"Also, I need to know how much this is going to cost up front. My pockets aren't deep this time of year."
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"Well. Um. I suppose it depends on how hard this is gonna be. There's a flat fee, but I don't think I can actually fix this. You want to sit down and tell me about what happened and maybe we can figure out some other way to get you all sorted?" He finally moves, kneeling down to offer his hand to JW, "You want to sit? I can just, put you on the table or something?"
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He hesitates at the offered hand. His pride wants him to stay on the floor staring upward at Hanna until he gets a crick in his neck. He's also not so sure about being so high up, but he's stressed out and his poor pride gets shoved into the back seat.
Light as a hummingbird, the tall (???) man steps onto Hanna's outstretched hand.
"What do you mean you can't fix this? It's magic! You do magic!"
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"I do magic, sure but not all magic in the same. What is this even considered? Like...Transfiguration? Not my strong suit. Like, I could probably make you appear taller but obviously that would be weird and wouldn't actually fix anything." He turns, pulling a chair over to sit on it backwards, resting his arms on the chair back so he was pretty level with JW. "Who did you piss off to get yourself shrunk?"
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He looks at Hanna with an expression of mixed frustration and desperation, though he appreciates not having to crane his neck back any more. This had been the basket he'd put all his eggs in. He didn't know of anybody else. All he'd had to go on was word of mouth and a scrap of paper.
"I didn't do anything wrong," JW states firmly, as though trying to convince himself. "It was...it was over some blackberries. They were on my side of the fence! But the guy threw a fit about them anyway."
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"You're neighbor did this to you?" That seems pretty domestic, dude. He's wondering why he didn't just apologize and give said blackberries back.
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He nods and turns to look around at the stuff littering Hanna's table.
"Yeah...well. I don't know if you'd call him a neighbor. He doesn't live in a house that I've seen. He's just kind of...around. You know anything about people with horse's heads?"
He glances back up at Hanna, trying to hide how desperate he's feeling.
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He folds his arms and tries to think of anything that stood out about the horse-headed man. He'd been pretty heated and not entirely paying attention.
They had been such good berries...
The berries...
"I think it was the blackberries that he cursed. Not me specifically."
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Though, that makes him think. Wait a minute. "...you weren't fucking around with the Fae were you? They can look like all kinds of shit. And you definitely shouldn't be eating anything they've been messing with."
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"Fae?" He thinks. "You mean fairies? Those little naked ladies?" He holds a thumb and forefinger a relative few inches apart. He's only been at this about a year and a half, so right now Hanna knows one hell of a lot more than he does about the Fae.
"I ran 'em out of this old lady's house once, but you're tellin' me that man-sized horse face man horse was a fairy?"
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This guy is going to die. He's going to die and he has no idea. "The fae are a pretty varied people, like. I am shocked nothing else unfortunate has happened to you. Like, where are you even going? What forest is this?" Where does he need to go to put out a shit ton of peace offerings so they don't start attacking random people because of this tiny man?
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He's trying not to freak out.
He feels like he's caught some kind of disease he should have known better than to get and now everybody knows it. JW shifts uneasily and kicks at some paper on the table, wanting to look anywhere but at Hanna's distraught face.
"I reckon it's my job to know about this shit...I'm the new Man on the Hill."
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"Okay, tell you what we're gonna do. You and I are gonna go buy some fancy cake, I know an Asian bakery a few blocks from here that makes some good shit that isn't expensive, and we are going to offer it to the woods. After we're done, if they decide to accept it, you might get fixed, but we are going to have a serious talk about fucking with fae folk. They don't play around."
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Were they Fae too? They were very strange looking.
"Right...let's do that...and what do I owe you for the diagnosis?" He tugs his wallet out of his pocket and cards through a few very small bills. "Wait. Shit. Put a pin in that."
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"How far is your house?" 25 bucks was enough for the bus and at least a small offering, right?
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JW scrubs at the back of his head and actually looks sheepish.
"Ever been to Mississippi?"
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He's quiet for a moment, trying to just stare at him, daring him to say 'gotcha' or 'ahaha, hilarious, no I'm on King street' But no. He just stands there looking dumb and small.
"Are you fucking kidding me dude?"
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He grits his teeth.
"If you don't want to do it, just say so!"
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"No, no. I've...I can do it, just give me a minute," He's going to have to make up another dead relative to get the time off again isn't he? God, he was going to get fired.
He looks around a moment before standing and walking over to the fridge, a jar of change sitting on top of it. He takes out a couple quarters and sighs, "I've gotta go use the phone down stairs. You uh...want anything to eat while you wait?"
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The question of hunger gets a cagey, noncommittal grunt out of him. He is very, very hungry but right now that feels like admitting to a failure and he's already fucked up enough.
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"Here, you obviously don't have to eat it all, I'll be back."
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"Hnn. Thanks." He manages. This is a transaction. But he's still at Hanna's mercy. He'd been pretty concerned when he first knocked. If he got the wrong address and the wrong person beheld a tiny person at their door, all it would have taken was a boot to wipe him out of existence.
God, he's so tired.
JW grabs up the toothpick and stabs at the macaroni. He manages to spear a single ronus like a fish and dunk it in the cheese before taking a bite. Itss kind of overwhelming at his size, but holy shit it's so good after all that traveling. He gnaws on it like a starved wolf and also makes a few starved wolf sounds.
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He looked a little tired as he had come back up the stairs, managing to avoid summoning Mrs. Blaney again as he opened the door and slipped back into his apartment. Now to pack a few things and figure out how the hell they were going to get there.
"You want to give me your address, I was gonna just put it in mapquest, see what the internet tells us before I totally give up on it and find a fucking road map."
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"Sure. It's 29 Pecan Dr., Hawksaw Mississippi." He takes another big bite of macaroni. It's so good after his long journey.