Early Morning Jog (open!)

Four-thirty AM. Not too early, not too late. Louis had already gotten himself up and dressed (heavy basketball shorts and Underarmor leggings, his only pair of sneakers and a Chicago Bears jacket), although he had, for the time being, foregone a shower and breakfast. They had to wait.

Right now was running time. First workout of the day. Nothing to wake a guy up better than a three-mile run in the fog and rain, before there were too many cars and before anyone else in the Hideout woke up. (If he timed it right, he would be back at just the right time to shower up while everyone else had breakfast)

He knelt down at the doorway, lacing up his shoes and trying to get the bad taste of protein drink off his tongue. Louis rooted through his duffel bag for a short time to make sure he wasn't missing anything he needed.

Music (check, in his pocket and playlist selected), photo ID (check, a guy can never be too careful), leg weights (check, already on), cell phone...

Check. Just a precaution, because only three people had his cell number. Roxy, of course, for emergencies only, his boss at work, though he never called, and... well, Amelia.

Amelia. Again Amelia.

He made sure to grab a few dollars out of the duffel bag on a second thought: if he lengthened the run he could pick up some flowers before coming back to the Hideout. It had been a while, and even if nobody noticed the flowers in the (mostly) empty field, it was a calming thought, as well as his only way of coping.

Louis gently kicked the duffel bag off to the side of the entryway, cringing as his welding mask and heavy steel-toed work boots clinked inside. It was actually pretty odd as far as duffel bags go: he didn't even know for sure it was a duffel bag in the first place. From each end hung two straps with side release buckles (one kind on each side). Two were attached, the top right and bottom left, while the other two hung awkwardly down over the reinforced leather (or was it even leather?) end capping. Most strange of all was the lettering on the side: a foreign language that nobody seemed able to place, accented by Irish subtitles: unfortunately, Louis wasn't Irish enough to know what it said, should it even be in Irish and not Gaelic or something else (he hoped to God that it wasn't Welsh).

With the final observation of his strange life (how could a life be so strange and yet so bare?), he opened the door, clenching his teeth against the cold, and took his running steps off into the lightening world.

Louis cursed inwardly. There was someone already out. Did he have to have his run at 2 AM and go back to bed to stay away from everyone? 4:30 was early enough... he tried to scoot off to one side to get away from the girl, but it wasn't going to do any good, really. He could always move to the other side of the street, but that was just a little rude, and should she be the confrontational type, he'd be in trouble then. He decided to try and run around her as best he could, then, but as he passed he bumped her elbow fairly hard (it was always hard to navigate around people on these narrow sidewalks, being as big as he was)

((Should he knock her papers over?))

}good plan.

I almost screamed when something hit my elbow, launching me sideways. He actually did shoot me! Oh my god I was dying! I was-not dying. I picked myself out of the flower bed and stood tall. All of my dignity was not going away. I prepared to confront the guy, crossing my arms over my chest. But my angry expression froze on my face as I saw my papers scattered across the sidewalk and falling into the street. Then I knew. He had meant to knock me over, so he could steal the folders and run. I felt like sitting down and bursting into tears. But I brushed that childish thought away. I knelt and started scooping up the fallen papers. If he wanted the stupid will, he could have it for all I cared. I didn't ask for money! All I wanted was a mother! I was furious. He could have it. The least I could do was help collect them, and then he could be on his way and none of this could have ever happened!

Oh gods, this was bad. Louis swore inwardly: this, of course, meant interaction, and interaction was never good. Reluctantly, after standing around awkwardly and wringing his hands for a few seconds, he leaned down to help her pick up the papers, letting the earbuds he had been listening to fall onto his shoulders. His hands shook as he picked them up: they looked like legal notices but the words were big and confusing and he couldn't tell what half of them said, so he just made sure they were all facing the right way as he gathered them from the pavement. She seemed just as nervous as he, so that was good enough: maybe she wouldn't try to speak.

Then he realized that he, being as big as he was, had actually knocked her into the flowerbed. That was completely unacceptable. Amelia, if she were here, would have been slapping him about the ears and forcing him to apologize, and he determined that he would, if he could get the words out. Slowly he opened his mouth, but nothing voiced, not even a croaking noise, so he shut it again. Louis would try later. There was still paper to pick up.

This was certainly embarrassing. Louis was being yelled at by a small, teenage girl and he was actually scared by it. He nearly dropped the papers and stood up uncertainly, glancing around in confusion. The papers were in a messy stack in his hands: with shaking fingers he tried to organize them into a neat pile (to no avail) before handing them back to her. Then he stepped back, wringing his hands in front of his stomach and shifting his weight. A noise rose from the back of his throat: something that sounded vaguely like a person trying to talk after a long silent spell.

His brain was frantically screaming 'run away, run away!', but once he saw her trip and fall, he knew that he had to man up and go calm her down. Gingerly he stepped towards her, holding the papers close to his chest, before kneeling down beside the girl and reaching out a tenative hand. It had been so long since he last actually touched a person that he was afraid to, so he pulled it back and stared at her. After a moment, though, he offered the hand back to her, leaving the folders sitting on the concrete beside his knees.

As soon as he could Louis pulled his hand back, face glowing with a shade of red. He shrugged in answer to her question, glancing down at their feet. Eventually he bent over to puck the papers up again, then looked back up to give them to her.

At that moment he noticed something: her eyes glowed softly with some unnatural light. It was captivating, almost like...

... he had seen that light before. He knew it. Louis may not interact with the people he lived with, but he still recognized that light. His head tilted to one side, a quizzical look on his face, as he mouthed a word without sound. Slowly he handed the papers back, keeping a curious eye on her face.

It definitely wasn't safe to let her walk on her own, not at this hour. They could still be out and about very easily in the low light. He knew he should follow her and make sure she made it to her destination safely, maybe even try to get a contact number to give to Roxy, but he was so nervous... there was no way he could do it.

Louis hesitated for a minute, then started off behind her and caught up to the girl in a few short strides, walking beside her. He cleared his throat a few times before murmuring, almost too low for her to hear, "Walk with you," in his thick Irish accent. His face turned red over the freckles and he twisted a short lock of hair around his finger as he kept his eyes down to avoid contact.

He let go of the loose lock of hair and shoved both his hands into his pockets, still looking at his feet. Even glancing down, he could see the glow coming off her. There was no doubt about it. He turned his eyes slightly to glance at her face from his higher vantage point, studying her eyes and praying to whatever gods he could remember that she didn't meet his gaze. Louis glanced back down and rooted through his pocket for his cell phone. Once his finger touched it he pulled it out and flicked it open: it was old and ratty, but it still worked for what little calls and texts he had to make: usually to tell Roxy when he got paid or ask a question to his boss at work. Once more he opened up the contacts list: sure enough, only three. Roxy, Boss, and Amelia. His lips thinned at the sight of Amelia's name, but he quickly found the menu to add a new contact. He paused at the name field before adding 'Girl From Town' and tabbing down to the number field. His face reddened and he felt the jitters setting in as he wrestled with himself to ask her for her number.

((He's going to give it to Roxy once she's done transforming <D))

The tall man bit down hard on his lower lip, ears burning, as he handed the cell phone to the girl beside him. There was a good chance she would deny him the number, and if that were the case he would have to... regrettably.. speak with her. With his words. Out loud. God, how he dreaded it. If she did give him the number, of course, it would go to Roxy once she was done with her transformation, and then his part would be through, wordlessly. Louis licked his lips, chapped from the cool weather.

Surprisingly enough, she had given him the number. Louis was thoroughly surprised as she handed him the phone, which he slipped back into the pocket of his hoodie. Later, after he finished his run, he would change the title to 'call this number' and give his phone to Roxy, assuming she was done transforming by now. The girl who had given him the number, however, looked nervous about it. Louis glanced down at her quickly, clearing his throat softly. "Sorry about knocking you over..." he mumbled, trailing off as he studied his feet.

Louis nodded slowly and reached a hand up to scratch his jaw. His muscles had begun to get cold again: it would be painful when he started running again, but he wanted to make sure the girl made it safely to her destination, with how nervous she was. He glanced up at the tall building before him, a few doors away, with a sign out front proclaiming it as a legal office.

Louis shrugged slightly at her offer: he didn't plan on talking again any time soon, but he did wave to her as she left before turning, replacing his headphones, and starting back off on his three-mile jog to the flower shop.