plurk meme { 2018 } au august

[iluvroadrunner6]

Completed: 31/31
Running Word Count: 63,180

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august 18: circus | dylan & neal | 1,400

[iluvroadrunner6]

Heading to the circus, initially, is more about survival than anything else. The bright colors and dazzling lights make for a lot of easy marks, people who aren’t looking to closely at how much they’re spending on various fair games so long as they win that stuffed animal or cool toy for their significant other or child. Neal doesn’t like the idea of stealing from those who can’t afford it, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. It’s either he manages to snag something – a meal ticket, a dropped twenty, anything – in the next hour before the bus to Chicago shows up, or he doesn’t eat for another eight hours.

Personally, he’d rather not starve.

The lights of the tents give the scrawny eighteen year-old plenty of space to blend in, sharp blue eyes scanning the main fairway for viable marks. He manages to nab a little cash and a few ride tokens, enough that he might be able to trade some in afor his fare, but still not quite enough for food. He catches sight of a woman stashing some meal tickets in an open purse, and then neglecting to close it, and he starts to make his way closer, ready to prepare his best charming smile and distract just enough to get his hand in her purse and those tickets between his fingers when a hand closes around his wrist stops him, and pulls it back.

“How about we not do that?”

Neal tugs his hand just enough to get it out of the other man’s grasp, before giving a small shrug. “Not do what?”

“Take that nice lady’s meal tickets and use them for yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? Like you don’t know what I’m talking about when I mention the frat boys you nicked a twenty and a beer off of, or the asshole you snaked a few ride tokens from while you were flirting with his girlfriend?”

Neal tries to fight down the flicker of a smile that crosses his face at the mention of the last one, but he presses his lips together in a thin line and tries his best to seem innocent. “Again – no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh.” The man grabbed him by the arm before turning him towards one of the larger tents. “C’mon. We’re gonna go talk to the boss.”

Neal huffs a bit but he goes along with what he’s told, letting the man lead him away. He remembers seeing his face on some of the posters coming in and he tips his head to the side. “So how’d you figure me out? Read my mind or something?”

The man’s lips twitch, but he says nothing, and just steers him into the business tent, sitting him down at a table. “Wait here.”

Neal sits, shifting to get comfortable and crossing his arms in front of his chest as he waits. Part of him scans the interior of the tent, trying to figure out if he could find a way out, but this doesn’t seem like a security room. It seems like something a bit more … casual. “Do you think I could get a bite to eat while I’m in here?” He asks after a moment, before glancing around. “I’m starving, man.”

He’s met with nothing but silence, so he huffs and just leans back in his chair. He has to be waiting maybe a half an hour before the tent flaps finally open, and another man steps into the tent with the first guy, and moves to sit across from him.

“I’m Dylan. What’s your name?”

“Neal.” The name still feels weird coming off his tongue, mostly because it’s still new, but it’s not a bad weird. In fact, it likely feels more right than a lot of things have been lately.

“Merritt said you said you were hungry.” He lifts the stryrofoam container he came in with and extends it to him, before sliding it across the table to rest in front of him.

Neal lunges at first, because he is starving, but eventually his brain catches up and reminds him that all of these people are strangers. They likely don’t have his best interests at heart. So he hesitates before opening the container, and looks warily at the two of them again.

“Why?”

Dylan raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“I’m from St. Louis,” Neal supplies. “Usually people willing to offer you free food have probably done something to it.”

“Well, all we did is cook it. I guess you’ll have to decide if you’re willing to take our word for that or not.” Dylan pulls back the container and opens it, the smell of the hamburger within making Neal’s mouth water, and Neal watches as the older man cuts the burger in half, picks up half and takes a bite, before holding his hands out to the side as though to say “see?” Neal waits, watching until he chews, swallows, and takes another bite, before he decides that’s enough proof and snatches the container back again and digging in. The first bite he takes of the burger, he gives a small moan, almost as though it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

Considering the amount of chips and other vending machine garbage he’s eaten in the last twenty four hours, it probably is.

He makes it through his half of the burger, and downs some of the soda that came with it, before he manages to speak again. “You still haven’t told me why?”

“Well, you haven’t told me why you were stealing from my patrons.”

Neal swallows hard at that, and it feels weird, to take this generosity after he had been doing just what the man said. “I needed bus fare and a meal. I wasn’t going to take more than that.”

“Why those targets?”

“The frat boys weren’t going to miss it. All of their clothing was better than designer, and tailored to boot. If twenty bucks disappeared they’d probably not even notice.” He pauses, before shrugging. “And the other guy was just an asshole.”

That makes Dylan smirk, and Neal isn’t sure if it’s a good or bad thing. “What about the woman?”

It’s there that Neal looks appropriately guilty. “She had the first set of meal tickets I’ve seen. I thought that if I could just get one, then maybe she would just think she accidentally didn’t buy enough.”

“What bus are you supposed to be taking?”

“The 9:15 to Chicago.”

“Any reason in particular? Do you need to be on that time table?”

“I just needed a change of scene. Why?”

“We’re heading to Chicago. Why don’t you ride with us?”

Neal blinks at him for a moment like he has two heads. “I’m sorry – what?”

“We’re going to Chicago. Making a couple of stops in between, but you could just travel with us.”

Neal blinks again, and again, a one word question comes to mind. “Why?”

Dylan smirks for a minute. “Because I think you’ll find that a carnival is a bit more in line with your goals than you think. After all, the closer you’re trying to look at something …”

“ … The less you actually see,” Neal finishes for him, and suddenly tries to look at what he already knows about the circus in a whole new light. “So what’s the angle?”

“That I can’t tell you,” Dylan replies. “Not until I know if you’re in or out.”

Neal glances around for a moment, and he can’t deny that he likes the style of it all. The color and the drama appealed to him for a reason. And he has a feeling that Dylan doesn’t just pick up street kids for stealing and offer them a job out of the goodness of his heart. Whatever it is this guy is offering, it’s practically promising adventure.

“This isn’t like a if I tell you, I have to kill you think is it?” Neal asks quickly, just to be on the safe side. “If I decide to get off when we get to Chicago –”

“Then you can go,” Dylan nods. “Or you can stay. Entirely up to you.”

Neal weighs for a few minutes longer, before taking a deep breath and nodding. “Alright. I’m in.”

Dylan smiles, before leaning back in his seat again. “Great. Welcome to the Horsemen.”