Twelve

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Arbiter did not need to peer out his window to know that the crowd of protestors were still there.

They remained, stubborn and righteous, despite the efforts of many to make them see reason.

Peace did not seem to a part of them, not like war was, not like wrath. It was written in their blood and burned into their bones after a war fought so long and hard as theirs. They had scraped and crawled and hurled themselves towards survival, and Arbiter could not begrudge their passionate refusal to accept the Alliance. Not after all his kind had done, even if it were at the behest of lies and manipulation.

He just wished that they would at least try to understand the necessity of being allies.

They refused, day after day, and the crowd only grew in size and fervour.

And day after day, Arbiter felt his patience wane, his resilience wilt. This was no battlefield, that which he was accustomed to like the act of breathing, but an office. Words were his only weapons here, and even they had to be cultivated and cured of resentment and heat.

He was tired, and saw no respite on the horizon.

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John bit back a sigh.

"Bullshit!" Rangi blustered, oblivious to the parents to shot him glares and covered their children's ears. "Gabs, the All Blacks will destroy the Swans. As they have every year for the past decade. Or do I need to bring out the scoreboard again?"

"You and your damn scoreboard," Gabby groaned, rolling her neck and making a rough, exasperated noise in her throat. "Enough already."

Rangi went on like he had not heard her. "Swans have got Kingston as their captain. He sucks. His plays are stupid. It's a wonder they haven't booted him from the team."

Apparently, the games that Rangi had mentioned earlier were in reference to the sport known as Rugby, and Gabby was an avid fan. Of her team, at least.

"Kingston may not have the best plays," Gabby countered, "but he's a decent bloke. Does a lot of good work outside of the game. And you and I both know that your precious All Blacks have only won so many victories because-"

"Why? Because why, Gabs?"

"Stop cutting me off and I'll bloody tell you."

John tuned them out. This was the third debate they'd had in as many minutes and he would rather not listen in again. The bickering ceased, finally, as they approached a line of storefronts just beyond the markets.

"I need to grab a few bits in here, and then we're almost done," Gabby said. "Mind waiting out here with Boomer, John? Mei doesn't allow pets inside."

John nodded, aware that Rangi made no move to head inside.

"You take care of him, okay?"

"I will," John promised.

Gabby's mouth twitched. "I was talking to Boomer."

"Funny," he said.

She winked and slipped inside. With her gone, Rangi made the move John had been anticipating since the man invited himself along. Folding his arms and planting his feet, Rangi reminded John of trainers presiding over greenhorns who were too nervous or too excited about their first drop.

John wasn't affected by the tactic, but this man was clearly important to Gabby so he didn't respond in kind.

"Gabs is like my own kid, you understand?" Rangi began, amicable enough that John didn't bother rising to the thin warning in his tone. "You use to get that big?"

"No," John said. If one looked at it in a certain way, he was lying. Augmentation was a complicated process.

Suddenly, Rangi dropped the hostile stance. He grinned. "Good, then."

"Gabby seems capable of looking out for herself," John said, offended on her behalf.

"She is," Rangi conceded. "Old habits. Been looking out for her since she was a lil' possum, and her hearts always been too big to see the bad in people."

John could respect that, he supposed.

While they waited on Gabby, Rangi slowly drew John into conversation. The man was originally from New Zealand, and had a large property further out in the valley where his family reared sheep. John revealed little of himself. If he was put off by this, Rangi did not show it.

When Gabby emerged, it was with an armful of leather tack.

"I need to take off," Rangi slung an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "Tui is throwing together a barbeque this Sunday. You should come. Both of you."

Gabby seemed pleased by the offer, and John only hesitated for a moment when she passed an inquiring glance his way. He nodded, even as his nerves rattled at the thought of more people in an intimate setting.

Gabby would be there though.

"We'll be there," Gabby smiled.

"Bring your swimmers. Paul is lugging the ski gear out."

With a lazy wave, Rangi left.

"Anything else you want to swing by and grab while we're here?"

There was a woodworkers stall John wanted to take a closer look at. He said as much.

"I'll meet you at the truck," Gabby readjusted her load, propping the saddle on her hip with a huff. "I need to store this away and people will be starting to think about packing up by the time I'm done. You'll be right?"

"Are you talking to me, or Boomer?"

A slow smile spread over her face. "Boomer, of course. I know you can handle yourself."

They parted ways.

At the woodworkers stall, John admired the careful detail carved into small chests and figurines. They were intricate, and well made from what John could tell. The maker himself was busy behind the display table, arms covered in wood shavings as he sculpted detail into a stylized figure of a woman and child.

"Help you with something, mate?"

John made to answer when a troupe of kids came barrelling around the corner. They were shrieking with laughter, and did not notice the woman in their path. She jerked out of their way, becoming unbalanced, and would have fallen if not for his fast reflexes. He caught her, snatching her parcels mid-air.

"Are you alright?" John cleared his throat as he righted her, acutely aware that she was stiff and red-faced. "Ma'am?"

"Fine," she blurted, suddenly snapping into movement and brushing bright red curls behind her ears. "Fine. I'm fine. Really, I'm…fine. Thank you. I'm going to go now."

Still flushed red, she accepted her parcel back and hurried away.

Turning back, he found the carpenter watching him, toothpick hanging loosely from parted lips.

"Nice catch, mate," the man said, professional mask fitting seamlessly in place. "Can I help you with something?"

"Just admiring, for the moment."

With a chortle, he said, "I like you. Admire all you want. Name's Rick if you have any questions."

"Actually," John began before he could talk himself out of asking, "I am more interested in learning how to make items like this, rather than buy them."

Snap decisions had saved his life more than once. Lives were hardly on the line here, but John was curious and still disliked the thought of leaving the quiet seclusion of the mountain without a companion. John had travelled the stars, but only now did he feel small – in a town of less than nine thousand, with no shipyards or skyscrapers.

Rick chewed on the toothpick for a beat, hands coming to his hips, and considered John with a shrewd gaze.

"Name?"

"John Chiefs."

The toothpick twitched up. Rick dug a card from his pocket and handed it over. "Come by my workshop and we'll see what you've got. I could use another set of willing hands down there. If you're willing to learn, that is?"

"I am." Carefully, John tucked the card away. Not the outcome he expected, but one that was entirely welcome. "Thank you."