Harm sat on the ground beside one of the many park benches. It’s been her experience that the police don’t bother hobo’s unless they’re sleeping on the bench or pissing in a bush. And since she is doing neither, she should be fine. Right?

She’s been completely silent for over three hours, silently fuming, for the very same reason that she is out here instead of comfortable and warm in Detective Spearmint’s office curled up on the floor or sprawled out with a pillow and blanket in the bathtub. They had a fight. Because he’s a senseless old ass hole and she’s a stubborn, mouthy girl. It’s nothing new, they fight all the time. And time after time she comes back and he lets her.

This time it was the same fight they’ve had a dozen times. She insisted on wasting his time trying to memorize the list of things he wanted her to do today instead of letting him write it down for her. She could never dream of telling him that she couldn’t read so she’s insisted on doing it this way since the beginning, and since the beginning it’s resulted in a battle of wit and quick tongues when he lost his patience with her.

So when she stormed out of the office shouting a few choice words that were particularly unpleasant coming from the mouth of a young girl of sixteen, maybe fifteen, and slamming the door, she landed herself without a bed tonight or a warm place unless she wanted to crawl back apologetically.

Harm is more then a tad skinny, weighing only borderline 100 pounds, her ribs and bones showing. But she’s gained some weight since living with the detective. And she’s gotten healthier, a better complexion, and since her body is no longer starving and eating itself, her figure has started to fill up. Her body of a ten-year-old boy has graduated to the body of a thirteen-year-old girl. But her pants are still too big, despite being a size 1 ladies, and hang inappropriately low on her hips, the knees torn out and holes wearing in other places. The tee shirt on her is too small now, a light blue thing, and the brown jacket that Spearmint had given her was now worn senseless. It was also good for fall but far too light for the winter. The seat of her pants as well as her legs and bare feet were wet from the snow and she’d invested in a beanie type hat that fit snug over her head and ears. Her hair was still short to her shoulders and cut uneven from a self-barber job.

She sat with her back against the bench, her knees drawn up to her body, one foot resting on top of the other, her hands tucked tightly between her thighs. She’d also invested in a second hand pair of gloves that were too big for her hands and the fingers of four out of five on the left hand were missing back to the knuckle, all five on the other hand were missing to the knuckle, and a scarf. The gloves were a faded black opposed to the brown jacket, blue shirt, and nearly washed-white pants. The scarf was a dark green but it was thick and warm and only fraying a little at the ends.

The wind and cold combine had made her skin pink at the cheeks and her feet were red and numb. Maybe next she’d buy shoes. She’d had a pair of sneakers but it figured they’d fallen apart right before winter. A gust of wind lifted her hair up off of the side of her face and touched it’s cold fingers to her cheeks and she shuddered.

((::waves emphatically:: Hi Em!))

A swooshing sound pulsated in the air. It was the sound of a circle. A rope circle, to be more precise. A man was walking, whistling, and spinning a lasso. It wasn't a large one, just big enough to spin healthily. The heavy footfalls of his boots sounded on the ground. They weren't anything special, just enough to keep out the wet and cold and random nails he might accidentally step on. The soles were very thick.

The rope that swung through the air was thin, perhaps a half an inch in diameter. The intertwining fibers were red and blue. If one were to follow the rope full circle and down the line to the hand that controlled it, they would come to light brown skin that was a shade all its own. The skin disappeared up a warm jacket, fully lined and thick with insulation. It buttoned up the entire way and dark dreadlocks hung down. The man himself had a beanie type hat on. All in all, he looked rather cozy.

As he was passing a certain bench, he noticed a certain girl. The cheerful whistling stopped and the rope stopped its twirling. It was bundled up and held in one hand while the other began unbuttoning his coat. Underneath was a hooded sweatshirt and under that was longjohn's and another shirt. He could do without his coat, especially if it was for a good cause. He slipped off the coat, transferring the rope from hand to hand, and dropped it on her knees.

"You look cold."

Harm, with her head tucked down into the worn coat and scarff as far as she could, had had her eyes closed. She felt the warmth of his body heat inside the coat and then the weight of the coat itself on her lap before she saw anything. She hadn't looked up when she'd heard the whistling, nearly life long experiance as a bum taught her to ignore people, they usually got testy when someone watched them go about their every day lives.

She lifted her head quickly, bumping the back of it against the bench in the process, at his voice. Her green eyes had always been brilliant, though once they'd shown illness, now they were healthy but nothing had ever changed the sharp determination in them. She was grateful for the jacket's warmth on her legs, really she was, and for his kindness. Only a life-long bum could really tell you how rare real kindness was. So she appriciated it but...

"I don't do charity. Thanks." And she'd holding the jacket back up.

Spirment had figured that out almost instantly, she'd never taken charity of any sort.

"I wasn' giving it to you."

Clearly, a man of few words. He took the coat back only to drop it on her lap again. And then sat down on the bench, setting the rope next to him.

"I'm lettin' you use it 'til you get somewhere. Frostbite's a high price for pride."

His voice wasn't unkind, nor were his eyes, but nothing other than benevolence seemed apparant.

"M' not going to get frostbite. Havn't for...." Fourteen years? Thirteen, fifteen? She didn't know. She was too young to have known her age unless told. And no one who knew her knew her age. "Years," she finished.

And the coat was on her lap again. She scowled at it. Pride was important, at least, when you had nothing left it was. Or had nothing but pride to begin with. "I'm not going anywhere." She fingered the collar of the coat before holding it back up. "Thank you." Her thanks was truely sincere.

Montrez didn't push his views onto people. Really. However, when 'people' translated into young girls who were out in the snow with no shoes on whatsoever, he thought twice. He accepted his coat, but didn't put it on. Trouble was, he didn't know what to do. He wanted to help the girl but you can't help people who don't want to helped so it's best not to try.

"So there's nothin' you'll accept? You're sure you got no place to go?"

It never hurt to be sure, did it?

She started to say that yes, she was positive. But she stopped and thought about it for just a moment. She was really cold, and goosebumps rising on her arms, her body shivering, told her that. But she didn't take charity, no. Absolutly not. So maybe she should go back and apologize.

She managed a smile that was a lot prettier then most bums, mostly because being clean had always been important, she'd have taken a bath over eating given the choice. "I will eventually."

She'd rather go to a shelter then go apologize, but it's the holidays and it's winter, the shelters would be full by now. Ah well, no harm came in saying sorry once in a blue moon. "You should just go home to your..." maybe he doesn't have a family. "and be warm. Merry Christmas." She'd always hated christmas.

Thick lips spread out into a smile. "Don't celibrate Christmas. Neptune's my god." Not that religion ever had anything to do with the holiday but she was right. He had no family, few friends. Maybe that would have made a difference.

Montrez tipped his cap (or would have if he had one capable of being tipped) and stood.

"Happy Christmas."

She started, shuddered and not from the cold, planted on hand in the snow and turned to look up at him, her green eyes carfully gaurded.

"What did you say?"

She's talking about Neptune being his god. She's recently come to the realization that Gods, being multiple, were really real. And that Death was a very frightening thing to see. And Magic was not good.

Here eyes were just a little haunted.

The supernatural wasn't something that Montrez dabbled in. Knowingly. Actually, he was a very strong, gifted and talented telekinetic but the thought that that was something commen in the world never crossed his mind.

"Neptune? God of the sea, horses, all that's good in the world. Is that a problem?"

Not that it would bother him if it was.

She stared at him for exactly ten seconds. She was counting to ten at any rate. Then she shook her head, blinked at him, and turned back around, leaning back against the bench and curling herself into a much tighter ball, as if trying to keep out more then just cold.

"Doesn' matter."

Yes, as a matter of fact. Now she was waiting for this Nuptune to swoop down on them and do something dreadfully awful like.......summon a chair and sit in it. Really, she made more out of Death being in Speirments office out of fear. He didn't actually do anything.

He sat back down...

"I'm interested."

...and looked at her.

"No your not," she replied. Well, he probably was but... "God's aren't....nice." Would she go to hell for that? Probably.

"I mean....they are. They're....go home." Frustration makes her moody.

Ok. 'Interest' might not have been the best word. Perhaps 'curiosity?'

"Maybe you're looking to the wrong god."

Well his god had never been mad at him, so far as he could tell.

She huffed, and it wouldn't have been heard but she'd forgotten that her breath could be seen and a big puff escaped her mouth.

"Sure." Only, she doesn't look to any god. She'll probably go to hell for that too. But then, if there's no Gods then there's no hell....but there were gods, she met one.

"I don't look to anyone." Definatly moody.

Oh yes. Looking at her bare toes he could definitely tell how well that had worked for her in the past.

He fiddled with the rope for a second or two, then looked up.

"Your toes must be freezing." Not that he's going to do anything about it.

Well, she'd relied on people as a child, other bums, but no one else. It's people who are suposed to care that put her in this position anyways.

"A little," she replied, looking at her reddened feet and curling her toes up. Frown. That coat looked awful warm. And he wasn't putting it back on yet... "Are you just gonna sit there all night and freeze?" Hesitation, "if ya are..." Frown. Nose wrinkle. "You'll get sick."

It's really that hard for her to ask for help.

"No. I have a.." fuck, what was the word? "uh..I have more clothes than you. Thermal socks and boots. So I'll be comfortable sittin' here all night."

The coat did not move. It sat on his lap just waiting to be worn and bundled up in. He wasn't even holding on to it.

She turned around and narrowed her eyes, half suspiciously, half curiously.

"You aren't gonna sit there all night though, really?"

He's confused her now. It's rare people are so nice, it's even more rare to find people that would sit and take her attitude like he was. She eyed the coat again but didn't take it...yet.

Well now, he actually had to think about that one. After a few seconds of contemplation, he answered.

"Probably." The only life Montrez had now was his horses. Since he was only a hired hand, he wasn't even sure he would continue to have that. Spacing his life with random inequalities might turn out to be a good thing.

And the infamous words that Adrien must have heard a million times from her lips, especially the night he summoned that death demon thing, "Your crazy."

She turned around, shifting in the snow so that she was facing him and hesitated, looked at the jacket and licked her lower lip.

"Why?" Would you sit out here if it's so cold and you have a choice? She reached up, touched the edge of the jacket, pulled it off of his lap and tugged it over her shoudlers. It nearly devoured her little body.

He grinned and shrugged.

"Why not?"

For any normal person, there might have been an entire houseful of reasons why not. Montrez could only think of one or two and neither of them were very good ones.

She frowned.

"Normal people like to be warm," she mumbled in reply.

Does that make her normal? And him not? But then, he's the one that believes in Neptune. Of course, she believes in the gods too now. Are either of them that normal then?

He shrugged, but the expression on his face didn't relay a shrugging emotion.

"That's only for a given definition of 'warm.'" Not normal, because he knew very well that normalicy was something he'd never have.

What?

"What...." she always felt stupid and it didn't help when she had to ask for clarification. Like asking Adrien what 'paralisingly' meant. "does definition mean?" She's never been to even first grade, mind you.

And even first graders knew the definition of definition.

"What I mean is that you may think that warm is a different temperature than I do."

"Is that what definition means?" She frowned.

"Well, no matter who you are, warm is definatly not this." She's still cold, despite having a second coat around her shoulders. Probably because her clothes are wet from the snow. "Your not cold at all?"

"Not exactly. 'Definition' is what a word means, that's all."

He picked up the rope again and twirled it in the air. It widened out into a loop and he swept it overhead for something to occupy his hands.

"Chilly. But not desperately cold. You know the best thing to keep warm is something on your head and feet." Only a small bit of friendly advice.

"So the definition of the word definition is what a word means." Confused? At least she grasped the concept. She's really a fast learner.

She reached up and touched the knit cap she'd bought for twenty-five cents only a few days ago. Well that covered something on her head.

"My shoes broke." Her green eyes watched the rope circle. "What're you doing?" Nope, she's never even seen a cowboy movie with the lassos in them. She's just not got a clue.

"Correct. Congratulations." there wasn't a single hint of sarcasm or falsness in his voice.

"I'm...well...I'm swinging a lasso..." He honestly hadn't realized he was doing it.

She smiled at his praise, despite herself, and when she noticed, she tried to put the smile away.

She would ask 'what's a lasso' only it didn't seem to make much sense since she was watching him make one. Instead: "What's a lasso do?"

His fingers got lazy. Eventually, his mind took over and kept the rope moving, though he still kept his hand in the appropriate spot to make it seem as if he were doing it effortlessly. To anyone who didn't know what they were seeing, nothing would seem amiss.

"Lassos help cowboys catch cattle," he said with just a slight touch of pride in his voice.

She shifted again, almost as if raising up a little to get closer to the swirling circle and investigate it.

"Why are you makin it? There's no cattle here." Yes, she knows what cattle is. "Is it hard to do? Can I do it?" Probably not, but it's worth questioning. She was actually suprised he hadn't run away from her by now, snatching away his jacket and heading somewhere more comfortable, warmer, and with less annoying girls.

"It's..something to do. I'm easily occupied, I guess." The flying rope slowed down and hung limply in his hands. He pulled it back up and held the knot in his hands, pointing out the specifics. The hows and the whys.

"And then ya' just..twirl it." Up it went. Down it came. "Want to try?"

"Something to do?" When a Bum has nothing to do they beg, which she doesn't do, sleeps, or walks. She choose walking usually. She scoot closer to the edge of the bencha nd went to her knees to watch him point out the how and why, the point of a lasso.

"Sure. I'll get it wrong though," she didn't sound upset by the thought of getting it wrong though. She held out a gloved hand, the one missing the ends of three fingers. "Do I have to take the glove off?"

He passed it to her without a word. He was confiedent that she would get it. But if she didn't, he could always add a bit of assistance. Not a lot, mind you. After all, if he made it work when she was doing it incorrectly, she'd be learning the wrong way. But using it wasn't difficult and she did seem smart and observant.

"You can leave em' on. Hold it just a little ways from the knot..."

She certinlly wouldn't be happy if she ever found out he'd used some magic ability to help her along anyways. Actually, she'd probably be a little scared of him if she knew he was anything but normal. Might even call him a god.

Scary.

She took the rope in her small hand and tried to imitate what he had done. Suprising to her, she got the rope into the air and completed a full few circles. Of course, she got excited, looked at him, and the rope fell and dropped around her shoulderd. That won't damper her newfound much improved mood.

"Look I did it!"

He lifted the lasso from around her head and began to wind it up into a coil. He was smiling proudly to himself. It made him glad that he didn't have to help. She really had done a very good job for a beginner.

Dark fingers pulled at the coil and unraveled it while brown eyes scanned the surrounding area.

"See that branch over there?" he asked, pointing to a barren tree limb. "Y'think I can rope it?"

"No," she replied honestly. She's smart enough to know that while she can be proud for almost really getting it right, she certinly couldn't do that yet. She wrinkled her nose at the branch. "Can you?"

Montrez shrugged and stood to walk behind the bench. His wrist turned once or twice experimentally. He wasn't going to use his mind at all, this was a test purely on skill. The rope picked up speed and was soon flying throught the air towards the target. The loop hit, slipped, and tightened around bark. It hadn't gone perfectly. Montrez missed his original target but at least got half of it.

One or two jerks on the rope and a little unnatural prompting on Montrez's part freed it. Once again, his hands pulled it in and coiled it up.

"D'you wanna try?" The rope was offered to the girl.