{SF} Day Laborers

[Nico Martell]

There was some irony in Nico's current position. He stood shirtless, holding up a box and waiting for direction. Sweat slid down his lean brown body, pooling where his jeans met his skin. The cool Montana summer mixed well enough with even the hard work Nico had "volunteered" to help with. It had sounded like a good idea at the time: they needed extra help to get this festival thing together, and they'd even pay students a small paycheck to actually help, as well as free access to parts of the fair.

Didn't stop the irony of being a day laborer to hit Nico. he chuckled as he set down his brow, reaching up to wipe some sweat away from his brow. He rolled upright and looked around. A fair smattering of students, mostly from Bellefonte though Nico didn't recognize everyone, worked around him, many grunting, quite a few shirtless. Even a girl or two opted for a sports bra, which definitely distracted Nico.

Enough that he nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He could feel his phasing starting to kick in and just barely managed to hold himself together. Instead he turned to look up, seeing the burly guy who'd been put in charge. Guy needed Nico and--and he was pointing at someone else. The someone might not even have volunteered, but they were suddenly needed to help move some stuff. Nico gave them a slightly sympathetic look: at least he was getting paid for this, after all. Didn't matter though: they were going to be day laborers together, one way or the other.

[François Laffont]

In the matter of a month, Franck just went to the fairground more than he ever did in his life. And he was counting his time in France. Not that he ever visited one much back there. The closest to it had like five or six rides for kids under the age of ten and he only remembered hurting his face in the bumper cars and eating cotton candy. He was not with the twins this time but he was pretty sure they were around. If not right now, they would surely come at some point. Perhaps hang out with him too. They would be plenty of time to do that. For now, he agreed to help out in any way he could.

Franck wouldn’t say he was a very manual person. Building up the carts or other booth set up for the festival was not really something he’d be good at. He was unable to say no however so whenever someone just asked if he could help, he gently came near and landed a hand. Like the girls earlier who asked for him because he was significantly taller than them so he could place things up and keep them in that position while they fixed everything else. He also felt some lust while being around them and was pretty sure one looked at him almost like a dog looks at a juicy bone. It was embarrassing but they were only looking and didn't even flirt. Obviously, they knew he was the ‘you can see but you can’t have’ type. It seemed to happen even more when he started to get too hot and took off his shirt, stuffing it in his back pocket and using it as a towel to wash off the sweat.

He noticed he was not the only one who did that. It was distracting sometimes. Some of those guys were pretty handsome and the sweat only made him notice their muscles even more. He was focusing on the work at hand the best he could. And looking at the girls when necessary. They should get used to that, he noticed quite a few guys doing that. Sometimes, they even had to be reminded they were here to set things up, not look at the pretty girls.

He had been passing through a group of people when he was called out. Obviously, the man just saw someone not working right now and decided to ‘employ’ him. Franck did not argue however, since it was not like him to do so. That guy too was shirtless. The work just made the day seem hotter than it already was. Franck tried to get what the man wanted but he understood only half of his words. Either the way he talked of the words he used seemed hard for him to understand. Or maybe it was that guy without a shirt on that distracted him. “You got what he wanted?” he asked him once the man left them to do the task he gave them.

[Nico Martell]

What the hell kind of accent was that? Nico almost did a doubletake as the other young guy spoke. The larger man had issued his orders though, and those were the words that both of them needed to pay close attention to. Seemed simple enough: there were crates of food that needed moving and then they could stick around and help set up a fryer or something. Not really something that Nico had that much experience with, but he didn't figure it would be all that complicated.

Other guy was making him talk though, and it took all Nico had not to let out a sigh. Instead he raised his hand up to brush back some hair, turning in the direction indicated by the boss. "Crates," he said, "with some food supplies. We pick them up and take them to a trailer," he pointed, letting his arm follow the path. "Then set up a fryer."

which was enough as far as Nico was concerned. He started walking, almost trudging, forward, counting on Franck to more or less just fall into place. Hey, he'd volunteered for it just as much as Nico had: he could come along and lend a hand.

[François Laffont]

To Franck, it was like the man muttered his instructions. From what he pointed, he got that they needed to do something with crates, probably move them around, but he was not sure where and what they were supposed to do with them. Then there was something else but he couldn’t quite make it. Ended in er but to Franck it sounded like ‘frayeur’, the French word for fear. No need to say it made little sense. Hence why he asked the other boy if he got everything.

He was used for his exact to surprise people when they never heard it at first. No matter how much he toned it down it was still clear that Franck was not American. He seemed bothered to have to repeat what they had just been told to do but if he wanted Franck to help, he would have to repeat it. Franck still felt sorry to cause him to do that but there was little else to do. The way he talked though, he really had a feeling like it annoyed him to talk to Franck too much. Yet he didn't seem nearly as pissed through his emotions. This attitude had him confused but he at least got at last what was asked of them.

“Alright, good,”Franck replied with a nod. It was an easy job to move the crates, just tedious. He frowned slightly though when he mentioned setting up a fryer. “It comes with instructions I hope?” Franck asked, once again, his accent butchering the words. How could they expect kids to know how to set up a fryer?

The boy was leaving him however. “Wait up,” Franck exclaimed as he joined him to pick up some of the crates they had to bring to a trailer.

[Nico Martell]

Easy enough job: they weren't going to trust teenagers with something overly complicated, or at least, not teenagers like Nico. Teenagers like the other guy too, apparently, though Nico didn't mention that. He didn't even speak when Franck asked about instructions for the fryer: he just shrugged along with it. Like he really knew one way or the other.

Nico did pause for a moment as Franck called, waiting just long enough for the other guy to catch up before walking forward yet again. No more words passed through Nico's lips and he focused ahead, staring at their destination. It wouldn't be too long before they actually got there, finding three crates of moderate size waiting for them by the side of the road. It wouldn't take too long to get them into the trailer, at the least. You'd think that if they were going to have this, they'd at least set the fryer up ahead of time.

Again: not like it mattered. Nico just walked around to the crate, standing there patiently, looking at Franck. he tapped the crate, "On three?"

[François Laffont]

He hoped the fryer was easy to set up. Like, placing it somewhere and pushing a button and they were done. He might be alright with a few “assemble pipes there” and “screw bolt here” but other than that, Franck had little confidence in his abilities. He figured it was also delicate stuff or at the very least expensive one. The kind they wouldn’t want teenagers to break while setting it up.

His ‘partner’ for the task seemed not the talkative one. As for his emotions, they were about as calm right now as what he appeared to be on the outside. Nothing too intense, nothing that could help Franck know what kind of person he was. He had wished for him to be more talkative, it would have made this whole thing less boring, but Franck figured he could work it out like this too. Still, as he walked along with him, despite how he could do that without a sound, it was slightly weird for him. He felt like something should be said. But the other was not saying anything. “I’m Franck, by the way,” he said as they reached the crates. It seemed only fair to at least introduce himself if they were to work together.

He nodded at the boy’s signal. If the man asked for two guys to carry three crates, it had to be because they were heavy. He walked to the one he tapped at, facing him on the other side of the crate. “You want to move the crate so we walk sideways or you want one of us to go backwards?” He was not sure if he made sense so he tried to show with hand gestures what he meant, using to fingers to point at each side of the crate and moving them on parallel lines before placing them by the crate again and moving them on the same line. Sideways and backwards, since one would not be able where they were going.

[Nico Martell]

"Nico," came easily enough. Nico didn't see any reason not to give that out to the guy. He wasn't about to start talking just because some random dude would rather chatter away or anything. Something about that voice sounded weird to Nico too: probably the accent. Though Nico had one of his own, it definitely wasn't that noticeable. Wasn't like he peppered his words with Spanish... well, not often.

They were moving to the crate. Franck tapped it and offered question that needed some consideration. Nico looked to it. He knew that if someone walked backward, that person was going to end up needing direction and even then might be in trouble. He'd either have to walk backward and hope this guy could offer help or bark directions himself for a while.

So that made the choice easy, "Sideways," Nico suggested before moving around. He ducked down. "On three," he suggested, his legs bent, his attention focused on the other guy. Let's see if Franck could actually work in addition to talking about working.

[François Laffont]

Nico. Franck figured it was short for Nicolas or whatever way he wrote it. Just like he let people call him Franck. It was easier anyway. François was not the hardest of name to pronounce but he still preferred when they did not get his name wrong. Nico. It would be easy to remember. He nodded at that.

Franck already noticed he didn't like to talk a lot. Oddly enough, his emotions were about as calm as the guy himself. It was strange to Franck as he was used to deal with an overflow of emotion when around quiet people. Oh, there definitely was something there, no one could be totally emotionless, but it was not jumping at Franck, begging to come out through him since it could not through their right owner.

He nodded again. He was about to say that Nico was not exactly very much into talking but he was already about to hold the crate and Franck reached for the crate to help out. He waited for Nico to say three, as she said he would. He would likely not talk while they brought that crate where it belonged but he knew he wouldn’t be able to remain quiet the whole time. Even if the guy would talk to him only through monosyllabic words, he’ll have him talk to him.

[Nico Martell]

Three, and up they went with the grate. Nico grunted slightly, adjusting his grip and trying to focus himself. It occurred to him, after they'd shuffled a few feet toward their goal, that he should probably admit his ability to the young man. It only struck him as fair: there was a chance that Nico's power kicked on and he dropped the crate.

"I phase," he offered, the voice strained mostly from his own lack of desire to talk but he'd definitely blame the physical exertion if asked. "Through shit," because clearly that needed further clarification, "and my control's shit,' his new favorite word, "so the box might go through me."

He gave Franck a quick look and offered a slightly apologetic shrug. It wasn't as though Nico wasn't working on fixing the problem: he did training and what have you. He just wasn't very good at actually managing to control his power. Something in his brain or his ability or something just made it difficult for him to really "get" the whole process. he was doing alright for the time being: just keep shuffling sideways, walk along, ignore the sweat from the light Montana heat. Easy enough. They were already a third of the way there, at the least.

[François Laffont]

Franck couldn’t help a grunt as well when they lifted the crate. He expected them to be heavy, otherwise they wouldn’t ask two guys to lift them, but he didn’t think they’d be that heavy. And the distance, without being throughout the entire fairground, was not tiny. So they better get a firm grip otherwise one might end up with a crate on his foot.

Nico provided him with another reason why such thing might happen. Focusing mostly on the task at hand, Franck was not expecting the guy to be finally opening his mouth to him in this situation. Maybe he shouldn’t, because Franck didn’t understand what he meant at first. He didn't either when he said he phased through shit, wondering if he meant the actual word or if that was, hopefully, just an expression. Finally, when he said the box might go through him, Franck believed he understood. “Oh, you can go through objects? I hope it won’t come to that,” he said as Franck didn't have the strength to carry this thing on his own. Since Nico told him his power, Franck believed it was only fair to tell him his. “I’m an empath. You know, feelings...” Franck said, feeling he probably meant as little sense as Nico did earlier. But how else could he explain it?

Franck tried to think what might cause him to phase accidentally. He doubted it would as a defense mechanism since nothing was all that scary around here. And he seemed the kind that did not scare easily. Only other thing he could think of was his arms deciding to take a break without telling him. “If you ever need to rest, just tell me. We’ll put the crate down,” he told him. He figured he might as well assure Nico he wouldn’t mind taking a little longer if that meant not doing it alone or risking being hurt.

[Nico Martell]

No, through actual shit. Nico felt the words bubble up at the surface of his mind, just long enough to give the young man who offered them a look that pretty well said them. The only actual response he gave was a slight nod. Yes, yes he phased through objects. Hoo-freakin-ray. Apparently the young man was an empath, which meant that he quite literally enjoyed sharing his feelings. That explained some, though Nico was somewhat loathe to do what everyone did and link up someone's personality or emotions to their powers. then again, he'd been stuck in a jail and gotten the power to walk out, so who was he to say that wasn't how it worked?

They kept moving, and then the other guy offered a suggestion. Nico nodded at that, understanding what it was. The Frenchie didn't want to get a crate dropped on him, and Nico couldn't really hold that against him. He did pause for a moment; they'd hit the halfway point already.

"Short break," he said, nodding and trying to gesture that they should sit it down. Just the one, and then they'd be heading off. They still had to set the stupid thing up, after all.

[François Laffont]

Franck did feel a little stupid, especially with the look Nico gave him. He didn't really think he could walk through shit in the literal sense of the term. It would be a pretty useless and absolutely gross power to have. But the boy had been overly cryptic with his way of giving away only a part of the information in as little words as possible. Franck felt the need to repeat what he said to make sure he got it. Now, it was awkward and he had to deal with it.

Franck always thought that the quietest people were often the loudest for him. They kept their emotions bottled inside and the fact they rarely expressed them made them stronger to Franck. Nico... it was hard to tell. There definitely was something, since it was impossible for Franck to not pick anything but he couldn’t say it was really as powerful as he often get from people like him. Maybe he just needed to pull the right trigger to get there. Transporting crates was not exactly something meant to let your feelings out. Except perhaps if said crate fell on your foot, but that was an entirely different matter.

Since Nico stopped before asking him, Franck felt resistance from the boy before hearing him ask for a break. He nodded and put the crate down. “You’ve got that power for long?” Franck asked, determined to make conversation with the boy.

[Nico Martell]

By now Nico had resolved himself to small talk, and was just hoping that none of it drifted toward discussions regarding his past or his jail time. At least he didn't look too much like a convict... or at least, he didn't think he did. Perhaps that was why everyone kept asking him if he was gay.

"Not really," he offered, shrugging. "not great at controlling it," he bent down, ready to start picking things up again. "Got it on accident, spent time in Canada, now I'm here."

Which was a lot more than Nico actually wanted to say or offer up, but he wasn't exactly seeing much of an alternative here. Sometimes he did that: offered up what he expected the other person to want to hear, a short array of answers to unasked questions. Generally slowed the tide of questions, at least enough to make people start actually thinking. For now though, Nico just wanted to get moving again. He'd wait to make sure that Franck at least had a good grip first, but then it was move right along, get the job done.

[François Laffont]

Franck could understand the trouble that came along having trouble controlling your power. He technically had none over his. There was no ‘off, switch to it. The best he could do was to learn not to let the flow of emotions get over him. Sometimes, it was easy. At other times however, he drowned in it and started to react in ways he normally wouldn’t. And then felt bad about it. It was how it worked. “I know how that is. I technically have no control in what I’m getting from people. I can only try to control how I react when I get too much emotion inside, you know?” But did he? His emotions seemed almost as calm as he was on the outside. Maybe a little more turbulent but not much. Not as much as he would have expected.

He frowned though when he said accident. “Accident?” That it happened in Canada didn’t matter. He could be Canadian. Why not? After all, Franck was French. But he didn’t see how a power could get to you by accident. It was not a disease you might catch, it was in your blood, in your DNA.

He wanted to go back to moving the boxes though so Franck placed himself to grab the one they had and worked with him to move it to where they were supposed to go. He didn't know if the boy would answer him. He seemed not to like talking too much. Which was a shame for Franck liked that. And he was a good listener. Not today, it seemed.

[Nico Martell]

This guy had no control over his power? Yeah, Nico definitely knew those feels, though he couldn't help but again feel like this guy was just trying way too damn hard to connect with Nico for some reason. The Latino just kept that same emotionless expression, the one that had served him quite well throughout the years. The Canada thing didn't even seem to phase Franck all that much. Maybe Nico had some sort of sign on him that indicated that he was from pretty far East (via pretty far South). Again: not something the Latino was going to question.

Unlike the repetition of accident. Nico had picked up the crate by then, but he figured he could still manage a shrug. "Power kicked in when I wasn't expecting,' He offered, figuring that to be a fairly decent explanation. "Also not like anyone in my family has this," there, even more. It was true too: Nico was the only one with mutant powers in his moderate sized family, or at least, the only one he was aware of.

They were very near their destination now. At least the conversation had distracted from all the moving. Nico nodded and began adjusting, knowing they'd have to get the box inside. Then came the fun task of attempting to piece the thing together...