Warm as Ice

   The sun had set and the evening air was nice and cool. Fresh out of a shower and coated in lemon-flavored cologne, Brad entered the auditorium, with certain steps to carve his route. He journeyed from one spot of seats to another and greeted familiar voices that called to him as he went. McKenzie, the O’Neil Twins, the Stark Brothers, even miss Haley and her fancy lad Rourke Warren had shown up. Brad shook hands, patted shoulders and shared small talk till he had found the one lad that mattered most amidst the sea of Saint Street folk.

   “Took you long enough. A blind man could’ve spotted me, Lee, come on.” Jianni’s tone rung playfully in Brad’s ears, his tongue dishing out the words as if smooth talking was his profession. An all too familiar, repetitive cackle followed.

   Brad's lips stretched to a grin from ear to ear. He made himself comfortable in the seat beside Jianni, then removed his cap and let it hang behind him, atop the chair’s rail. “Figured I’d stop an’ greet, lad. Five minutes till the curtain’s time aplenty.”

   “You’re a free man, singer slinger, but my obligation’s to ink some checks here. Pay’s pay, no?”

   “Coin’s a coin,” Brad repeated the motto with his own take on it, “An’ you love it more than most, Rat Man.”

   “I’m your open book to read,” Jianni let out a short-lived cackle. “Right, right. It’s all in the details. You followed the schematics right?”

   “Eyes fourteen throughout,” Brad nodded and sat back, finally able to loosen some tension that’d built up on his shoulders. The few cracking noises that came from it made the action all the more satisfying. “Space’s a half circle. Th’ back’s length’s about five lined an’ lyin’ men o’ the same height. Whitaker said ‘e measured it tight.”

   “Diameter’s an eight and thirty five meters,” Jianni muttered while the tip of his pen scribbled some paper. “Radius is an estimated four and eighteen. Yes sir, it’s precise. I’ll take your word for it, at least. I’m not too keen on trusting negros.”

   "Lexington whispered ‘fore the lass got demands. Who’d Neppy go an’ fetch us now?”

   “That Terriha broad? Don’t know much about her myself,” he sniffed and his whiskers swayed. “She’s from Central, but she’s not fancy alright. She does dancing, from what I heard. Apparently she’s a big-shot too.”

   “Dancing?” Brad mused and put one leg over the other. Kolkai’s challenge rushed to the front of his thoughts. She’d mentioned witnessing it, but she’d certainly gotten the idea, what with her tinkering with his blindfold.

   Seldom did Brad wonder, but when the time came, it usually involved a lass or two. This was was no exception. It was an odd set of requirements he’d need to check if he were to show her a night she’d never forget. Then again, when did that ever stop this fine example of a man?

   Brad moved his legs again, now planting both boots firmly on the ground. He reached for his blindfold, unbuckled it from the back of his head and placed it inside the pocket of his vest. He then leaned his torso forward, balanced his elbows on his thighs and covered his mouth with one hand, while the other hung loosely. From the start of this performance, all the way to its conclusion, he won’t comment on it, he won’t allow his ears to pick up other people’s voices, he won’t even turn his blind gaze away.

   The worker man’s food tasted the finest.

Warm as Ice

  His honesty had proved successful, Brad figured, initially giving way to more intimate contact from the lass’ side. Just when he thought he’d won her over, however, Kolkai unveiled a twist he’d never have seen coming. Her breath caused his body to shudder against his will, as if the winter wind had caught him with his pants down. His hand experienced the after-effect shortly after. It felt heavier and his fingers were coated in a thin layer of frost.

  An ordinary man would question this turn of events, but Brad had a humanoid rat for a best friend, so it evened out.

  This lass certainly was one crafty bag of surprises, but for a man as thick-headed as he, it only succeeded in strengthening his resolve. She spoke of her request and the terms that came with it and Brad listened intently. All the while, her features flashed before him, a reminder to what was at stake; her lean figure, with just enough muscle to add that extra skip to her step, that playful and simultaneously flirtatious attitude of hers, and sweet Man Above her delicate touch.

  “Y’know, lass,” Brad said and rose from his chair, his smile unwavering. He swiped his frozen hand with the back of his spare palm and the ice cracked to bits under his knuckle. “We got a sayin’ here in Saint Street an’ it says: ‘The worker man’s food tastes the finest.’ Now, I’d done told Neppy ‘fore you showed up that I’d beat the clock. ‘Bout time I put it to good use, ay?”

  He grabbed hold of one chair and placed it atop the other, then swept them off their feet and balanced them on his shoulder. “Lifetime special’s how I ought ‘a remember it, lass. Got a good feelin’ ‘bout it already, not a doubt in sight.” Their conversation had reinvigorated Brad, making him move with fleet of foot, yet still operate with good precision. That, and also Kolkai had cooled him off beforehand.

  “’D be a treat if you stuck around. Figured you’d want to test the stage. ‘Sides, you do good to the lads’ morale, what with that mighty fine first impression you left on ‘em.

Warm as Ice

   The lass had a vivid imagination, Brad could give her that. Though, in a sense, she hadn’t strayed all that far from reality. Though there existed a wide array of moves, each one with its own, unqiue set of tricks and variations, Kolkai had described the general feel of boxing, the core that made this sport such a thrill, almost perfectly.    

  Hell, she could be working part time in the paper for all Brad knew.

  “Yes sir, mighty fine,” he assured her, but then felt her curious fingers exploring new territory. They were now traversing the sharper planes of his face, playing with the tools of his various senses, operating or not. Brad let his sentence sink in before following it up with, “though the magic trick’s a secret, else it wouldn’t be magical, ay?”

  It was an odd trick, one which he used on every person he’d met to that day. The key lied in Brad’s enhanced hearing, granting him the ability to eavesdrop on their more subtle actions; their breathing was one, the sound of their joints was another, and sometimes it’d be the wind that followed their movements. In some cases, he could even hear another person’s heartbeat.

  Kolkai’s case, like many other lasses before her, was a cocktail of all the above.

  At that moment, the chair’s legs rocked to the lass’ groove. He felt Kolkai’s bust press against him, then lean back and turn to a certain angle. Her breath landed on him and the chill straightened the hair of his goatee. Brad chuckled in genuine amusement and shook his head. She’d teased and he’d teased back, but now was the time for honesty.

  Luckily for Brad, he excelled at it.

  “Reckon I’m viewin’ a special piece o’ work. You’re one happy lass, can hear it loud an’ clear. It’s in the warmth that’s comin’ outta your mouth and the wee lil’ skips t’ your heart too, an’ I fancy that aplenty in you.” His fingers got a firm hold of her arm, making sure she remained close. Despite being blindfolded, it was obvious he was looking into her eyes, his brows slightly furrowed, but his lips drawn back into a confident grin.

   “That’s what’s funny though; Your heart don’t got much warmth to it, no sir. ‘S cold’s what it is an’ it’s colored me curious from the get-go. Got me wondering if an evenin’ glass of liquor’ll give it some, an’ if it do, how much more those cool lips o’ yours ’ll whistle.”

Warm as Ice

  Usually, in these kinds of conversations, it’d be Brad who would lead. He’d start off with a fine, firm handshake -so as to leave a strong impression- and then easily weave it to another sign of affection. He could’ve kissed the back of the lass’ hand or complimented her charming accent. Instead, Kolkai, as she’d come to introduce herself, had done all the job for him. Few lasses could do anything but fall face-first for his charm, let alone take the reins and make them their own, to Brad’s surprise.

  The spark of intrigue was quick to ignite itself to new heights.

  “I’m the man o’ the hour, lass,” Brad replied, his tone oozing with confidence. “Ain’t just me. All the lads in ‘ere ‘re helpin’ Neppy in ‘is time o’ need, an’ by the sound o’ things we’ve gone an’ done it.” As he spoke, he couldn’t help but get distracted by the way with which Kolkai’s fingers went about his skin, painting an invisible picture with gentle strokes He certainly didn’t complain, no sir. When it came to these gestures, he proved a weak man.

  “As for this lad, he’s a boxer, yes sir, an’ if you’d be willin’ to stick around a day more, you bet it’d be my pleasure to get to this steak’s juices.” Brad teased, a broad grin adorning his face. “‘Sides,” he said and the hand that was in Kolkai’s grasp jerked as the fingers snapped in a catchy, albeit short-lived tune. “I’d also be a blind man if I ignored this mighty fine lass point-blank. Reckon you got good juices for sharin’ yourself, ay Kolkai?”

  All the while, his free hand, which sat on the far end of Kolkai’s chair, moved a tad closer to her. Throughout their conversation, Brad had recognized a subtle undertone in her voice poking its head over the fence from time to time. He couldn’t quite make out its meaning, though he felt the favorable intention in his gut. As such, his fingers let go of the rail and gently felt the lass’ arm. The complexion was smooth, yet the muscle was lean and well-defined. Wasn’t this another happy surprise?

Warm as Ice

   It was no joke that this was a hot day. Even when indoors and with the ventilation working extra turns on its filtering capabilities, the heat managed to clump up and hit the workers all the same. However, when the lass reached out and traced his forearm, Brandon felt a cool breeze traveling up his arm. Within a finger-snap’s time frame, the aura had journeyed his entire body and rid him of the buckets of sweat he’d shed to that point.

   It took Brad a second to recover. He neither jumped nor shivered as his body temperature regained its balance. Liars be biting their tongue, Brad was the kind of lad that fancied lasses with mighty fine finger-work, but she was on a whole new level. He also hadn’t forgotten her words, sweet and alluring like honey.

   Suffice to say, his interest was peaked.

   “Hell, an’ who am I to turn down a lass o’ this fine caliber?” Brad joked, a light-hearted chuckle escaping his lips as he spoke. He grabbed himself a chair and placed it beside hers. From what little he’d gathered to that point, she seemed a genuine enough lass. It showed in both her actions and words that she was welcome to touch.

   “Saint Street’s one big pot o’ misfits,” Brad said and loosely put his arm over her shoulder, his fingers gently latching onto the end of her chair. “There’s ole sailors, Noxian deserters, pirate folk, rural Pilties... Chinchangs too.” he rotated his head to face her, as if attempting to meet her gaze with his own. It was the gesture that mattered, not so much the eye contact.

   “An’ speakin’ of Chinchangs; Name’s Brandon Lee,” he introduced himself and presented his open palm to her. “Most interestin’ man you’ll ever meet.”

Warm as Ice

   What was the meaning of this? was what mister Nepomutheno would ask aloud, should he have been granted an additional second. There was too much chatter happening behind his back and this businessman would have none of it, whether there was time to spare or not. Fortunately for the workers, miss Kolkai Terriha was there soon as he turned around to shift his focus all to herself.

   The affectionate gesture left him stunned for a short moment. He snapped out of it after a blink, then he straightened his posture and cleared his throat. “Think nothing of it, dear girl,” mister Nepomutheno replied, his voice still far too rough, albeit courteous. “Your talent is thrice, no, ten times grander than any boxing match hosted in this auditorium!” He scoffed as he lied through his teeth. After all, it was no secret he attended the big games himself.

   Mister Nepomutheno’s eyes darted behind Kolkai for a split second to analyze the workers. Some had still to recover from her sudden approach. Their movements were sluggish and lax. Then there was Rodriguez in the corner, checking on his glasses. A boiling sensation of fury stirred within mister Nepotheno, the sole external sign of it displayed in his balled fists. Before the fair lady could notice, he moved them behind his back, masking them behind a professional stance.

   He cleared his throat and continued, “I trust you’ll make yourself comfortable during the remainder of the preparations. If you need any help with your luggage, ask one of the workers whose hands I can spare. Now, if you’ll excuse me!” mister Nepomutheno concluded, turned his back at lady Kolkai and set off.

   “Rodriguez!” was the last thing this businessman called out before exiting the auditorium.

   The suited man in the corner put on his glasses and raced after his boss. Some shouting that echoed from the same direction followed promptly and toned down in a matter of seconds. The silence had no time to settle properly as a chair was placed down and behind the pearly-haired lady. Were she to turn around, Kolkai would discover a shirtless worker with a red cloth-piece that covered his eyes, offering her a seat.

   “Have a sit, lass. Treat it like ‘t’s your home.” the man urged, his voice friendly and welcoming.

-insert title here-

Keep reading

[{ Exams are nigh, and right behind them follows summer practice. I’ve decided to work on smaller, more sporadic things meanwhile, be it for Brad or my other projects. Think of it as mini development before the big guns re-surface. }]

[{ Treading tranquil train tracks }]

   “Sticks 's too stale to be callin’ 'em, lass. Reckon backcountry 's got the cozier jingle, ay?” With his lips still curled up in the shape of a semicircle, Brad leaned further back into the railing. He pushed his cap up a finger’s worth and turned to look outside, more so to feel the wind hit his face than to bask at the setting sun’s beauty. There was no better feeling of warmth than that, no sir, lest he counted a lass’ touch. Twas a close race between the two.

   “Y’ fancy the business, sounds like. When the suit’s your size, that is.” Brad  wiggled his brow during the punchline. It added that finishing touch, that extra kick which made it all the more glorious a jest. “Matter o’ fact ‘s that the remedy ‘s an easy one.”

   Brad sank his free hand into his pocket and his fingers shuffled about. Soon after they emerged victorious, for between his thumb, index and middle finger rested a small, plastic bag. “Nuts.” he announced. “Miracle workers.”

   He straightened his back and fixed his posture, now pressing on the iron bar with his behind. “I'm finna bust a quick one or two.” Brad untied the sailor’s knot and picked a random one, twirling the hourglass-shaped shell in his fingers. They were fresh out of the tree, that’s what Stark bragged about.

   Though his leading hand was in no condition to curl its fingers properly, he fretted not. Like the Saint Street saying said: The mighty, mighty man always knows of another path, and with that Brad moved the nut closer to his mouth and cracked the shell with his teeth. The trick was to put just enough pressure to ensure the top of the shell didn’t end up falling into the abyss along with the hidden treasures.

   He presented her the bag as he munched. “Wanna nut, lass? Train’s got a short while more till Saint Street. They'll keep the hungry urges intact, yes sir.”

   “ ‘Sides, you’ve colored me curious,” he admitted. “Where ‘s your business takin’ you in these evenin’ times? Saint Street? Bigger Town?”

   With all that had happened today already, Brad felt it in his gut miss Marietta Darling would mention the former one way or another.