Pim, Thierry


Something long-owed is offered up.


It is midmorning of the seventh day of the seventh month of the first turn of the 12th pass.


Igen Bazaar Sidestreet

OOC Date


Bazaar Sidestreet

No matter the time of day, the darkness here is almost absolute, adding a certain je ne sais quois that borders on the treacherous. Here and there, cobblestones have gone missing and leave holes that are perfect for snagging the feet of the unaware. The stench is also criminal, a mixture of urine, rotting meat, and other things best left unexamined in the heaps that pile up next to the back doors of certain of the bazaar establishments.

The day is just beginning to heat up, meaning the rank odour in the bazaar's stinkier sidestreets is beginning to ripen, filling the air with its hot, humid stench. There are certain alleys that people will avoid at pre- and post-Rukbat's zenith, and there are others that, despite best intentions, people will find themselves down. The intentions of one particular teen, who's been illusive at best in recent times, are ambiguous; Thierry is leaning up against a wall in the otherwise deserted walkway, puffing away on a toke and looking not only sunburnt, but particularly scruffy, too, with several days' growth on his jaw and hair that's unkempt. He's certainly not the relatively decent sight he was before tossing in his guard's knot, by any means.

Pim's intentions can be hard to follow on the best of days. Today, though, she mostly just seems to be wandering around and it's not really clear whether she's on duty or not, either officially or unofficially. She's not wearing a uniform, though, so that probably says something. Regardless, there does seem to be some purpose to her wandering. It's apparently not to find Thierry, though, since she glances too briefly in his direction to recognize him and already starts to give him a wide-ish berth as she goes to pass by in the deserted walkway.

Footsteps make Thierry look up from whatever held his attention on the floor by his feet; he spies Pim through a cloud of exhaled smoke, and immediately his brow furrows, while his cheeks flush red. He licks his lips nervously, then bites the bullet and goes for it. "Pim." He doesn't move, save for his hand carrying his toke to his lips, then back down again once he's pulled smoke from it. "Don't gotta do that, Pim. Will ya… will ya c'mere?" A beat, before he adds in a lower, more gravelly tone, "Please?"

Her name always catches her attention. So many random strangers don't bother to use it. It also probably helps that she recognizes the voice that speaks where she hadn't given herself a chance to recognize the face. So Pim pauses and turns her head to study Thierry, but she doesn't move closer. Not yet. "You look awful," she tells him like she thinks it's something he needs to hear. "What do you want?"

"Ain't got much to look good for," Thierry replies with a shrug, brushing her comment off. He shifts his weight awkwardly, blowing out a last smoky breath before he extinguishes his spent toke beneath the heel of his boot. His hands dig deep into his pockets, and he manages to look everywhere /but/ at the girl in front of him. "I owe you summat."

"Self respect, maybe? You should try it some time." While that could end up being unnecessarily catty, Pim seems to mean it sincerely. She's a good guy like that. Okay, maybe it's a little catty. But only a little. Her arms cross over her chest but she stays, glancing up and down at him, waiting. She's listening.

Thierry's response is to snort, turning his head aside to spit - that's what he thinks of that suggestion. "Oi. Listen. What I did… it weren't right, alright? And you shoulda broken my fucking nose, or summat like that. More'n whatcha did, anyhows. Why din'tcha, Pim? You coulda stopped me." And now he's getting off course, so he shakes his head and runs his tongue over his bottom lip again, biting it as he frowns his way through whatever thoughts are buzzing through his head. "I'm sorry. Oughtn't never have happened. I were… I mean, you were just… you looked real pretty." Which is all he's got, as he gives a dejected shrug and looks away again.

Pim listens without interrupting. But she's staring at Thierry with slightly narrowed eyes like she'd be able to see whether his sincerity is real or not. And something relaxes just noticeably in her, so she must see something worthwhile. She even takes a step closer to keep peering at him. The last bit makes her roll her eyes, but she doesn't comment on that. "Would you feel better about yourself if I broke your nose? I could just do it now if it would help." That's sarcasm. "I guess it seemed like you didn't need an enemy? I don't know. Kinda figured you'd just go do something even dumber if I let you loose on the world."

"Mebbe you oughta." Thierry leans down, head thrust out, eyes scrunched up as if waiting for the hurt to hit. "Y'know what I woulda done, if you'd let me be? I woulda gone back home to Reilan, crawled back into bed with him, and wouldn't hafta be standing here now waitin' for what I deserve." He opens his eyes, one brow quirked high. "I mean, shit, Pim. Whatcha mean, another enemy? You did get me pretty hard, dintcha? I had black eyes next morning - you coulda easily done worse."

The recruit moves closer and she does lift a hand. But it's only to push his head back to a more natural position because she's not going to hit him. It lets the rest of what he says sink in, though, and she narrows her eyes again. "Why the fuck didn't you do that to start with if you have a bed with someone in it already?" Her jaw is tighter now. She could easily slip somewhere more annoyed. But she pauses to take a breath and chillax. Zen Pim. She doesn't comment on enemies but she does note, "I think I gave myself a concussion. You have a hard head." The last is only slightly accusatory.

There's a flinch when Pim touches him; Thierry's eyes screw shut and he grits his jaw, waiting for it… only it never comes, which makes him more awkward as he looks down at the guard. "I dunno! I dunno why I even left - shouldn't've gone to the Dustbowl. Shouldn't've got booze. Shouldn't've got drunk. I don't drink all that often, it were just… I dunno. He were pissed off at me." He frowns, looking back down at the ground as he digs in his pocket for his tokes. After offering one to Pim, the streetrat goes through the motions of lighting one as he continues talking. "I got concussion, too. And bruises, and a hangover. I'm sorry you got hurt, though. Din't mean for it. Ain't never gonna happen again. Promise. I usedta kick the shit outta my boys if they tried that sorta crap, y'know?"

She waves off the offer absently but doesn't seem to judge him for lighting up. Granted, she has plenty of better things to judge him for if she were going to be doing that. But Pim is just watching him. "No, it's not going to happen again. If it does, I'm not going to be so nice." Totally confident that she could've taken him. Wryly, she points out, "I'm sure going back to him with black eyes made him a lot happier." The fact that it's a him at all doesn't seem to matter. Except, "So do you actually like girls, too, or do I just look that much like a guy?" She doesn't, really, but she gets accused of it often enough because of her life choices to skew her perception.

"Shouldn't've been nice the first time," Thierry says roughly, through a mouthful of smoke. Her questions make him squirm, causing his brow to furrow and his jaw to set stubbornly. "Gonna hafta probably marry one of ya sometime. Mebbe. I mean, girls ain't that bad. I like tits." He shrugs. "Like some of Rosie's girls, too. You ain't got nothing on ya that looks like a guy. Toldja you're pretty, din't I? I think you're real pretty. Mebbe even more, cos you can kick my arse." He winks at her, taking a drag of his toke, followed by exhaling smoke into the air between them.

"Must be my bleeding heart," says Pim with a roll of her eyes, like this is something she's also been accused of having more than once. "Why would you have to marry anyone?" This idea doesn't seem to sit incredibly well with her on principle. "Anyway, if you just thought guys were pretty, and you called me pretty—" She lets him take that to it's obvious conclusion. "But thanks. I think." She even smiles about the ass-kicking part like he's complimented the pretty dress she'd be wearing if she were girlier and less prone to frequenting empty alleys. "You aren't even too bad when you take care of this," she gestures at the scruff her face doesn't have, "and maybe take a bath." Which reminds her, "So, you coming back to us?"

Thierry's brow creases in a deep frown. "Oi. I din't say I just thought guys were pretty. Guys aren't fucking pretty. Reilan is," and he's not exactly manly-looking! "but there ain't no other guys who're fucking pretty. Don'tchoo go spreading that, Pim." His finger raises in warning. "Toldja. Girls're alright." He pulls on his toke, looking curiously down at the guard recruit when she… complements him? "Who said I ain't had a bath? Mighta just had one this morning. You don't know." Smoke trickles slowly from his nostrils as he contemplates her questions. "Dunno. What'm I gonna do in uniform? I'm a streetrat, Pim. I'm the sorta shit you're meant to arrest, not whatcha gonna dress up and make do the arrestin'. Ain't good enough for the uniform."

"Girls are annoying. Women are fantastic, though," she corrects him with a quirky, lop-sided grin. "Don't worry. Ain't gonna go telling anyone you got a hard on for a pretty boy. So, did you take a bath this morning?" Because now she needs to know. Pim seems dubious, though. And then she just looks annoyed, but more for his sake than for hers. She even lifts a hand to shove at his chest, giving him a stern look. "Don't start that shit. If you weren't good enough, you wouldn't think you weren't, yeah?" Her logic is flawless!

Her logic confuses him! Thierry frowns as he tries to figure out what she meant, not even bothering to bat her hand away. "Don't get it," he admits grumpily, tugging on his tunic to settle it straight again. "Mebbe I had a bath. What's it to you?" His second toke is drawn upon to its death, and is stubbed out the same way as its predecessor. "I din't ever want to be a guard, Pim. It were join the guard, or get kicked out t'the Western Isles."

Jaw tight, Pim looks like she wants to say something catty. But she refrains, like a mature, responsible adult and instead says, "Fine. Ain't worth bothering with if you don't even want it. But don't give me that shit about not being good enough." The recruit takes a step back and holds out her hand in a truce-like fashion, "Figure we're okay, though. We good?"

"Thought I mighta done," want it, that is, "when I sorta got into it. Feels good know people're proud of what you're doing." Thierry shrugs away the tiny hint of a smile that might have played upon his lips for the briefest of seconds. "Streetrats ain't meant for being nothing more than what we are. That's the way shit goes, lady. It don't change." When she holds out her hand, he clasps it in his hown - softly at first, though with an increasing pressure that, while not intended to hurt, is tight. "You say we're good, then we're good."

Pim's handshake is strong and confident in its ability to shake a man's hand, but likewise not painfully so. But she doesn't let go right away, because she want his attention when she asks, "That mean I shouldn't be in the Guard, either? Just because I wasn't born some fancy Lady and might've borrowed more than I bought from people that don't even miss it?" Borrowing is a nice word for stealing, no doubt. "Always figured it was just because I had an innie instead of an outie. Neither makes much sense."

Thierry frowns at Pim. "Dunno. You're alright at being a guard, even if you're a girl. Still don't reckon girls oughta be in it, but you're alright. Better than some of them what they hired, anyhows." His frown turns to a brief smile, then he shrugs. "I gotta get going. Gotta find us lunch and I don't wanna pay for it if I don't hafta, y'know? 'My gonna see you around a bit, Pim?"

That seems to be good enough for her. She's pretty easy to please, apparently. "Stay outta trouble," says Pim with her own brief smile. And she nods. "Probably. So long as you don't go hiding or something. And think about what I said." With that, she doesn't wait for it to get awkward before she turns to continue down the walkway.

"Oi, Pim?" Thierry shouts down the alley at her, giving her a double thumbs up, should she turn around to look. "You're alright." She's in his good books, and he's got a conscience a hundred times lighter for having apologised. Score! He watches for walk off for a few more steps, before turning to trot towards the bazaar proper.

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