A ghost city (OPEN)

[Stephen Colly]

Location: London
Time: 2’oclock
Weather: Sunny

London. The place to be if you wanted to go to the theatre, to the pictures, to meet up with friends…this had been before the war. London had been the “place to be”, but now it was a ghost city.

No children playing in the parks, they weren’t even parks anymore, just huge vegetable patches that stretched as far as the eye could see. No pretty houses that were once the envy of the poorer communities, the railings that used to board some of the Victoria houses had been taken down, melted in some factory and shipped off to France or the South East of England to be used as guns and bullets. Even Buckingham Palace was being used as a vegetable patch for food, the King had allowed the garden to be dug up and used for feeding the people of London.

It was 2 o’clock in the afternoon, a few aeroplanes zoomed over head, a few people were walking along the road. Most of these people were women, carrying small shopping bags for their household, their faces dark and silent. A child’s scream and a mother’s shout was heard down the street and a young boy of about six or seven came running out into the middle of the road, dodging a car that had just passed by and across down an alleyway. A mother followed in hot pursuit, shouting at her son to “get back here young man!”

The scene was almost comically, a few people stopped to look, but after the incident was over, the street went back to normal, the mother having caught up with her son was now proceeding to drag him back towards their house, saying in hushed tones how annoyed she was and how the son would have been killed if he wasn’t careful.

All this time, Stephen Colly had been sitting on a bench that was on the roadside, watching the mother and child. He was in army uniform, like most other young men of his age where. The door had been shut on the house opposite, where the mother and child had just gone in. Taking out a packet of cigarettes, the boy soldier pulled one out with a flick of his wrist and lit it with a lighter from his inside pocket. He took a puff and watched as the smoke whirled into the air, staring up at the sky, he saw yet another plane go over head. Closing his eyes for a second against the bright sun, he smiled…it felt refreshing, really refreshing. But then it didn't, a gun shot, a cry of terror and then a flash of light....Stephen opened his eyes suddenly, feeling his breathing increase...what was that? He looked down at his hands and saw that they were shaking...rubbing a hand across his forehead and eyes he stared at the ground, bent slightly....a ghost city, full of ghosts...

[Tyler D. Brentwood]

The dream was dark and horrifying, a nightmare. The scent of alcohol was on the Sergeant's lips, a sign he had been drinking previously to his sleep. The sound of the busy city was drowned out as his mind took over in the absence of consciousness, taunting him with nightmares of the past. His childhood, Liam, his father, his mother, whatever Tyler had managed to block out was brought up in his mind again as he slumbered. Beatings, fights, hate, screaming, and everything else. In night, he could barely rest, so it was a spectacle that he managed to do it in the daylight in a city like London. Not that the Staff Sergeant was even aware he was actually asleep, nor that his dreams weren't the real world. The sound of heavy footsteps coming closer and a mother's yelling broke the nightmare and Brentwood awoke. Slightly angry, he tried to register what just happened.


Slowly, the young Staff Sergeant regained consciousness and lurched forward from the bench. Dressed in his military uniform, he had managed to slowly fall into slumber upon a bench in the middle of London. He chuckled at the thought, creaking the bench as he leaned back into the bench. Sobering himself from his sleep, he glanced around, orientating himself to the scene. London seemed to be dreadfully boring yet filled with an uneasy fear these days. There was no fanfare for the military men on leave, nor did anyone have any good feelings of the war. Desperate times required desperate measures, as England tried to stabilize itself to ward off the might of the German army. To his right, another soldier decorated in his uniform sat on the bench silently. Probably not even in his twenties, yet the boy had grabbed a rifle and enlisted in the British military. Although, nearly as young as the boy soldier, Brentwood didn't want to find himself finding alongside him.

His hand scurried through his pockets, before wrapping itself around a small box of cigarettes and a lighter. Lighting the cigarette up, he rested the back of his head against the tip of the bench and took a long drag on the stick of tobacco. Blowing the smoke out of his mouth, he sat in silence for a few moments smoking alongside his fellow soldier. The boy generally ignored the man sitting next to him, so Tyler returned the favor. The area quickly filled with the cigarette smoke, most of the citizens out and about in the city taking a quick detour around the noxious bench. London didn't feel the same as it once did, but then again... Tyler never had the most pleasant of memories in the British capital. He shivered at the thought of his family and dragged on the cigarette again with his lips. He had shut out the memories and completely ignored where he had once lived.

There was a commotion beside him and he cocked his head to take a look at the boy who was just wildly looking down at the ground and breathing heavily. Ignoring it, Brentwood stretched his feet forward and rested his right arm against the tip of the bench. Still acting insane, the boy earned Tyler's attention. Staring at the kid like he was bat shit insane, he tapped him on the shoulder a few times. "Uh...you ok? You look a little out of it." Perhaps the war had driven the young soldier insane. There was no doubt something was effecting his mental stability. Suddenly, Brentwood wasn't feeling so safe sitting aside the boy. Maybe if he smacked him around a bit, the crazy kid would go away? Contemplating beating the crap out of the boy for some reason, Tyler had nearly forgotten to listen for an answer.

[Stephen Colly]

To be quiet honest, Stephen hadn’t even realized that someone else was sitting next to him. He had been too busy staring out at the street and then closing his eyes and then the banging and the screaming and the gun shot had all happened so quickly that flashes appeared in his minds eye that looking at someone else seemed impossible at the moment.

The images were changing, first they were of Daniel, Nathan, Rhys and Edward all smiling, their faces then changed – Rhys’s and Edward’s faded away into the darkness of his mind, while Daniel’s and Nathan’s faces merged into one, appearing as Liam Brentwood, the officer’s fist came down on to a wooden surface…”Is this a fucking joke?”[/i] echoed in his brain….

The cigarette had dropped out of his hand and was sizzling out at his feet and then someone was tapping him on the shoulder, a light tap and then another, harder than the first…tap….tap….TAP….

"Uh...you ok? You look a little out of it."

Blinking, the image of Brentwood’s face fading away was only to be replaced by another younger looking Brentwood sitting next to him….WHAT THE HELL? Blinking a few more times, still looking confused and slightly terrified, Stephen looked back down at the pavement and stamped out the cigarette…

”How have you got younger?” he muttered, glancing back up at Brentwood’s face, or Tyler’s face really but Stephen was not thinking straight, ”Last time I saw you sir, you weren’t happy at all…” a small crazy like smile appeared across his face as he watched Brentwood, Liam Brentwood…yeah, this was Liam Brentwood sitting next to him…but he looked younger for some reason...why was that?

[Tyler D. Brentwood]

Removing his hand from the boy's shoulders, he spotted that chevrons that labeled him a corporal. So he wasn't some rookie private, as expected. Still, the young boy was just as bad if not worse as expected. The young, needy looking eyes absorbed Brentwood's face before blinking rapidly. A confused and terrified look overcame the boy's face as he turned back to the pavement as if that would save him from whatever was tormenting him. Was there something wrong with Tyler's face? He shrugged and shifted his gaze back over that of the city. Cigarette still in hand, he took a few more puffs on it before the soldier caught his attention again.

"How have you got younger?" This time, it was a confused Tyler gazing at the other man... slightly terrified. It was official, he was sitting next to a maniac. His gaze washed over the insane boy, trying to find any signs of a weapon. A gun or a knife. Anything that he could use against the, more sane man. Tightening his knuckles, he glared at boy soldier with a look that said "What the fuck?" The glare spoke all that needed to be said, but the insane kid just went on and on with his crazed act. "Last time I saw you sir, you weren’t happy at all…" Brentwood sighed and slipped the cigarette out his mouth, turning to focus his attention straight ahead.

Cocking his head to the right, he watched the young soldier strangely smile. Eerily, he sat there just smiling at the other man. A strange sight to see, the young boy creepily smiling at Brentwood as if he was gay for him. He chuckled at the thought before he bent his arm back to rest against the bench. "Look kid, pardon the language, but I have no fucking idea what you are talking about." He plainly stated, before taking another drag on the cigarette, watching the boy from the corner of his eye intently. "And, quite frankly, you're insane. You are fucking insane, boy." The glare was colder and harder, as he watched Stephen from the corner of his eye.

[Stephen Colly]

Why was Brentwood not reacting? Why did he look suddenly terrified? Stephen just sat there, watching the man intently for any signs of movement until finally he spoke up –

"Look kid, pardon the language, but I have no fucking idea what you are talking about."

He didn’t? This must be the wrong man then? But he did look very much like Liam Brentwood…"And, quite frankly, you're insane. You are fucking insane, boy." the glare that came with that statement was cold and hard, it made Stephen look away in slight terror…had he said something wrong? He hadn’t meant to upset Liam Brentwood…or…this other man who looked like Brentwood but was claiming to not be the captain.

”Insane? I’m not insane am I? You were the one who was insane.” he stopped, remembering the scene as if it was happening right in front of him – the lick of the ear, the gun waving above his head, the hard cold desk on his cheek…it all felt so real…but why was this man denying that he was Liam Brentwood when he looked some much like him.

The smile came back on to his face and he stared again intently at Brentwood, ”I hate this war you know sir, always have, always will…Edward hated it as well, you remember Edward McMillan sir? I met him in a barn!” the smile spread even wider, even more creepy now, Stephen just didn’t know what he was doing.

He gave a slight laugh; the laugh was creepy as well.

”Are you alright sir? You don’t look too well, maybe you need to go back to that office of yours and shut yourself in…?” Stephen continued his rambling on, not even bothering if the man next to him was listening, his mind wasn’t working properly at all.

[Tyler D. Brentwood]

The conversation quickly dwindled down to nothing, as Stephen stopped talking or looking at Brentwood? Oh no, had Tyler hurt the little boy's feelings? Tough luck. He was god damn insane and shouldn't be serving in the British military. What a disgrace! Spitting on the ground, he heard the boy talk again. This time it was more to himself than the other man. In fact, everything he said was turning into massive rambling of craziness. He was confused, terrified, and insane as he sat on that bench speaking to no one and everyone. "Insane? I’m not insane am I? You were the one who was insane." Eying the boy suspiciously, he tried to decipher some kind of hidden meaning. If there were one. Tyler was the one who was insane? When? How? Where? Who did this insane boy believe him to be and what had driven him so mad?

"I hate this war you know sir, always have, always will…Edward hated it as well, you remember Edward McMillan sir? I met him in a barn!" The name was familiar. Edward McMillan. Where had he heard that name before? The 7AD had several rumors about the man who was practically a legend around the division. Perhaps, he was myth. Some twisted shit invented by the mad boy next to him, that had spread the through the Royal Army. There was no doubt that Brentwood had overheard the name somewhere at some point in time, but what did it have to do with the kid? More importantly, what did it have to do with him? There was no time to speak up, as he rambled on and on beginning to become one insane rant. Tyler didn't care if this boy didn't like the war. Or if "McMillan" didn't either.

The boy. He was grinning wildly now and even giving a slight chuckle as he leaned forward towards Brentwood. "Are you alright sir? You don’t look too well, maybe you need to go back to that office of yours and shut yourself in…?" Office? Why would Brentwood be shutting himself into an office? He was only a mere Staff Sergeant, he had no office to shut himself in. He was perfectly fine, it was the creepy bastard next to him that should be locked away. The boy's mind simply wasn't working, as if it had shut down and he had become this train wreck before him. Flicking the cigarette down onto the pavement, he stamped it out slowly with his boot before glancing at the boy.

Raising his hand right hand up, he brought it down on the boy like the wrath of god. He smacked the palm of his hand against the side of the soldier's head so hard, he could have sworn he was trying to knock him out. Raising to his feet, he looked down onto the boy once more. "Snap out of it, boy! What the fuck is a nut case like you doing in the military? More importantly, how the hell are you British? Disgusting." The saliva shot out of his lips, almost intended for Stephen, but splashed against the pavement a few feet away. Viciously staring at the boy, he was prepared to walk away. The encounter should have rocked the boy to his core and hopefully saved what was left of his sanity.

[Stephen Colly]

The boy sat there, still smiling creepily until his eyes widened as he saw a hand raise up inches from his face, next minute he felt a burning sensation on his head and a slight dizziness enter his brain…ouch…that had really, really hurt. A bruise would be there in the morning. The world was spinning above him and so was the man who now towered above him like a statue, looking down on him.

"Snap out of it, boy! What the fuck is a nut case like you doing in the military. More importantly, how the hell are you British. Disgusting."

Small, naive eyes stared back in slight shock, he hunched his shoulders, a hand going to his head as he felt the lump that was appearing. ”Shit, that really hurt.” the smile had gone as quickly as it had appeared; the crazed look was now one of terror.

”T-that hurt.” he bit his lip, his father had hit him like that when he was young…this man wasn’t his father though? Why had this man hit him?

”Why’d you hit me? What had I done wrong?” he asked. He didn’t get it why this man had hit him without giving a proper reason for it…what had Stephen done wrong? The last thing Stephen had remembered doing was smoking a cigarette but now that cigarette was lying squashed on the floor…how had it got there?

[Tyler D. Brentwood]

Clasping his hand together and releasing time and time again, he realized how hard he had hit the boy. He grimaced as the boy looked up at the lumbering figure, rubbing the side of the head that Brentwood had struck so viciously. The naive boy seemly stated, "Shit, that really hurt." It was as if he had completely forgotten, shut out, or ignored their previous conversation. His crazed smile faded away and he now looked up at Tyler with terror in his eyes, which pierced Tyler's heart as he stumbled backwards. He had struck the boy for going a little crazy in the head. Acting on impulse, he had followed the overwhelming want, no, need to strike the boy down. He regained his stumbling balance and tightened his hand into a fist, before letting his grip go and allowing his arm to fall limp by his side.

"T-that hurt." The boy simply stated again, biting his lip and gazing at him like he knew him. Oh shit. Did he think he was McMillan again? Or whoever the hell he had madly mistaken him for? The smack had probably been for nothing and Brentwood took a step forward, turning his back on the boy as he began to walk away. "Why’d you hit me? What had I done wrong?" There was a call from behind, the boy's tone one of innocence... not madness. Brentwood stopped in his tracks, hesitating as he stared onward in silence. Cocking his head to the side, he glanced at the boy. He was terrified and confused, as if he had no idea what had just happened to him. Perhaps, he had slapped the crazy out of him? That was comical, as Brentwood grinned. The grin faded, as he turned to face the boy.

"Wait..what? You mean, you don't actually remember what happened?" From the look on his face, it told all that needed to be known. The kid really didn't remember a thing, besides the fact that he had just been smacked upside the head probably harder than ever before. Returning to the bench, he eyed the boy strangely. He seemed much more "sane" and innocent than a few moments before when he had madly rambled for what seemed like eternity. "You don't remember a thing? You just rambled on for the past few minutes." His eyes narrowed and he cocked his eyebrows as he observed Stephen.

[Stephen Colly]

The man looked like he was threatening to hit Stephen again by the way he clasped his hand together and then let it go and then clasped it again. The man then stumbled but regained his balance still looking at Stephen oddly.

Finally he let his hand go and let his arm hang limp by his side. Stephen touched his eye and felt a bruise coming along his cheekbone…that man had some strength in him. And then the man turned his back and was about to walk away, only Stephen’s calling got his attention and the man turned to face the boy who was still wincing after the hit.

"Wait..what? You mean, you don't actually remember what happened?"

Frowning, Stephen shook his head. ”What happened?” he asked the obvious, the man had now come to sit back down on the bench, still looking at Stephen oddly. Maybe this man needed a mental home to go to, maybe it was this man who was imagining things for Stephen had no recollection of what had just happened and if he had then he would have remembered it surely…but hadn’t Niamh or Rowan said something about this sort of condition back when they had found him in the graveyard on that cold night? Shell-shock Niamh had called it. But at least then he had remembered what had happened, but now his brain seemed to be pulling a blank over what had just occurred in the street.

"You don't remember a thing? You just rambled on for the past few minutes."

”Well, I remember you being here…and…and I remember lighting a cigarette…oh shit…what did I say? I really don’t remember what jus happened…hang on….you look familiar.” he stared at the man suddenly, not like before, but more sane-like.

”You don’t know a Liam Brentwood do you?” he asked as he sat back, surveying the man from afar but shrugged his shoulders and then took out another cigarette and his lighter and lit one, puffing the smoke out, it calmed his nerves this way and his hand stopped shaking.

[Tyler D. Brentwood]

"Well, I remember you being here…and…and I remember lighting a cigarette…oh shit…what did I say? I really don’t remember what just happened…hang on….you look familiar." Both the men were awkwardly sitting side by side on the bench once more, the boy's bruises beginning to show against his pale skin already. There was a certain trembling pain in Tyler's palm, from the force at which he had smacked the kid. He grimaced at the boy mentioning he looked familiar, something that brought back bad memories of the scene only moments ago. "Yeah...that's what you said before." He muttered slowly, looking away from Stephen.

His hand slipped down into his trouser pocket and he pulled a stainless steel hip flask out from inside. It was a gift from a prestigious father of the woman he had been dating before heading off for the war. He had broke the relationship off only days afterward. It was engraved with decorations and his own name, as well as carrying a secret compartment in the side to hold about a pack of cigarettes. Unscrewing the cap, there was a whiff of liquor as he sniffed the top of the flask, before holding it up to his mouth. There was a sound of refreshment as the liquor traveled down his parched mouth and throat.

"You don’t know a Liam Brentwood do you?" Tyler glanced over at the boy and the entire situation began to unravel before him. He realized what was going on now. Well, maybe not entirely after all. The boy was leaning back, almost observing him from a distance as if he were a wild animal that shouldn't be disturbed. Taking another sip of the liquor, he mumbled, "That's it, isn't it? Yeah I know Liam. He's my brother after all."

[Stephen Colly]

Stephen indeed felt very awkward now sitting next to the man who had just struck him across the face for no reason that Stephen could see. He touched his face and felt the bruises already appearing…there would be questions arising about them sooner or later.

"Yeah...that's what you said before." the man looked away as if ashamed. Stephen looked away also and just took another drag of the cigarette, flicking the ash on to the pavement at his feet. ”Oh, sorry.” he muttered.

The man was taking out something from his trouser pocket and he glanced over to see what it was – a hip flask – it looked very pretty, he could just seen the name engraved on it from where he was sitting – Tyler Brentwood.

TYLER BRENTWOOD?

"That's it, isn't it? Yeah I know Liam. He's my brother after all."

So Liam Brentwood had a brother!? ”Oh.” Stephen said, looking away and leaning slightly as he took another drag from the fag. ”I never knew he had a brother…wow…” he just sat there, not really knowing what else to say. The bruises were starting to pain him and it was a reminder of how mean Liam was and now these traits had been passed to his brother – hitting an innocent person in public…not nice at all.

[Tyler D. Brentwood]

"Oh. I never knew he had a brother…wow…" The boy just sat there in a baffled amazement. As if Liam Brentwood having a younger brother was such an amazing surprise. Already, he was smoking once more and showing that he was pained from the bruises that already exposed themselves. No doubt in the next few hours they would change color and become a much more obvious feature in contrast to his pale, white skin. The skill to bruise one with just a simple slap either meant that this boy was simply weak, quite the possibility, or Brentwood had retained a thing or two from his childhood days. The Brentwoods often got themselves involved in street fights and other not so respected activities. In fact, something his brother had done had deeply affected the young boy. He would have a lot of tales to tell about the vicious Brentwoods who hurt his feelings and gave him bruises.

A small grin appeared on Tyler's lips at the thought, before he downed more of the alcohol. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he screwed the cap back on the hip flask and rested it on his lap. "Well, now you know..." Tyler mumbled, breaking the awkward silence between the two. Brentwood was sitting there next to an insane bastard while the now innocent boy was probably figuring that Brentwood was just some big bully who went around slapping people for the heck of it. Not that Tyler wasn't that kind of person, but this time the victim was actually wrong. Something that was a bit of a once in a lifetime happening. "So, uh, what did my brother do to you? Seems to have really fucked you up in that head of yours. No offense, mate." Tyler continued, reviving the conversation.

The new boy, the innocent one, probably didn't even realize what the younger Brentwood was speaking of. He had obviously forgotten the previous moments or was at least pretending to do have. "You were babbling about Edward McMillan and a barn and something about going back to my office. Personally, I have no idea what you were speaking about. But you wouldn't stop. So I smacked you." He bent his neck to the right, to glance at the young boy who was casually smoking a cigarette. Even though there seemed to be an attempt to conceal his bruises and avoid the odd man that was sitting next to him on the bench. If he wasn't interested in what had happened, he would have already walked away. Something told Tyler that he wanted to stay.

[Stephen Colly]

Well, it was amazing that Liam had a brother for Liam was the most un-brother-like person in the world. With all his banging and shouting and loony acts of mentalness all over the place…a mental man, an unstable man and if he was anything to go by then what would his younger brother who had been looking up at the loony for the whole of his life be like? Time would tell.

”Well, now you know…” the man may not have meant it to be rude but Stephen found it rather awkward and uncomfortable. The silence filled up for a few seconds until the man spoke again = "So, uh, what did my brother do to you? Seems to have really fucked you up in that head of yours. No offense, mate."

Oh thanks a lot, call me a fucking head case any time mate Stephen thought to himself before deciding to answer, ”Your brother didn’t do anything as such, just was a bit angry one time.” he was not going to go round declaring to the world that Edward McMillan was alive and that everyone should not think of him as a hero any more but as a traitor…no, not even to Liam’s brother would he, Stephen Colly, say anything about what that meeting had been about…

"You were babbling about Edward McMillan and a barn and something about going back to my office. Personally, I have no idea what you were speaking about. But you wouldn't stop. So I smacked you."

Taking another drag of the cigarette and running a hand through his hair, Stephen glanced up at Tyler for a second. Debating what to say.

”You could have just walked away…” he muttered slightly darkly as he watched the man. ”Instead of smacking me. I’m not a five year old.”

[Tyler D. Brentwood]

Popping open the side of the hip flask, he exposed a small compartment that contained a handful of his more expensive cigarettes. The situation just got a bit more awkward and Tyler was breaking out the big guns. Wrenching the small stick of tobacco that was jammed in the compartment out of it's containment, he jammed it in between his lips and grasped his lighter again. The flames set the tip of the cigarette alight and Brentwood was leaning back into the bench now, casually smoking as if nothing had happened. He was a sight, the first few buttons of his tunic undone to expose the white undershirt he wore beneath it. His identification discs dangling from a chain around his neck. Dog tags, as their neighbors across the pond seemed to enjoy to call them. Stephen was looking at him now, with a dark look in his eyes.

"You could have just walked away. Instead of smacking me. I’m not a five year old." Bending over onto his side, Brentwood maneuvered the hip flask into a pesky trouser pocket that seemed to be out of his reach. He generally ignored the boy's comment, not speaking another word for the next several moments. Of course, Brentwood could have simply walked away from the scene. But he was simply not that kind of man. There were things about Tyler that just... set himself apart from the rest. Whether he had developed them from Liam's nourishment growing up in London, or adopted them himself. Certain things set him apart from the pack and not always in a good or pleasant way. As he finally made eye contact with Stephen, his eyes were sagging, drooping with carelessness. The aura had changed from awkward to darkness.

"Indeed, I could have..." he finally spoke, his voice coarse with bitterness. Twiddling the cigarette between his middle and index finger, before slipping it in between his lips. He took a long drag on the cigarette, gathering an ample amount of smoke up within his mouth. Suddenly, the cigarette smoke burst out from between his lips and Tyler formed it into the shape of an "O". Blowing the large amount of smoke in the boy's directions, he settled the cigarette down in his hands and away from his mouth. "But what fun would that be?" Tyler questioned, now grinning deviously at the young Corporal. His teeth shining through the smoke that lingered over the bench, practically laughing and mocking the boy. Just as soon as the grin started, it vanished and Tyler's gaze shot back to in front of him, ignoring the boy once again.

[Stephen Colly]

Now the man had begun smoking also, he did look a sight, with his buttons undone and the tag having around his neck – “dog tags” not a nice name for them but the Yanks had started calling them that so Stephen had taken up the line and started calling them that as well. Stephen had one also round his neck but it wasn’t as shiny as Brentwood’s. The reason for them was in case the owner of them got lost on the battlefield, or their body parts were blown up then the tag usually survived so the one’s who were still alive could see who had died and then mourn them for a few seconds and then they’d be forgotten.

Tyler had made eye contact with Stephen finally after a few minutes of silence. Stephen took a drag of the cigarette and blew some of the smoke out of his mouth, swallowing the majority of it and coughing slightly.

"Indeed, I could have..."

Smoke then waffled in Stephen’s direction and he waved it away quickly, coughing slightly, his eyes becoming suddenly very moist from the smoke getting in them.

”But what fun would that be?”

A grin came across younger Brentwood’s face; this man was now mocking him! How dare him! Stephen sat there fuming for all of three seconds and then just sat there in silence feeling awkward. He glanced at his watch to check the time – 2:30. And he was meeting someone at 3…but it wasn’t too far from here.

”I’m Stephen by the way.” he finally spoke his name aloud to the man, they had been talking for the last few minutes and hadn’t even made formal introductions…shocking.