Along the Straight and Narrow Path
PROMPT 1: Flat tire
Word Count: Approx. 700
Notes: I know what you're thinking, and let me apologize in advance. But yes, these 15 prompts were all picked at random via a prompt generator + number generator to sort through the 30 I picked; yes, that is what I'm calling this tiny raft of a ship I'm on (I've debated on this though; Wooden Cricket? Cricket Puppet? Wooden Conscience? Conscience Wood even?); and yes, I will try and do my best to do justice to it – starting now. Takes place after "The Stranger" and before "A Land Without Magic".
"Oh, now, come on, I see this sort of thing all the time. You expect me to believe somebody purposely let air out of it?"
"Look, Marco, I don't think 'let air out of' is the same as 'completely shredded the rubber and stole the air plug'."
The voice was new, as was the person it belonged to, but the psychiatrist could not help but tilt his head and glance at the back of a dark-haired figure wearing a leather jacket, crouched in front of a motorcycle. Something felt off about this unfamiliar presence in the fact that, for whatever reason, it did not feel that unfamiliar at all. There was a huge list of reasons that popped into the man's brain as to explain this, but for whatever reason they didn't seem to click.
Did he, perhaps, know this person?
He saw the older man that stood next to the bike shake his head and wave his hands toward the vehicle. "But you think about it, who would give the time to do something like this to you? Did you make anybody angry?" The man's gaze became distracted from the current problem at hand to the psychiatrist watching them, though, and his expression warmed. "Ah, Archie. Good to see you, as always!"
The corners of his mouth curved automatically, and Archie walked towards his acquaintance. "I can certainly say the same for you, Marco," he responded, before nodding his head towards the stranger and his bike (ignoring how the stranger's posture seemed to lock up; it was most likely a reaction from being pulled out of focus from the flat he was concerned about). "Are you busy today?"
"No, no, not at all. I would actually like you to meet somebody. August, let me introduce you to a very good friend of mine!"
The man had stood up as if on cue and turned on his heels to face Archie, and in that instant Archie could not help but notice how the leather jacket-wearing man with scruff on his face, tousled dark hair on his head, and a purple scarf around his neck resembled Marco. It was almost as though the two were related somehow – though this was impossible; as far as his knowledge went and what Marco had told him, Marco did not have any children, let alone any family left in Storybrooke.
And yet, Marco had rested his hand and given a squeeze to this younger man's shoulder as a father would to a son. "This is my new assistant I have been telling you about. He is new to Storybrooke, but so far, he is very good with fixing things."
The man had chuckled, as though unsure whether he should swell his chest in pride or wave his hand dismissively in embarrassment, before he had looked up towards Archie – blue eyes to blue eyes – and had held out a gloved hand. "August Booth," the man said.
The grasp and handshake was firm as Archie took his hand and gave a nod. "Archie Hopper," he replied. "I've heard many good things about you, Mr. Booth. It's very kind of you, volunteering your time to help Marco around his shop." He gave a playful smirk. "Tell me, where did you find it deep within your heart to help out this old man?"
Despite the scoff that emerged out of Marco's mouth and the smack that landed softly on Archie's arm, August had practically beamed, and for whatever reason it had startled Archie because for one second, he could have sworn he had seen this exact smile a long time ago on a much younger face.
"I just did what my conscience would have told me to do."
Next Three Prompts: Iodine, Can of soda, Umbrella
