Cyrus Foley is fast asleep, his sweat-soaked hair flopping into his eyes due to the Australian late summer heat, when something slaps against his arm and he jerks awake. "What?!" he demands, accent thick even in his young voice as he struggles to wipe the sleep from his eyes.
He frowns upon finding a blanket on his arm and sits up, untangling it.
"'Ey! Foley!" one of the bullies yells nearby, waving his hands. "Givvit here!"
Cyrus is still half asleep but his mind works quick enough to put the pieces together as he spots a little boy-- barely a toddler-- bouncing around on the soles of his feet, anxiety and sadness in his wide eyes, which are locked on the blanket in Cyrus' hand.
"Hey, leave 'im alone," Cyrus says, budging up from the cot. "What'd he ever do to you?"
"Got in me way, this'un did," Jack Irving says, scowling down at the boy. "So's I tell him to get out my way and he still doesn't. Seemed only right I relieve him of that grimy, nasty blankey he had there," he finishes, drawling nastily on the word "blankey".
Cyrus looks down at the little boy, who's stopped bouncing but looks even more tense now, his eyes locked on the obviously precious strip of soft blue fabric in Cyrus' grip.
Cyrus shrugs. "Little thing like him probably isn't that hard to go around, now is he?" he asks, joining the toddler. "Here y'go, why don't ya get outta here?" He stuffs the blanket in the little boy's hands and pushes him towards the main room, away from Jack's large fists and angry eyes.
"You screwin' with me, Foley? That was mine," he says through gritted teeth.
"Didn't seem it to me, Jack. Can't pick on people ya own age, huh? Never did like cowards," Cyrus says, preparing himself for a tussle when one of the madams enters, looking a little tense.
"Little Grady says there's a fight brewing in here. You boys alright?" she asks, a forbidden look on her peaked face. Despite her malnourished looking body, she's well known for her tendency to use the belt or switch or anything that's on hand for rowdy boys.
"Never better, Madam Willings," both boys echo, Jack suddenly sounding like an innocent little prince instead of the evil imp he generally is. Cyrus squints a little to hide the impressive eyeroll that this inspires. Madam Willings stares at them for a moment before shrugging and returning to the main room.
"This isn't over, Foley," Jack warns, an evil sneer on his lips.
"It never is," Cyrus says in an uninterested fashion as Jack finally leaves the room. He sighs and turns back to his bed, interested in resuming his interrupted sleep, when he hears a soft noise behind him and tenses up, expecting Jack or one of his friends. When he twists however, fist held at the ready, little Grady stumbles backwards, eyes wide and startled. "Whoa!" Cyrus groans, dropping his hands. "Don't sneak up on people, kid. That's just askin' for trouble."
Grady quickly loses his fear as Cyrus sighs and drops back on his uncomfortable lump of a bed, even daring to walk unsteadily closer to the much older boy's bed, jaw slacking a little as he looks up at him.
"What?" Cyrus asks, unnerved by the look of awe on the boy's face.
Grady shrugs a little, his lips pinching into nearly a pout.
"Oh." The older boy leans over and lifts him up awkwardly, settling him on his bed. "Is that what you wanted?"
Grady nods, looking a bit happier.
"Can you talk?" he wonders inanely after growing unnerved by his staring.
"Ye- yeah," he finally whispers, abruptly gripping at something around Cyrus' throat-- his dogtag.
"Hey," Cyrus says, about to yank the chain from the kid's fist.
Grady releases it without preamble but his eyes remain on it as if it's the most spectacular thing he's ever seen-- considering the poor condition of the orphanage, it might not be that much of a stretch. "Whassat?" he finally asks.
"A dogtag," Cyrus says, giving up on getting a good nap today. "You wanna see something?" At the little boy's nod, Cyrus pulls a penny that he had found outside of the orphanage probably dropped by some careless tourist from his pocket and holds it in front of Grady's wide eyes. "Watch closely." He drops the cent into his open palm, before clasping his hand into a fist. "One..." he shakes his fist, watching Grady closely. "Two..." He expertly shifts the penny and-- "Three!" He opens his fist with a flourish and smiles as Grady gapes at his now empty hand.
"Whoa."
"Yeah, cool, huh?" He smirks.
As Grady nods, Cyrus realizes this is the first time he's spent any time with a fellow orphan without feeling like he's got to struggle to be better, or something he's not. He looks at the little boy and shakes his head, confused and a little worried by the feeling of need gnawing at him-- Grady has no relation to him, is just another kid, but something about him... Cyrus thinks he wants to help the kid, protect him from bullies like Irving, which is a first. He takes a chance and says, "Grady?"
"Yeah?"
"What would you say if I told you I was your brother?"
Grady's lips sag as he gazes up at Cyrus. "Brother?"
"Uh huh, means I'm responsibile for you and I'll always keep you safe, no matter what," he says, waiting anxiously for the boy's response.
Suddenly a grin overtakes his young face and he tackles Cyrus with a massive hug, forcing the air from him briefly from the force of it. "Brother!"
It's a tricky lie to keep, the madams who run the place knowing better, but they let it slide with a little pleading from Cyrus. Even after he sees what Grady becomes after Cyrus was kicked out of the foster home and they were separated, he never once regrets his decision made when he was a kid, even thinks if he could go back in time, he'd do it all again-- except he'd fight harder to save Grady once he was forced to leave him behind.