"Stop sleeping on the job and get back to work!"
That was all the warning Jacob got before he felt his chair give way underneath him, spilling under him and sending him to the ground. He let out a yelp as a sharp pain erupted from his back, and suddenly he was wide awake, not a trace of sleepiness in his mind.
"Ha ha ha!" An annoyingly loud voice he was growing to hate laughed at his misfortune. The source was a man of average height, with a slight curve to his back. His graying hair and balding head only added to his plight. He did not enjoy the elderly. "Maybe that'll teach you to keep your mind up. These chairs don't just wait for you to be awake, you know!"
Jacob glared at the man, but he just grinned at him knowingly before he turned and walked away.
Guess I should get back to work now... Wait a second. How the hell do I still have a job? I'm pretty sure I quit my last one. Sent a formal and informal complaint and everything. Jacob stared at the grandfather clock in growing worry, trying to understand his position.
The last thing he remembered was lazing around at home on his couch after quitting his job as a Social Worker- and good riddance. He had only taken the job because he was desperate, not because he particularly liked helping people- he didn't and the toll of just dealing with idiots every single day eventually made him snap. His eyes darted left and right, from the weapon supplies to the containers to his own dar- er, navy hair and confirmed his suspicions- he wasn't home, or anywhere close to it. And apparently he had gotten his hair dyed while... whatever this was happened. The only logical explanation would be that he was dreaming. Quite a very lucid dream.
The other would be that he had been kidnapped, but he did know of anyone personally who would, and that would were without means to do so. Between the obvious questions and the... actually, he should try to get those answered first.
"Hey uh, boss man?"
His 'boss' turned towards him with a lifted brow, hands idly working themselves around a locking mechanism. He sighed. "What do you want, Samwell? Another raise? More dust to organize?"
"No, none of that," said James, giving him a funny look. What the hell had happened that ended up with him organizing dust? And apparently, his name was now Samwell. "What day is it?"
"Friday."
"I meant the date," he rectified, already dreading the answer.
"Third of August. Don't tell me your losing your memory faster than I am. Usually you're good with the dates on Friday. Samwell, are you losing yourself in those dreams of yours?" He prodded.
"I am fine!" James scowled. "I just…"
He stopped there. What was there that he could tell the man? Heavens, he didn't even know what was going on himself!
"Boss, mind if I take a bathroom break?" He said after a moment of silence. "I just need some time to freshen up my face."
"Five minutes."
How fortunate. The bathroom was only in the far left corner of the room, and not somewhere alien. James felt a bit of relief, if only so he wouldn't have to make things awkward by asking where the bathroom was.
He stepped into the bathroom, stood before the mirror, and his eyes sweeping across his form, seeking anything that would reveal this as a massive joke, or find his current location. While he did not have a flawless memory, his own appearance was something that had been etched into his very mind and soul. So when he found the face of another staring at him from the mirror, to say he was merely surprised would be a lie.
Am I dreaming? I must be… right? He wanted to think that was what happened, that it was the most logical thing that was happening, but all in all, it seemed much too realistic for a dream. His dreams usually were either vague and nonsensical, or they were a reply of the major events of his day. This felt exactly as if he were there in the flesh- no money trees, one-eyed toilets or the look of surprise on his boss' face. And there was that sensation of pain, too – he definitely felt himself falling on the floor, not to mention how well structured the place was.
His short-black hair, his glasses, the short-sleeved shirt were mere memories now. Instead he had a button-up shirt, a red tie, his navy-dark hair cut medium and given a rough brush to the sides. Light blue eyes too. If he had to guess, he'd say that he were maybe sixteen, seventeen years old at a push.
Oh, and the tag on his shirt read: Samwell Okim, Dusty Dan's Employee
James frowned. More questions, and less answers. What happened to the original person who owned the body, 'Samwell Okim'? Did he somehow take over the mind? The soul, even? And what of his original body back on Earth? Did he just die on the spot? Did another person take over it? Why did he transfer into a body younger than himself?
"Samwell, are you stinking up a storm in there as well?" The boss yelled at him through the door, apparently not seeing the problem. "If not, this dust doesn't move itself!"
He sighed. Questions for another time, James supposed. Well, I still can do this quick little test. Surely, if it were all just an elaborate dream, he'd wake up the moment he felt pain, right? His dreams had a habit of just making him immune to any sort of pain, allowing for the craziest of them to appear.
James placed his finger on the door hinge and slowly pushed it shut. He hissed, before quickly removing his hand.
Huh, not a crazy elaborate dream after all. He only felt pain in reality, not in his strangely entertaining fantasies. So it's all real… my sudden body switching, the change in location. Where the hell on Earth even am I?
He walked out of the bathroom, and made his way to the boss. James sneaked a glanced at his nametag. Dan Reeds.
"Hey, mind if I ask you another question?" James asked, leaning against the counter. It had a glass cover, with multiple different colored crystals that glowed slightly lying inside.
Dan hummed, a deep gruff sounding sound. "You seem to be asking quite a bit of those ever since that nap. How about I ask you one first? Are you alright, Samwell?"
James tilted his head curiously, wondering why he had decided to ask him that. He glanced at his hands- only for a second, but James caught it. They were shaking. He took a deep breath and only then noticed the grin on his face. He fought that back down.
"I'm fine," he said. The experience was more excitement then what he could barely handle. He'd have to hide that. "How about you tell me where in America am I?"
"Amehrica?" James didn't like the foreignness Dan said the word with. "What are you talking about boy? We're in Vale, Dusty Dan's. What kind of place is named Amehrica. What in Remnant is an Amehrica?"
"What on Earth is a Remnant?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them. James internally winced at the expression on Dan's face.
He was clearly taken back by the question – it was clearly the last thing he had expected to be asked, or at least close to the bottom of the barrel. He composed himself quickly, though. Sort off.
Well that confirms it. I'm no longer on Earth. James felt a smile creeping into his face. Was he going mad? He should've been more worried about this, angry at being torn from his world. But he couldn't bring himself to be.
There wasn't much he left behind at home, having cut relations with most people other than around seven friends and his parents. Nor did he hold any grand aspirations in his life or a grand goal; just to laugh, make money, and die.
A new world… was a new start. Not to mention all the stories of people being sent to other world he read in his free time. Guilty pleasure turned reality.
Dan sighed. "Samwell please, please tell me that you are playing some half-baked joke. That you didn't forget the name the world we live in? Next you're going to say something crazy like not knowing what dust is, right?" He gave James a sharp look. "I really hope that isn't going to happen."
"Uh yes, dust! I am a dust specialist." James' eyes darted around the room, floor to ceiling, landing on a row of glass containers built into the sides of the walls. Each had a twistable nozzle and were filled with some kind of colored powder. He pointed a finger at a red one. "That is red dust?"
Dan followed his eyes and nodded approvingly. "So you've finally put an end to that façade. And yes, that's the fire dust. You're gonna help move the rest of it along with the other dust out back."
"Sure, I guess. Just point me at it." He couldn't tell Dan that as far as he knew the employee he knew was dead. Nothing good would come out of that. And on the other hand, he would need a source of income, and had been lucky enough to be supplied with a job. Well, more like born into one.
Sort off.
It was time he got to work.
Before he knew it, he was being put to hard labor, first moving boxes of the dust out from the back of the shop. It was almost second nature to him, even so as he adjusted to his new height and strength. Huh, not really that different than how I was at sixteen. Maybe a bit higher to be accurate.
It also helped that he had done labor-intensive jobs before – as a delivery man, retail work – and had disliked it. He didn't hate the work itself, nor was the workload too much for him, but it was rather plain work. Mundane and boring. The elements weren't much different in the shop, but one kept him interested in his work.
Dust was… interesting, for a lack of better words. Mined straight from the ground, it could be put to use without much preparation. The powder he was wary of, since he'd been told a sneeze could end up blowing him sky high, and the crystals; he was still trying to find out how they were powered.
It was something out of a magical setting, an element that defied all reason. But that was now his reality. It fascinated the kid in him, the fact that a substance such a dust came in different elements; fire, wind, water, electricity, earth. Maybe there were more, but those were the only types he saw in the shop.
Hm, I'll definitely need to get a book on dust since it seems to be so important in this world. I also need to get one on basic geography otherwise I'll just look suspicious with 'my' sudden lack of basic geography. It'd also help if I were get something to defend myself with… seeing as how that dust stuff is easily available to everyone. Maybe a knife to start, don't know if I'd need a permit for a gun here. That being said, is there really anything else I'm missing? Other than the slight discomfort of this body, I'm feeling pretty much fine. Don't know if that's a good thing or not.
For a little while James focused on the job; moving boxes, glass containers and more boxes. Mundane as the task was, it didn't come to a surprise as he started thinking, and his thoughts moved from one to another. Before he knew it, he was thinking about meaningless little things.
Why does dust exist? Who or how was this stuff even created? Would water dust create a pond if I were to set it off? What happened to my old body? Did me and Samwell switch places? If I sat on a voodoo doll of myself would I ever be able to get up again? What are these grimm I keep seeing in the brochures? Some kind of local pop culture thing? Why am I questioning these things?
Before he knew it, his had reached the ending hours of his job. Six o' clock. He blinked twice. Had time really passed by so quickly? Some habits never change, I guess. It had been almost too easy to ease back into doing essentially 'drone work'.
"Good work today, Samwell." A deep voice spoke behind him, shattering his thoughts. He turned around in response and saw Dan leaning against the counter as he had done previously. He held a wad of cash in his hands that was soon laid on the counter. "Eight hundred and seventy-five lien. This week's payment."
Lien? From the way he said it, and the wads on the counter, James had to guess that it was this place's form of currency. He stepped forward to take the lien and stared at it. It was currency unlike that he had seen before; a plastic, credit card-like design but different. Instead of the face of an important figure, a large "L" with two horizontal crosses laid in its place.
"If you don't mind me asking again, are you alright today Samwell? Notice you've done more work than usual and don't talk as much." Dan formed some sort of wince. "Not that I don't mind it, but you've been… off ever since that nap."
James hummed in disapproval. That was a habit that had been cultivated through childhood- and one he hadn't been as willing to part with. It wasn't as though he hated people - far from it – rather it was that he wasn't much a conversationalist. Maybe Samwell wouldn't agree, but ambient noise or silence was preferred to aimless chatter.
And that was his mistake. He slipped up, showed a trait that he- Samwell- or whatever wouldn't normally show. He had to be careful about that… possibly find a cover story or a way to meld into Samwell's demeanor. He preferred the former. If he kept slipping up, it wouldn't be long before questions were ask, and while people probably wouldn't come to the true conclusion, he did not want to risk the consequences.
Sad to say, he'd have to risk the consequences. He grinned nervously as he tilted his head to look Dan in the eye. "Do you happen to have my address written down anywhere?"
For once a train hadn't put James to sleep. So far everything had seemed far too real to be some elaborate lucid hallucination his mind cooked up. As far as he could tell at the moment, he really did travel to another world and in the process inhabited the body of another person. He spent of the time thinking about what could've done this to him, but the only answers just brought more questions. One, a god had brought him here for a reason he couldn't yet discern. Two, he had been summoned by a group or a singular person, much like the god. Or three, he had died in mysterious consequences on Earth and soul ended up fleeing into the body of another instead of the afterlife. Knowing his luck it would be number three – the most worrying of the possibilities. But from there would come the question of how he died. He hadn't eaten anything particularly funny or gone to sleep in a position he could die in…
The other clue to figuring the entire thing was Samwell- his- whoever's body this was. Why this particular body, out of all the others in the world? Was it the result of a grand scheme or someone screwing up big time? Both possibilities were worrying. Even more so when he realized he wasn't freaking out as much as he should. Sure he could be described as aloof… but this? He was in no way qualified tackle something like this, and the only outcomes he saw out of telling anyone were being carried to a mental ward or taken as some kind of lab rat. Neither were preferable.
He resolved to think about it later. As in tomorrow or maybe the day after later. The whole thing was just alien, and maybe some sleep would clear things up. Well, once he found 'his' home anyways.
"Excuse me, is that seat free?"
James glanced at the speaker, took in his thin framed glasses, messy white hair, grey turtleneck, blue eyes and stopped at his head. A wolf ear? He just managed to keep the thought in his head. Judging from the way they twitched, they were the genuine deal; not some cheap cosplayer toy.
"Uh… are you alright there… er, can I help you?" the speaker asked with a twinge of nervousness? James realized he had been staring at the ears a little too long. Oops.
"Yeah, yeah, there's room." James scooted to the left even if it were unnecessary; there was more than enough room, but he just really liked his personal space. "There it is."
The man… or perhaps wolf-hybrid mumbled a thanks his way and took a seat on his right. He fought the urge to keep staring at his ears.
A thought came to mind. Perhaps he could get some answers out of this person. It'd be better than sitting and keeping himself in his own troubled thoughts. Maybe.
"Hey uh… ma- sir, actually can you help me with something?" James raised a hand.
"Hmm, what?" The man raised an eyebrow and turned his face towards him. Now he had his attention. "Sure, what do you need?"
"I'm afraid to say that I think I'm a bit lost," James said. He scratched at his hair and fixed the man with a small smile. "I don't know what I was thinking, but I ended up taking this train and before I knew it, I ended up sleeping past one of my stops. So if you don't mind, could you tell me where I am?"
"Oh, sure thing," he nodded. Out of his back pocket his pulled out some sort of device, thin and silver handles kept together by a translucent material. He pressed something on the back and the handles expanded to reveal a translucent panel between the two. A light-yellow glow illuminated off of it.
James found himself scooting closer to the device.
The man tapped the screen and it began to glow with a white light. Several multi-colored icons appeared on the screen, very much like ones a person would see on a computer screen. A magnifying glass icon, and a small world icon popped out the most for him.
So it's like a tablet. The man swiped one finger across the touchscreen display and the icons on the screen dissipated as a labeled map took up the entirety of the screen. Several black lines drew themselves unto the screen, and one of them stood out; thicker, larger than the others. Red circles with letter-number combinations were marked along the lines, with one in particular – a ZD – moving as they did.
"Now, here," the man said, moving a thumb towards the screen, his other hand motioning James closer to him – and the screen by default. James did, and saw that his thumb was on the 'ZD' circle. "We're on one of the Z trains right now, on its D-route right now. It'll take us out into the back end of the commercial district where all the apartments and housing are."
James nodded. He had actually already known that prior to meeting wolf-eared man thanks to the directions to his residence he had gained from Dan. Still, the extra reinforcement of information didn't hurt. But it did bring up another question.
"Do you mind being more general…?"
"Hmm?" The man fixed him with a curious gaze. "What do you mean by 'general'?"
James shrugged. "Y'know, like uh the country we're in?" he said, passing the statement off as a question.
"Must be a long ways from home," the man finally said after an uncomfortable silence. "To not even know we're in the Kingdom of Vale."
"Yes," he admitted, frowning. So, I'm not in a country, but a kingdom? Do countries even exist here? "I'm new here, came over from overseas to stay with a relative of mine. All this new stuff kinda overwhelmed me for a bit. Guess I forgot some… key details."
The man chuckled. "'Kinda' is an overstatement. Well, Vale'll treat you alright. 'Specially if you're a human and not a faunus…"
The man mumbled the last sentence in a quiet voice that probably wasn't meant to be heard but it was. James pretended he didn't hear it, but saved the unintentional knowledge.
So the animal-eared ones are called faunus? Do they have anything special about them other than the fact that they just have animal ears? Flight? Night-vision? Fire breathing? He shook his head. Now he was just letting his imagination go rampant.
Whether intentional or not, James thanked both his good fortune and the ma- faunus for the help and settled back into his seat. Tilting his head to the side, he idly watched the buildings past by. He yawned. If I keep this up, I might actually end up sleeping. And if I'm past my stop, I don't know what I'm gonna do. He leaned on the window and listened to the somewhat animated conversation between the two girls across him, who were talking excitingly among themselves about some guy named Roman Torchwick him stealing dust and whatnot. From what he could hear, the man had somewhat of a reputation built; being notorious for robbing dust stores dry while managing to avoid the local law enforcement for months.
James wondered how such a man could go free for so long and decided the answer wasn't out of reach. It wouldn't be impossible for the man have friends in 'high places', he supposed, and with all the dust he was sure to have Roman wouldn't be seeing any difficulties with defending himself anytime soon.
He needed to find out more about dust, the experimentalist inside him begged for it. It also helped that he was known for dabbing with chemical compounds and mechanics in his spare time. Truthfully, he'd rather get a degree in a field that composed of one of the two, but life had other plans for him. Namely wasting his time with idiots all day.
"Hey, you said you're new to Vale, didn't you?"
James looked at the man talking to him, and saw that it was the faunus again. Great. As much as he wanted to turn around and ignore the man, there was no denying that he was new to Vale. It wouldn't hurt him to gain any additional knowledge he could, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
"Yeah, did say that." He made a point to not stare directly at his ears. "Mind if you could spare me some common knowledge on the area?" Honestly, those ears were the reason he had even entertained the talk.
He fought down a yawn and shifted himself up in his seat. Maybe if he only lowered his eyelids just a smidge, no one would notice his lack of real attention and growing sleepiness.
"Sure," the faunus said with a grin. "Despite the fact that Vale is called a kingdom, we're not exactly ruled by a proper King and Queen, but a council of people that take place as our representatives."
"Was there a King or Queen at any point?" asked James. "Or has Vale always been called kingdom ran by a council?"
"Well at one point there was a King and Queen, but it's been at like eighty, one-hundred years since the Great War," he said. "Things changed, most things did. Except for the Grimm, they never change."
James digested the information for a few moments, then decided not to ask any further questions on the topic. History was quite interesting, but he felt like 'he' should've known what he just asked, and he didn't know how much longer he could go before the faunus started asking origin specific questions.
"So I've meaning to ask what brings you to Vale," the faunus said. "I know you said you came to meet with a relative, but is there perhaps a story behind that or…?"
"Not much of one really," James said bluntly. "Parents just decided one day that they had to let me off and that I was old enough to be living out of house. I'm just with my Uncle 'til I can afford a place of my own. Probably some apartment in the same complex."
"Well I do know some places a student like you could probably afford," he said. "Mind if I give you some?"
"Nah, I'm good," James replied, shaking his hand. Even if he didn't already have a residence, he still probably would've rejected the faunus' offer on pure principle. Help was not something he was quick to receive, and from a stranger no less. "Already got a place in mind, tiny little thing, but looks good enough for a single guy."
"Oh," the faunus said, obviously disappointed. He let out strained laugh, trying to dispel the awkward atmosphere that descended on them. "And here I thought I'd be able to help a kind newcomer out. Well I haven't given you my name, I think. Malcon." He stretched a hand towards James.
James stared at the offending appendage before meeting the hand with his own. "James," he replied, nodding. He subtly noted that Malcon's hands were as hairless as his own, and sparked a question. Would he be considered a fool for thinking that this faunus would have fur all over his body? Was this racism? Specism? He decided not to linger too long on those thoughts.
"Nice meeting you, James."
"Likewise," James hummed uncommitedly.
There was a loud, sharp screeching sound, then there came the squealing feedback from the loudspeakers.
"Now stopping at D-route four. Commerical District," an ambiguous voice echoed. Another crackling sound. "I repeat, we are now stopping at D-route four. Commercial District. Please disembark and embark as needed."
The speakers crackled once more before the quieted.
James reluctantly opened his eyes and let out a long sigh of irritation. He hated trains. From the boredom, to the heat, to the soothing bumps that lulled him to sleep. Only to be awakened by the conductor right when he was about to drift off. The purpose of such rudeness – to awaken passengers that may otherwise sleep through their stops – was not lost on him, but he still disliked it nonetheless.
"First time on a train?"
James turned to see Malcon looking at him with amusement in his eyes. "Well, not my first per say, but not my most enjoyable," he grumbled. He stood from his seat and looked outside the window to see a station exactly like the last four he'd past by. Apparently engineers here were all working off the same blueprint. Everything was eerily similar, down to the placemat of the tiles. Only difference were the people and the ads. A large crowd of people stood on the station platform, waiting to embark the multiple trains that past by the stop.
"Leaving so soon?" Malcon asked, taking him out of his musings.
"Yeah, my stop," James said, pointing up at the neon sign flashing 'Commercial District' in pixelated red. Some things never changed, even between worlds. He waved offhandedly. "See you 'round."
"Same to you James," Malcon said with the ghost of a grin. "If you're ever in the industrial district and need hand, just ask for me, alright?"
"Aight."
With a slow and squeal-heavy stop, the train braked at the train station, and James disembarked at a steady pace, taking in the sight before him.
The station wasn't all that different to those he had seen and taken to his former job, so the novelty of it quickly wore out. Somehow, he miscounted the number of ticket lines there were. There were not four, but rather six somewhat busy ticket lines that spat out people as quickly as they came in. From the amount of people, to the sheer size of the terminal, James suspected that this was one of the main ones. He could tell from experience that the activity would never fully cease, even at night.
Walking around the quartz fountain, James looked up at the giant clock hanging from the ceiling. Five past six. Plenty enough time for him to find whatever complex he lived in before it got dark out and he ran into trouble with potential curfew laws. Enough time that a simple detour wouldn't, shouldn't hurt.
He entered a small grocery store, one off to the side of the main road. Had to minimize the chances of him running into someone that knew Samwell, and not just the imposter that now wore his skin. And if his precautions didn't work... he'd just have to deal with that then.
"Good evening," the man behind the counter said. Thirty-five or thirty-six, if he were to judge by appearance. His hair had just began to recede in the front, with a healthy portion of it untouched, but not to the point that he appeared heavily aged. All-in-all, a healthy mix between.
"Evening," he responded, waving a hand. Please don't talk to me, take the silent hint.
"So," the man at the counter began, ignoring James' silent plea," we don't get that many people here. Store's out of the way on the main street."
"Walking through," James muttered. "Prefer quieter places anyways. Just dropping by to grab some food."
"Dinner or snacks?"
"Snacks." Who would buy dinner from a discount store? He corrected himself. Except me, that is.
"Understandable why you'd come this way then, seeing as how all the snacks on the main street would be taken by now," he said. "Try aisle six."
James made his way through the store. Oreas, ginger snaps, tart toasters and vinegar pops were just some of the brands he saw in the store isles. It was errie - almost scary - how close some of the brands came close to the ones he had at home. Well, his former home. They were not exact enough to be a direct copy, but close enough that they could be considered off-brand items if he compared the two snacks. James settled on box of tart toasters and can of soda pop, choosing to stray near some sort of normalcy.
It was even in a glass, rather than the metallic canned ones that were the norm. Had been the norm.
Glancing at the glass in the freezer, he could see a man, a teenager walking into the store. Maybe he had the same idea as him?
James desposited the things at the counter, then paid, withdrawing slips of the lien from his back pocket. Luckily, the man at the counter didn't ask any questions, and simply took what was needed as payment - three of the white lien - and bagged his goods. He gave a little wave as he left... which he would if it weren't for the edge pressed agaisnt his head.
"What's this?" he asked, opening a bag of tart toasters as he did so. Not even the threat of being cut could keep away his hunger. It was rather annoying, considering the other robberies he'd sat through in life. The teen didn't even have the grace to place the blade on a more penetrable location.
"A robbery," the teenager replied. He recognized the voice as the one who had walked in earlier. "Now, y-you are going to give us all of your lien. Isn't that right?"
"Would you have it in your kind graces to let me go?" James dropped the bag. He took another bite. "I have nothing of value for you to take from me. Plus, I'd like to get home soon, it's getting late."
"E-Empty," he could feel the knife trembled beneath the teenager's hands, "your pockets. Do it and I-I won't have to hurt you!"
"Alright, alright. Sure." James reached down and shook the can of soda pop. "But first, do you mind taking a look at this soda I bought?"
"Huh? What are yo-?!" he shouted.
James pointed the top towards the teenager, and flicked the cap off, sending the soda spraying all over his face. Almost reflexively, the teen dropped his knife, hands wiping away at the soda on his face.
Distraction, retaliation. A simple combination of tactics that worked quite well against the average person. The teen had two options. One was to reach back for the knife, and swing his arm wildly in an attempt to stab him.
The other was to engage in hand-to-hand, graple him to the floor.
James forced a new decision. He leaned back, then kicked up, striking the teen in the jaw. Again, the attack hit. Be hard to see that through the soda in your eyes. He could hear the gasp as the teen had the wind kicked out of him.
The teen stumbled back, looking to gain solid ground. James didn't give him that chance.
He stepped forward, and threw a punch. Nothing fancy or extravengent, but a simple straight punch. It only clipped his nose, just barely. But it was still enough to draw blood, a trail dribbling off his chin. He fell over, gasping and panting.
"Weak nose?" James said, unwrapping a package of toaster tarts. Blueberry. He kicked the knife in a way so it slid underneath the freezer.
The teen glared at him, but hadn't finished gasping, nor had he collected himself enough to do anything about it. He sniffed, forcing some of the blood back up his nose.
"Hey. That's disgusting." James turned to the man behind the counter, who winced upon the act. It was clear he assumed that James was going to turn on him next. He raised a hand, pointing at collection of soda pops. "Mind if I take another pop? Had to waste my last one, and I didn't even get a sip of it."
The man shifted, uncomfortable. "Go ahead, I don't see any reason why not. You did save my shop from being robbed."
Convience. James bit his tongue as the words formed. No reason for him to open his mouth and say the truth. He was getting 'free' soda out of this, and saw no reason for him to squander that oppurtunity. He took a brown drink that reminded him of Cola.
He licked the crumbs on his lips, then spoke, "Might wanna call the cops on that guy. Better be before he gets back on his feet."
"You aren't going to stay?"
James rose an eyebrow. "And I would stay here because..."
"The police might want to see the ones who stopped my shop from being robbed," the man at the counter responded. "You may even get a compensationary reward for what you did today."
"No."
"No? Why?"
"I'd rather not get myself sucked into an interrogation," he said. Food could only starve off his annoyance for so long. A can rolled off the shelves, going down the aisle. "If anyone asks, just don't mention me if you can."
James gave a mini-salute as he left.
He felt a growing sense of unease as he walked through the streets, eyes flickering from apartment building to his map. Not an unease with what he did to the teenager. The wounds would heal, and were well deserved. He'd likely never run into the teen again.
No. It was the potential fallout, the results of what he had done.
Back in the store he had just reacted, months of self-defense raining and years of conflict taking hold of the situation. But did Samwell have that same training? Given that he had taken out the teen in the store, the strength was there... but was the skill held prior? That was the question.
James brought the soda pop to his mouth only to find it empty. He scowled, then threw the glass bottle towards a trash can in an alleyway, intentionally missing. The bottle shatterd into dust and glass fragments. It seemed that he would be going back the next day to get a new drink.
He stopped, turned on his heel to face the building adjacent to him. Another glance down at the paper.
Room 102.
Normally, free time would be a godsend to James, but just thinking about all the information he would have to process tomorrow was enough to make him lose all the will to do anything fun or productive, so he fully intended to go to sleep the moment he arrived at his room.
As he entered his apartment building he noted that someone was in a celebratory mood, because a portion of the walls were covered in confetii string and balloons.
"Samwell!"
James jerked in shock at the voice behind him, and whirled to face the speaker. He frowned at the smiling woman behind the receptionist's desk. If this was what Samwell had to go through everyday, calling amnesia would become his prime option.
"Yes?" he asked.
"You've come here later than usual, Samwell," she replied. The receptionist was a pale, dark-haired woman, wearing nothing noteworthy other than a tag that had her name stapled to her shirt. Rebecca. "Slept too long at work?"
"Not today. I decided to take a longer route home today." He stifled a yawn. "It was a nice change of pace, but I'm feeling pretty tired right now. Think I'll head straight to bed. Night."
James turned to leave before he could be asked anymore questions.
He hadn't been lying. Aside from the jarring experience of being placed in someone else's body, the scenery had been decent, at least. Nearly getting stabbed didn't make for the best of arrivals. Also, he was tired.
Sleep would come easy tonight.