walksthebounds | (no subject)

(no subject)

Jamie has gotten them out of the sticky situation with the tickets, and then out of the station and safely into the city. This would normally be the time for some well-placed boasting, and Jamie is about to do just that -

- when he catches sight of a canal running over the street, over the tracks, on a set of yellow arches.

They are more than familiar.

Home.

The word only rings in his head for a second - long enough for his heart to start racing and ever-present Hope to flare up in him like a beacon, higher than ever before - before his brain catches up with him and starts pointing out the far too many ways things that are wrong, wrong, wrong. The trains are wrong. The clothes are wrong. The machines buzzing about everywhere, they're all wrong, and the buildings are wrong, and even the arches, now he comes to look closely at them, are different from what he remembers, must be. It's not his Home. Can't be his Home.

Get ahold of yourself, Jamie, he thinks, trying not to double over with disappointment - it's not like he's not been through this before -

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"That's why it's a trick," Jamie says patiently. "Like telling the man at the station that the took our tickets on the train. You go in and you pick someone kind-looking to stand behind, and then you pretend to realize you've lost your money, and the person almost always will pay for you. It'll work to get us sandwiches. You'll see."

Technically it is true- none of them have any money, and certainly none of this world, where ever it is. But it still seems too much like a lie to sit well with Joris. He frowns slightly, glancing from Jamie to the shop.

"If you say so..."

Irritated once more - yes, he does say so, and he knows what he's talking about - Jamie puts on an air of extra confidence and heads into the shop, ready to start looking for a kind-looking person.

And then he's hit by the smell of the ham sandwich.

Jamie's never thought to ask for a ham sandwich particularly, at Milliways or otherwise. They were never especial favorites of his. But the smell of these, the crisp hot rolls lying stacked behind the counter, takes him straight back to the rolls they used to have in the shop. They were delivered fresh at breakfast every morning. They always got two each to take for lunch, with a bit of cheese for each of them, and Elsie would be hanging around to pounce on any extra bits of cheese and his mother would get all irritable and -

"What's up, my duck?" says a kind-looking person just behind Jamie. "You do look mournful."

Jamie looks up. He means to say that he's lost his money, truly he does, and he can't think how it happens, but what comes out of his mouth, in a sort of wail, is "I've lost my mummy!"

It's beyond lucky for Jamie that people hear what they expect to hear.

"Lost your money, have you, my duck?" says the kind lady, terribly sympathetic. "Never mind. I'll buy you a roll. Two ham rolls, please, miss."

Thank goodness Helen and Joris are outside, Jamie thinks, trying to pull himself together, but he still comes out of the shop practically in tears. And with only one roll.

He looks like he has been crying. The only way to deal with that is to ignore it. He can thank her later.

"Not much between three," said Helen, disapproving. "What is wrong with you, Jamie?"

"Nothing," Jamie says, and concentrates very hard for a moment on dividing the roll into three equal pieces and sharing it out.

Once this is finished, he looks up again and says, in his most competent and in-charge manner, "It's bothering me the way we look. We're too noticeable. We really must get Joris something else to wear at least. Your clothes will do, Helen. I'd be all right if I had darker trousers, but Joris is the one who's urgent. Nobody here wears white all over."

Jamie can not be serious.

... Jamie better NOT be serious. Joris' jaw clenches into a frown. "Oh no." He crosses his arms. "This is the proper dress for a demon hunter, and I'm proud to wear it. I refuse to sneak about dressed as something else!"

Seven years of training so far, and a few more to go. He has earned this uniform, and he will not give it up.

Jamie is really, really not in the mood to mollycoddle Joris and his Absolutely Wonderful Demon-Hunting Specialness right about now.

"Don't be a fool," he snaps. "You stick out like a broken leg in it. The only way we're going to get on in this world is by looking like everyone else."

And Joris has just been pulled from his world and anything at all familiar to him- Under no circumstances is he giving up his uniform as well. He narrows his eyes at Jamie.

"I'm damned if I shall!"

Idiots.

Helen rolls her eyes behind her hair. "Put a coat on over it, then."

"And serve you right if you swelter!"

Jamie is thoroughly sick of trying to convince ungrateful Homeward Bounding babies what's best for them. He never had any helpful guides willing to put themselves through enormous inconveniences for him. He had to sink or swim and learn to adapt on his own, thank you, very much!

Joris just scowls at Jamie. So far they have been doing just fine without his help!

Well. Sort of. Somewhat. Well maybe not...

Even still. Joris is NOT going to give in to Jamie and his outrageous request. He glares silently at him for a few moments longer.

"Fine." Through gritted teeth. "A coat."

If only for Helen's much nicer suggestion.

"Thank you, oh Lord Joris," says Jamie, "for granting us this great favor."

Well, maybe for Joris, acting sensibly is a great hardship. Who knows what goes on in that head.

"All right," he adds, and turns away, towards a side street. "Let's go out towards the edge of the city. You get clotheslines and washing there."

If the route he wants them to take leads through the part of the city where his house sits, in his own Home world . . . well, that's just a minor detail, yes?

Helen follows him, through the winding streets, past the construction of yellow houses and absolutely no clotheslines.

Her feet have started to pain her within several hours--the hard black stuff is nothing like walking on sand, or on the soft well-worn rock of the House. She doesn't say anything, but sighs pointedly and glances at Joris through her hair.

And here Joris thought the idea of getting him a coat to wear was to keep from walking around in his uniform where everyone could see him? Clearly, Jamie really has no idea At All of what he is doing on this world.

Joris rolls his eyes, and glances over at Helen. It does not seem as if she is buying this either.

Jamie's mood is not improving as the afternoon wears on, either.

Fortunately, before any of them snaps, they come to a long hedge. The sound of children's voices comes from behind it. Jamie knows a thing or two about how children play (more than Helen or Joris does, he bets; neither of them would know the first thing about a normal childhood) and where there are children, in this kind of climate, there are almost always shed coats and jackets and sweaters left somewhere behind.

Jamie pushes through the hedge to let them see what's beyond.

Joris and Helen follow through, to find themselves next to a house with some sort of transit bus parked next to it. Off in the distance, however, was a group of boys roughly their own age, wearing WHITE, and playing some sort of game.

WEARING WHITE.

Sure, Jamie. Nobody here wears white. And Joris is the King of the Sudan, back home.

"I'll stand watch," Helen says, raising her chin to view the surroundings. It is only practical: she's a girl, and it's not like she needs new clothes.

. . . well, if Jamie were one of those boys there, he wouldn't want to try and get by Helen.

He nods at her, and then creeps off across a sort of creaking porch-thing to get inside the house - inside which, it turns out, are dark grey trousers, black shoes, grey shirts, and navy-blue jackets galore, hung all about the place in semi-neat piles.

Jamie surveys the trove of clothing with immense satisfaction.

Damn, he's good.

Forget the clothing. It is time for a Very Important Question to Jamie.

"People do wear white here." Joris frowns, pointing out the window at the boys playing off in the distance. "Why can't I be playing that game out there?"

Where they are wearing WHITE, if you have not noticed, Jamie.

Does he have to spell out everything?

"They change to play it," Jamie explains patiently, gesturing around at the clothes. "They don't walk about dressed up for it. Take one of these jackets."

He picks up a jacket and shoves it towards Joris. "Go on."

Joris mutters, taking the jacket from Jamie and looking it over. This was a uniform of some sort as well, even he could see that. Wouldn't he get in trouble for walking around in this, as well?

With more grumbling, Joris sets down that jacket, and picks up another. If he has to wear one, he can at least get one the right size- or how else is he supposed to move around in it?

Jamie leans back and tries to keep cool, but can't help from glancing anxiously at the door every few moments.

"You know, when you're stealing things, most people recommend being bloody quick about it," he points out, after a minute.

Joris pauses in his inspection of yet another jacket, to make a face at Jamie.

"I wouldn't know- I haven't stolen anything before."

Jamie rolls his eyes. "Well, that's about to change, isn't it?"

"No thanks to Them!" Through clenched teeth as he tries on another jacket.