Hope You'd Do The Same


devon2_icon.gif graeme2_icon.gif

Scene Title Hope You'd Do The Same
Synopsis As aftermath continues to simmer, Graeme contacts Devon for a little help. And the offer for more continues to stand.
Date April 4, 2011

A Park

It's the same park as the one that Devon had suggested for the last time, and Graeme leans against one of the upright poles at the edge of the workout area. For once, he's dressed appropriately for the early morning chill, a thick sweater and jeans and a hat, not particularly recognisable different from anyone else that comes to the park. Near to a section of short fence, Odin's laying asleep right next to Graeme's messenger bag, and the sling that's come off so that Graeme can take advantage of the waiting time and work on carefully, slowly stretching his shoulder and working through very basic movements as he waits for Devon, watchful.

Graeme doesn't have long to wait before the teenager appears. As it's early morning, he's not quite set for work yet, clad in blue jeans and sneakers, a blue hoodie under a black letterman jacket to help keep out the chill. Hands rest comfortably inside his jacket pockets as his feet carry him along the joggers' path and soon into sight. Devon makes no call out to the man and his dog when his eyes tick in their direction, but a nod dips in casual greeting.

At sight of Devon, Graeme grins, and before he says anything, his hand goes into his pocket, pulling out the cheap crap cell phone that's serving him as a burn phone and turning it all the way off, before gesturing to a nearby table, right near where Odin already is, that they can sit and talk. "Hey." The greeting is only uttered once the teenager is in earshot. "Good to see you."

"Hey," is Devon's greeting, responded with as much desultory tones as would be fitting of a teenager to the early hours. A yawn cracks his jaws wide, though turned aside so it isn't entirely rude. As well, he takes the opportunity to glance along the trail he'd arrived from. As he moves to sit across from Graeme, his attention returns to the older man. Hands clasp in front of him, propped against the edge of the table as he gives another small nod. "What's up?"

There's a slightly reflexive yawn from Graeme. "Not too much, really. Trying to not worry, mainly." Graeme sighs, almost frustrated. "I'm sure you've heard the news?" There's a pause, as the man sorts through his slightly odd sense of how time's been going recently, before clarifying. "It was a trap, like we thought it was. A big one." He leans against the table, slowly beginning to put the sling back on.

"I've heard some news." Devon watches Graeme carefully, studying him for a long moment before continuing. "I heard some people tried to stop a prisoner transport of some kind, and the director of FRONTLINE is now in some seriously hot water." To put things kindly, he's heard the news reports and can only assume that hot water would be the least of the woman's worries. There's another pause, his brows drawing together slightly, concerned. "I'm guessing they're friends? How are you doing?" Subtly, his tone includes those friends as well.

"I'm alright, more or less." A nod, and Graeme moves on from slightly dodging the question. Really, he's a hypocrite with the best of them, at times. "And yeah. She's a friend of mine," Graeme says. "One of the first people I met when I came out here. And some other friends of mine are implicated by this, too." Lips purse. "From what I know, they're safe. I've been … in barely minimal contact." The teacher seems tired, overall, even if there are so very few physical signs of it in his posture. It's evident in his words, in the phrasings.

A slow nod follows Graeme's response, however Devon continues to watch him. Concerned, and silently pressing for better understanding of the situation, however wise enough to not ask outright. "My offer extends to them, too," he says carefully, including the unspoken if you'll trust me. "But for now, do you need anything? I can set you up with a motel room, possibly more."

There's a hint of an appreciative smile from Graeme. "Thank you. I'm good, for now. I'm staying with the guy I'm seeing. His place is on the safer side, as far as this goes, and there's no clue to look for me there. If they're looking. And it's an… it's an easy explanation, as well." There's a half a shrug, impeded by the sling but not entirely so. "I haven't a clue if they're looking, but it would only make sense. They know I know Liz. Ygraine. Jaiden. There's no way they aren't looking." The words almost fade off, quiet against the distant sounds of traffic.

Graeme looks over at the teenager, as something that he does need occurs. "I'm trying to put off going anywhere near my place, for a few more days. Give things time to cool down. But I can't go to the store, or anything, I mean, I could maybe, but I don't want to leave Odin. Another two changes of clothing would be good, in staying out of sight for a bit. I've got some money I pulled before Thursday."

"Best to stay there," Devon says with a nod. "And don't tell me anything more about him, or anyone else." No, the kid isn't paranoid, but the less Graeme says about where he's hiding, the harder it'd be for anyone to find him. A slight nod follows the names. "If they need anything," he repeats, "anything. I'm off the radar for now and can get any supplies they might need." He realizes that could change, but he's already committed to helping.

Glancing over his shoulder and to the trail that brought him into the park, Devon nods. A deeper nod this time, and one that shows understanding. "I'll see what I can find," he answers, turning back to Graeme. "Don't worry about it. That number you called from, is it a good contact number?"

"I'll pass on the offer," Graeme says, a slight smile not precisely forced. The blue eyed gaze is searching, but not for words, or answers, more a recognisation of some trust in the teenager, as Odin gets up and walks the few steps to shove his head at Graeme's hip, which gets the dog rewarded with some petting, a treat pulled out of his pocket before Graeme reaches into the messenger bag. Two twenties are slid across the table, the man making good on paying for what's being gotten on the errand. "It's a good one, yes." It's the one that goes to the shitty little phone in his pocket, but the number's valid, not linked to him.

Without looking at the money, Devon places a hand upon it and slides it back across the table. He meets Graeme's gaze evenly, still showing concern and a further understanding of necessary secrets, but also unafraid of what he's tied himself into. "It's not necessary," he says as he lifts his hand, leaving the twenties for the older man to reclaim. "I'll cover it, and continue to keep your secrets safe."

One raised brow, and Graeme tucks the bills back into his pocket rather than to where they'd came from, wordlessly. There's a chance he'll need it later anyway. "Thank you," he says quietly.

"Just hope you'd do the same for me," Devon answers with a shadow of a grin. "If things were the other way around."

"Anytime," Graeme says, with a quiet chuckle. "But let's hope that things never come to that." There's a pause, and Graeme moves to stand, offering Devon his hand for a moment before going to pick up Odin's leash, and the messenger bag. "I'll be hearing from you, then?"

"Within a day." Devon stands and takes Graeme's hand in a firm shake, offering a small nod as well. "Be careful out there. I'll be in touch."

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