Although elderly, there was still a good chance He would beat you in a fight. He was impossibly elegant in his style. It was like He knew what you were going to do next. As though He could sense your next move: like Spider man, only better. He always noticed the small things: the impossibly small things. He felt the planet spinning at thousands of miles an hour, barely clinging to its arbitrary orbital. He heard the breath of the young man sitting on the bench at the bus stop across the wide street, and tuned out all other noise, until He heard only the incredibly quiet bus about a half of a mile away. He smelled the man's cologne, and could practically taste the fear, as he looked down and saw a crimson drop fall from his nose to the snow at his feet. He saw the blood bounce off of snow, and splatter all over the unique flakes, creating equally unique shapes of red liquid against the white background. All of His attention had turned to the young man; his essence, his actions, his personality, his energy, his story. The bus pulled up to the stop as he stood, and began to fumble in his pocket for a tissue. The thick, dark-skinned female bus driver began to yell at the unfortunate soul, and he continued to fish for a napkin, as well as his bus pass. The driver continued to scream, and the man looked up at her, looking her in the eyes. He tried to convey his feelings of embarrassment, as well as his apology for forcing her, and all the passengers, to wait for him. He had been glancing back and forth since she opened the doors of the bus, displaying the fact that he was having some difficulty locating the necessary items to get home. He then looked down, into his large coat pocket, attempting to spot his bus pass in his pocket, for a prolonged period of time. When he finally pulled his hand from his pocket, pass and napkin in hand, the bus driver had closed the doors and was about twenty feet away. The man sunk back into the seat at the bus stop, and wiped the blood from his upper lip and nose with the napkin. He scratched at the scruff on his face and wondered when the next bus would be coming around, and when he would be home. By the time he had given up on trying to calculate it, the Man from across the street, was standing in the middle of it. The street was barren, so he did not particularly fear what would happen to the Man, but he did wonder what He was doing, He just stood there, arms spread wide, elbows slightly bent. And He was chanting something. Some sort of gibberish and he had begun to wonder if He was insane. The Man opened His eyes, and raised His arms even higher. He stopped chanting, lowered His arms, and stretched His right arm out, and pulled His left arm close to His body, both hands in fists. He stood this way for a few moments, and he knew this Man was insane. But just as he had had that thought, he heard something amazing: squealing tires. The young man was astonished, but also frightened. He wondered if he was seeing things. Maybe he had lost more blood from that nose bleed than he had originally thought. Within only a few seconds, the bus that he had missed, which was about two hundred feet away, when He had begun His chant, was in front of him. Astonished, and still wondering if he was crazy, the doors opened for him. The bus driver had had the same reaction as the young man. The elderly Man was next to the young man within only a few short seconds.
"Sorry. I forgot this was my bus, too." He said to the young man and to the bus driver. He swiped His bus card, and sat down on a seat right near the front of the bus. His scraggly voice was crude, but it also had wisdom in it that very few people could ever reach. "Well, aren't you going to drive the bus? I mean, that is what you get paid for, isn't it?" If the people on the bus hadn't been so astounded at what they just witnessed, they might have laughed. "And you!" He said to the young man, who pointed to himself in question. "Yes you. Didn't you want to get on this bus, too?" The man gulped, and nodded. "Well then, better get on." He stepped on the bus, swiped his card, and decided which seat to choose. As the bus pulled away, He spoke. "Here, sit next to me." The Man patted His hand on the seat next to Him. The young man obliged, still trying, in vain, to come to terms with the reality of what he had just seen. All the while, the Man was talking his ear off. The young man was not listening to Him in the slightest. After about a twenty minute bus ride, He pulled a wire on the window, and stood up. "Well, it was nice seeing you Arthur." The young man was about to ask Him how He knew his name, when the bus stopped, and the doors opened. "Don't worry. We've met before. And I'm quite certain we'll meet again. I'm Emrys, by the way. Or as you knew me, Merlin. It was my pleasure, your majesty." He finished with a large bow, and stepped off the bus.