"What makes earth feel like hell is our expectation that it should feel like heaven."
― Chuck Palahniuk, Damned
Strawberry said she would be right home, winding a path from the old market through Old Temple and Dockside toward West End. Of course, that had been an hour and a half ago and she was still dilly-dallying her way through Dockside as if it weren't a crime infested cesspool. C'est la vie, que sera sera, and other foreign tongued sayings of lacking import. In a low cut sweater and curve hugging jeans, she attracted more than her share of catcallers and staring eyes. She entertained them for only so long as it was convenient before moving on with a flutter of her fingers and a pretty smile before working further down the bustling storefronts in the harbor. Swinging a shopping bag on her wrist, she squeezed her way through a throng outside of a particularly loud bar and quite nearly ran into someone head on. With a laugh, she apologized and stepped to one side, doing the awkward little shuffle dance that so often came from trying to ease around a stranger on the street. But just like that, she was on her way once more.
Chance meetings. Sometimes they were dark portends. Sometimes karmically fortuitous.
And perhaps, on those odd occasions, they were a little of both.
In a normal place, Pitt would have stood out like a sore thumb. He was big in the way scary things were, with very wide shoulders and a prodigious height, with a waist to narrow for his broad chest and thick limbs; his hands and feet were just too big to be contained by normal means. Most of it he hid with a near submissive appearing slouch and very loose clothing, his hands and feet wrapped in sturdy cloth athletic tape on the regular, though only the Gods themselves might have divined why. His skin was a ruddy, faded color, like muted earth, his hair a shaggy uneven mess. The goggles could have been as awkward as they might have been sinister. But in a place like Rhy'din, he was nobody. Just another face in the crowd, though it didn't seem to concern him much. It made bumping into him and moving on all to easy, or it would have.
The thrown beer bottle would have made for a painful missile for the girl with the pretty hair to endure, had is struck her. But the laugh of hers was entrancing, the apology surprising, and when Pitt turned to reply, it was the breadth of his back that bore the strike of the bottle and filled the immediate area around them with the sound of shattered glass.
The shattering of glass was the record scratch needed to put a skip in her day. It hadn't touched her, not in the least but it had put a bit of a damper on the upbeat tempo at which she had pranced through the city. The solid heels of her boots thumped to a stop, twisting on the worn boardwalk until the wood groaned beneath her diminutive weight. Turning back, she looked for the culprit, the bottle throwing assailant lost behind the breadth of the poor guy who had taken the brunt of it. With an apologetic touch to his arm, she leaned around him and called out.
"OI! Who the f***'s throwing bottles" Haven't your mums ever taught you not to litter?" Not to mention they had hit someone with it, but that was neither here nor there. The throng had a little sense to look ashamed but nobody fessed to pitching the bottle after her. The look she gave the lot of them could have melted steel, the red of her irises looking more like living flame than the flat crimson pools of norm. "Watch it next time, you hear?"
With a menacing point from the hellkitten, she turned back to the man who had been unfortunate enough to get nailed by that bottle. Lifting her gaze up, up, up to meet his, recognition registered and she lit up. "Oh hey! Guy from the Inn, right?"
"It happens." There was nothing particularly sullen or off-putting about his demeanor, though there was something slow and purposeful in his articulation. His voice was deep but not rough, soothing in its own unique way. When he spoke the words, they were matter-of-fact, as if this weren't the first time and likely wouldn't be the last. Still, he smiled at her, an expression that widened for the recognition she gave him. It was an awkward thing full of clean white teeth and canines (upper and lower) that, like his hands and feet, seemed almost too big to belong to him. "Guy from the Inn. Or the docks. Or the Annex. Or the Arena. Sounds right, miss."
"Yeah, well, it's still bulls***." She told the man who had a familiar face but no name. Giving him a pat to the arm, she heard a wolf whistle behind him and leaned once more to shoot an incredulous look at the one whistling. So accustomed to monstrous beings as she was, the rough and tumble sorts of the docks flummoxed her none. Without withering beneath the stares, she turned back to the man and offered him a grin. "Miss. Miss, pft. I'm Strawberry. What's your name?"
"Pitt." He smiled again, only a touch bashful. "Don't worry, I won't let them eat you." Said the man who had taken a bottle to the back without even acknowledging the wrong done to him. There was a thick paper bag curled into the massive fingers of one of his wrapped hands, his bare toes and half of his feet unflinching on the frozen cobblestone.
"Pitt. Nice to meet you and please, I'd give them indigestion." She scoffed with a flap of her hand, nails tipped in coffin filed edges painted a pretty shade of red. He was given a quick once over before her expression shifted to concern. "Is your back all right' They got you pretty good with that thing."
"I have a very thick skin." The big man didn't seem overly concerned at all and shook his shaggy had with an understated dismissal. "But it's a good thing I heard you when I did. I think the bottle might have struck you if I hadn't moved." His mouth screwed up in a faint smile that showed no teeth, amused and unperturbed. "Luck was on your side."
"Lucky thing, that." She agreed and brushed his shoulder off without permission. Dangerous business in a place like this but she didn't seem all too worried about the big man. "Good thing I ran into you then. I quite like this sweater, I'd hate to get glass in it. Can I say thank you, maybe buy you a drink or something?"
"You look very pretty in it," he conceded. "But you hear that a lot, I bet." The touch drew a curious expression and a tip of his chin towards her, but the thick black goggles made gauging anything his eyes might have betrayed as impossible. But he smiled again, a small thing, and tentatively offered his arm. "I would escort you wherever you wanna go."
"I do?" Of course she did. "Why thank you!" Ever a vain little thing, she preened under the weight of his compliment then turned to loop her arm with his as if they had been best friends for all days. Their height difference was marked but not unbearable thanks to his slouch and thusly, she grinned and started the way she had been going. "There's a place around the corner that does good hot drinks."
Pitt made for an affable but quiet companion, but used his bulk to make the way clear through whatever press of bodies presented themselves. At the door to their destination, he loosened himself from her grip on his arm and placed one massive hand at the small of her back, the other opening the door for her. "Go ahead," he urged her and entered behind her, letting his gaze pan across the room. "I can pay if you're worried about that..."
Where he was quiet, she more than filled the silence with idle chit chat, casually comfortable even in the company of a complete stranger. The little cafe was tucked between an empty storefront and a shipping and receiving business of ill repute. He held the door and ushered her in which roused a grin from the girl that transferred from Pitt to the barista-tender behind the counter. "It's no worry, I've got cash. What're you gonna have" They make a divine toddy or for non-alchie stuff, a pretty sweet dutch hot chocolate."
At the question, there was a furrow of muddy brown brows and then a sidelong look her way. "Mulled cider. Nothin' better than a good cider warmed up right. Some time you will let me return the favor."
Chit-chat, idle and more than welcome over the pair of steaming mugs wrapped in small and large hands alike. It stretched on through two refills and several conversational points. The man was barefoot in weather like this, which prompted a line of questioning from the curious girl. Kitten, she had earned the nickname in earnest.
"I make do with what I have. Miss Rayvinn giving me more steady work beneath the great Inn helps."
"Wait, so she's not paying you enough to get you some shoes" I'mma have a talk with her."
"She pays me fair," he cut in quickly, his mouth thinning out. "But money's needed for other things sometimes. Shoes just seemed....well, I make due. Don't even think about it sometimes. I stay fed and have a mostly, sometimes warm room. I have the necessities."
"Are you sure" Fair's more than bare necessities, you know. I can totally talk to her." She said in all seriousness. It wasn't a threat to do so and she would have relented if he said otherwise. Setting her elbows to the table, she gave more of an explanation for her offer. "She's kind of like an Aunt to me. We go way back like Cadillac seats."
"She pays me fair." It was a soft reassurance before Pitt was drinking from his mug again, his head tilting slowly to one side. A thorough study was made of Strawberry's face, lacking in the usual plunge of attention to her assets that she might have been accustomed to. "She is very good to me too. Generous, even. But there are limits to all things, I think."
"Of course there are limits to all things, but it's like shitballs cold outside, big guy." She said, almost gently despite the concern in her tone. Heathen she may have been, she still had a soft spot for the riff raff street rat sorts. That included big introverts with no shoes or gloves. "What'd you mean by a mostly, sometimes warm room?"
"Mechanical things are fickle and don't always work like they should, especially in places of ill repute." Rhy'din was infested with slumlords, after all. Another sip taken, he managed another awkward smile. "I said before, there are some things you get used to. People like to take advantage. It is the way of things here, I've seen."
"Oh man, I totally know how that goes. My place is down in West End and I swear nothing ever works right there. But the old school radiator style heaters" They totally hold up way better than newer stuff." She told him with a sage nod and a smile, sipping her cider with contented ease. "But, just because you get used to them doesn't make it right nor should you settle. Settling is the worst."
"A fireplace." When he told her, it was like a confession, a quiet murmur just between them as if he was sharing a precious secret. "I'd like to have a big fireplace. Doesn't need to be fancy. Not where I live now, though. It's a basement room, very small, but it's a place to sleep and do other things sometimes."
"Mmmmm, fireplaces are the best." She hummed a dreamy little note and gave him an understanding nod. "My current place doesn't have one but oh I'd love one like I had back home."
Strawberry paused to tilt her head, eyeing the man considerately for a few moments. "Whereabouts is that?"
"Between Old Temple and here, close to the walls. An old inn that leans a little too far left near where the unseelie earthen fae open their market. Not in the market, though." Pitt shook his head. "I know that very fell things come from within that long, dark row. The inn is alright. It's mostly dry, even if the heat doesn't always work well. People leave me alone, mostly. Not too many weird sounds to keep me awake."
"The Gobbo Market' We stay far, far away from that." She said with a little frown. Karma, Angela, and Beau may have turned the city into their own personal playground over the years and few places were truly off limits, but long, long ago, her mother had been absolutely adamant that they never stray through the hazy boundaries of the Goblin Market and beyond that, Rookery Row. The brief shadow that passed over her expression passed just as quickly as it came before she reached over to pat his hand. "You know, I bet there's something better out there for you. I heard you actually get a discount at the Red Dragon if you're an employee at the venues, which it sounds like you are?"
"Doesn't feel very private there," he considered it for a moment. "Seems just so close to....everything. People always on top of you. Very congested. Or am I just weird?" Pitt thought about that for a moment, frowning, and then shook his head. "Please don't answer that."
"You know..." She began thoughtfully. "I can definitely understand that. Though if you come and go at slower hours it's not so bad." Her gaze lifted to meet him, catching the frown and hesitation as he shook his head. "I don't think that's weird at all. Nor are you. Or if you are, I am too. So we can be weird together. How 'bout that?"
"I do like your company," he confessed with one of his large, awkward smiles, only slightly bashful for the admission. "You are a very charming young woman, Strawberry. I am finding myself glad to have taken a bottle for you." Pitt was quick to finish what was in his mug and set it down.
"That's because I'm terrific company. I'd say something was amiss if you didn't like it." She grinned, not drawing attention to the little bit of bashfulness in his demeanor. It was kind of adorable actually. "I'm not sure if there's such a thing as being truly glad to get smashed with a bottle, but I'm quite grateful you were there. And that you agreed to come have a drink with me afterwards. Hopefully this makes up for it a bit?"
"The random violence happens often." Look where they lived it. It shouldn't have surprised anyone, least of all the would-be gentle giant, who may have born his fair share of the pain on more than one occasion. "The someone bein' interested enough to share my time does not."
His paper bag had been set to one side, both massive hands lowering to his lap when his drink was finished, as if he didn't know what else to do with them. Putt continued to take Strawberry in with an earnest curiosity that wasn't altogether unpleasant. Something akin to a sincere interest.
"It does. Such is the nature of a place like this." She said with a placid smile as if it didn't really surprise her. It seldom bothered her either except when innocent bystanders got caught up in the fray like this guy had. He seemed nice. Quiet, but nice. While she sipped her cider at a slower pace, she wasn't terribly far behind him in finishing. His admission lifted her brows along with her smile. "I like sharing people's time. New people, old people, anything in between. I like making friends."
"Real friends or convenient ones?" While he seemed almost naive off the cuff, the statement was delivered with a world wary tone that belied the awkwardness in his smile. Clearly, Pitt seemed to know the difference between the two, even if discerning the difference didn't come natural to him.
"What're convenient friends?" She asked with a tilt of her head and an owlish blink. There was nothing malicious or facetious in the question, genuine curiosity bleeding through in tone and expression both. "Is that like a friends with benefits thing" Because I don't normally do that."
"No. No!" The ruddy, muted red-brown of his skin flushed a few shades dark and he was quick to shake his head. "No, I've never....no. I meant friends who are only your friends when it is convenient for them. When they want something or are bored or....does that help?"
"Oh!" If she noticed his embarrassment, she didn't call attention to it. Instead beaming a smile and giving him a little shrug. "I think every friend is like that to an extent, but it's the give and take that's important. If it's all take-take-take, then that's no good but if it's give-take-give-take then that's friendship. Either way. I have some of both, I think."
"Some only like to take." His smile faded but no frown surfaced. "Some are only built for one, I think. Maybe."
"Well, yes. Those are selfish people." She said with a slow but patient nod. "They can learn....it takes time, but they can. I think no matter what we're built for, we can always become more than that. Don't you?"
"I hope so." The frown finally came but when it did, it was a barely perceptible quiver of his wide mouth. "But I wonder if some of us are doomed to travel down a set path for all of their days. Different is good, though. I like different, even if most of my days and nights are the same."
"I know so." Strawberry gave him a firm nod and drew her mug up to her lips. Through the steam she watched him, ever perceptive, ever scrutinizing, she found it much harder to do so through his welders goggles. "Ever been off roading" That's how you break away from seemingly endless paths."
Strawberry was a collector of sharp and broken things. Often this came in the form of the people she surrounded herself with, taking in the worst of the worst if only to show them that they were not alone in this world. So began an odd sort of friendship with the big man known as Pitt. Well versed in her track record, she didn't even have to explain it to Raspberry and Beau when he stopped by for movie night. They simply invaded their space to make sure the man wasn't a creep of some sort and then once he was vetted, left them to Labyrinth. A second movie night followed soon after.
"I love them, they're perfect. Have you ever seen this one?" She asked with a nod to the screen. "It's one of my faves."
At her question, he squinted towards the screen through those dark as night goggles and then shook his head. "Think I've seen the cover on the tape before but not watched it. I have seen other cartoon pictures. If it's your favorite, we should share it then."
Her gaze went from him to the screen and back with a grin. The knit of his brows made it seem like he was scrutinizing it pretty heavily. Gently she reached up to tap at the side of a goggle. "I can get it started. It's a little dim in here, you gonna be able to see it okay?"
At the gentle tap and the question, he gently shook his head. "I see fine in these. They even help sometimes. They look silly, but....it's better this way. Does it bother you?"
"They don't look silly, it's actually kinda cool. Like steampunk chic. Are your eyes sensitive?"
As she pressed gently for details, his smile faded. But not entirely. The beautiful girl was given a considering stare sidelong before he leaned her way a little and shrugged a shoulder. "Sort of. But they are also not the eyes people should look at. Ever."
"Uh, you see who you're talking to right?" Like molten fire, her eyes were living flame of the most unholy sort. When settled, they passed for a solid but luminescent red but when she was excited or angry or just emotional in general, they came to life with a whirling flicker and little blooms of lighter oranges and yellows.
"Talking to a really pretty girl," he told her candidly, unabashed in spite of himself. "With pretty eyes that remind me of burning embers in a very welcoming fireplace burning on a cold night." She had hugged his arm and he leaned into the affection after the moment's hesitation for a man who was unaccustomed to a lot of positive physical affection.
"A pretty girl who can't get people to look her in the eye half the time." She told him with a soft smile. His compliment was sweet and his description was doubly so. She didn't let go of his arm right off the bat, switching the remote from one hand to the other to hit the play button again. "In a place like this, you shouldn't worry about what people think. Everyone's got something odd about them, you gotta embrace it instead."
"It would be bad." He said softly, leaning into her a little more. "I'm not afraid of lookin' into your eyes, Strawberry. Never will be." His other hand, massive thing that it was, smoothed over one of hers to pat it gently. The cloth athletic tape wrapping it was fresh but damp from his hasty donning of it after the shower. His chin lifted and his attention was (mostly) directed towards the movie.
"Why's that?" See, ever curious. Her mom called her 'kitten' for a reason. It wasn't just a pet name. Without withdrawing her arm, she leaned into him and settled for the movie. One hand crossed to scoop up more popcorn, offering it up to him with a little smile. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm just curious."
"Someday. I will someday." It was a quiet promised, delivered in earnest but without the hint of a threat. There was a lingering sadness to the promise that he was quick to try and shrug off, leaning his head to hers for a gentle friend-bump. "You've been very good to me."
"Okay." She smiled and left it at that. No pushing, no pouting, just simple acceptance and a squeeze to his arm to go with the head bump. Then she tossed the popcorn up at him. Catch! There was a laugh when it rained on both of them and gave him a little shrug. "You're my friend. Friends gotta be good to friends, right?"
A low chuckle was her reward for the popcorn shower and what he missed was picked from his shirt and hers, popped into his own mouth with a few stray morsels offered up to her lips. The shrug earned her another lean of his head and a response was just on the right side of guarded, a slow opening up to her. "Should be, yes. Always should be. Doesn't always happen that way."
As Hercules took up the big screen, she looked up and stole the popcorn bits he gave her, chomping on them playfully before scooping up more to offer it over instead of throwing it this time. She leaned into him, making herself comfortable with the swing of a leg up over the side of the chair onto another nearby seat. "Of course it doesn't. And I'm sensing, by the way you impress that, that you've been burned. That's a perfectly viable response if that's the case, I'm never going to hold it against you. But just do me a favor and don't hold it against me either. Not every person is the same."
"A few times," he conceded without a hint of bitterness. By the tone, it just seemed to be a common theme. And then he intimated as much. "Just see a lot of it here. Not just me. I watch a lot. Watchin' is easy when you don't get noticed much and I get to see sides of people the don't think they're showin'. Some people are good. Some bad. Some are neither but just don't see much past their noses, what they need at the time. I don't hold it against anyone. Makes it easy to not let anyone close."
She asked for the favor and he reached around her, a one-armed hug that all but engulfed her. "I like you. A lot. I think you deserve a chance to not be like everyone else."
"That happens....especially in a place like this. People only look out for themselves and do what they have to to serve themselves. I was born....made....here. Raised here. My mom was too, so it's like....I dunno. You get numb to it." She shrugged a little, but gently because she was comfortable against him and didn't want to move too much. Strawberry grinned, tipping her chin up to offer its warmth his way before looking back to the movie. "I think there's something to be said for vulnerability. Not necessarily setting yourself up to get burned, but at least....I dunno, giving people a chance. So thank you, I appreciate it."
"Numb to it." He nodded. "That sounds about right. Not upset. Not bitter. Just....it's just the way things are. Accept it and live with it." The warmth of her chin produced another awkward smile. Pitt himself was uncommonly warm, like a living, breathing space heater. As big and drafty as the Arena could be when unoccupied, it wasn't a bad thing. "Thank you for wanting to be my friend, Strawberry."
"I think you can accept it and live with it without shutting yourself out." She told him with a sheepish little smile. "Thank you for being my friend, Pitt. Is that a first name or a last name?"
"I try. Mostly I just watch life around me. It's been easier. It's the only name I have."
"It'll pass you up if you do that." A little smile graced her lips. "I only have one real name too. Strawberry's just a nickname."
"Yours sounds much better," he snickered. "Fits. Sounds more....delicious?"
"Better than the real one." She said with a little chuckle and a bigger grin. "I always joke that my sister is called Raspberry because she's bitter and I'm sweet, but really it's just from the hair."
"I like the hair. It's different. And you are sweet. That I have seen often since we met."
"I like it too. Thank you." She purred a happy sound. "I think the world needs more kindness. I've seen some ugly things between hell and here and I think if we each give a little more than we get then things would be a whole lot better."
"It makes sense." Pitt's chin dipped in a subtle nod. The goggles made it easy to study her face while she spoke without appearing to weird about it. "I've seen ugly things here. Can't say much for anywhere else. But here can be ugly enough. It has lots of faces, ugly does. Some of them very pretty."
He was warm and comfortable and nice to talk to. So she managed to keep a conversation going while watching Hercules. She could have quoted the entire thing but didn't want to ruin it. So she settled for singing along with the songs. "Outer beauty doesn't equate to inner beauty. And there's a whole lot of inner ugly here."
"True.? He said as she drifted into comfortable silence and eventually a light doze against his shoulder.
That night she dreamt of angelic faces and silken wings, of warm sunlight and cold cruelty. Heaven wasn't everything. Definitely not here at least.
