The Misadventures and Meetings of Dom and Billy
Tuesday, August 19th, 2003
The Misadventures and Meetings of Dom and Billy
A Billy/Dom Chat
Dom: *I ride the untamed dirt road to the next nameless mailbox, the wheels on my bike skittering and jolting about over every rock, stick, and dip. It's not that I'm unused to this sort of outing, but the speed at which I'm hurtling causes me no lack of a long, startled wail - the noise trailing and fading behind me with the wind, turning heads, and causing a number pedestrian related accidents. The black dot aside the road before me quickly takes shape. As soon as I've even realized that it is a mailbox, I am spit from the seat of my swiveling bicycle and churned into the dirt with a flustered grunt. Were those brakes? I push myself up from the dust and adjust my mailbag sharply on my shoulder, then reaching down to pat off my trousers. I lift my head and take the mailbox into view. It's dented. And not only once. As though it had been run over at one point. Or perhaps had been the victim of a stoning. Taking the mail in my hand, observing the address carefully, and taking a short glance to the misplaced cottage at the end of the side road, I shrug and begin along the path. One hand tucked into my pocket, I whistle a tune... Beatles or some sort... to the rhythm of the gravel crackling under my shoes.* Here's the money house. *I snort, overlooking the small, well-kept hanging baskets of flowers above every window and precise wooden porch - obviously personalized. Coming to the edge of the stair, I sigh. I double check the address.* Sure enough... *My foot makes a light tap onto the first step, and a sharp hiss echoes from beneath. I stop, step back, and bend a bit, looking around. Hearing no more than the crickets, I step onto the stair again. Another hiss. My brow furrows. Dutifully, I step aside from the stair to glance beneath the wooden planks. My eyes grow accustomed to the darkness and slowly make out a form... but - as soon as I've seen it, the figure swoops away like a shadow under the deck. I idly scratch the back of my neck, and decide to go for another try. One step, two step, three step... In an instant, a dark form dives from above, landing atop me and attacking my head with strict intention and accuracy. I nearly lose my balance on the stair amid all confusion, batting my hands around in a blind battle against my enemy, whose war-cries shudder into my ears in an inane frenzy. Letters spew into the air like drunken doves.* Bloody hell!! *I try to duck.* Shit! Get off, get off, get off!!!
Billy: *It's not an afternoon for anything even resembling work... good thing I don't have any. The warmth is making me drowsy, facilitating the slow droop of my eyelids and causing my sticky fingers to turn the pages of my last summer novel more slowly than I would usually. I have a fan propped up on the side table by the couch in the living room, and while the breeze soothes, it doesn't do much as far as cooling, since I am adamant about keeping the doors and windows shut lest some errant mosquitoes carrying the West Nile virus decide to make this house their next inhabitance. A nap sounds good right about now. Hmm, better than good. I crease the corner of the page to mark my place (dog-earing has never bothered me) and set the book down on the floor next to a watered-down glass of lemonade. Mid-chapter and all, which is something I usually can't stand to do. I recline on the couch, sinking into the faded floral pattern and bury my face in an embroidered pillow, preparing to sleep until dinner, if not through it. What are these last few days of summer for? But, of course, the time I actually want to get some shut eye is the time that the most remote place on Earth has to burst with activity. It's soft at first, a few taps on the porch. But then there is an explosion of noise, an unearthly screeching only heard on rare occasions: when a visitor darkens my doorstep. I sit up straight, trying to identify who the assassin may be this time, but when I hear the panicked cries of the victim, I get up and bolt for the door. I fling it open, hoping I don't knock whoever it is with the screen door, see the flurry of white fur and sharp claws, and begin to yell. * MD! Quit that right now! *The cat pauses in mid-swipe, giving me the death-glare she reserves for those times I interrupt her fun. I glare right back and point down the steps to the front lawn.* You heard me! Get. Off! *She jumps down then, taking off down the path with a haughty air about her. I shake my head before turning to the attacked.* Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Damn cat, impossible to control. *It's the postman, postless. Possibly because the mail is strewn all over my porch. I'm about to bend down to pick some of it up when I notice the scratches inflicted upon him, one particularly nasty one across his forehead that is beading up with blood.* That's a vicious scratch you've got there, mate. Needs to be cleaned out before you get Cat Scratch Fever. *I offer a small smile before leaning down to pick up the letters. Once I've gathered them, I prop open the screen door and gesture inside.* Come in and we can fix that right up.
Dom: *I put my fingers to my forehead, dabbing blood, looking at it, breathing hard, turning to see my attacker stalk away, hardly hearing a word this man has just said. I put my finger into my mouth thoughtlessly, then quickly pop it out again as I see the man still waiting for my response.* I, uh? *I look quickly back over my shoulder to see if the creature that was previously attached to my head is still close enough for another barrage, but it seems to have vanished. I huff and furrow my brow, which doesn't ease the pain of my wound.* What... what was that? Besides being a cat, I mean. *I glance to the man and try to suppress my stupor, fingers again pawing at my head.* Is it well? Hydrophobia spreading? *Somehow a grin doesn't wish to appear at the moment.*
Billy: *I've already begun to sift through the envelopes I picked up from the porch, glad to see they're all mine, but disappointed to see they're mostly bills or information regarding school. It's rare I get personal letters. My foot props the screen door open, and I look back at the postman with a quick flash of attentiveness.* Hmm? Oh, she's fine. Just a finely-tuned killing machine, that's all. *I smile softly, tucking my mail under my arm.* No diseases, I promise.
Dom: *I nod, but remain wary of him. What kind of person raises cats as assassins anyway?* Brilliant... *I look again to more blood on my fingers, idly raising the strap of my mail bag on my shoulder. Glancing to the doorway as it waits open before me, I make a gesture with my brow.* Any more surprises in there?
Billy: *I scratch my head with a sheepish smile before shrugging my shoulders.* I can't promise you anything. I'm not sure where the other two are, really. But they don't usually attack visitors in the house. *Not that there have been many examples of visitors.* You're probably safer inside than you are out here on the porch.
Dom: *I pause a moment to consider, then step straight through the doorway.* There's your mail, by the way. *I say plainly as I pass him going into the house. The room I enter first is dimly lit - only a few lamps are glowing faintly through the light cast from the windows. The house smells of a light musk; like an antique shop. Not surprising... It kind of looks like one. I turn slowly to see if my new acquaintance has followed me inside, as I'd rather not be left in here alone.*
Billy: *Following him in, I let the screen door swing shut again and look out down the path. I can see MD, and then slinking off behind her is BM and TS, so we are safe in the house. That's a relief. I nod towards the kitchen and follow him in.* Have a seat. *I turn around, set my mail down on the counter and open a cupboard, pulling out the small first aid kit I keep there. I set it on the table and stand before it, considering. There's something I've forgotten. I hold my hand out to him.* I'm Billy Boyd. *I suppose he could have inferred that from my mail, but I doubt he would have paid much attention.*
Dom: *I follow him cautiously, giving a slow, odd glance to some variety of puffy stuffed bird hanging on the wall.* Thanks... *As I reach a chair, I slump down and pull my bag up onto my lap, resting my arms atop it while gazing around the setting curiously. After a time, I finally rest my eyes on him, listening to him rummage in his first aid box.* Will I live? *I ask suddenly, but he doesn't show any interest straight away.*
Billy: *I shuffle the materials around a bit, finding the hydrogen peroxide and some sterile pads at last, and I eye the cut.* Maybe. *I say cheerfully, unwrapping the pads and dousing one with the disinfectant. I pride myself with being quite proficient with little first aid emergencies (you have to be when you're a first grade teacher), but there's nothing anyone can do to take the sting out.* Hold still, this might sting. *Always add the 'might' in to soften the blow. Cupping the back of his head with one hand, I dab the pad against the scratch.*
Dom: *I'm a bit caught off when he takes my head in his hand. I'm not sure if I'd expected to clean the wound myself. But I know I hadn't expected him to do it for me. I wince sharply when the damp cloth taps upon my injury and a sour pinch echoes into my forehead. I hold my expression tightly for moments. As the pain slowly subsides, I again open my eyes to watch his concentration. For an instant, I feel totally at ease that a man I don't know is wiping peroxide on my head. Then, I realize that a man I don't know is wiping peroxide on my head. I figure I'd better try to say something at least.* ...I ... Your mailbox is broken. *I wince again as he gives the cut a small smudge.*
Billy: *I watch him screw up his face with vague amusement, not because I'm delighting in his pain, but because it's simply an amusing face. With a slight flourish I finish going over the scratch and wipe his forehead one last time before plucking a bandage out of the box and applying it. This will be stylish. At least they aren't Spider Man bandages, like the ones I kept in the classroom last year.* I know. *I say, cleaning up the garbage and replacing the kit in the cupboard.* Can't seem to stop 'accidents' from happening with it. *Earlier in the summer, a few kids who passed by nearly every day decided it would be amusing to knock it with sticks or toss rocks at it. Didn't bother me, really. They stopped after the cats became too irritated with the daily racket.*
Dom: *I nod semi-solemnly and ask nothing further. Reaching a last to my head, I play my fingers on the texture of the bandage, then look to him with a bashful smile.* Thanks. *My eyes fall to my feet a moment to distract my grin. I swear there was something I was supposed to remember.* ...did you tell me your name? *I raise my head and try to hide behind a small laugh.* I think a part of my memory must've fallen out when my head opened up. What was it again?
Billy: Understandable. MD gave you a pretty hefty knock. *I grin and stick out my hand.* I'm Billy Boyd. And you're new. *Of course, that might not really be true. The last postman I had wasn't the type to come up to the door, even if my mailbox had caved in on itself. I haven't seen any sight of him for months, so technically this man could have been working for some time now. But for some reason I doubt that.*
Dom: Yes, I am. *I smile openly. Reaching out a hand, I offer him another name.* Dominic Monaghan. Thanks for fixing me up. I hope the cat doesn't treat you like that. *I look, but don't notice any scratches on him, so I assume he's probably getting on all right. At a pause, I toss a short question, since it's still lingering in my mind.* What is "MD"?
Billy: *I shake your hand briskly and pull up another chair, plopping down in it.* MD is the monstrosity that brutalized you. Stands for Mass Destruction. *I give you a long, blatant look.* Fitting, isn't it? Be glad you didn't meet the other two. Often they hunt as a pack. *Or whatever a group of cats is called.*
Dom: *My eyes widen obviously.* Well, lucky me... *I try for a smile, but the thought of the cats isn't settling. Silence peeks its way into the room, and I'm quickly aware that I have nothing to say. After all, here I sit with this man I hardly know discussing the fact that I've nearly lost my life to a small mafia of cats. I observe the room a bit, rubbing another small scrape near my temple.* Is this usually how you find company? *I say, returning to him with a friendly chuckle.*
Billy: *I laugh softly, reminding myself that not all people, even in this town, tend to share a house with small, man-eating mammals.* Well, not really. Most people who have lived in town long enough have the good sense to stay away from this house, or at least as far down the drive as they can. So no, my cats haven't wrangled me a visitor in some time now. *I sigh exaggeratedly, shaking my head.* Shame really. They generally have good taste. *It's not fair for me to tease, really. I'm putting this young man at unease most likely, and that's rather rude. I grin at him, hoping I haven't made him want to bolt for the door.*
Dom: *Again, I try to smile, nodding a bit and eyeing him curiously.* You wouldn't be one of the wandering outliers I've been hearing so much about, would you? I didn't know they had killer cats. *Two can play at this game...* And are your cats the reason I haven't seen any other outliers in a while? *My brow leaps in mock question.*
Billy: Oh, most assuredly! *I exclaim, nodding vigorously.* It's survival of the fittest out here. Or, rather, survival of he who has the most ferocious domesticated animals. *I nod again, eyes staring out of the window across the kitchen.* Really, it's a constant bloodbath in the outlying houses of Lauderville. You can't survive without at least a really intimidating ferret.
Dom: *I have to watch him a moment before I begin to smile. Laughter slowly finds its way from my mouth and I shake my head in amusement.* Good thing I live in town then! *I state, grinning brightly.* I don't even have a goldfish to my name. Though, even if I had, I might not have brought it all the way from home to guard me. *I stop on a smile, letting my thoughts fall backward a bit. He has a lilt. Scottish, by the sound of it. Without having much reason, I lean in a bit closer, trying to be charming.* By the way... You aren't... from around here, are you? *I lift a debonair brow.*
Billy: *Acute. Very acute. A brilliant deducer, this one is. Cocking an eyebrow I watch him with faint interest.* And what clued you in on that one? *I grin, shaking my head as I pick at the placemat on the table.* No, not originally. But I've been here a little over a year now. *I lift my eyes to meet his again, stilling my hands.* How long have you been around, and what was home before this? *Just continuing the logical path of polite conversation.*
Dom: *I sigh through a smile and look to the corner of my vision.* Home, home... Well, I'm originally from Manchester, England. And more originally from Berlin, Germany. *I let my head rest to the side, sharing his gaze with a usual comfort. But this is harder than usual... I don't often feel a temptation to smile so much. Hell, but if I'm having a good time, why not keep it up? After all, he started it.* I suppose I'm being confusing. Anyway, *I lay a hand on the table* I'm not from around here. And I hadn't planned on being around here. Just got stuck. Plop! *I dot my finger onto the tabletop, as though it were me falling from the sky into the middle of Lauderville, then cast him another grin.* Only been here a couple weeks now.
Billy: Stuck? *I question, resting my chin in a palm and considering him, bewildered.* I can see how someone could get stuck in Lauderville, being that there's nothing really around to pull a person out of it, but to get stuck, you'd have to get here in the first place. *Berlin, Manchester... Lauderville. Hard to connect those three without some adventures in between.* And how did you manage landing yourself here?
Dom: *Sweet man... He has a nice upper lip. I think that thought came too quickly. But it's true. What is that little crick in the lip called anyway? Well, he has a nice one, whatever it is. I try not to look awkward as I fumble through my thought process to my smirk and pull my eyes from his mouth, (interestingly enough).* More like, "crashed", actually. *I clear my throat.* I was on a bus between visiting friends... and the vehicle had no intention of getting me out of the state. Sadly, neither did my wallet... *I chuckle shortly and shake my head.* Now... *lifting a hand to indicate* ...I'm in postal work, trying to feed my wallet, as well as myself. I don't suppose I'll be here much longer, assuming people continue writing letters and paying my leave. *I lean an elbow on the table, twisting crossed fingers in the air.*
Billy: *His misfortune sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, and I can sympathize with him completely. No one really chooses to move to Lauderville, unless they're motivated by money or family ties, or some equally compelling reason. Most of the people who live here have been here since their early childhood, if not birth. But it's not really the kind of town for a young man who hasn't yet found his groove in life. And he doesn't seem like the type who would really favor peace and quiet over excitement. But there I go again, making wild assumptions based on very little. So I make a face, wrinkling my nose slightly at the idea of being here without the option of escape.* That's positively tragic! Of all the places to get stuck. But it shouldn't take you too long to save enough to get out of here, should it?
Dom: I'm about halfway there already, actually. *Laughter tickles in my throat at his expression, but I manage to keep it in. "Sweet man" comes to mind again.* It's amazing what a couple hours of hauling packages and outrunning dogs, and obviously cats, will give you. So long as I survive my? Cat Scratch Fever, was it? *I toss a cheeky grin.* I think I'll be all right.
Billy: *I'm glad to hear he has a solution, that he's optimistic, that he hasn't resolved himself to a life stuck in Lauderville.* Aye, it's a tough job, but someone's got to do it! Just think how tough you'll be when you get out of here, having fought off such demons. *I grin widely, hoping that my cats are the worst he encounters on his daily rounds.* I'm sure you'll make it.
Dom: *I nod pleasantly.* Appreciate it. I hope to get out with my health, not to mention my trousers. *I scratch the same scrape on my temple, holding my smile.* Dogs, you know... *My shoulders rise a bit, and I take a quick glance around. So far this has gone simply enough. So simply, I've hardly noticed the fact that I shouldn't really be here at all. I feel as though I've been invited to a friendly afternoon tea, and am now quite aware that my welcome is worn and there is no tea. But he retains the friendly portion. For some reason or other. I wonder, does this happen often? The townspeople here are a bit more inclined than I am to sit to conversation with complete strangers. This could be my problem. Maybe I've just never realized what an unwelcoming snot I am around new acquaintances. But, thanks to me, he seems the epitome of etiquette now. My eyes graze the room slowly, and I shift the mail bag in my lap.* I'm... sorry, I didn't mean to just make myself at home here. *Again, I smile, trying not to sound like an ungrateful arse.* I'm sure you have things to do, besides repairing the heads of assaulted mailmen.
Billy: *His last addendum catches me off guard, and I hope I haven't done anything to make him feel unwelcome. The truth is that repairing the heads of assaulted mailmen is about the most interesting thing that I do around here, and that happens... oh wait, it's happened once. After this, it's back to another afternoon and evening with the current New York Times best seller. But perhaps that's destined to be my lot in life. I nod slowly, a soft smile sticking to my lips.* And I'm sure you have plenty more stops to make. Let's hope you attain no more injuries on your rounds today! *I stand slowly, not eager to get rid of you, but ready to walk you to the door and make sure that there will be no guerilla warfare in my front yard today.*
Dom: *Hell, I hope he's not offended. Slowly, I get to my feet, smiling with a certain air of hesitance. Anyway, I hadn't really wanted to leave his company so soon... Kind of nice having a responsive voice in my ear. But, then he's right about my having other stops. Maybe I should go, then. I offer a brighter grin.* Well, I'm pretty sure this is my last stop for man-eating cats. But I'll keep an eye open. *I turn and walk to his front door, hardly noticing his d?cor this time around. As he opens the door away, however, I stop and look at him, holding tightly to the strap upon my shoulder. I'm not sure whether the look on his face is disappointment or polite good-riddance. But it isn't unpleasant.* You wouldn't... *I stop. A sudden laugh huffs through my lips.* This will sound crazy, but... I don't know many people here. I'm becoming my own best friend, which isn't always a good thing. *My smile brims as his expression grows lighter.* ... Could I ... perhaps ... *I give the strap a tug.* ...visit again sometime? *Someone please tell me what I'm doing. I don't want any strings attached to this town. Even though... he's not too shoddy a string.*
Billy: *Maybe I didn't hear him quite right. He's met my cats, been inside my house, had stinging medicine rubbed in fresh wounds and yet he wants to come back? More than to just deliver the post? I'm sure the surprise must register on my face, but I quickly cover it up with a genuine grin. Well, if that's what he wants, who am I to deny him my company?* In the event that you're actually serious, of course you can! I'd be glad for the visit. *Great, now that he's got my hopes up, he'll probably never come back. I've enjoyed our conversation this afternoon, and the idea of there being more pleases me.*
Dom: *My smile beams, and I take in his countenance for one last reminder. I almost laugh to myself when I find my eyes caught upon that frail indent of his lip. But my attention quickly returns to his eyes. Green eyes, I'll make a note of it. I don't often remember eye colour.* Good. *I nod happily.* Then I'll look forward to seeing you again. *A cool breath of air echoes in through the screen door and onto my face. The bend of my smile rises.* Billy Boyd. I'll keep the name in mind. *I step back and push the screen door open, still facing him with a smile as I exit onto the porch.* If I can't make it back soon, I'll write a letter, huh? *My eyes dance with a teasing spark.*
Billy: *I laugh at the joke, as corny as it is. Only a couple weeks on the job and already he's adopted postman's humor.* In that case, we'll just have to hope it doesn't get lost in the post. You know how these letters sometimes slip through the cracks. *I lean against the doorframe, grinning as I watch him make his way slowly down the steps of the porch. No cats in sight at the moment. Maybe he'll actually make it out alive.* Lovely to have met you, Dominic. *I call after him, waving.*
Dom: *I raise a short wave into the air, holding my mail bag with my other hand.* The medical attention was appreciated. *I call in return.* Next time I'll come wearing a helmet. *I give a thumbs up and finally turn to find my bike, wherever it must have skittered into the woods, and feel the accomplishment of another post well-delivered. Or, as well as can be expected. I'd only meant to drop off a few letters and look how things turn about! Not only do I acquire Cat Scratch Fever, but I discover the beginnings of a companion as well - not so bad if I do say so myself. Looks like fates are rearing their funny heads yet again. Finding my bike, I prop it up and mount it, wavering between balance and face-plant as I take up my route down the road.*
Billy: *I watch him find his mode of transportation where he had dropped it, following him with my eyes as he makes his way down the bumpy road to make sure he doesn't make an unexpected and jostling stop. When he's out of sight I head back inside, smiling softly to myself. Sighing, I pick up my book again and try to capture the essence of a normal afternoon, but it's not quite the same. And I couldn't be happier.*
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