9. We Who Bore
It happens like a replay of last week. Tailing as per schedule, method as per usual, hostile as per intention. A replay of exact events when he is with the gang. What differs (and is differing quite frequently, mind) is when he is not with the gang.
When he is sitting by the window of a half dilapidated café with the only other patron at his elbow, peering over at his copy of Linguistic Development in the Isolated Post-Pubescent, iron-curled locks falling over his fingertips, where they lie against the page.
Blinking their watchful eyes.
When he is wading between the clusters of loud party-goers and late night wanderers in the central downtown nightlife, trying to stall until the night stretches past midnight.
Frowning, knowing full well why.
When he receives the inconvenient company of another meagre gang the Spider may have done ill upon in the past, trapped within the cigarette shop where he stopped to grab a drink. He had sensed them enclosing, seen the first man in denim breaking out of traffic and circling back to the shop once he recognized the Black Widow. In the moment between him stepping up to the cashier and him slipping the change back into his wallet, the man's entourage had already arrived to hide themselves within the throngs of moving pedestrians. While the cashier busies himself with the next customer, he slips into the corridor labeled 'Staff Only' and gets creative with the alarm system and fire extinguisher he finds attached to the wall.
Gaping at the chaos, they miss him fleeing the scene.
When it is Wednesday. When he is reclining into a couch, a weathered excavation journal in his hands and a Jatutr dictionary turned down in his lap.
Strolling in, settling down, a table on the wall opposite him.
He thumbs the bottom corner of the page. Dental structure with protruding canines much like wolves, lions, predators, but otherwise hominin. The thin yellow paper crinkling between his fingers as he flips the page. Only one sample was excavated; insufficient evidence to conclude a new hominin species was discovered.
Propping a hardcover up, they sneak glances between whispers and pages.
Worn page after worn page, he faithfully ignores them. One of them seems to grind his teeth and seethe something to the other. He wonders if maybe this has become more like a stubborn game of endurance than a posturing contest between two gangs in such close proximity. Though he knows as well as they, that this is not about territory. So he pays no attention to the eyes screaming for a confrontation, continues not to, until the sudden frantic flutter of backpacks, arms, large picture books and tall hardcovers proves too great a temptation.
Kicking backpacks under chairs; diving noses into thread bound seams.
He knows why, when notices the figure meandering down the centre aisle, head turned toward the placards labelling each shelving unit. And he watches as the figure turns, brows knit and confusion clear, to inspect the tufts of black spikes and white curls growing out of Following Instructions for Dummies and Human Anatomy: Reproductive Systems respectively, like a canine picking up a scent it is much too familiar with. He sees the boy reach for the tufts before the boy himself blocks the view of the two with his back.
"…Homework…" "…Gon's idea…" "…Nothing happened…"
He manages to avert his gaze just before three pairs of eyes focus onto his lounged form. Dental structure with protruding canines much like wolves, lions, predators, but otherwise hominin. He has read this. Only one sample was excavated; insufficient evidence to conclude a new hominin species was discovered.
Scuffing heels on thinned carpet come to a halt before him. "Hi."
He looks up. It was the dark haired one, blinking his unrepentant eyes, but wearing a chastised crease between his brows. The other one stands a step offside, wearing no appearance of chided bashfulness. "Hello."
"My name is Gon. I'm sorry we kept followed you. Let's get along."
Gon. He fights the smile wanting to curl around his lips. Keeping his expression blank, he turns to address the unnamed boy slouching casually. The boy meets his eyes, shrugs a shoulder, and sighs.
"I'm Killua. Sorry about being annoying, I guess."
Impertinent, but he nods. "Apology accepted. I'm Kuroro."
Hoisting bags after them, they head for the door, mumbling, "See ya."
Before he could dip his head between pages and resume the appearance of focused reading, the third member strides over to take Gon and Killua's place. This time, he could not kill the smile budding at the edges of his lips soon enough to bother.
"If they have done anything offensive, I apologize. They bore easily."
The smile spreads from their modest corners. "I figured as much. Don't worry, they were more amusing than threatening." In fact, "Some of my members are quite fond of their antics."
Frowning, the boy says, "Keep the clown away from them."
Hisoka. The man is too curious and meddlesome, he'd have to remind the fool. However, he knows he cannot get between Hisoka and his subjects of interests without consequence. "I can only let him know."
Not the answer he was hoping for, seeing as the frown on the boy's face darkens. He shifts to pick up his journal, catching the boy's gaze slide between the journal to the dictionary on his lap, frown easing into inquisitive nature. "It's an excavation journal detailing the findings from the old North Rihgur. Do you believe in human hybrids?"
"No, but if there is evidence otherwise, it's not a matter of whether I believe it or not."
"Oh, this holds no evidence towards hybrids," he taps his finger against the cover. "It speculates a possible new hominin species. I just thought it'd be more interesting if it were about hybrids."
Reading about something absurd, "It would be."
He runs a finger along the width of the pages. "I'll be done in an hour; I can lend it to you then, if you're interested." The boy's amber-brown eyes (that the library's fluorescent lights do no justice) startle alert, darting between the journal, the dictionary, and him.
Cautiously, "I'll be around for an hour."
Gladly, "Then I'll find you in an hour, Kurapika."