hypoplasiacordis

[hypoplasiacordis]

luck transfer | ask-izo-abroad & hypoplasiacordis

It’s been a week or so since Law had to go back to the library and things had been good and well during that time, but he had to do some more official research and his stupid wifi was still being a goddamn bitch.

So he had no other choice but to visit the library again; and when he passes the table he’s spent his last visit at he remembers that one Asian guy. Just like when they parted ways (it had been very dramatical) the corners of his lips turn upwards. That guy was like some weird good mood charm- For other people, that is. He himself seemed pretty upset when he left, but what did it matter, anyway.

 Shaking his head to get the memories out and focus on work, Law heads to the computer section of the library. He sits down at a desk in the corner (most of them were free, as no one appeared to be in the library around this time for whatever reason) and switches on the computer in front of him.

While he waits for the old thing to start up, his eyes wander across the room and he can’t help but think about the how ironic it would be if the Asian chose this exact day to come back to the library as well.

[hypoplasiacordis]

He laughs quietly when the other gets up and actually bows before stomping off. >You leaving already?<, he calls after the Asian, >What a shame!< Shaking his head a little, he watches the younger man exit the library and turns back to his book. It was hard to believe how easy it was to manipulate some people. He didn’t even have to try! This was ridiculous. But hey, at least he could be sure that this guy’s day was most likely worse than his own, now, and that brightens Law’s mood considerably.

With a small, creepy smile on his lips he skims through the rest of the book, mentally noting the pages he’s going to use before getting up and to the printing room to copy the pages he’ll “reference” in his paper. Experience he’s not supposed to have doesn’t count as a source after all.

The still warm copies tucked under his arm, Law puts the book back on a random shelf. Those bastards from his classes should try to find it now.

Smile still on his lips, Law strolls out of the library and back home. He’ll spend the rest of his day procrastinating his shitty paper and then do it in the middle of the night as always. On his way back home Law picks up some cheap cup ramen in the small grocery store with the overly friendly staff— today’s dinner was fucking saved.

Now that he pissed of that one Asian guy AND had something to eat as well as the fact that he managed to do at least something productive today had definitely cheered him up.

Who would’ve thought that this shitty day could end up so ... alright?

The Student Doctor

Simply just gathering his things together now Izo knew he wasn’t going to get anything accomplished if he stayed here. Filing the stuff away Izo glanced once more at the other male glare making it through his slanted lids.

"If you’ll excuse me." Izo said with a curt bow. Turning on his heel Izo was off. He was going to leave this noisy library, he was going to leave that rude guy. He was going to go to a park and work on his scenery. 

Walking down the front steps of the library Izo didn’t pay to much mind to things around him. Few people littered the small side walk in their own worlds as nobody really paid any mind to one another. Following the path he took to get to the library Izo was starting to even contemplate on even going to the park knowing he’d only get lost and once he found it he’d have to head back.

Sigh leaving his lightly painted lips Izo kept walking till a hard shove came from behind him. Stumbling forward at the blunt force of it all Izo was lucky enough to keep his balance as his feet held onto the ground. Bag not fairing as well flew from his hand and landed only feet in front of him. Sickening sound of plastic hitting pavement Izo didn’t even turn to see who’d caused such an accident to befall him. 

Falling to his needs at his bags side Izo opened it with haste the asian pulled out the laptop with care and worry. Sliding long yellow tinted fingers along the surface of the computer he propped open the lid with ease. Pushing the power button with a knot promptly in his stomach pure horror ate at his intestine as the screen remained black. 

Today really wasn’t his day.

[hypoplasiacordis]

Standing in his doorway with his arms folded across his chest, Law watches the other basically crawling up the stairs. It was beautiful. Pride will have a fall, he thought, and shook his head a little. The other had gotten into this unfortunate situation by himself, after all; much to Law’s surprise, he eventually manages to reach his door.

"Where do you want me…?"

He raised an eyebrow at the other (again). The stranger was being surprisingly cooperative all of a sudden- considering Law basically had to convince him to let him take care of his wounds. Pulling a chair from the kitchen table, Law nods towards it, the motions already well known to him. >Sit down on the chair<, he orders, just in case the other was too busy to keep himself on his feet to actually look out for any gestures.

>I’d offer you the couch, kind-hearted as I am, but I can’t have you bleed all over the cushions, I’m afraid.<

>So<, rummaging through some of the boxes and cupboards, Law decides to try and talk to the other, hoping that it’ll keep him awake and too busy to fall into unconsciousness. >Who wrapped you up like that, hm?<

A Little Wrapped Up || Law and Ace

[hypoplasiacordis]

Law pats the other on the back- a gesture that might be interpreted as reassuring, but he actually only wants him to get off the damn table and out of the flat. It was late, he still hasn’t eaten anything and he was tired as fuck— honestly not the best mood to make small talk about swordsmanship and the likes. Under different circumstances he might’ve tried to participate in a conversation about swords, but not this late in the night when he was stressed and frustrated and ugh.

It goes without saying that neither of them will rat the other out (no matter how bad his mood might be), of course- he’s learned that it can be smarter to not mention this, though. It attracts suspicion among patients if he brings it up again and again. With an exhausted sigh, he goes to wipe the table around the stranger’s still sitting form.

"No. I think it’s okay like this. Thanks for treating me.”

About. Fucking. Time.

>Don’t mention it<, Law says in the nicest tone he can muster, before his growling stomach and the leftover sandwich still lying on one of the counters get the best of him after all.

He grabs the food he’s prepared earlier, plops on a chair and starts eating, not even bothering to offer the stranger anything. He’s already shared his booze and treated him for free, that had to be enough— but Oda, he hasn’t even realized just how hungry he was until just now.

At least he’s getting something edible in his stomach, and that alone brightened his mood considerably. If only the scarface would leave him alone, too…

Shoot To Thrill ||HypoplasiaCordis & TartarosDaemonium

[hypoplasiacordis]

Oda, the other kept glancing over at him. What’s wrong with that guy? He fights down an amused smile; obviously he’s expected some kind of snotty reply- but he wasn’t in the mood for one of those petty fights. Yet. Law snorts quietly and tries to focus on his book, which works just fine for a while— until his new acquaintance begins to drum his fingers against the table; something he’d usually find annoying, but in this context it was just fucking hilarious. Did he piss him off that much? Heh.

He kept half-watching the other from the corner of his eye, a small smirk set on his lips, now. At some point the other is close to flipping shit, he can see it— and he just barely restrains himself. Law bites back a laugh. His day in the library turned out way better than he’d expected.

After his half-freak-out the Asian openly looks at him (and tries to make him explode with his mere will, he’s sure of it)— Law sees anger and frustration; perfect. He smiles sweetly and winks at the other before chuckling a little, shaking his head slightly and turning back to his book.

From what he’s seen of the other so far he supposes that he’ll either flip or get upset enough to leave after this masterly performance- a win/win situation, really. He was so fucking amazing.

The Student Doctor

Looking up at the lack of response Izo’s brows twitched at the rudeness of the other. Though his accusation was rather rude the male was asked a question and it’s only proper respect to answer. Eyes finding his screen again Izo tried to continue on his project but the male sitting so close just ‘bugged’ him.

A rounded nail tapping the table with pure irritance as he tried to ignore the male. Eyes continuing to wonder they would always find the male from across the table. Eye’s trying to literally ‘burn’ the male his anger seethed from he eyes itself. 

Looking back at the picture it was still early on into it’s rough sketch phase but people he’d drawn in were starting to leave now. New people were coming in, it was all so irritating. Raising the pen in his hand high he made as if he was going to slam it down but was his swing flew downward it stopped.

Today was just not wanting to be his day did it. with newly burning frustration over the picture his eyes found the male he was already quite irritated with. Eyes thinning more then their already slit like state he glared at the male before turning back to the problem with his picture. With out to much time spent on it Izo closed the program and then the computer before he could destroy either.

[hypoplasiacordis]

Still watching the other as closely as the dim lighting allowed, he raises an eyebrow at the slim figure in front of him- was he going to shoot him? That was kinda rude- though he seems to decide against it, after all. Oh well. Today seemed to be his lucky day.

But hey, heh, that wasn’t something you got to see every day after all. This guy was cautious but by no means shy- what a promising combination of character traits. >So<, Law starts to speak again, shuffling a little closer, >you are calling me insane? Kind of harsh, coming from a guy who spends his nights crawling around in dark alleys, looking for,<, he nods towards the trash, >well, whatever you’re looking for. I doubt that you are going to find anything edible in this place, though. This isn’t a hobo hotspot for a reason, I believe.< 

Russian Raclette || the-wandering-foreigner & hypoplasiacordis

     He let out heavy sigh his hand instinctively reaching for his pocket but he quickly stopped it just as it had moved. For one thing a move like that in the streets could get him killed as the other may think he is reaching for a weapon. His old habit was dieing hard; he really wanted a cigarette.

     “So, maybe I do. Forgive me as living on the streets make you overly cautious to who approaches you in the alley ways. Especially on a colder night when most sane people are inside staying warm.” he stuck his hands into his tattered coat. He had left his meager shelter too long again, but he really couldn’t pass up on this chance for wood. This dumpster had some nice pieces of full wood in it.

     “It’s more a living than a hobby, but there is a fine art to it if you want a decent meal.” he grinned. “As I have noticed though as the winter dropped onto us, I really can’t afford to be picky too much longer.”

[hypoplasiacordis]

When Law notices that he’s missing a book he “needs” as a reference in order to finish this paper, he groans in exasperation and makes his way to the library. Around this time of the day it’s usually filled with stupid people he doesn’t know and doesn’t like; they are loud and annoying and he might be a little jealous of their ability to have fun. Maybe.

He enters the library and immediately steers towards the bookshelves he’ll need; when he finds the book he’s looking for he’s relieved, but the relief doesn’t last long— the number clearly says that you can’t borrow it and have to copy the information you need right here, in the library. Fuck, great.

Now he’ll have to find a table where it’s remotely quiet (impossible) or at least one where the people in his direct surroundings will not disturb him (also unlikely). Heaving a sigh, he prepares himself for his hopeless quest— when he spots a table that’s only occupied by a busy (and kind of awkward) looking Asian guy, he approaches it.

He intends to just sit down and find out which passages from the book he’s going to have to copy, but the other (of course) won’t have that.

“You here to make noise too?”

Was he fucking serious? HE wasn’t the one who had started talking. Should he even reply to that? No. He gives the other a look, then, very demonstratively, sits down on the chair across the drawing student and opens the book he’s picked out. He wasn’t in the mood for this shit.

The Student Doctor

Up and out of his classmates dorm quickly Izo had his tablet and computer as he made his way to the library. Walking up the stairs to the relatively big library Izo was rather surprised he found it without to much trouble. Once inside the library it looked big but, it was oddly noisy. Face wrinkling at the constant chatter Izo forced himself to move closer. Looking among the tables most people had occupied them and talked about. Brow twitching at the disrespect they all had to those who actually wanted to study. Eyes spotting a vacant and somewhat misplaced table Izo sat himself adjacent from the mermering bunch. Screen illuminating bright as his trained hands moved on memory plugging his tablet in without a thought. If anything the noisy group served to be a great model to practice on. Izo let his pen roam the tablet, the strokes moving to the screen as he went. Shadow passing the corner of his vision the Asian sighed. “You here to make noise too?” Eyes never moving from the screen he continued to draw as he waited for an answer.

[hypoplasiacordis]

  The other smiles at him— which looks really out of place, considering he’s half covered in blood and completely covered in those bandages- more or less, at least.

"I can walk."

Yeah, right. Shooting the other one last doubtful glance, Law walks past him and up to his apartment door. If he said so, sure.

>Follow me, then.<

He unlocked the door and waited for his new patient to make his way upstairs. It would be kind of unfortunate if he’d just pass out on the stairs, but hey, the other said he’ll manage just fine, and who is he to judge people based on their condition? Oh. Right. 

A Little Wrapped Up || Law and Ace

[hypoplasiacordis]

Was that a hint? Probably. He mentally notes himself to ask as many questions about the other as possible in near future. How much worse can it get after this?

>Well,< If it’s not one out of two options, it’s the other, right? >I appreciate the warning, then.<

So. There’s that, next, he should probably do something about the gun pointed at his very head. In case the other actually wanted to kill him, there was little- no, there was nothing he could do about it, except- >You do know that you cannot shoot anyone with safety on, right?<, he asks, resisting the urge to push the gun away from his own damn temple. If he was going to die now, those were pretty cool last words.

Also, he’s referred to all of the Whitebeard gang and not just to the infamous boss- but he guesses that he could bite back one comment. For once.

Without shooting his host in the head, the stranger puts away his gun and heads for the door. Wait. After all the two of them have been through he just wants to leave? >Hey, you<, Law calls over his shoulder before turning to face the blonde once again. >Don’t you want me to have a look at those injuries? Since you’ve come all the way over here and all. And that’s a lot of blood on you, kind of. And on my couch, too. Thanks for that, by the way.<

Remedy || hypoplasiacordis & an-evanescent-departure

His grin grew along with the dangerous glint in his eye. “The thing is, that only works when you aren’t the wrong person in question, yoi.” Because Marco was most certainly that. The wrong person to cross. The wrong person to question. The wrong person to be curious about.

Absolute delight that this man had picked up on his more obscure reference went through him. Good. Someone he could have fun with. “I suppose the answer to that is still up in there air, now isn’t it? Though, I don’t quite see the problem with operating drunk.” 

Pushing himself out of the seat he currently occupied, he pulled out another cigarette and lit it. “How many of us are fully sober ever anyways?” Then he had taken the few quick steps to be at the doctor’s side, gun pressed lightly to his temple. 

"It’s not Whitebeard you have to worry about," the words were purred in his ear with delight, "it’s the sons." His father was a far more reasonable man than he could ever be, and he let Marco do as he pleased. Which meant the bloodlust and joy of killing got fulfilled often for the Executioner.

Gun slipping easily back into its holster, he pulled back and headed for the door. “Well, Mister Fixer Upper, my curiosity has certainly be sated for now. I wonder how long that’ll last.”

[hypoplasiacordis]

"But do you know how to use a sword?"

Ugh. >Of course I do not know how to wield a sword, either. I don’t have the time or money to acquire such a skill.<  

The other stays quiet for a bit, so he quickly clears the table and stores the tools in one of the cupboards. If the police were to ever raid his flat he might end up in a lot of trouble. Damn.

Most people in this area of expertise would probably give everything they have for a doctor who won’t rat them out; standing there with nothing at all but at least alive was preferable to many, many other things that could happen to you in this town. They are lucky that he’s such a good guy- even though he actually does need the money. No use in denying that. In any way, he’s glad that the bullet is out of the other’s shoulder now—the damn intruder should leave him alone, now.

But no such luck; instead, his patient starts to be a sassy asshole. Those are his favourite customers. Law considers picking a fight with the other, but he supposes that he might lose a frequent customer with that— have you seen that guy’s scars? He was missing an eye, for Oda’s sake. Anyway, if the other wants to be childish, so be it. Two can play that game—a little bit of it won’t hurt anyone. Probably.

>I don’t know if you are able to train. However, I would recommend you didn’t.< Eyeing the other from the side, he adds >It is always best to change the gauzes more often than not; if you change them every day you’ll be able to see whether it’s healing properly or if it’s getting infected.< Shouldn’t the other know- whatever.

  >So, now, is there anything else I could do for you? I am a busy man, you know.< 

Shoot To Thrill ||HypoplasiaCordis & TartarosDaemonium

[hypoplasiacordis]

[hypoplasiacordis]

>Oh, au contraire. As far as I know, a certain amount of curiosity is only healthy. As long as you don’t snoop around in the wrong people’s businesses.< He’s pleasantly surprised when the other uses his hand instead of the couch or the table to put his cigarette out- but damn, now he wanted a smoke, too.

Hold on. Their building? As in, the Whitebeard Gang’s building? Oh. Well, at least he won’t be kicked out for stitching up drug dealers and hooligans in the still of the night. Probably.

Would someone who referenced novel after novel do something like that? He doesn’t fucking know.

>Armstrong, huh?<, he repeats, his eyes sparking with amusement, anyway. >Are you hinting at my tendency to perform surgeries while drunk or implying that my dead body will soon be sinking to the bottom of the sea?< He runs a hand through his hair. >Yeah, well, in any way. I certainly won’t be able to give free treatments to your dear comrades all the time. Philanthropist or not, I have to live of off something, you know? And, honestly<, he pauses to emphasize his words, >Whitebeard or not, I couldn’t care less.< Which is a blatant and straight out lie. He probably shouldn’t mess with this guy if he’s an actual member, but he seemed easygoing enough- though that’s probably what a lot of people think before the other pulls out his gun and puts a bullet in their dumb, careless heads. Crap.

>I patch up people because they pay for it, that is all there is to it.< 

Remedy || hypoplasiacordis & an-evanescent-departure

"I’m just curious," a crooked grin spread across his face, "is curiosity illegal now? It’d just make me have more of it if so, yoi." No ashtray was in sight, so he snuffed the butt of his little cancer stick out on his bloody palm. "In our building, working on our people; wondering is only natural." After all, having a doctor around to stitch people up was quite the interesting thing.

If that doctor worked how he should.

"So Dr. Armstrong, I suppose what my question here is… is what you plan to do. Working on gang members free of charge sounds quite promising unless you’re here to start up mayhem, of course." Then they would see just how trigger happy the blonde was. "So which is it, hmmm?"

[hypoplasiacordis]

  “I don’t understand.”

Liar. He was 90% sure that the other had very well been able to understand the few words he’s said. It’s intuition, he tells himself, but he’s probably just too sceptical. Whatever. Did he just really want to pick a fight with some random guy he’s just accidentally half pushed into a dumpster? Maybe.

>What were you doing in there, anyway? Is garbage diving your hobby?< He chuckled, pulling his hands out from his pockets and rubbing them together. Shit, it was getting cold. If the other isn’t going to respond for whatever reason he’ll leave him alone. Arguments are all well and good, but they weren’t worth catching pneumonia.  

Russian Raclette || the-wandering-foreigner & hypoplasiacordis

He could hear a tone to the other man’s voice that left a sense of feeling mocked to a point. Apparently another man diving to survive was humorous to him  .  

"Je ne comprehend pas." he lied in his native tongue. He didn’t have the patience for punks at this hour. He really needed to find something to eat. After a couple of days of having a decent meal his body had become accustomed to it.

     He brushed off his pants a bit while he was looking at his surrounds a little more closely. The man in front of him seem to be almost as scrawny as  he was in that lighting

[hypoplasiacordis]

Law raised his eyebrows at the other, leaning forward as well. He mirrors his visitor's movements and propa his elbows on his knees, before beginning to speak. >I might or might have not treated him, who knows. I don't talk about other patients. Officially.< He cleared his throat, examining the other's appearance; he seemed at ease- but not indifferent. >What's it matter to you, anyway? He didn't seem as if he needed a minder.<

Ignoring the nickname and resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he decided to try and stay professional. Or something.

>I have no idea what you talking about. At all. Did he not tell you that it was completely free?< A smirk spread over his face as he lifted his hands in an innocent gesture. >I acted out of sheer philantropy. Pretty ungrateful to accuse me of anything else, don't you think?<

Remedy || hypoplasiacordis & an-evanescent-departure

Lazy grin curling his lips up, he blew more smoke into the air in Law’s general direction. “So you’re the new resident, huh? I came to check you out. Heard you patched up a friend of mine and got curious as to what you’re like, yoi.” Marco lost some of his casual lounging in favor of leaning forward, blue eyes sparking with interest.

They scanned over his features, taking everything in to the most minute detail. “So, Frankenstein, just what is your angle here, hmmm?”

[hypoplasiacordis]

  When he opens the door he expects to see his messy apartment, not his messy apartment and some balding guy sitting on his couch and stinking up the place with smoke. He groaned in exasperation; sure, some of the guys that came to see him in his old apartment had pulled this thing as well, but that doesn’t mean that he’s liked it. It was dumb and tiring and there was a reason why he hasn’t told many where he was moving to.

>So<, he throws his coat on one of the boxes, kicks the door shut and joins the stranger in his living room.

>What do you want?< he asks, drops his books on the coffee table and sits down on the other couch, eyeing the intruder from the side.

Remedy || hypoplasiacordis & an-evanescent-departure

The apartment didn’t look very lived in yet, but just moving in to a place like this made unpacking not the main focus, really. Marco lounged in the living room, watching tendrils of smoke curl away from his cigarette. Hmmm, so this was the home of a medical student who had moved in to the Whitebeard Gang’s apartment without knowing its gang affiliations.

Idly, he looked around the mostly barren room and thought. Showing up in someone’s apartment while covered in blood that was —mostly— not his own would certainly give a first impression. But the blonde couldn’t help his curiosity and had come over as soon as he’d heard about the move in.

It just so happened to be after a bloody date on Toei’s rooftop.

So that plunked him right where he was at the moment, smoking casually while waiting for this man, this Trafalgar Law, to return to meet him.

[hypoplasiacordis]

"You talk like if you didn’t need the money.”

That asshole. So much for the other being nice and quiet- he was beginning to talk and question things. Great.

>You are pretty damn ungrateful, considering I’m treating you for free. There are enough incompetent medics in the Undercity that could do this for you- with contaminated tools and for a shitload of money; you’re lucky I’m so damn generous<, he retorts, and continues to prepare everything.

At least he accepts the booze. Maybe that'll make him shut up. Law sighs and pulls a bottle with clear liquid from one of the boxes and a cup from another, filling half of it and handing it to the green haired man. >Drink up.< he says, his tone mocking. >I’ll start before it kicks in, though. You look like a tough guy, you’ll be able to handle the sting.< 

"Why do you have that? Why don’t you buy the real thing?"

What. He followed the other's line of sight. Oh. The sword. Hasn’t the idiot himself just mentioned how obvious it was that he was short on funds?

>I don’t have the money to buy an actual sword, as you already suggested when you stated your observation.< He was a student- the other had probably never gotten the chance to enjoy this much education, so how would he know about the difficulty of paying bills without working at least 2 temporary jobs.

He unwraps a pair of sterile gloves and snaps them on before dipping some of the bandages in rubbing alcohol and walking around the table, reaching out to wipe the blood from the other’s shoulder. Why wasn’t he sitting on the fucking chair, anyway? Ugh.              Stubborn asshole. Law still hasn’t eaten anything today.                    At least the wound hadn’t closed yet.

>Don’t move<, he orders, reaching for a pair of tweezers. Holding the wound open with his free hand, he digs them into the injury with skilled, calm movements; he’s had customers that were way ruder than this one, so he wasn’t really bothered by the other’s stupid remarks. That would just be pretty fucking unprofessional.

 Luckily, he manages to pull the bullet out quite quickly, and when he examines it he sees that it’s in one piece. He’s relieved; digging up shreds was shit. He drops the tweezers and the bullet on one of the plates he’s prepared and picks up a needle. >A few stitches and you’ll be set.<  

 Once he’s closed the wound, he wipes the remaining blood from the other’s back, takes his bloody gloves off and bandages the injured shoulder and upper arm so the gauzes will hold up.

>All done. It should heal now. Try not to strain the shoulder, change the bandage from time to time, and come back in two weeks if you want me to pull the thread out.<

Shoot To Thrill ||HypoplasiaCordis & TartarosDaemonium

[hypoplasiacordis]

It was hard not to laugh at the scene that had just unrolled before his eyes, so Law doesn't even try to hide his amusement.

“Asshole.”

Chuckling easily, he strolls closer to the dumpster, hands tugged into the pockets of his coat, his breath clearly visible in the cold night’s air. >What did you just call me?<,he asked, half laughing again.  >I told you to duck, didn’t I?<

Law lifts his head a little in the dim light of the lantern that stands too far away and flickers too much to actually illuminate the small alley the dumpster is in, but he’s able to see that the guy who just climbed out of the garbage is probably a little shorter than him and also kinda… scrawny. 

He cleared his throat, calling >Dégage! Who do you think you are, anyway?< The amusement resonating in his voice doesn’t let his words sound menacing at all, but Law can’t find himself to care. This was the most ridiculous thing that’s happened to him in a while, and it was certainly more entertaining to argue with some random hobo who was literally going for a dive in the dumpster behind his house than to re-read the subject matter for the third time. So, why not have a little fun when there’s such a fantastic opportunity?

Russian Raclette || the-wandering-foreigner & hypoplasiacordis

He was making his usual round to discover there wasn’t a lot tonight; go figure. He decided to branch out and try some new spots to see if he could find anything good.

     “Hmm?” he noticed a unfamiliar dumpster next to some apartment complexes. It isn’t a restaurant dumpster, but it will have to make do. He looked around not immediately spotting anyone and dashed over into the alley.

Immediately he lifted the lid and leaned into the metal bin reaching for some of the bags he could see.

     There was more loose and broken furniture than edible sustenance, but he could use the broken down chair as tender for his fire back in the other district. Just as he was reaching in…

"OI! Duck!"

      “Putain!” slipped from the blondes lips as he was knocked into the dumpster by the flying object. Who the hell threw that? He was almost certain nobody was around where did he come from? He glanced out of the dumpster to see the man standing there. He crawled back out of the trash receptacle and stared long and hard at the man before him.

     “Connard.”