agoodyarn | On the Road

On the Road

Being on the road always feels like a mixed blessing.

For one, he appreciates seeing the world, seeing it on the ground level, meeting people and living with them and finding out how their own personal microcosm works. He appreciates the chance to ply his trade as he travels, and learn new trades as well: bartending, freight hauling, carpentry, plumbing, ice fishing...

But every time a lead doesn't work out, every time he feels further and further away from answers about who he is and why he's here and why he can do what he can do...

Every step is towards another success and the fear of another failure.

He doesn't figure he's going to have very much luck today, though. It's rough out, and most of the trucks making their way along this road don't have a lot of room to pull over, which means that while he sticks out his thumb as often as he hears the rumbling of an engine, he's been walking all day.

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Which makes Remy pause. "Was it only Papa dat gave me dat advice? T'ought everybody got it. Dat it's easier to fin' you if somebody's lookin' if you stay in one place."

"I guess I figured that out on my own," he says with a shrug as he glances over at the door. "I've been looking for a long time now, looking for reports that match some of what I did or the ship I came in. So far, I haven't had much luck but..."

He shrugs. He can't stop looking. Or at least, it's not an option yet.

"Maybe you jus' need some help, den." He stands, patting himself down before coming up with a card. A business card this time, not a playing card. "I ain't gonna be shooin' you off 'til we're in N'awlins, but I can give you dis while I'm t'inkin' 'bout it."

It's a piece of plain white, high end card with a series of numbers on it. "Dat's a answerin' service. My answerin' service. When we part ways, you can call dat if you need a hand or if you need somebody to track down info you can't get. Or if you're in de New York area an' need a place to stay, dat sorta t'ing."

He looks at the card for a moment before reaching out and taking it, pulling out his wallet to pop it in. He considers what Remy has said for a moment before reaching over to the notepad again and writing down an email address: royals_fan@gmail.com

"I don't have a phone, but I check that every evening. And if you really need help..." he considers whether to be as honest with this as he could be. In for a penny, in for a pound, or so his mother would say.

"Or you can just shout out for help. As long as you start with 'Clark', I'll be there as soon as I can."

Remy takes the piece of paper and folds it up, tucking it away in his pocket before raising an eyebrow. "Figured Joe wasn' your real name. Clark, huh? Nice t' meet you. 'Gain."

He just holds out his hand for another shake as he shrugs. Remy probably understands, given some of the things he's said. At least, that's what Clark figures.

"Middle name."

Remy takes his hand, tilting his head. "Always a useful t'ing to have, a middle name. Not somet'ing I got, myself, but I got plenty of people back home I can borrow names from."

Clark just nods to that, but he can't help a chuckle at what Remy says.

"You sure they're all right with you borrowing?"

He gives a half grin. "Well. I don' use all of deir names. Little mix an' match, jus' enough to be difficult to follow, dat's all."

"That makes enough sense," he says with a chuckle as he leans back on the bed again. "I kind of do the same thing with my own name. Sometimes I'm Clark, sometimes I'm Joe, sometimes I'm Kent."

Obviously, Clark knew that he'd given Remy his entire name, but it didn't seem to bother him. "Makes sense. Al'ays keep it simple. An' somethin' you know you can respond to."

He did. It was on purpose. It was a way of showing trust to the other man, since he'd been keeping secrets earlier.

"Pretty much," he admits with a bow of his head. Then he breathes out again.

"Thank you, incidentally."

Remy tilts his head, then waves his hand. "You're welcome. But no need. Reckon I got you in more trouble dan you'd've gotten with anyone else, so it kin'a levels out. An' t'ank you for helpin' to get me outta dat trouble. Don' t'ink I'd've gotten outta dere on my own."

He shakes his head, waves that off, and crosses his hands on his stomach with a faint smile.

"I'm just glad no one ended up seriously hurt."

"Which is mostly 'cause of your abilities. If it'd been me? Dere'd probably 'ave been some broken bones at de very least. Or would've thrown a lot more cards, done more damage." Because that would have been the only way he could have gotten away.

He turns his head to look over at Remy with a faintly lopsided smile.

"Then I'm glad I was there. I'm glad I could help you, since you're helping me."

"Well, gettin' you to N'awlins, at least. Guess that's like helpin'." Speaking of home reminded him about food and Remy went to get the pizza menu. "What kin'a metabolism you got? 'Cause I could eat an entire pizza on my own."

He'd noticed a long time ago that mutants whose powers dealt with energy often had higher metabolisms. But Clark isn't a mutant, so who knew if the rules were different?

"I like pizza," he says with a shrug, "but I don't really need to eat anymore than other people. If anything, I can go without if I need to."

He tips his chin up.

"That's why I said you should get what you want. If I don't like it, it's not a big deal."

"So we get a couple pizzas an' anythin' left gets eaten in the mornin'." Seems easy enough to Remy. It's not like he's hurting for money, either. "May not need to eat, cher, but I bet it ain't somethin' you mind, either."

That gets a laugh from him as he looks over, smiling.

"I'm farm folk. Good food is one of our simple pleasures. And it's my favorite way of getting energy."

Though if he's honest, sitting out in the sun can be pretty enjoyable too.

"Well, I can't promise dis is gonna be good food, but at least we ain't likely to end up with another fight."

He makes the call, ordering two large cheese pizzas and mozzarella sticks. Two things that tended to be really difficult to mess up, he'd found. Then he pulled out the money and set it on the table by the door when he hung up. "Gonna be 'bout half an hour."

"It's hard to screw up simple pizza and cheese sticks," because he was listening. "But if you want to take a nap or something while I wait for the food, feel free. You haven't had a break all day."

"You'd t'ink so. But you never know."

Still, he takes a moment and yawns with a huff. "Could use a chance to lie down, I suppose." Then he flashes Clark a grin. "'Less you wanna join me."

It doesn't mean anything, really, but Clark is good looking.

"Have trouble sleeping alone?"

For all that Remy was flirting, Clark is asking in earnest. He doesn't mind being a warm pillow for someone who could use a little genuine rest.

"Have my moments, but non. Jus' an open invitation if you want." And if he didn't? Well, Remy's never been one to push where there's no interest.

Push if there IS interest, sure, but he tended not to go where he wasn't wanted. Romantically, at least.

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