More Than Meets The Eye

Who: Mickey and Feo
When: Morning
Where: Rasmussen Family Butchers

The atmosphere had changed in the city. The riots had blazed through and Feo had been intrigued by the action. Not long after the lights had gone out, her uncle had called in disgruntled worry. People weren’t acting right. People were breaking into places. Initially she’d taken it with a pinch of salt. It wasn’t unlike him to be paranoid. He’d barked at her down the phone to get to the shop and she dutifully obliged. She could play guard dog. Couldn’t leave the old man by himself.

For once his suspicions had been right. The streets were littered with frantic pockets of bodies. Chaos. She’d let herself in through the back, watchful for any bright spark that might have taken it as an opening to march on in. Evidently she hadn’t needed to worry about the open invitation as someone was already working on the main entrance. She could hear something butting against the door, saw it strain. With enough force, it’d go. She’d let it. If the culprits were on the property, there was reasonable justification for whatever happened to them. And she was a poor, defenceless woman.

When it went, it went with aplomb. The door frame cracked and splintered. The bottom hinges came free, leaving the door hanging haphazardly. Fixtures lurched and came away from the wall. As the perpetrator had barged his way through, Feo had crossed the shop floor. Obviously the guy hadn’t been expecting someone to be lurking in wait. Feo had managed to shove a fist in his gut before he knew what the hell was happening. Swiftly she’d proceeded to show him why this target had not been a wise one.

But the entertainment of the night was over. In the cold light of morning, there were the mundane repercussions to deal with. The door needed fixing. A board was serving a temporary blockade. The counter was chipped in places. No doubt from when the guy’s teeth had connected with it. Those, along with the blood, had been removed. The wall was cracked beside what was left of the door frame. The paint was covered in scuffs and marks of an indeterminate origin. Feo had lost track of where fists and feet had hit after a while.

Feo prided herself on many things but handiwork wasn’t one of them. Better to let someone else handle it. She had Folke to deal with anyway. Her uncle had refused to emerge from his tomb of an apartment above the shop, convinced the Russians were behind it all. Always the Russians. He was nothing if not a man who held grudges. Hovering outside the shop, she waited for the handyman to show.

The chaos in the sprawl hadn’t left Mickey without even more scrapes and bruises, including a pretty impressive looking one down his right forearm from when someone had made an attempt to crash through his apartment building’s door. They hadn’t made much progress, but whatever had been in the man’s hand had scraped down his arm before Mickey threw him back down the stoop.

It had been a sleepless night, guarding the apartment building with a few of the other tenants and Mickey had only secured a few hours after dawn to get some rest before the phone was ringing, need his attention at the butcher’s to clean up a mess. Not one to turn down the extra cash he’d gone out to his truck, sighing at the body damage to it from the riots. It was nothing that couldn’t be fixed, but it would take time at the shop.

Pulling up front of the store he put the truck in park, turning it off and getting out of it, reaching into the bed for his tool box. “Feo?” he asked when he got close enough to the woman there, flashing her a wide smile as he moved towards her, lumbering along with his uneven gait.

She hadn’t banked on a cripple. But if it didn’t interfere with his work, it was of little importance to Feo. Not that it made any difference to her clearly scrutinising him as he approached. “Yes,” she answered. “Which must make you Mickey. I appreciate you coming.” She could pull out polite when it mattered. Besides, he was cheap and supposedly good at what it did so it might pay to stay on the right side of him. She held out a hand towards him, her knuckles skinned and raw.

Mickey was used to that look, the one where the other person clearly didn’t know what to make of him. He shrugged it off, just like he always did extending a strong arm to take her hand, lightening his grip only due to the damage to her hand. “That’s me,” he answered, still smiling. “What’s the problem?”

Feo moved the board out of the doorway so he could survey the damage. “That’s the worst of it,” she told him. “Looter broke in.” Stepping through into the shop, she waved him in. Splinters of wood still littered the floor. Her clean up job hadn’t extended that far. “The rest is mainly cosmetic. Doesn’t give a good impression of the place though.” She touched a spot on the wall marred with a boot print. The would-be looter’s, not hers. Hardly inviting for customers.

He stopped in the doorway, setting down his box to admire the damage, looking how far up the frame it went and then back down towards the floor. It was fixable, but he’d have to get his hands on a little bit more. Mickey looked at the lock hole then turning the door back to look at the lock. “Might need some new hardware here,” he pointed out before moving in to the building proper, looking at the other bits of damage. “The rest is easier to touch up. Door might take a little bit of time, but it’s doable.”

“Figured as much,” Feo said with a sigh. It didn’t take an expert to write the door off as not being salvageable. At least he seemed willing to fix it. “Could probably do with a better lock. Something more secure.” After this, she wouldn’t be surprised if the old man put dead bolt after dead bolt on the door. Leaning against the counter, she brushed a strand of hair out of a cut above her eye. By her standards she’d come out of the scuffle just fine, albeit with a few bruises and knocks here and there, aching limbs. Minor stuff. “I imagine you’ll be getting a lot of requests to make things more secure.”

Mickey’s eyes went to the cut on her head and he frowned a little. “Were you here when they broke in?” he asked nodding towards her head. “A better lock is easy. And not yet, but I’m guessing I hear somethings. You got me first.” He gave her a smirk, a friendly little look before reaching for his tools, moving towards the door to at least get the worst of it taken away to properly board up the door.

“I was with my uncle. He lives upstairs. I came down to investigate, had a run in.” Looking down, Feo shrugged, affecting the air of someone who wanted to appear strong to mask vulnerability. It went with the version of events she’d decided to tell. It went well with his little frown. Though she didn’t smile herself, her eyes flicked up at the smirk. “Glad I got in before the rush. I’m no good with repairs.” That much was true, as well as a fitting statement for a woman to make.

“Glad you’re alright. Hate to have to bust more heads. Figure I’ve done enough already.” Mickey would though, maybe without being asked. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve got this. Do you have another way in? I can board this up a little better so that it stays probably boarded until I can get the parts for the door.”

Feo suppressed a tiny smirk. How chivalrous of him. Though he’d be lucky to find a part of the looter’s head that wasn’t busted. “Did you run into trouble?” she asked, lacing it with a note of concern. She wouldn’t have assumed he’d be that handy in a fight. Then again, most wouldn’t have assumed her to be, either. “We can open up the back.” Not ideal but better than nothing. “How long do you think all this might take?”

“A little bit,” he answered pushing up his sleeve to show the scratch there. It was cleaned and not too deep, but not bandaged since he didn’t have that sort of thing lying about. “Nothing too bad though. I held my own.” He was more than capable. Where his legs slowed him down his arms made up for it. “I’ve got time today to get the parts if I can find it. I should be able to come back and fix it tomorrow. That alright?”

She was a little impressed. For a moment she looked as though she might touch the wound then refraining from it. “Against what?” Still with the same concern, although she really just wanted to know if her flicker of admiration was warranted. Feo gave him a nod and said, “Perfect. Someone will be here. I’ll tell my uncle to expect you, in case I’m not here. I’m sure he’ll be pleased with such prompt service.” A little flattery never hurt.

Mickey found it curious the way she studied his arm, and he really did expect her to touch it. He was surprised when she didn’t actually. “Looters tried to get into my building. That wasn’t happening,” he explained, shrugging a little as he pulled part of the broken lock out with the back of his hammer. It looked easy even if the muscles in his arms and shoulders tightened against the plaid flannel shirt he had on. “I do what I can. Especially with no telling what might happen tonight. You’d be best to put something up against the back door when you close up shop tonight.”

“It’s good of you to make a stand.” Plenty of people wouldn’t of. Plenty of people were soft, scared. Weak. It struck her as almost funny that a guy with a dud leg should stand out as being strong. “Should take better care of that cut though,” she added, ignoring the fact that she was a fine one to talk. Part of it was believing she was made of tougher stuff and didn’t need to bother. Part of it was she simply liked the war wounds. Again she nodded, wanting to give the impression she was heeding his advice. “Wouldn’t want to guess what might happen tonight. Everything’s gone crazy.” Brand new surprises to anticipate.

Mickey looked down at his arm and shrugged. “Cleaned it up best I could. Not one with a first aid kit on hand, and I figure the hospital’s too damn busy to deal with a scratch.” Especially since he’d been to the hospital already. “Everything has gone crazy. I’m not sure what to make of it.” He moved to the door, removing the handle and the lock there, tossing them into his tool kit. He’d get it fixed later when he free time. He’d get Feo a new lock, but this one could possibly be salvaged. “Best to be careful.”

“People are opportunists. All they need is the right moment,” she mused. “It all spirals from that.” Like the proverbial butterfly beating its wings and causing a tidal wave. “Sometimes there’s not much sense in it.” It didn’t stop people wanting to make sense of it all. Find some cosy logic that would make it all okay. She watched Mickey with interest, both in what he was doing and Mickey himself. “Or at least alert, if not careful.”

“I wouldn’t call looters and rioters ‘opportunists’,” Mickey commented, knowing he’d seen familiar faces in the slush of the chaos. People he’d thought better of. It solidified the need for the event he was helping Elle with, to remind people of their better sides. “Though I can see there not being sense in it. There doesn’t seem to be sense in much of anything these days.” that had him frowning as he pulled pulled at the splintered wood, getting the worst of it away to see if the door was still salvageable. Thankfully it was, which was good. Finding a door to fit would have been harder. He pulled out his sand paper, working on smoothing it out so it would be ready for a new lock. It was hard to ignore her eyes on him, watching him, but he didn’t react to it. “Alert and careful. More than usual at least.”

“Must be me trying to make sense of it,” she said in a self-deprecating way. Even if she thought he was the one who was wrong. Everyone was different in the dark. Put people in a situation where they thought they could commit bad deeds unseen and unpunished and it all came out. Feo didn’t buy into the idealistic mentality that people were inherently good. They were inherently afraid of the consequences. “That might be the point of it. For nothing to make sense any more.” Who knew the motivation behind it? Chaos seemed a good a reason as any. “But the city’s always been like that, if you look closely enough. Just hasn’t been so brazen before.”

The self-deprecating tone surprised Mickey and he glanced back towards her, hands stilling as he watched Feo from where he was crouched on the floor by the door. She didn’t seem the like the type. He wondered if she was like him, changing who she was to be what she thought he wanted. “You think someone wanted to shine a light on the wrong in our city so to speak?” That would be a motivation he supposed. He and Elle were trying to do the same thing for a opposite part of the city, shining a light on the good instead of the bad.

“It’s possible. It isn’t hard to understand how someone would reach that conclusion. You’ve got the cops who are deep in the pockets of those they’re meant to be bringing to justice. Elected officials who are glorified puppets for the mob. The vice and corruption runs so deep you can practically taste it in the water. And what does the city do? Goes to church on Sunday. Gives spare change to the bum they’re not going to ignore today. Holds vigils for nameless victims of a faraway war. Then we can all feel at peace because we’ve done our part. Everyone sleeps a little easier at night.” Feo could understand those ideas. Though she was quick to add the lie of, “Not that I’m condoning anything that’s happened. But everyone has their breaking point.”

Mickey frowned. It was a look that didn’t seem to fit his face, but he did it anyway. He was one of those church goers, one of those at the vigil. “You think that the bad outweighs the good then?” he asked, voice passive, sounding curious.

Feo gave him a bit of a look. He wasn’t here fixing the door because the fair citizens had gallantly banded together to aid and assist one another in the face of the blackout. “I think the selfish outweighs the good,” she finally settled on. “No one’s building a new tomorrow for anyone but themselves. Often the most convenient way to achieve that is through less than desirable means.” After all, hard work was exactly that. She turned her attention to his face and shrugged. “That’s only one person’s opinion.” The unspoken question was what was his opinion.

Mickey didn’t have an answer right away. He provided only for himself these days, without his family to take care of him. His life would be different though if he had his siblings to care for. “You have to be in the right position to help others. You can’t expend all you have helping others if you can’t help yourself. Breaking down the door to the butcher’s isn’t the way to get yourself to a better place.” It was wrong was what it was. He shook his head, going back to his sanding.

Tilting her head from side to side in tiny movements, Feo looked like she was weighing up what he’d said. “Money in the till, meat in the back. That’s a better place for some.” The motivation to better one’s own situation didn’t necessarily mean aiming high. Scraping by was the best some could do, even by deviant means. “As for being in the right position....” Smiling a small, tight smile, Feo shook her head. “If you are, why lower yourself to doing anything? Assuming the comfortable notice anything in the first place.”

Mickey didn’t agree with her. He couldn’t agree with her. It went against what he believed in. Lying, cheating and stealing weren’t he way to a better life. “Some people do. I do, and obviously I don’t have a lot wok with.” Maybe the comfortable didn’t notice, but Mickey did. He came from that lower level to comfortable.

“What do you do?” she asked him. There was nothing in her voice that implied she thought he did nothing at all, nor that any efforts were ultimately futile, just the question. The efforts might have been futile, small fish in a big pond, but she was interested in them nonetheless.

Mickey glanced back her way, surprised at the question. “I give what little I have to give. Sometimes to the kids on the streets, sometimes I just drop the donation in the donation bucket for the orphanage. I do this.” He gestured towards the door he was working on for her. He didn’t make money doing handywork. Usually got paid for parts, sometimes a little extra for labor, but sometimes it was just dinner with the family he helped or something else that they could offer. He made money as a mechanic and did this because he enjoyed the work.

Feo was torn between having a modicum of respect for his endeavours and rolling her eyes. It was quite sweet. Naive and foolish, but sweet. Kudos to him for being a better person than most. “Careful. I might take that as you expecting not to be paid,” she told him. It was intended to be a joke but came out just the wrong side of deadpan.

“You can afford to pay,” Mickey pointed out and went back to the door, sanding another corner before getting up to admire his work. It would do, there’d be more adjustments to be made after the lock went in but it would be easier then. Shutting the door he pulled the board that had been in front of it back across it again,lining it up to board the door up properly. Despite the limp, every movement was sure, at ease to the point where one could forget about his handicap.

That did earn an eye roll. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to try and cheat you out of what you’ve earned.” She wouldn’t sink that low. Not in this case, anyway. She moved closer to the door to inspect his what he’d managed to do. It looked good enough. Better than she would have initially expected. “Hmm. I know who to call next time something happens,” she commented, the closest to a compliment she was ever likely to get.

“Didn’t think you would,” Mickey agreed, looking away from the board to see her closer to him. “More than meets the eye?” he asked, amused tone to his voice. People did that often, judge him by appearances and were always left with a different opinion.

“Apparently so,” she answered, going along with it. Rarely did people reveal themselves fully, their outward self matching the inward. There was always something lingering beneath the surface. “Must be nice to surprise people.” Feo’s gaze stayed on the door as she spoke, one hand touching where he’d been so industriously sanding. All smoothed over. How apt.

Mickey shrugged, watching her move for a moment before pulling his eyes away to keep from staring. There was something very intense about her that drew the eye. “It is an it isn’t,” he said. It was a lighthearted comment, casual, even if the feeling behind it wasn’t. He hated that people assumed he couldn’t do what he could. It was wrong for people to assume that he wasn’t capable of things just because if his leg. “I can board this up so you can get on with your day. Should be able to get the rest taken care of tomorrow.”

Conscious of being watched, Feo flicked a sideways look his way. Just to let him know that it had been registered, nothing more. “I like surprises,” she said, mimicking his tone, though it didn’t quite sound right. It was more a case of she liked to get under the skin. But that wasn’t an appropriate choice of phrasing. Done with her inspection, she turned to him and gave a nod. “That’s fine. Do what you need to do.”

What she said didn’t sound right and Mickey wasn’t sure how to respond. Instead he just moved the board into place, grabbing his hammer and starting in on nailing it into place. it wasn’t perfect but it would hold for now. Tomorrow he’d get it properly cleaned up and fix the lock.