Chapter 56: Ribbing
"So! Ye hit a girl!"
Jim groaned. Wart smiled as Silver waded through suds and dirty dishes.
"Jimbo! Jimbo! Jimbo!" Silver laughed, seating himself heavily between the boys. "Jimbo, I thought I had ye figured! Boy w' the sulky brood. Martyr of the War Games. Baddest reputation in town. And…"
Silver drum rolled on a pan as Morph transformed into a trumpet. "…and Girl Slugger! Watch out girls one and all – he'll knock yer socks off!"
Morph collapsed hysterically. Wart hid his laugher behind a plate. Silver guffawed until grease leaked from his mechanical eye.
"Okay. Okay." Jim punched Silver in the arm. "Okay, very funny."
"Oooooh!" Silver clutched his arm. "That's the fist! The dreaded fist they call Date Breaker!"
"Keep it up." Jim grunted, picking up a stack of clean dishes. "Hilarious."
"Oh Jimbo. Oh Jimbo." Wiping his eyes, Silver gasped for breath. Leaning over his enormous belly, he grabbed Wart's shoulder for support. "Oh Jimbo. We're just foolin' w' ye."
"She deserved it though." Wart offered, standing up. Smiling, he joined Jim, balancing a stack too big for his arms. "Lana's been cruel and unfair for years. It was a good punch."
Jim tried not to grin. "Thanks." he said, helping Wart.
Wart pushed thick bangs from his eyes. "No problem. It was about time. Even if you are a guy and she's a girl."
Silver erupted into another delighted fit.
Jim ruffled Wart's blonde hair. "Okay. Get out of here, punk."
Wart's blue eye twinkled. Throwing Jim a thumbs up, he turned to leave. "See you tomorrow Mr. Silver!"
"And the same te you, lad!" Silver waved as Wart ran out the kitchen door. "The same te you! Ohhhh….oh by the powers…."
Sighing, Silver grabbed his prosthetic leg. The knee joint groaned as Silver hefted it onto a stool.
Stacking the last dish, Jim watched as Silver tried to tighten the joint's screw.
"You got that?" he asked as Morph elongated into a screwdriver.
Silver grunted. "Bend it in."
Jim crossed the room. Kneeling, he pushed against Silver's metal shin. With a jolt, the knee clanked into place.
"Aye." Fanning himself, Silver sat back. "Thank ye Morphy. And…" the red eye blinked over Jim. "…thank ye, Lad."
Jim nodded. "No problem." Somberly, he reclined against the sink. "So…uh…" his eyes rest on Silver's metal leg. "…how'd that happen, anyway?"
Silver paused. Gently, he curled and uncurled his mechanical fingers. The metal reflected against his eyes. "You give up a few things…" he said softly, staring through the silver joints, "…chasin' a dream."
Jim gazed over the cyborg's metal parts. Ariel lingered in the back of his mind. "Was it worth it?"
Silver looked up. Then, he winked into the sky. "I'm hopin' it is Jimbo." Smiling, he shook Jim's knee. "I most surely am."
A moment passed.
Then Jim stood. "I better get going."
Silver raised an eyebrow. "Shift's not over." he said, nodding to a dirty pile. "Remember – detention for a year."
Jim wrung a soapy rag. "Yeah, I know. But can I do it tomorrow morning? Come in early?"
"Why? Hot date?"
Jim rolled his eyes as Morph sniggered. "Not exactly. I…have to find Wendy…to…" Jim tried to muffle his voice. "…apologize."
Silver bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Rough sailing t'day, in'it Lad?"
Jim glared as Morph giggled across the kitchen. "Obviously."
Jerkily, Silver rose. His knee creaked. "I could say no…save ye the trouble."
Jim shook his head. "Believe me. I appreciate it. But…Wen's going through a lot of shit. You know."
The cyborg's red eye tickered in surprise. "Do I?"
"Yeah." Jim circled his hands, trying to unearth Silver's memory. "You know. Ripping out Pan's shadow, death threats, dad's in jail…and believe it or not, I made it worse. So…"
Jim set down the rag. "…can I go?"
Silver's demeanor changed. "Ye say the little lass…you're not-girlfriend...the Shadow Worker…."
Straightening, the cyborg's frowned slightly. "Twas her pap that was in jail w' you? The lush?"
Jim nodded. "Yeah. Thought you knew."
Silver grinned. "I do now." he muttered, almost to himself.
Jim frowned. Suspiciously he peered at the cyborg. "Silver?"
"What? Oh aye. Aye…go on, Lad. Go on." Limping over teacups, mops, and soapy suds, Silver guided Jim out the kitchen door. "Finish t'morrow morning. Dishes will be waitin' for ye. Go on. Go an find yer little lass."
Silver waited until Jim's footsteps faded.
Then, disappearing under his tricorn and trench the cyborg hunched into the night. "And I'll go find her pap."
