A/N: Here we are... sixth chapter, eh? I'm sorry if the writing isn't that good in this chapter... I did a lot of thinking just before I started writing again. I don't know why... But hey, here it is. READ AND REVIEW!
The busy sounds and rambunctious screams of the Benbow Inn dwindled quietly into a soft murmur, Anthony Bronson's impassioned objections and frustrated screams dying into little more than an indiscernible backdrop to the silence without. The inn's entrance creaked slowly to a close as Sarah Hawkins released the handle, taking in a deep, relieved sigh, a smile splitting her face.
There was a strange feeling of liberation that came with leaving the inn that Sunday, though she had already promised a disgruntled Anthony that it would only be for a moment. She closed her eyes, taking in a long, savoring breath of Montressor air, and let it out slowly, the tension and frustration that had been slowly accumulating leaving her body as she released her sigh. It was a content feeling. It wasn't the same type of feeling that she had been experiencing the past week; the last week had past as more of a relief to the stress caused by the you-know-whats. This was a truly satisfied sensation. Something that she had not sensed for so long a time.
Sarah opened her eyes after her drawn breath had been expelled, shaking her head at the strange happiness that had taken her. She wiped her hands on the apron that she wore around her waist, as if symbolizing her return to duty, then took a step forward to deal with whatever, or whomever in this case, was bothering Mrs, Dunwuddie. She had only moved an inch or so forward when she was stopped right in her tracks.
Sarah had spotted him. Or, at least, she thought it was him, the person that Mrs. Dunwuddie had made her complaint about. He was a peculiar figure, undoubtedly tall, large... An Ursid, Sarah concluded after short examination. She could tell by the bear-like qualities that were obvious upon this man. You never saw too many of those around Benbow.
The Ursid that Sarah had noted was standing a short ways away, just beyond the shading edge of the building's roof. He was staring up at something, it seemed, that was sitting upon the metal shingles above, his left hand open above his eyes to block out the sun's glare. He wore a hat, a tricorne, as it was a popular style in those days, along with a long black overcoat that appeared rather heavy, the type spacers wore typically. He wore a pull on shirt, a pair of red shorts held on by a leather belt, and a pair of black, brass-buckled shoes. He was a spacer, Sarah surmised almost immediately. An Ursid spacer, around the age of fifty, it seemed. It occurred to her that Ursids were undeniably uncommon about these parts, but spacers were altogether a usual sight. Sarah wondered quietly what it could be about this man, other than the fact that he was staring upward at some unknown thing, that made one of her patrons so uncomfortable.
"Excuse me!" Sarah addressed the man, waving a hand to gain his attention. She took a few steps forward. "Excuse me, sir!"
The man seem to jump somewhat from the sudden call and turned from the roof to look at Sarah curiously. He moved his whole body to face her, moving his hand to his hat, which he took off politely. A smile took his large face.
Sarah stopped suddenly, her eyes widening at the sight before her. She remained in this position for a moment, blinking in shock at the Ursid man, then, regaining her manners, she looked away, trying to hide the rude look that she had given him.
He was a cyborg. The Ursid man was a cyborg. Sarah coughed quietly, doing her best to keep looking at him in a discreet manner, her curiosity gripping her tightly. It wasn't that cyborgs were unfamiliar to Montressor, though a town like Benbow wasn't as used to them as other parts. It wasn't the mere fact that he was part mechanical. It was how much of him was gone. From what Sarah could then examine, he was lacking all the limbs on the right side of his body: his leg, his arm along with a good portion of his shoulder, as well as his eye and part of his head. He'd probably more gone beneath his clothing. She could only imagine the horrors that could have robbed him of so much of his being, or what problems he experienced through out life for his differences. The thought of such pain made Sarah extremely uncomfortable. For some reason, it frightened her.
The man, on the other hand, released a laugh that betrayed the loss and pain that Sarah had supposed hounded him. He pressed the tricorne against his chest and bowed his head in a gesture of respect. "Top o' the mornin' to yeh, lass," he greeted, flashing a smile, gap-toothed but surprisingly charming in its nature. He replaced his hat atop his head. "Yeh called me?"
Sarah coughed into a fist, clearing her throat uncomfortably. "Y-yes," she stammered out, nodding her head. "What I wanted to tell you... to ask you was... I wanted to ask you..." Sarah grimaced, unable to find the words that she wanted to say.
The Ursid only laughed. "Y'ain't used teh cyborgs, are yeh, lass?" he asked, a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. Sarah stiffened at his suggestion, which was just a bit off of the mark.
"No, no!" she said, shaking her head at his guess. "That's not it... not really."
"Is that so?" he inquired, a twinge of disbelief in his voice. Sarah laughed in embarrassment.
"Yes... well no, I mean... Let me start over," she said, slapping her forehead. She extended a hand for the stranger to shake. "My name is Sarah," she said in introduction.
The man accepted her gesture happily, shaking her hand in a friendly manner. "Jack," he said in reply, saying this at length as if inventing a name on the spot. "Jack Arktos."
"Jack," Sarah repeated quietly, releasing his hand after returning the shake. Sarah looked up at his friendly face, which glanced down at her in a strangely welcoming way. The way that this man acted was odd, deviant from the character that his exterior portrayed. She had expected something different. A slow, lumbering man, with a rough and surly voice, antisocial, rude... but he was quite the contrary. The man was far from antisocial, it seemed, his words and salutations actually representing the persona of an extrovert. His voice, though rough fro weathering years, was full and charismatic, and his movements were graceful, executed in wide expressing arcs, not at all slow, or lumbering, despite his largeness. Sarah felt the comfort begin to seep in, and most of her fear toward the Ursid slipped back into her mind.
"So, what are you doing here, Jack?" she asked, attempting friendly conversation with the Ursid before her.
"Ah, business," he answered, glancing upward for a second.
"Business?" Sarah repeated, wondering his meaning. "What type of business?"
"I'm lookin' fer a job," he answered.
"A job?"
"Yeah... It's in a convenient location, and someone referred me to this place..."
"Someone referred you to the inn?" Sarah asked in order to be sure. The ursid nodded, verifying her accuracy. "Who?" she inquired.
"Someone... his name was Bronson, or the like," he said in reply, scratching his chin.
"Anthony referred you to the inn?" she asked, her eyes wide in surprise. If Anthony suggested the man go here, then he must be a hard worker.
"Was tha' his name?" Jack asked, jutting out his jaw. "Didn' know his firs' name. Only knew the lad as Bronson."
Sarah nodded her head in reply. "So, you're looking for a job at the inn?" she asked.
"A job," the man acceded with a nod of his head.
Sarah returned the bob with one of her own, putting a hand to her chin in a deliberating manner. Jack is searching for a job, she thought, tapping a considering finger against her white cheek. She raised her glance back to the Ursid, whose own attention seemed to have reverted from Sarah back to the slope of the roof that had been preoccupying him when she had arrived. She perused his expression quietly, doing her best to construct what personality she could from his appearance, as well as what reactions toward his place in the Benbow Inn family would be. People, Mrs. Dunwuddie being a good example, didn't normally accept anything too out of the norm; would this Jack Arktos be considered to have gone that far?
A quiet whistle broke into her thoughts, and she returned her sights to the large person before her. His hands were raised upward, his fingers making a waving motion, as if gesturing for something to approach. His lips were puckered gently, a soft tone escaping through the small circle they created.
"C'mere, Morphy," he spoke, his mouth once again curving into a pleasant smile. "C'mere!"
Sarah turned about and saw, floating swiftly downward along the descending angle of the roof's shingles, Morph, squeaking in loud and happy bursts. She watched in relative surprise as the protoplasmic blob flew toward the Ursid, passing Sarah as if she weren't there, and circled him ecstatically, before making its way to his cheek and rubbing its gelatinous body against it. Jack let out a hearty chuckle, lifting a large finger to Morph to give it a place to rest upon, and returned the soft stroke with one of his own.
"Strange," Sarah said, watching the scene before her. A smile took her face. "It's almost as if he knows you..."
"He knows you!" Morph exclaimed, turning into Sarah for a spell, then swiftly remorphing into his usual form. Sarah raised a brow at the pet's exclamation, sending Jack a strange look. She didn't know why, but she had felt a small twinge of suspicion upon hearing Morph utter those words. Morph, though a veritable copy-cat, usually had some sort of meaning behind the things that he echoed back. Whether it be in agreement or an attempt to reply, there was often times a reason that he repeated what he did. Was it possible that Jack Arktos had in fact met Morph before hand? After all, he had coaxed the little creature to come down from its spot on the roof (whatever it was doing up there), and he had referred to it as "Morphy", which was a rather affectionate nickname.
"Aye, lass," Jack said, as if in response to the thoughts that were running through her head. "Me and morphy here, we're friends."
"Oh really?" Sarah asked. "He belongs to my son, Jim," she told him, reaching out to run a finger over Morph's curved back.
"Ah, the lad takes good care o' his pet, eh?" the Ursid asked, his tone vague, bordering upon mild interest and true curiosity.
"He did," Sarah answered, laughing quietly as Morph attacked her with its tongue. "He's off at the Royal Academy at the moment, so I'm stuck taking care of the little morph."
The man lifted his head at the news, a look of surprise taking his face. "The Royal Academy, yeh say?" he inquired, a sound of awe evident in his voice. Sarah nodded, smiling proudly at her son's achievement. Jack smiled, glancing up at the sky as if he could see the academy from his post before the inn. "Aye," he muttered, his features softening, "he's gonna be somethin' special." There was something strange about the way he appeared at that single moment, Sarah realized, that seemed touching and memorable to her. It was a glimmer in his eye, one that seemed full of reminiscence and pride, one that Sarah didn't completely understand.
"So," Sarah began, glancing away from Jack to Morph, who lingered still beside him, "how do you know Morph?"
Jack turned back to Sarah and passed the morph a grin. "Saw the little shape shifter around," he told her, "when I was in town. He was mumbling around, melancholy. Thought I might cheer 'im up a bit."
Sarah's lips twitched into a remembering smile. "Consoling the family pet," she muttered. She released a sigh, thoughts of Isaac and his betrayal flowing into her mind for the first time in a long while.
"You say something, lass?" Jack asked, stooping down in order to see her face, which had lowered to look at the floor at the discomforting thoughts.
Sarah shook her head quickly. "No, no, nothing," she lied, trying her best to push away the uncomfortable thoughts that stewed in her mind. She sighed, then, as if remembering what they were both discussing beforehand, took his arm and gently guided him toward the door. "Now, you said you're looking for a job, right?"
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Who is Jack Arktos? If you don't know then I don't write that well... I think I made it freakishly obvious... A sudden thought popped into my head... Where is B.E.N? He was working at the Inn, non? I can make it so that something bad happened to him (Sarah-inflicted, Jim-inflicted or whatever) so he has to stay at the mechanics... I'm not that good at writing for B.E.N. In my opinion... Ah well.