Starring:
Summary: A chance meeting under the winter moon.
Date It Happened: December 2nd, 2007
Uneven Paths
Central Park
The doctors said they were going to monitor him for a day to make sure all traces of the virus were gone and he was all better, Tyson stated otherwise and eventually managed to get away. Such was the case and out past midnight, he is getting some fresh air in the darkness; content at his purchases that were waiting for him at the Brawler's Headquarters… he had work to do…
Liam is where he was the night before. Well, near there at least. The stones to one side of the pathway have been meticulously organized. A straight line from start to finish, making a gradual turn, even where the corners are sharp. The source of this work? Well, that would be Liam. He continues with the borderlying stones on the one side of the path in nearly complete darkness. He works slow, not in any hurry if that could show. At such a pace though, the work that had already been done would have taken a couple of nights work. His hood is down, and his head revealed with piercings all. His empty gaze spent on constantly correcting the detailed nature of his labour. Even a gunshot from across the park would be hard pressed to snap him from this state.
Walking along the dark path, in otherwise silence, Tyson hears shuffled footsteps. Nothing more alerting than that, he keeps his eyes out curiously to make sure he doesn't miss out on anything trying to harm him. Somebody's paranoid~… Eventually, though, Tyson does see someone and in an attempt to quickly discern from potential friend or foe, he calls out to the… guy lying down stones… , "Hey, buddy… what's-umm…" Tyson approaches, "What's up?"
Liam continues for only a moment or two more. He would have stopped right away, if the current stone below him weren't so off base. He pushes into place before casting his eyes up, around, and to the shadowed form of another. He blinks, drops his jaw slightly, and clears his throat. He straightens up, but does not walk toward Tyson; yet. "N-nothin'" Liam stutters as he sizes up the stranger. He shifts uncomfortably, casts his eyes either direction down the path until looking to Tyson again with a frown. "You're going to hurt me, aren't you?" he asks softly, and with some obvious signs of worry.
Tyson is abruptly taken aback by the guy's accusation, "What!? No, nuh-uh, I'm not that guy." He shakes his head and takes a step back in order to give the guy some more space if he wanted it. "I was just worried you were trying something that was going to blow up Central Park or something…" Having been shrugging, he peers back at Liam with some apprehension, "You're not going to blow up Central Park or something, are you?"
Liam squints and cocks his head back. As if the preposterous, but apparently not for the right reasons. "With rocks?" he states with a tone of utter disbelief, his volume remaining low however. The portion going unspoken being wether or not he would actually blow up Central Park. That portion requires some thought. His eyes go blank, he needs to think on it. "No" he adds finally, shaking his head energetically. "No, I… don't think I have any reason to …maybe?" he concludes, still put off balance by meeting someone with such an accusation.
"Okay then…" Tyson nods slowly, before coming back with, "Well, what if they were some sort of solid explosive mix that you were going to blow up leaving a trail of explosions and plant genocide…?" His accusation made since, but he still felt like a crazy person for offering it out, until the guy says, 'maybe', "I wouldn't, because I think I would have to try and stop you from lighting it." Being cooped up in a hospital for a week sucked and Tyson was going to catch up on lost fights, that were also justified if only in the ring.
The severely off-balanced Liam drops his jaw slightly for a second time. Confusion shifts back into worry and he steps back slowly. One or two steps, nothing more; he doesn't want to evoke anything. He stutters a phrase of nonsense before finally finding his voice. "You said you weren't going to hurt me!" he exclaims with a higher pitch to his voice, the volume however, is as low as always. His teeth chatter a little with a peak of fear, Liam is no fighting man.
"Are you going to blow up Central Park?" Tyson asks, not moving, not wanting to provoke another feared interaction. This would be the second time, maybe he shouldn't walk out in parks at night?
"No!" he states with an intensly nervous haste. Another two steps back, well, one and a half. Halfway through the second step, he misjudges an incline and trips. He falls back, into darkness and into the grass off of the side of the pathway. 'Oof' is the entire quantity of his vocal surprise, and pain. His arms rise in front of him and his knees rise toward his chest. As if he expects Tyson to attack at that exact moment.
Tyson is about to jump after Liam to catch him in an attempt to prove him wrong about being a bad guy, but he instead simply let's it go. At any rate, the guy wasn't going to blow anything of. "Okay, then… Let's be friends, then?" He even extends a hand out slowly to help the guy up, taking a couple steps towards the poor guy, just hoping he didn't take off running, having all ready noticed his defensive backing away.
Liam doesn't take the hand, in fact he watches it with more than a little caution. He helps himself up by further dirtying his hoodie in pushing himself to his feet, if it could truly be dirtier. He takes a step back, but not a fearful posture to him. He wants a safe space, if such could be noticable by average perception. "Sorry" he says nervously, avoiding eye contact as he whipes dirt from his hands onto his cargo pants. "You just surprised me is all" he adds, looking about for a moment. "People don't talk to me much out here… expcept yesterday… and now" he finalizes with a nod in saying his part.
Tyson doesn't react, "Yeah… I can see how you would be a little freaked out… believe or not, it isn't the first time I've scared somebody by even walking out at night…" He chuckles a little, but nothing, he hoped, that would give the other guy reason to suspect anything nefarious on his part. "At any rate, I'm about as harmless as you can get… if you're not supposed to be fighting me in the ring, that is…" He shrugs, "I'm a fighter at the Brawler's HQ, good times there."
Liam listens, at least he seems good at that. His eyes wander nearly constantly, but not in such a way that would imply serious mental issues. More along the lines of a high, wether or not that is what he is indeed experiencing. He nods along, in familiarity with the first portion of Tyson's speech, but not so much with the second. "Is that like, …a fight club" he asks in a near whisper. One must not talk about such things, there are rules to consider. "Why would you do something like that?" he ponders aloud in afterthought, his words very much propeled by whatever happens to pop into his head at those moments.
Tyson nods, "Yeah, it's a fight club…" He hates using that term, but that was essentially what it was, "Though, they have got food, drink, and dancing. I'd go there even if I didn't work there… but really, I like going there because you get paid for fighting, or placing bets…. as for why…?" Tyson thinks about that a while coming up with a good answer. "It's like… catching your breath and knowing you could not be breathing just as easily as you are. Win… Lose… it's fine, especially cuz I don't let anybody die in my ring." He says with much certainty.
Liam squints in trying to process such actions, but ultimatly opts to just nod along as if he understands. Eye contact is a no-no though, something he avoids just as much as physical contact itself. He clears his throat, softly to buy a little bit of time for himself. A defence mechanism he had created as not to seem slow when he is overthinking a situation. He'd just call it thinking though. "Doesn't it hurt?" he asks, a curious tone to his voice, astonished a little maybe as well. He can't really relate, at least by the look of him. A slim kid with not much to his name at all.
"Does it hurt?" Tyson asks incredulously, "Yeah… it's brawling. It's going to hurt a lot… if you don't dodge, I dodge. Very well sometimes." He shrugs, noting all the guy's habits and growing curious about him and his health. "Are you all right, though? You didn't bruise your tailbone when you fell, did you? Or are you sick, cuz, I just gone with a stint of that and you can get treated at any hospital nowadays…"
Liam shakes his head, twice when appropriate. Not finding any reason to nod this time around. He shuffles on his feet, warming his toes and takes the time to mentally list his current ailments. As if he had health insurance, unlikely. "No…" he starts, eyes rising a little but not nearly far enough to meet the other's eyes. "No, I'm fine" he admits, forcing a weak smile to his lips to further his healthy status. Well, as healthy as one on the streets in winter can be. Still no nod. "Hospital?" he mumbles, perhaps not even meaning to say such aloud.
"Yeah… Mount Sinnai is just outside the park if you go…" Tyson recalls, only to come short of an accurate 'where' to go to. "I forget. Sorry, I wasn't really thinking about it. But yeah, you can definitely go there if you need to… I'm Tyson, call me Ty if you want." For some reason, he feels comfortable introducing himself; maybe he was getting the feeling the other guy just really needed a connection…
Liam nods, finally in acceptance. Not exactly defined as to what statement he is indeed nodding to. "Ty" he repeats, his smile not so fake any longer as he nods and moves his hands to his cargo pants pockets. A delay, his eyes widen. Realization of what needed to be said this time. He forgot on many occassion, not the contents but to say them at all. "Liam" he states quite plainly, his volume never seeming to rise out of it's near mumbled volume. "I don't think I need to be going to the hospital" he adds, even with directions he wouldn't have truly considered it. He was, again, quite healthy considering his circumstances.
"All right, Liam, I guess you'd know yourself best…" Tyson assumes, feeling the same away about his circumstances. "At any rate, I need to get going… if you don't have anything else to do, do you want to walk to the Bronx or something? I know we don't know each other, but I don't know, you seem cool enough?" He shrugs, wanting company himself now, but really not expecting it for his jaunt, if nothing else, home.
Liam looks torn. His eyes wander to the stones he had been straightening out, what he can see of them in darkness that is. Than to the sky, the night sky. He can't tell the time by it, but the very least he can tell that it is indeed quite late to be doing such work. Eventually his eyes find Tyson for a third and forth time and he nods, at first uncertain, but gaining confidance with each rise and fall of his chin. There is some hesitance to his features though, "Which way is the Bronx?" he asks. He may have been here for a while, but a map has never been among his possessions.
"It's up north, east some, I think- but… aren't you worried about getting home." Tyson asks, thinking the same for himself. This guy, however, was worrying him. He didn't look sick, but maybe a little drugged… Tyson hopes he was having fun, at least.
Liam would have looked east and north as mentioned, but that was lost on him in this place as well. A shrug, a clearing of his throat, and he shakes his head to the question. "No" is the extent of his answer to that and he smiles still. Drugs may not really be the cause, but at the very least, they would appear to be. "But… if you're in a hurry, I wouldn't want you to slow you down" he adds, perhaps misinterpreting the extent of the sudden question as to his origin, at least partially.
Tyson shakes his head, "You're fine, man. I all ready talked to my Dad, he knows I'm walking. We've got time, so… I take it, that's a yes to a walk? I'm going to walk, and you're more than welcome to join me as I go." He says, all ready taking steps towards down the suspected northbound path to home.
Liam takes a step forward, stops, than follows. His hestitancy is always apparent, and as is his nervousness. His feet hit the ground as softly as his voice would exit his mouth. But on the factor of his feet, it could merely be because the grips are worn to such a state that they could mimic socks. "Yes" he states, instead of merely nodding again. Not much of a talker, at least under such circumstances as he falls in beside Tyson. A little to the side and back, but still right there.