[Walter Bell]

❝

we never got to finish the book of you and i...

Walter had to stop himself from skipping around the cafe, he hadn’t expected for his day at work to go so smoothly. He was on fire today, creating quality coffee fast while getting to practice his coffee foam artwork. He had made countless beautiful swirls and shapes in the morning, from flowers to hearts, and he was getting increasingly better, which only filled Walter with more confidence and pep in his step. He felt bulletproof; there was absolutely nothing that could stop his groove.

It was now around noon, the sun beaming through the windows, creating a warm and welcoming kind of vibe around in the shop. Walter hadn’t even needed to use his gift that day to bring light into someone’s life, because the serene environment in the shop had already worked wonders in most of the customers that day. Both of these factors only continued to make Walter feel as light as a feather.

Now, of course, it wasn’t that perfect of a day. Walter, being the optimist he is, had taken a lot of these things into account after a rough week and declared it was one of his best days, when in reality it was just a normal day at the coffee shop. That didn’t stop him, though, and Walter found himself humming a little happy tune after a while of this. He only stopped after his manager complained about it, but he didn’t take much note of her grumpiness.

Walter was about to take his 30-minute lunch break after working a while at the register when a notably athletic-looking customer came into the shop, not too handsome but with nice facial features that Walter took note of. Walter decided to take the customer anyways, because why not show a little kindness? None of his co-workers were even out of the kitchen at the moment, so no one could have taken over anyway. Showcasing one of his warmest smiles, Walter began to take the man’s order. “Hey there, welcome! What can I get for you today? The menu is above my head if you need it, and feel free to take as long as you need.”

✎ tags -- (Luck Harris )
✉ words: 360
※ notes: I'm excited to kick this thread off! also, please forgive me in advance, i suck at thread titles lol. hmu if you want any changes <3

MADE BY MIZO

[googlefont=Open+Sans]

[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

[googlefont=Bitter]

[attr="class","post-frosttalonsector-o"]

[attr="class","frosttalonsector-post"]

FISHING FOR THE ANSWERS

with a line and sinker; we don't always see the bright side

The Sector wasn't perfect by any means. The thought had occurred to Luck a countless number of times throughout the years he'd worked for them. But it couldn't be more obvious than it was now, as he thumbed open the file that was plopped wordlessly on his desk as soon as he came into the office.[break][break]

'Walter Bell, 22.' [break][break]

The black-and-white picture printed in the left corner of the cover page was a dated one. A mugshot, of all things, and the numbers in its corner evidenced the young man was no older than fifteen or sixteen at the time it was taken. Even within the vague grain of ink on paper, Luck could see unhappiness. The boy looked absolutely haunted. Bleary or intoxicated and like he hadn't a single friend in the world. [break][break]

Luck closed the folder then, only a brief minute after opening it. He leaned back in his seat and wiped at his face. Then, after retreating to the breakroom for a cup of coffee, he returned, sighed in preparation, and leaned over his desk with a fist against his temple as he flipped the file back open and began.[break][break]

At twelve years old, his father had been killed. It was the opening statement. The very first bullet point of a long list. Luck couldn't help but think — a bit derisively — how it was because it'd been the initial moment that Walter had become relevant at all to the Sector. Become a "problem" to be monitored. They didn't care about anything before that pivotal moment when things went wrong. [break][break]

Gifted with emotional manipulation. Luck's brow lifted and his lips tucked appreciatively. Was that why they'd given the file to him? Gifted, also, with a more uncontrollable attack on the senses; an unwieldy power that'd killed his mother and sister (as well as everyone else) at his father's funeral service. An incident that the Sector blanketed under the guise of a mass shooting.[break][break]

There were more pictures (but these ones, Luck didn't study as closely). [break][break]

They'd let the two surviving boys — twins, now orphaned — be put into foster care and kept Walter numbed on medication until he was sixteen. Four whole years. Important, developmental years in a young boy's life. Then Walter had been pulled from high school for drinking. Big surprise, he wasn't handling things well. Had sought another deadening means to cope. And — another careless fumble on everyone's part — rather than being taken under anyone's wing, they'd sent the boy to jail. Where his ability manifested and killed a whole room full of people yet again. [break][break]

"Jesus fucking Christ," Luck muttered under his breath, smothering a frown into his palm. Why hadn't the Sector stepped in before the incarceration? Given the struggling boy therapy, guidance, and empathy, instead of a cell? Actually helped him? Why had they allowed another incident like that to happen and only inserted themselves and seen Walter through rehab afterward?[break][break]

In any case, they couldn't do anything about that now. Walter had moved to Los Eurosia and, perhaps because of their horrible lack of initiative before (or maybe Luck's branch was just more proactive than the folks in Washington), they wanted eyes on him. Wanted to gauge how he was doing. And the task had trickled down to Luck in the form of a file thrown on his desk. [break][break]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[break]

He'd been given the discretion to go about the whole thing as he pleased. And a quick week passed before, one day during lunch, he decided he'd make a start. With Walter's file tucked in his bag, he made his way to the coffeeshop where the young man was currently employed. [break][break]

When he stepped inside, it took all of three seconds for his gaze to find his mark. He was the only man currently at the counter and, upon meeting Luck's eye, his face split into a wide, warm beam; an expression that'd befit the opening slide of any "customer service orientation" video and worlds different than the mugshot Luck had studied prior. He called out a cheery welcome and Luck quirked his mouth acknowledgingly as he stepped to the register.[break][break]

"Thanks," he responded casually, eye lifting to the menu above Walter's head before flitting back down with a subtle gleam. "But why do I get the weird feeling you were about to go on break?" A brow quirked and his smile spread the tiniest bit wider. "I can wait for someone else if you were. I'm in no hurry."[break][break]

That was true. He'd planned to stick around the shop for the entirety of his hour-long lunch break. He had even brought his laptop so he could look busy while he felt Walter out; taking cautious note of his interactions with customers and coworkers, any fluctuations in mood, and developing a general idea of how he might be handling... well... life.[break][break]

"But ah," Luck chuckled, nose wrinkling with a hint of playful accusation as he raised his attention back to the board and fished the wallet from his back pocket. "You're probably just going to insist, aren'tcha? The sooner I order, I suppose, the sooner you can get back to it." His gaze roamed quickly about the menu, then sifted to the display cabinet of pastries. "Just a caramel macchiato, large, and... a couple of the croissants... just the regular ones, nothing fancy."

everybody needs some sympathy[break]hard to get a grip with all these broken fingers

Tag: Walter Bell[break]
Give me a nudge for any changes![break]
Especially if any of my "Sector notes" are unfitting! <3

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[Walter Bell]

❝

we never got to finish the book of you and i...

Walter just chuckled after hearing the first part of the man’s response. He was a little surprised that the man could tell he was about to go on break; Walter hadn’t on purpose made it look obvious, but he honestly didn’t care about that or that the man was taking up more of his time. His only intention was to help, and help he would until another employee came out.

Walter carefully listened to his order, then nodded his head over to the tables near the right. “Feel free to take a seat over there while I get your things ready. I’ll only be a minute.” He once again smiled, then turned his attention away from the customer at hand and immediately got to work on his Caramel Macchiato, swiftly going along the process of creating it. He brewed the coffee, added the correct syrups and ingredients, and crafted its own unique foam in under three minutes. He added his own unique little orange swirl in the foam, a delicate little swish of color, and it was done.

After grabbing a couple croissants, he was about to yell out the name on the reciept, but noticed that one of his co-workers had emerged from the depths of the breakroom and was now at the counter. Walter smirked. He decided to take the consumables to the customer himself, which after reading the receipt, he quickly discovered his name was Luck. Walter emitted a quiet “Hm!” He liked that name.

Walter strolled over to Luck, giving him another bright beam before setting down his drink and croissants on the table gently. “Hey there, your order is ready,” he started in a calm but slightly cheery voice. He continued, trying to engage in conversation. “I really like your name, by the way. Not sure if that’s weird or not, haha, I just love the sound of it.” He repeated it out loud once more, wanting to hear the lightweight sound if it, “Luck.”

✎ tags -- (Luck Harris )
✉ words: 330
※ notes: once again, hmu if you want any changes! i did kinda force luck to sit down so tell me if you didn't like that lol

MADE BY MIZO

[googlefont=Open+Sans]

[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

[googlefont=Bitter]

[attr="class","post-frosttalonsector-o"]

[attr="class","frosttalonsector-post"]

FISHING FOR THE ANSWERS

with a line and sinker; we don't always see the bright side

Luck tucked his mouth amicably as Walter took his order and payment, then left with a nod to seat himself as advised. He chose a table nearest the windows, settled, and unslung his shoulder bag to nudge into the chair beside him. Then he glanced out into the street, pretending to observe the people milling by as he let his empathy seep from him. Not yet reaching or seeking, but kept patiently idle around him.[break][break]

Walter reappeared at his table and Luck turned his face to him, nodding appreciatively when the plate and drinks were set before him. Close to him now, he could feel that the other man's feelings aligned fairly well with his bright smile and cheery voice. "Oh, thanks," Luck half-chuckled the response when Walter said he liked his name. [break][break]

"Some people find it odd," and he always found it so amusing when they told him such (as if they somehow expected him to have a response for the admittance). "And I thought it was 'too weird' when I was a kid." And then he'd moved away from his small, nowhere town, and been embarrassed of it — for the longest time thinking it was too simple. Too hick. "It was defaced a lot when written down, always a little too easy to rhyme, and there are some bad jokes that can be made. But..." Luck shrugged. "I like it now." [break][break]

He dropped his gaze briefly to his plate of croissants, breathed a quiet laugh, then glanced back up and leaned the tiniest bit forward. "Guess you could say I lucked into it," he arched a brow, making it clear that that was one of those aforementioned "bad jokes". He shook his head and settled back. "Or maybe my mom was just hopeful when I was born and she named me." [break][break]

The mention of his mother was (regrettably) intentional and Luck inwardly braced — cautiously feeling for any resulting emotion of Walter's that the aside might elicit. It felt a bit callous. Like he was making a study instead of conversation or prodding a beast just to observe how it reacted. But... despite feeling a brief wash of guilt... he supposed it was the reason he was there. To gauge how Walter handled those things; how he might be coping with that specific incident from his past and how readily the memory of it might leap to mind during the innocuous day-to-day.[break][break]

Luck knew better than many that the loss of a parent, especially when young, never really stopped hurting. He was much older than Walt and had lost his mother over seventeen years ago. She'd been absent from his life longer now than she'd ever been alive in it and, fairly soon, he'd surpass the age she'd been when she'd died. [break][break]

But still, even now, thinking of her never failed to thread a faint, nipping cold through the middle of him; a certain, cooling wistfulness — like a reminder of vacancy. It was easier, so many years later, to disregard it, or to transform it into something warmer like fond remembrance, but it was still... very much felt. [break][break]

And his mother had died relatively peacefully. It'd been quick and bloodless. Walter's, on the other hand... the images in the file tucked inside his bag flashed in his mind. But he didn't linger on them. He simply ducked his chin with another light, airy chuckle, studied the foam swirled artfully atop his drink, and waited a purposeful moment before continuing — giving no indication that he was being as observant as he was. "You seem like you enjoy your job..." he trailed, looking up again and letting his eye draw to the name written on the other man's apron. "Walter." He quirked his lips fleetingly. "That's refreshing. I bet the regulars are happy to see you when they drop in."

everybody needs some sympathy[break]hard to get a grip with all these broken fingers

Tag: Walter Bell[break]
Give me a nudge for any changes![break]
This is such a messy post, I'm sorry XD

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[Walter Bell]

❝

we never got to finish the book of you and i...

Walter carefully listened to Luck’s story of his name, letting out a small chuckle to his bad pun. In his positive mindspace, Walter didn’t understand how people could hate a name like Luck. Sure, it wasn’t a very common name, but it had a nice ring to it and slipped easily off the tongue. Quick, but not sharp, which Walter liked. Luck’s mom had good taste. Walter did think it was a little weird how Luck’s expression changed slightly at the mention of his mother, but Walter decided to shrug it off. It probably wasn’t that big of a deal. For a second he thought of his own mother, his expression faintly faltering, before snapping back to reality just as quickly as he left it.

As he continued to listen, Walter let out a laughy breath, a little flattered from Luck’s comment on being a refreshing face. Walter took it as a compliment, smiling warmly back at Luck. He was glad to be having a nice conversation with a new face, hoping there might be an opportunity to make a friend today.

Walter began to untie his work apron as he responded to Luck. “I do enjoy my job most of the time! Sometimes, you know, I have bad days, but doesn’t everyone? I make people happy here, and that’s all I need and want.” After Walter finished slipping off his apron, he slung it on the back of the chair in front of him, which was at the same table as Luck’s. He looked at Luck, unsure of what his reaction would be to sitting with someone he just met. Just to make sure it was alright, Walter asked, “You mind if I spend my lunch break here?”

✎ tags -- (Luck Harris )
✉ words: 289
※ notes: sorry if it sounds a little weird, i had to force myself to write this one. lol.

MADE BY MIZO

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[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

[googlefont=Bitter]

[attr="class","post-frosttalonsector-o"]

[attr="class","frosttalonsector-post"]

FISHING FOR THE ANSWERS

with a line and sinker; we don't always see the bright side

There wasn't much to read. Walter laughed quietly at his rambling, then again at his joke, and his face only gave the most subtle of pulls at the mention of mothers. Something Luck couldn't, with any level of certainty, assign meaning to, especially since his emotions — they felt warm and bright, calmly so — hardly shifted. It was more breathy laughs and pleasant grins. His responses were nothing but continued, light-hearted cheer. If there'd been a flash of anything, it'd been too fleeting, or too muted, for Luck to discern. [break][break]

So far, it seemed Walter was well-adjusted enough. Maybe there was nothing to worry about. Nothing about what Luck could feel from him felt masking or ingenuine, nor did it feel shifty or unsteady. [break][break]

Luck nodded at his answer about liking his job... most of the time. Walter admitted that there were bad days but, on the whole, he found his work fulfilling. Or, more specifically, that he found "making others happy" fulfilling. While the notion was in no way alarming, Luck couldn't help but want to shake his head. Surely there had to be more that he wanted, right? Coffee shops were jobs for college students. Second jobs. Not something someone imagined they'd do for the rest of their lives. [break][break]

When Walter asked if he could spend his break there, at his table, Luck blinked up at him. For a moment, he considered refusing. Claiming he "had work to do, actually", while patting at his briefcase and offering an apologetic, airy chuckle. Just to see how Walter responded to even the most innocent of rejections. What he would do, and how he would feel, when he was alone. It would certainly be more telling. [break][break]

But... [break][break]

"Not at all, go ahead," Luck answered easily, lifting a foot under the table to prod gingerly into a leg of Walter's intended seat; nudging it a fraction from the table invitingly. It was a little unexpected — why someone would want to spend their limited free time with a random stranger, Luck couldn't exactly resonate with — but he supposed it made things easier. Though he'd imagined he would simply eavesdrop, observe, and feel with Walter none the wiser... he couldn't find fault in a more direct approach. His lunch break was likely longer than Walter's, too (so he'd still have the chance to watch unobtrusively afterward if he felt the need). [break][break]

Luck dropped his eye back to his plate of croissants, then pushed it a little closer to the center of the table. "Are you not going to get something for yourself? I'll share, if you want." He folded his arms under himself and leaned forward; settling more comfortably and drawing his feet back to cross at the ankles beneath his seat. [break][break]

Small talk really wasn't a strength of his, typically. Certainly not with people he didn't know. But when it came to his work with the Sector... things were made a little easier. There was a point to it. A reason to reach. To ask things he'd (more than likely) find too forward and prying to ask otherwise. He'd worked with the Sector for over eight years now. And it'd been Hell in the beginning. Some days — more than usual as of late — it still was. But he had long ago grown more adept in coming across as someone more at ease than he truly was. [break][break]

Luck cleared his throat. "I know you said you're happy here and all, but... surely there's something else you'd like to do? Something you're more... passionate about?" [break][break]

"What do you do for fun?" "Do you have many friends?" "People to whom it's important that you're happy?" The questions all queued on his tongue. But Luck bit them back and only lifted his brow curiously. He wanted this to feel casual and unscripted, not like a bombardment or an interview. He'd have to be... just a little... tactful.

everybody needs some sympathy[break]hard to get a grip with all these broken fingers

Tag: Walter Bell[break]
Give me a nudge for any changes!

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[Walter Bell]

❝

we never got to finish the book of you and i...

There was a slight glimmer of hesitation on Luck’s face, as if he thought briefly of saying no. Walter’s expression stayed unchanged, but a couple of thoughts began to flash through his head. He was going a little too fast with Luck… he didn’t want to scare him away. And he certainly didn’t want to mess up an opportunity to get acquainted with someone new. After a quick reminder to himself that he and Luck had literally just met, his focus shifted back to the table in front of him, Luck’s mouth open as if he was about to say something.

Oh. It seems as if friendship might still be on the table.

With a delighted smile on his face, Walter pulled the chair away from the table and sat down, crossing his arms and putting his elbows on the wooden table, using his arms there to pull himself forward into a comfortable position. He quickly brainstormed things to talk about, a couple ideas coming to mind. He wondered if he played any sports, what his hair routine looked like, what his work was like…

It was then that Luck began to speak, offering him some of his food. The sensation of an empty stomach suddenly struck Walter, suddenly remembering that it was his lunch break and he was hungry. Blushing, slightly embarrassed, Walter kindly waved a gentle hand towards luck. “Oh, no, you’re very kind, but you really don’t have to. I’m the doofus who forgot he was hungry.” After quickly chuckling at himself and his excitement, he pushed his legs outwards from under the table to let himself up. “I’ll be right back.” After a quick apologetic smile, he began his way towards the front register again, where the glass case of pre-made pastries sat on display. He quickly fished out a $5 bill from his pocket and put it in the tip jar, then snatched a blueberry muffin from the case, along with a package of sliced apples. With that, he quietly slunk back to the table just in time for Luck’s second question.

Oof. Walter’s smile dipped the slightest bit. When it came to true passions, Walter couldn’t think of any off the top of his head… sure, he had lots of hobbies and childhood dream jobs, but nothing seemed quite right for Walter. The remembrance of his lack of schooling also caused another chip in his expression. He quickly shook it off, though, setting his mind to the present, thinking about what made him happy: experiencing others be happy.

Walter’s face returned to its normal state, a warm smile with a drop of curiosity in his eyes. He looked at the ceiling as he answered Luck’s question. “I’d define a passion as something you do that makes you happy, fulfilled even. For me, that thing is making others feel loved and welcome.” His eyes drifted down back to Luck, something else coming to mind. “That or becoming a music artist, but music’s just a hobby for me.” He let out a breathy giggle, slightly shrugging his shoulders. He felt satisfied with his answer, leaning back in his chair with a slightly triumphant demeanor.

✎ tags -- (Luck Harris )
✉ words: ~525
※ notes: let me know for any changes!

MADE BY MIZO

[googlefont=Open+Sans]

[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

[googlefont=Bitter]

[attr="class","post-frosttalonsector-o"]

[attr="class","frosttalonsector-post"]

FISHING FOR THE ANSWERS

with a line and sinker; we don't always see the bright side

Still brandishing a wide beam, Walter settled in the seat across from him. Luck could feel his enthusiasm and curiosity like a heavy, buffeting pulse. And briefly, he had to wonder: if the man was so unabashedly happy and pleasant, couldn't the opposite be possible, too? Were there reserves of negativity within him that, when tapped into and released, could be just as intense as this... overwhelming positivity? When the scale tipped the other way, was it just as heavy? Just as seemingly unbreakable? [break][break]

As quick as he sat down, Luck's offer of half his lunch sent Walter leaping up again. Luck watched his hasty retreat for a moment, before turning his head and letting his gaze pull back to the street through the coffee shop window. His ankles braced against themselves infinitesimally tighter under his seat and his brow gave a private, fleeting twitch. He lifted a hand to pinch at an earlobe; one knuckle grazing absently at the hinge of his jaw. Though Walter was only gone briefly, Luck found his mind piling with questions in the absence. What he might ask, what he shouldn't ask, how to ask it, and thinking how fifteen or thirty minutes — however long Walter's lunch break lasted — was bound to feel like an hour. [break][break]

He could see the faintest outline of his own reflection in the sunlight glinting through the window pane and his feet began a restless bounce under his chair. [break][break]

What would Nate do? [break][break]

Thinking of him — much like finding the shape of him in a crowded room, when the thrall of people around were beginning to push too close, making the air in his lungs tight and small — always possessed the ability to soothe. And imagining the ease of him in his own social work — picturing his encouraging nods, the collected timbre of his voice, and the intentional, slight smiles he might give — always provided a clear idea of who to be in these situations. It'd served as a necessary blueprint for Luck in the beginning of his advocacy. Something to aspire to. And he still found himself asking the question on a semi-frequent basis when he needed to center himself. [break][break]

He'd admitted as much to Nate, at one point. Lounged across him on the couch one evening, head on his stomach and arms circled beneath him; his face tipped away from the light of the television (no longer pretending that the movie they were watching wasn't putting him to sleep). The characters in the show had been distraught, trying to figure out their next move, and with a soft, drowsy snort, Luck had advised his little mantra — 'what would Nate do?' [break][break]

He'd felt the answering rumble of a ginger laugh in the body beneath him. Let the quick lift and fall of it under his temple draw a faint grin at one corner of his mouth. He'd asked what he meant. And when Luck had explained, the hands that'd rested idly across his shoulder blades had renewed a slow, lazy sift across him, the fingers of one settling into the hair at the nape of his neck. [break][break]

He'd asked how often he had to ask himself that at work, voice perhaps a touch concerned in a way sleepy-Luck hadn't been able to hear. And Luck, tipping into slumber, had been honest — 'all the time'. [break][break]

Nate would make this look easy. And so Luck, trying to emulate him, would pretend it was, too. It was just a conversation.[break][break]

Walter returned to the table with food of his own and Luck dropped the hand at his ear; letting it fall to the table before it sifted sidelong to grasp at his other wrist. At Luck's more prying question, he felt an answering slide in the other man's emotions — the slightest of dips, almost too small for Luck to even note, and bounced back from too quickly for him to truly pin a name to. Uncertainty, perhaps? Discomfort, even? But Walter's answer was given easily, with no inclination of misgiving, and Luck let his mouth pull slightly at the corners — making a (painfully conscious) attempt to appear encouraging at the response. [break][break]

"Music makes people happy," he commented lightly, mirroring Walter's noncommittal shrug. His fingers twisted absently at the watch around his wrist and he dropped his eye to note the restless habit, before pulling the plate of croissants back to himself and pushing them a little aside. He'd have time to eat after Walter's break. "But I get it. A lot of artists don't want to make a job out of their hobbies. Takes a bit of the enjoyment out of it, maybe." He settled back in his seat and let his hands drift into his lap, out of view so his fingers could pick at one another, unobserved. "Do you... do shows? Put on performances that your friends come and see and stuff like that?" His lips pulled wider, eyes brightening as he lifted his brow again.

everybody needs some sympathy[break]hard to get a grip with all these broken fingers

Tag: Walter Bell[break]
Give me a nudge for any changes!

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[Walter Bell]

❝

we never got to finish the book of you and i...

A small chunk of Walter’s life had been dedicated completely to music, right after his period of redemption when he chose to turn his life around. He took a couple seconds to remember it, the countless hours he spent pouring his time and energy into music theory and guitar, reliving the moments where he felt his fingers graze across the strings, tickling the guitar as it emanated a soft, melancholy note. As Walter played, the world around him seemed to melt, slowly dripping away like wet paint sliding down a wall. The notes from his guitar became one with the air, and Walter would breathe it in, savoring it, letting it envelop his brain like a drug.

The bliss from the memories reflected into his face, a calm beam splitting across his face. Walter couldn’t say that he’d never thought about making music a full-time gig, but Luck was right; it felt more of an obsession back then when he wished it. He still loved music, but not to that extent. His face would shift as he gradually came back to the present, focusing his eyes back to Luck. Walter still thought about music as a career from time to time, but at this point, it had always just been a thought and nothing more.

Walter leaned back slightly in his seat with a lighthearted sigh. “It used to be more than a hobby. Before moving into Los Eurosia, I had dreams about getting big through music. But…” Walter’s face fell for a moment. A moment of truth forebode over him, a truth that Walter didn’t want to acknowledge.

SPOILER: Click to show

Deep down, he knew that it was a distraction. Something he could consume so that he didn’t have to think about his crappy past, filled with holes he couldn’t explain. Walter often convinced himself that music was his period of redemption, but does someone actually get better from avoiding their problems instead of confronting them?

So he didn’t.

Shutting out the thought, he forced his expression back to it’s original state, and it showed. His smile, genuine mere seconds ago, now seemed a little off. He awkwardly re-adjusted his composure as he finished his statement. “...I guess I just grew out of it.” He took a deep breath, getting to the second part of Luck’s inquiry. “As for shows, I like to perform at Open Mics around town sometimes; I’ve even hosted a couple here.” Shifting his gaze away from Luck, Walter takes a bite from his muffin. But then suddenly, his face lit up with a question of his own.

“Enough about me- what about you?” A smirk broke out across his face, eager to shift the conversation in the opposite direction. “What kinds of things are you into?”

✎ tags -- (Luck Harris )
✉ words: 459
※ notes: sorry for taking so long to respond! been busy lately...

MADE BY MIZO

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[Luck Harris]

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FISHING FOR THE ANSWERS

with a line and sinker; we don't always see the bright side

It seemed that phishing on the music topic had been a sound choice. For a long moment, Luck could see Walter think upon it and, as a wide beam pulled leisurely across his face, he could feel the warmth in his emotions slowly compound — becoming increasingly more fond and wistful. He nodded encouragingly when Walter leaned back in his seat, sighed, and began to explain that perhaps music had been more aspiration than simple hobby at one time. [break][break]

Then Walter seemed to slip. His words caught, the ease of his countenance slacked, and the warmth emanating through Luck's empathy began to chill. For his part, Luck kept his own face carefully fixed, except for the faintest twitch of the lids over his eyes. And Walter recovered quickly — finishing his thought with a smile that, Luck could see, wasn't as unflappable as before. [break][break]

"Well, I'm glad to hear you didn't give it up entirely," he commented, seemingly unconcerned. As if he hadn't seen and couldn't feel the shift. "Hell, who knows, maybe fame and money would have cheapened the whole thing in the end. At least you still play. And you share your playing with others. I always think that's so nice. People like to watch people do things they love. Things they're passionate about." [break][break]

Walter turned the question back on him, seeming to perk up a bit more genuinely at the chance to turn the tables. To shift the conversation away from him and whatever had, for a moment, stolen him away. [break][break]

Luck inwardly grimaced. [break]
He never liked this part. [break][break]

It was always so much easier to ask about others, to ask them to share about themselves, than it ever was to return the courtesy. It was a little less difficult in his job, where the focus was undoubtedly the other person and he wasn't expected to be particularly verbose about himself, but... with strangers and acquaintances... the dynamic was a little harder to feel out. To discern what was appropriate to say. What was too little and what was too much. What would bore or what could be making him out to be someone he wasn't.[break][break]

Conscious of himself, Luck decided to start — before his pause became too long and could be read as discomfort or hesitance. "Ah, I don't know," he shrugged a shoulder, keeping his voice light and airy. "I'm a simple guy. Suppose I'm into simple things. Beer, being outside, taking it easy, and just... living well... as much as I can, anyway." [break][break]

He lifted his gaze to Walter's face and smacked his lips, eyes narrowing curiously. Perhaps this was another chance to force the topic where he wanted it to be; to steer the conversation to an area where Walter felt he might be able to chime in with some personal reflection (or advice — providing Luck a free glimpse into how the young man might handle his own issues). [break][break]

"To be honest, it's a little hard to say much else right now. I've been dealing with a bit of a... recent loss, I guess you could say." He chuckled, quieter than before, and let his gaze flicker to the cup in his hand for an intentionally long, weighing moment before he continued. "There's a lot of rearranging in my life right now and I'm still trying to figure out how... to navigate it, I suppose." [break][break]

As he spoke it, he realized it wasn't as much of a lie as he'd like it to be. He had a new apartment. An unfamiliar abundance of time on his hands that'd normally be filled with things Nate and him did together or with their shared friends. There was no going out... or trying new things... no perking at the idea of some upcoming event or show and no excited plan-making (big or small). No nodding off on the couch with Nate's shins hugged to his chest.[break][break]

Though, if he was being completely honest with himself, there hadn't been much of that — the things he missed (was somewhat lost without) now — in the couple of months that'd led to their split, anyway. [break][break]

It all added up to long evenings, longer nights, and sometimes even aimless weekends, spent rotting on his couch, flicking through television, or fiddling with his phone for hours longer than he'd ever done before. When he did go out, it was to drink (far more than had become typical for him in the past ten years). What had he even done with himself before Los Eurosia and before Nate? It seemed a whole lifetime ago. [break][break]

Luck shook his head and lifted a hand to wave through the air — pretending to dispel or dismiss the admittance. "But that's... depressing shit, right? I'm hardy. I'll live and be alright. Figure it out with just a bit of time. Y'know?" He lifted his coffee to his lips and quirked a brow, watching Walter as he took a measured pull.

everybody needs some sympathy[break]hard to get a grip with all these broken fingers

Tag: Walter Bell [break]
Never a problem! Give me a nudge for any changes![break] I know this one's a bit of a mess loooool~

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[Walter Bell]

❝

we never got to finish the book of you and i...

As Walter sat in the uncomfortable silence, he took another awkward bite from his muffin, his bright expression slowly changing to one of slight remorse. He had never intended to make Luck feel uncomfortable whatsoever. The pause was short-lived, though, as Luck began to explain that he was into the simple things, but didn’t elaborate much further. Walter nodded kindly, thankful for what Luck had shared, but picked up a hint of hesitancy behind his words. Walter wasn’t sure what he had to be hesitant about at first, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Luck must have some baggage that he didn’t want to talk about. When Walter theorized this, he felt a shudder in his core. His expression remained compassionate as the two continued to avoid eye contact.

As Walter looked up, he was about to ask a follow up question when he noticed that Luck’s manner had changed slightly. The way that Luck squinted at him looked almost as if he was on purpose trying to read Walter and calculate what he wanted to say, and sure, while that’s normal in any conversation, the way that Luck seemed to be doing it was… off. And as Luck said his next words, Walter didn’t know what to feel.

Walter wanted to feel empathetic, and a part of him did- do what he could to help a friend-to-be (with a slight intent of just pure curiosity). But another part of him was still off-put about his previous demeanor. As he picked through his options, his face showed signs of doubt, but only for the slightest second as he shifted back to his default expression. He would go through the rest of this conversation cautiously optimistic, and hopefully that would do good for him to learn more about Luck. And in the end he still hoped to form a new friendship.

Walter put his hand down on the table face down in front of Luck, as if to signify empathy. “I’m sorry. Losses are definitely hard to wrestle through.” His low smile quirked upwards slightly as he finished his statement, gesturing his open hand towards the rest of the shop. “I’ll be here if you ever want to talk to someone.” Walter clicked his tongue, leaning back in his seat and breaking eye contact. He was still slightly skeptical, and wanted to see if he could still pry a little bit more out of Luck- see what his true intentions were. “So! You live around here, right? Where do you work? I’ve lived here in Los Eurosia for… let’s see… around 4 years now! I’m a little surprised I haven’t seen you around.” Despite the blunt question, Walter made sure to say it casually and in his friendliest tone possible, as if it were an appropriate thing to ask when first meeting someone. He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping for the best.

✎ tags -- (Luck Harris )
✉ words: ~484
※ notes: lmk for changes! sorry for the long wait

MADE BY MIZO

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