It was a weekday and Luther was on his lunch hour. Normally, he might be having lunch with some co-workers or even his wife, but today he'd decided to go the fast-food route. He was feeling a little old as he ate his deli-sandwich: he'd been given a senior discount. The woman at the counter said that it was a rule of thumb to give the discount if the customer was over 50% white-haired.

Did he really look that old? He was only thirty-two! He was strong, healthy, didn't have too many wrinkles(barely any at all) and was successful!

Luther picked at his lunch without enthusiasm and then accidentally got some mayonnaise on his dress shirt. A 'damn-it' was issued to his shirt and meal while he tried to wipe it off with a napkin. It was a good thing his jacket was on the back of the chair, otherwise it'd have gotten spilled on, too. Stupid mayonnaise.

Remus, young as he was, was ust as naive. He was merely enjoying some fast food (without telling his manager or he'd be dead meat). He was minding his own business, looking down at the green shirt he had on until he heard some cursing and looked up.

Wow, old men these days.

Dirty mouthes!

He stood up, handing him his napkins, smiling genuinely, "Here you go, Sir." He was being polite to the old guy. His mother would be proud. She would smack his fingers as a child if he stared too much at someone old with white hair. Like he was doing now. Green eyes were locked on that head of hair.

Head of WHITE hair.

Luther mumbled a thanks to whomever it was who gave him the napkins and continued to wipe at his shirt, thus making the stain larger (it should be noted that his shirt was black and now looked like it had been gone on by a bird). He was about to go get some more napkins and wet them down when he noticed that the person was still standing there, looking at him. Or rather above him. In the direction of his hair?

"Excuse me, but is there something that's interesting you?" This was said with just a touch of coldness to his voice. If he was being stared at for his hair, Luther wasn't going to be a happy camper.

"Your hair, sir. You sound young, you look young, but your hair." There Remus had no trouble speaking. While Luther's hair was very white, his was a sandy blonde with no sight of white nor grey.

Anyways, he couldn't help it! This man was WEIRD!

Luther's eyebrows were lowered and he looked considerably put off. His mouth sort of pulled to the side in a line. It had to be the hair, didn't it?

"So I grayed prematurely, what's it to you?"

He wasn't normally in such a sour disposition, but there was a company the bank was working with now and Luther didn't get along with its representative. They couldn't agree to disagree so the dislike and tenseness that he got from that man bled over into his personal life. He wasn't good at shrugging things off.

"It's to me because you're a grumpy old man." Remus frowned. He didn't like the rude treatment. Sure, he stared, but he didn't ask to get his head bitten off and here was this guy doing just that. Remus sat down in the seat and stared at his head now just to cheese ball him off.

"It's really white."

"I'm thirty-two." He didn't appreciate being called old. Or grumpy.

"I'm thirty-two," he reiterated, "And I'm having a bad day. Do I need your permission to have a bad day?"

He didn't feel that he did. In normal circumstances, they might have gotten along, too. Too bad.

"Yes and you're not allowed to be in a bad mood." He crossed his arms, childishly pouting. "I don't like it when people are mean." Like you. "It's not excuse just because you had a bad day so far. Cheer up. Just think, your hair could be completely white." Great help there, Remus.

"And it could be completely brown, too, couldn't it? Listen here buddy, I don't need you to tell me what to and not to do. I've gotten along fine without you so far."

Wow. I never realized that he'd be this rude. Oh well, maybe he grew up in New York or something. But he had a bad day, can we cut him some slack? His wife's probably spending half of his paycheck as we speak. Er. Read.

"You shouldn't tell me that you don't want to hear what I said. After all, you asked me moments before if you needed my permission." He smugly grinned. AH HA! Got the old man there.

But if Remus knew about his wife, he'd feel bad for him.

Luther had the decency to look like he was in shock. And he was.

"That was a rhetorical question! You weren't supposed to answer!"

Could someone really be that..moronic?

Remus was. He was smart in terms of books, but he could hardly function otherwise. He was lucky to have a manager that kept him alive.

"Well, I did!" His cheeks got red in embarassment, "You shouldn't have asked it if you didn't intend for an answer!"

"That's why it's called rhetorical! No answers intended, everybody knows that!"

Luther probably wouldn't believe that Remus was even book smart. His general opinion of models wasn't very good.

He may not be believed, but at least Remus knew it was true. He'd be sad if he had nothing to show but look pretty."Well, I think it NEEDS an answer!" He glared heavily, "Old man." Just as a prod in the side.

"...anorexic tooth pick." Luther didn't know what Remus's job was yet, so he couldn't prod at his modeling. But he was skinny and therefore anorexic.

Remus' eyebrows shot up, "What?" It wasn't his fault he was skinny. Sure, he worked out and that burned fat, but he didn't starve himself! "You have no room to talk, Walrus." Fat and not easy on the eyes! Even though that sort of isn't true.

Luther didn't quite know how to respond. He wasn't too good at quick insults, he was more of a thinker type. In this situation, he tried.

"I'm a walrus? Well at least I'm not so skinny that I get mistaken for paper."

Like I said, he tried without succeeding.

"I'm mistaken more often for a pencil than a piece of paper, you doughnut!" He crossed his arms, frowning. He was a hot head, and he was going riled up by this man in front of him. Now, it was more like a challenge. He wouldn't back down in this verbal war.

"At least people like doughnuts."

Oooh. That could be considered a low blow.

"At least I'm useful. I don't clog up arteries, make people fat, or try to kill them!" He hissed, narrowing his eyes, "You're as fat as a hippo too. And they're violent."

"At least a hippo has some substance and can't be ripped up like that," he said with a snap of his fingers. "Paper gives people cuts that sting and fester and won't go away."

"Least it can defend itself. Unlike some fat hippo in front of me." He leaned forward on his elbows, scowling at him, "Hippo. Walrus. Elephant. Fattest woman in the world."

Like I said. Luther wasn't good at comebacks. He was already in a bad mood and he didn't want to be pushed any further. His fists tightened and trembled and he stood up slowly to look Remus squarely in the eye.

"Shut the fuck up and leave me alone."

He picked up his tray, stuffed the last of his sandwich in his mouth and threw away his trash. While he was leaving the establishment his shoulder bumped Remus's in a rather non-accidental way.

He was going to let him go, but when he got bumped, he grabbed the closest thing (being his cup of root beer) and tossed it at his head, "Take that, you old goat!" And he snorted, crossing his arms. Secretly though, he felt bad that it was his pop. He wasn't done with it yet.

He was going to go home and build something. Maybe he'd build that window seat his wife had been on him about. Then he'd go swimming. A mile or two should do it.

Splash!

Fucking jerk.

Should he hit him? Should he not hit him? Should he get fined/go to jail, should he not get fined/go to jail? Maybe just one little hit, just one..no, his daughter's dance recital was tomorrow...

"Take that, you old goat!"

That's it.

He wheeled around and decked him one. So there.

The both of them had been so close to avoiding so much, but they still jumped off the edge.

Remus reeled back, rubbing his jaw, "So the fatty has a punch." He snorted, walking up to him and hopping on his expensive looking shoes, intending to smash his toes and scuff them up a lot.

The only problem with getting close enough so that he could step on Luther's shoes was that got other parts of his anatomy close enough to hit or possibly..knee. Luther had no qualms about injuring other men in sensitive areas. No qualms at all.

He grabbed his coat from his chair (the last time he prepared to leave he'd forgotten it) and shook his feet a bit. That had hurt, the little bastard.

Remus was in excrutiating pain. He doubled over, falling to his knees as he gently cupped the area that hurt. Forgetting about people and the fact that it wasn't smart to do magic, little ice balls shot out from his upturned hand and pelted Luther on the back of the head.

Damn it, that hurt, too! He reached down and grabbed one of the offending pellets and prepared to throw it back at him. He shook his head and let it fall to the floor.

"You're pathetic."

His lunch break was almost over anyway.

"And you're a dick. Probably a pedophile too." He grounded out, looking inside his pants just to check to see that his goods were still there. He should have known they were- after all, they hurt enough.

"No, sorry, you're too young for me."

He turned and left the ice balls on the floor, not paying any attention to the person writhing on the floor. Hopefully he wouldn't get charges pressed against him.

He stepped out of the door and into the world outside ready to be bored and unenthused until he got home and started sawing things in half.