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 -

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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.

"Right," says Jamie, exasperated, "and They're all kinds of awful things, no argument here, but this is not the time!"

"If you hadn't noticed, I am trying to find one that fits, see?" Equally exasperated. Joris is co-operating here, if you had not noticed, Jamie.

The sound of swearing coming from the changing shed is rather hard to ignore.

Adam takes Pivens and Fox-Kensingham aside - Pivens because he's quick and Fox-Kensingham because he's large - and says, "If we're quiet when we come in, we'll catch them at it."

And they do, in fact, catch them at it.

"Go and get Smitty," Adam says, turning to Pivens, and Pivens jumps to answer.

He doesn't know if they're thieves or pranksters, but either way, they're the stupidest idiots ever to cross Adam Mackenzie.

First attempt at theiving is now being his first getting-caught-at-it. Joris just mutters and sighs, turning around to face the boys in the doorway.

Fox-Kensingham blinks at Joris. "My blazer, I believe."

"And my trousers," says Adam, eyeing Jamie in a way that is not in the least friendly.

"Do, please, go on and help yourself to my shirt while you're at it. Red shirts are not school uniform."

"You can have the trousers back," Jamie says instantly.

It's a pity, considering how well they fit him, but - there's really no other choice.

Jamie might not have many scruples, but he'd rather not see a pair of boys his age knocked off by Rule Two just for wanting their own clothes back.

For once, Joris follows Jamie's lead without question or comment. He slips off the blazer, and starts hanging it up right where he found it, neatly.

So all-white and all-red really are unusual on this world. Adam and Fox-Kensingham eye Joris' uniform, then Jamie's red Creema di Leema outfit.

"Adam," Fox-Kensingham finally glances back to him, "Who are these people?"

"Chessmen probably."

Adam surveys the two thieves coolly from beyond his glasses.

"Red pawn and white knight, by the look of them."

"Chessmen! If only you knew!"

Jamie looks at the remaining boys, without much hope that this is going to end well. "Let me give you the trousers back and we'll go."

Not likely, Jamie.

"I believe they give you special clothes to wear in prison. I'll get them back then."