Dreams don't turn to dust

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September 17, Open to everyone, slightly later in the day

It was later in the evening, and the streets were pretty empty, as most everyone had departing to prepare and indulge in their evening meals. Not for Saul though. He was always a night owl, and when he wasn't up in his roost with his beak in a book, he was on the streets of Truesdale, just taking in the seclusion in the twilight.

He was alone, as far as he knew, and sat down on a bench, adjusting his much more comfortable fitting silk scarf, which was more suited for September evenings. He'd reach into his coat and pull out a wrapped parcel and open it, revealing a sandwich he had prepared and slipped from the kitchen before he left.

He was about to take a bite when he heard a meow from behind him, and looked over to see a cat, licking its chops and looking at him; or more accurately, at the contents on his hand.

Smiling, he'd pull a bit of the ham from between the bread and toss it to the hungry feline, who snapped it up and looked up at him for more.

"Well come on now, I need to eat too you know."

It stared. And won. With a playful sigh of defeat, Saul pulled the entirety of the meat out from the bread and dangled it, making the cat come closer to get to it, and he'd rub it's back while it was focused on eating, and then he'd turn to his own sandwich remnants.

Once it was done, the cat would hop up onto his lap and look at him, now begging for more scratches; which Saul gladly provided.

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<sub>Saul's night owl seclusion would be met with a bit of an unexpected twist. In the form of a redhead irish manchild.

"I could have daaaaanced all night, I could have have daaaaanced all night, and I could have begged for more! I could have spread my wings and done a-" Crash was dancing along the streets, holding a glass out with a tie around his head like one of those karate masters would have for a headband. Either way, he would stop next to Saul and then point at him.

"Have you met the French? God they know how to party!" He then stopped and grinned, pouring the red liquid down the drain, dropping the glass. No, it was way too early in the night to be drunk. Crash was just being a looney. He then put his hands in his pocket, grinning like a tool.

"Nice kitty cat. I think he likes you."</sub>

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[[OOC: Sorrrry! D8 I shoulda posted here soooner.]]

Saul was peacefully petting the kitty on his lap when suddenly bawdy singing caught his attention, as well as the cat's, making them both look up and at the ginger thing approaching them.

The cat looked at Crash for a moment before hissing and leaping from Saul's lap, running several yards away and staring. Saul couldn't help but be a little irritable. He wanted to pet the kitty more!

"Yes, cats have a fondness for me I find." Saul said, standing. "Do you need something, lad?" How old was this kid? He was really short, so he didn't look to be that old. Little did Saul know this 'kid' was the same age as him.

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OoC: Oh lord you already posted here?! FFFF- I didn't know either. D|

Ic: <sub>Yes, the 'ginger thing' had approached them, and naturally Crash was very open and friendly to almost everybody in tow. He then put his hands on his hips and grinned at the guy and his cat friend. Seems to him they need a human buddy!

"Not surprised, you seem to be the cat loving kind." As for Crash? he's more of a dog person, but he wouldn't say that out loud. "Laddie? I like that." He's wink and grin.

"Nah I don't need anything. I just saw you there alone."</sub>

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[This thread is not getting a lot of attention, is it? XDD]

Saul looked at Crash a little irritably, and wondered what this crazy fellow could possibly want. "I am fond of them." He answered, hoping he would go away. He didn't, and instead mused over being called 'lad'. Saul resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Has it not occurred to you that I was alone for a reason?" He asked, trying to send this kid a hint to buzz off. The cat Saul had been petting was still watching from a safe distance, ready to bolt if they got too close.

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<sub>Crash, being the loud, obnoxious idiot he is, would be completely oblivious to what Saul really wanted, which was alone time. Though at least he got the hint that Saul was fond of cats, and that... he wanted to be alone as soon as he said that. Crash sort of stopped a moment and stared at Saul.

"Oh, well you want to be alone... because..." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "... Well I'll leave you be, then." Twisting on his heels, he would spin on his feet and then start shuffling down the street.

Only to not see a hidden pothole in the ground, overstep, and trip up, falling forward. At least he was alert enough to catch himself with his hands, almost jamming his elbows.

"... Note to self. Destroy potholes."</sub>

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Saul looked at Crash as he saw the realization fall upon the man's face. He then watched as Crash turned to depart. He was about to return to the cat when he heard a scuffle and a thud, and he looked back to see that Crash had fallen because of a pothole.

With many reservations, he reluctantly got up and walked over to crash, his hands in his pockets. "You okay?" He asked, holding a hand out to help Crash up. He was a jerk when bothered, but he wasn't a complete arse.

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<sub>Crash paused for quite some time, staring at the ground and wondering wherein life he went wrong in the head. Either way, as soon as he heard the voice of the man, but quite a bit closer. He then put on his mask and then jumped up, dusting his hands and then his jacket off.

"I'm okay! I'm okay. You can return to your kitty." He'd give a wide grin. After all, this man wanted to be alone, right? He shouldn't distract the man from his lone duties.</sub>

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Saul was a little taken aback by the manchild's grin, and was about to respond when a hiss and a scamper got his attention. Turning around, he looked into the darkness and saw three figures approaching from one side, and an additional two from the other, flanking them.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what these fellows wanted, and his hand went naturally to his sword hilt, prepared to draw it though his body seemed relaxed. "You know how to fight, kid?" He asked, hoping he wasn't actually one of these guys. He didn't doubt that he could get away even if he was on his own, but he'd take some hits and he didn't want to worry Thorn by coming home beat up.

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<sub>Crash would have also gone to reply, but then those figures appeared in the dark and the kid tensed up. They were tall, menacing and the grins they had meant only one thing. Crash needed to protect his virginity money and belongings. He glanced over, noting that sword and he then went into a defensive position.

"I grew up in Dula." Honestly that probably meant everything about Crash and his way of fighting, but those little cans in his bag would wait. That was for an emergency and he wasn't going to risk accidentally killing them. No, just for distraction.</sub>

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Five words and any concern Saul had at having to carry this fellow in the fight disappeared. "I'll take these three, you take those two?" He asked, standing back to back to Crash, his hand still on the hilt.

Finally the men got within range of the two fellows and looked them over briefly.

"From the looks of it, you already know what we want, so why don't we skip the negotiations and we just kick your asses?"

"Sounds like a plan."

After a brief moment of silence, the men attacked, Saul drawing his sword and with one movement, sliced the belt off one man and ran the blade across the face of another, letting blood fly as one of the bandits were struggling to keep their pants up.

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<sub>Crash was ready, as ready as any fist fighting Irish could be. He hopped up and down a bit and then let out a steady smirk as the men spoke up. Looks like they knew exactly what his plans and he just made a face.

"Awwh, no threats? That sucks." Either way, he'd slip back to let Saul take off the belt and clip another, Crash taking control of ground based fighting, sliding and using the chilly ground to maneuver easily (now he was glad he trained in winter), to grab the pants of the man whose belt was remove, and then pulled them down to his ankles in a less than modest fashion.

That is before he tripped the man and took advantage of the larger one's weight to make him fall. Crash, meanwhile was laughing like a loon at this scenario.

"In Dula, they would give you a wedgie too but I'm just gonna be nice to you this time."</sub>

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Saul would actually let out a laugh as he and the redhaired manchild would easily deal with the group of goons, very quickly making them decide that the pair of them were not very good targets and run away; one of them with their pants around their ankles.

As he watched them run, Saul burst into amused laughter, quite energized by the experience and feeling more friendly. "That was amazing. Is that really how they fight in Dula, lad?"

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<sub>Crash just giggled like a maniac when the others started to run away, especially at the one with his pants around his ankled. Crash pulled his hair back, breathing in to settle his speeding heart. It took him a moment to realize that Saul was still there, but he would turn to face the other. Oh yeah he was asking about his fighting maneuvers.

"Most of the kids do, but the adults fight like ruffians. Honestly? Pulling their pants down is the best way to trip someone up." He grinned. "Makes it easier to run away or fight back." Crash stretched his arms out to roll his muscles into a more relaxed state. "You're a pretty good swordfighter yourself too."</sub>

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"It works, I'll say that much. And I was aiming more for the shame aspect of being pantsed in battle, though it is practical as well as amusing. Ruffians."

Saul smiles proudly at the compliment. "My father taught me, like his father before him. It's traditional for the eldest son in the family be taught the blade by the father." He explained, placing his blade back in the sheath. "I apologize about before. I'm not the most friendly of people, I'm sure you can tell."