The sea smell was very strong this evening. It was late afternoon, and low tide. Sinister sat watching the gull eat. A few crabs skittered about in the sand. Sinister simply sat lost in his thoughts. He hadn't seen his friend Em lately. He was sorta bored and lonely.

He watch the waves drifting out. Interesting to be out here during low tide, sometimes he simply walked around to watch the sea life in the tidal pools that formed. This evening though he simply sat letting the wind play through his hair while he thought.

He didn't have his backpack for once. In fact, shock of shocks he didn't even have a bottle of water. He was wearing a pair of nylong swim trunks, and nylon short sleeved button down and a pair of wading shoes. Teh shorts and shoes are navy blue, the shirt is khaki. Clipped to his shirt pocket is a pair of sunglasses.

Their eyes were accusing. Those women hated him. The red marks on his face from being slapped and the blood trickling down his lip proved it more than anything. He hurt so badly from the waist down. The bottoms of his feet had been slashed with razorblades.

Irving had retreated to the beach as fast as he could, barefoot and with a pair of tattered black shorts that went down to his knees. The sand was soft and the top layer still warm against his wounded feet. He ran, the wind ruffling his black curls as it wished. He ran until he couldn't run anymore, panting as he fell into the sand. He rolled around in it, the warm tan-colored refuge enough to rejoice for.

After a few minutes he gathered himself, sitting up and staring out at the sea. He was shirtless.

Orange eyes watched Sinister though Irving made no attempt to move.

Now that had been a strange spectacle. Sinister had never seen anyone roll around in the sand quite like that before. And he swore it seemed the fellow had been running from something. "You okay dude?" He called loudly enough to be heard over the retreating waves and screaching gulls.

Irving looked down at being addressed, bowed his head and his upper half. This was what he was supposed to do, the position he belonged in. He was just a dog among everyone else.

"I'm fine..." He replied, hardly loud enough to be heard.

"I'm sorry for interrupting."

Sinister isn't stupid, sheltered, well not as much as he lets on. He can tell when someone has been bullied, it goes on enough in orphanages and homes. There is a word for the newcomer's present demeanor, it's called cowed.

"You weren't interupting." He said carefully keeping his voice light and nonthreatening. Were those foot prints bloody? He stood slowly and made subdued movements. He made his way over. Yes the footprints were bloody.

"I should also point out you don't look fine either." Blood on the lips and signs of being hit did not constitute fine. "Who did this?" Sinister asked softly crouching down.

"I'm fine..." he repeated, softer as Sinister got closer. He didn't bother looking up yet. He wasn't worth enough to look up into the boy's eyes, look at his face. He didn't want to be hurt. He couldn't be sure this was safe either.

"Don't fuss... it's nothing..." He resisted the urge to scoot away and curl up near a rock.

"Just my mother 'n my sister..." he said in a small and shaky voice. "My brother... and father are away in... France." His voice was nearing a whisper now.

"Relax I won't hurt you." Sin says softly. "How bad's it hurt, think you can walk at all? And the salt water will help those cuts a bit." he says. He's deliberately talking quietly still.

"My name's Patrick, what should I call you?" yes, don't die gentle readers he just gave his real name to someone.

"I.. don't know." He looked up a little but when he realized he was doing so looked down again. "It hurts to walk, but it's no big deal..." His hands shook in the sand and he tried to press his weight into them so they'd stop. "Sat.. will hurt." He grimaced a little. Salt in a wound?

"Patrick...? My name's Irving."

"Irving, cool. It accelerates the healing process, but anyway sit here for a few okay. I'll be right back." Sinister said. He walked up the beach to the payphone and fished out some change.

He walked back after a few minutes. "Your mom or sister care where you are, I mean they aren't hunting you down or anything are they?" He asked

"Okay." He did as he was told, slowly picking himself up out of the bowing position to sit on his heels. His feet hurt. He waited and listened to the gulls overhead.

"I don't know... they'd come and hurt me.. if they knew where I was." He shivered as the wind passed by him.

"Well, I'll take that to mean they don't. Sit tight, I called a taxi. I'm not about to make you walk halfway across the city." Sinister says.

"Never seen eyes that color before Irving." He comments. "They look like the sun in Autumn."

"A taxi? Why? ...where?" he hugged himself now, hands safely tucked under his arms as if to will the cold away.

"Thanks..." again he could barely be heard, "most people think they're contacts." He tried to look up into Sinister's eyes but found he fell into his submissive habits.

"What color are your eyes?" He asked as if he were blind but it was simply the fact that he was too browbeaten to look into them.

"I've never seen contacts that color either, mine are blue, pretty ordinary color." he says quietly. He looks at his watch. "Only about another ten minutes now. Then our ride will be here. I warn you, I live in the dorms, so you'll have to walk from the lot to my building once we get dropped off." Sinister says.

"Blue.. I always wanted my eyes to be blue." He really wanted to look up into his eyes now. He busied his hands in the sand to stop them from shaking.

"The dorms...? In Keaton? That's where you live, Pat?" He questioned lightly. It wasn't as if he was in disbelief, it was just that he was faintly sorry. "For classes...?" He hoped that was the case.

"Yeah I go to school there, Math major. Patrick, please." he says softly. Not Pat, but he doesn't explain why, Mom had called him Pat, but she'd left him.

"You sure you're okay, you're shaking you know? Or is it just adreniline from running?" Sinister asks.

He gave a gentle nod, closing his eyes. "Sorry." He should know by now to only adress people with the names given. It was no different with this boy.

"I'm sure I'm okay. Don't worry."

Sinister catches the body language and sighs softly, he hadn't meant it that way. "It's okay, just there's some bad memories with the nickname, see? Look, here's the taxi a little early. Need help up?" He offered.

He nodded again. He still should have known better.

"No, it's okay." Even though he wanted to accept and probably needed to. He slowly and shakily got to his feet, still bleeding and now dirty from the sand. It hurt to stand up.

Sinister carefully put an arm around Irving, "Lean on me, it'll be okay." He says being as soft spoken and gentle as possible. He helps Irving walk to the cab. He carefull helps him in and give the driver directions while he does. Then he closes Irving's dooe carefully before walking around to get in himself.

Irving trembled when Sinister put an arm around him. He swallowed and nodded hesitantly, walking with him and leaning on him until he got to the cab. He appreciated the fact that he helped him in but fell silent when he shut the cab door, not knowing what to say.

Sinister was obviously dealing with a very battered person here. It was sorta pissing him off, Sin doesn't get mad often, but the amount of terror simple contact seems to inspire in his new aquaintance tells him something serious is going on routinely. "Just sit back. It won't take long." he says reassuringly.

Again, Irving nodded and did what he was told as if it were an order. This was how he was lately, what with his dad and his brother Keon gone to France. He was obedient and cowed yet cold and bitter.

"Sorry for the trouble..." it wasn't like he was meaning to be annoying or anything, it was just how Irving was.

After a short ride in silence the cab pulls in at the parking lot near Sin's dorm. He pays the fare and tip. "I'll come around to give you a hand, okay?" he says.

(ish short forgive me plz)

"Okay," Irving agreed with a gentle nod, watching Sinsiter pay. He couldn't say or do much more.

(s'okay. No apologizing.)

Sin helped him out of the cab and then across the parking lot. The reached a bench on the curb. "Did you want to rest, still a little way to my building and then we have steps to contend with." Sin says to Irving.

Irving near limped the whole way his feet hurt so bad on the pavement. He wished he would have had the sense to at least put on shoes.

"Rest. Please." His feet were getting dirtier and he didn't want to walk any more right now.

Sinister helps him get onto the bench. "I'm so sorry it hurts so much." Sinister says sadly. "I wish I could do more to help."

"It's... okay. It's not your fault. I just..." he winced but was relieved to be sitiing on the bench.

"I didn't mean to make you do all this. 'm sorry."

"It's fine, really not much trouble at all, I wan't doing anything at all important. Besides, you needed help." Sinister says.

He looked down at his feet that purposely dangled above the ground. "Thanks for doing this, though. You didn't have to."

"Let me know when you think you can go on. I'll feel better when we can get those cuts cleaned up and bandaged." Sin says to Irving. "Then you can rest a spell on my spare bed if you like."

"'Kay." Irving nodded after a moment, still looking down at his feet. A few minutes passed by and he was ready to walk again. He looked to Sinister. "Could.. Could you..." he seemed to be slightly embarrassed and a bit too intimidated to ask. "..help, please?" he finally finished.

Sinister nods and reaches out to help irving walk. "Sure, I'll help you." he says calmly. He helps Irving get up and lets him lean as much of his weight as he is willing to on Sinister. Then they slowly make their way to Sin's dorm room.

Sin pauses for a few minutes to unlock the door, and let them into the room. Then he walks Irving over to the spare bed and helps him to sit. He goes back to shut and lock his door. "I'll only be a minute he says going into his bathroom. He comes back out with a first aide kit that looks very comprehehnsive.

"Th...Mm, thanks Patrick." That seemed to be the only thing he could say as they walked to Sinister's dorm and such. He leaned almost all his weight on him as they walked as well.

He blinked, surveying the room as he was taken into it and only nodded when he was lead over to the spare bed and sat down.

He cocked his head, looking at him as if he'd never seen a first aid kit before.

Sin drags a chair over and has Irving put his feet in his lap while he deals with them. "It may hurt a little, I'll be as gentle as possible, I swear." he promises very solemnly to the other.

He winced a little when Sin mentioned pain but he nodded anyway. "It's okay. Do whatever you have to."

So he did. He was as gentle as possible at every step, even the wrapping gauze around the feet. He'd deal with the other hurts on Irving after the feet were dealt with. They were the worst. "Better?" he asked when he was done.

He didn't even wince when Sinister di any of it, surprisingly. He was so gentle...

"Yes," he nodded. "Thank you."

"...you should be a doctor, you know..." he commented idly, his voice still small.

He smiled, "My firend wants to be a doctor. I want to go into physics I think." he tells Irving. "You look tired. rest, if you're hungry I 'll oreder pizza, I usually do a few nights a week anyway." he says.

"Physics...? That sounds... neat." This was about the most Irving had ever talked to one person. But then again, Sinister had offered to help.

"Are you sure I can sleep here?" Because he is awfully tired.