Smokey Breath.

Quick Promises

"Leon, get yer lazy ass over there an' haul those crates."

The tall boy angrily rolled his smoky gray eyes at the fat man standing near the truck, for interrupting his thoughts. The large, short man who by the obvious look of things was the man who lead the loading, stood cockily near the truck smoking to his heart's content. Behind dark blue, almost black hair, Leon's eyes glared fiercely at the man, his gaze never quivering for a second. The man however, reminded him of his position by raising a greasy hand and waving several coins that seemed to glimmer in the bright moonlight. Leon sighed bitterly, as he slowly stood up, and strolled easily to the truck with hands in his slightly baggy pockets. As he passed the other workers he heard them grumbling.

"Damn vagabonds…probably a runaway, at that…"

"Tain't no way fer a boy to live, I'll tell ya that."

Leon turned his head sharply towards the voices, his long, yet messily done braid swaying in the chilly wind, and his eyes narrowing threateningly. The men shutup quickly, but kept their suspicious glances and gazes. Satisfied, Leon turned again, and walked to the truck, slightly pale hands resting in his pockets. Without the smallest grunt, he easily lifted two boxes nearest to him, and stacked them somewhat neatly inside the truck. He continued his pace as the workers stared in awe at the youth who could lift faster and easier than even the more experienced. The silent boy ignored their stares and finished quickly, one hour, before he passed the men again and resumed his spot near the shadowed wall, away from the light of the moon.

The owner looked miffed, at having to pay this boy for barely wasting any time compared to the others. It felt as though he hadn't worked enough, and that made his skin itch. Packing and loading was the way he made his money, with a certain number of loaders. He arrogantly strode up to Leon, in his dark corner. He stopped in front of the suspicious young man. Leon didn't look at him, but instead kept his head low and his eyes covered with his long hair, to hide his always searching eyes. He leaned against the wall and waited. The man reached him and cleared his throat, as if to get his attention. Leon didn't move, but simply looked up slightly. The man grew impatient.

"Say, wot's the big idea, struttin' up here an' spectin' the same pay as the others?"

Leon stood straighter, and from his pocket lifted a chewed on toothpick. His placed it in the jaws of his teeth and began chewing, his eyes fixed on the man. Several long seconds passed. Finally he spoke.

"Do you think I'm cheating you out of your money because I can lift faster than others?" He spoke truthfully, and to the point, not wasting time in unnecessary talk. The short man glared at him, anger growing inside him.

"Look boy, I dun want no funny business round' here. I ain't never seen anyone load like you, 'taint right, so I'll be keepin' an eye on yer loadin', you hear? Don't want no damn thiefs around here—"

He was cut off, Leon's smooth rolling voice flowing into the air, like music. "Do you even know what's inside them?"

The fat man narrowed his eyes, and repeated, "I'll be keepin' an eye on yer." Before stalking away back to the front of the main truck. A man was waiting for him, and the owner spoke to him, pointing his finger at Leon, and jerking his head. The other man, a tall, gangly man, simply nodded, and looked in Leon's direction with an arrogant seriousness, such as the owner.

Leon looked quietly at them, without lifting his head. He took the toothpick from his mouth and replaced it in his pocket. It was a disgusting habit, he knew, but he needed something to chew on when talking to people, otherwise his anger would go boiling and acting on its own like a whole different person. Besides, toothpicks weren't cheap, or expensive, at that, but you certainly didn't see them often. Leon was aching for a new one, and promised himself several if they came to a tavern or inn.

Whenever that might be, he thought, and closed his eyes, resting himself before they were on the move once more.

¤¤¤

Reina slowly and lazily blinked against the blight light penetrating her blissful sleep. As soon as she awoke, however, she regretted it. Her head was throbbing, and her stomach was twisted in nausea. She clenched her jaw, and kept her eyes tightly closed in silent agony. What hit her more, was the stench of staleness on the air. She stayed suspended in pain for several second, what seemed more like an eternity to her, and, what was that smell? Somewhere in her silent prayer for death, a shadow fell across her tired features.

"Oye, Tase! She's awake." Without meaning to, Reina bit back with a comment of her own, being that anything loud made her head feel like an exploding bomb.

"Shut the bleddin' hell up, will ya'? Shit…" She managed to say, more like croak. Her throat seemed dry and parchy, and she licked her lips to relieve the ache.

Hal peered down at her with the same chestnut eyes, and dark brown hair. He gave a sympathetic smile, useless to her, and looked up expectantly, towards Tase. Tase stood up stiffly and walked towards his sister, a monotone expression on his face.

Damnit…

Reina regretted becoming stone cold drunk. Well, she regretted almost anything she did, being an idiot when it came to making decisions. She sighed as the blurry figure of Tase neared her, and sat beside her on the itchy patch of old straw, his hands drawn in tight, ghost white knuckles. He gave her a cold look, all the usual mirth gone from his eyes.

He's gonna have my ass soon. Drinking in a men's tavern. Smart Reina, and with all the money we had left at that. Just as smart.

Tase closed his eyes suddenly and sighed heavily, hanging his head low while rubbing the back of his neck stressfully. Hal stood somewheres off, she could tell, despite her exploding head and the dullness of air and taste and all the other things going wrong with her senses. He rubbed one leg against another nervously, and rubbed his hands absentmindedly as well. Finally the silence was broken by Tase's tired voice.

"That was a real stupid thing you did, Reina, ya' know that? Really fucking stupid." His voice sounded slow like molasses, and she could barely register what he was saying to her. He continued, "I know Hal told me you were drunk, but shit Reina, seeing you lying in the snow, n' with Artis an' all…" His voice trailed, and he looked away. Reina understood quickly.

"I'm sorry, Tase, I know I wasn't s'posed to do anything like that en' all." Her voice seemed so strange to her, like the voice of another person. "But I'll always be here, and," she pronounced clearly, or, as clear as she was going to get, "I'll never leave you, brother. Not even The Cold will stop me."

The silence seemed to stretch after her words, and Tase nodded wordlessly. He quickly changed the subject, trying to regain his usual mirth. "So…" he half chuckled and glanced nervously at Hal, who was looking at Reina with concern. "Would you like to stay 'ere in the stable, with all the little animals and whatnot," he wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Ya' know, I think bringing you 'ere made you more bleedin' sick then 'afore."

Reina smiled lazily, and Hal laughed quietly, relieved to see Reina's smile again.

¤¤¤

"Tate." Aquarius blinked in surprise and turned towards the youth instinctively, slight wisps of curiosity swimming in his eyes. "My name—it'sTate."

At that, Aquarius rudely rolled his stormy sea eyes, and looked at Lovean expectantly. Lovean shrugged and looked away, keeping his thoughts to himself. The boy named Tate looked between Lovean and Aquarius, also waiting for an answer. When he didn't receive one, he pushed himself between both men and huffily let out an impatient sigh.

"Didn't you two hear me? I said the name was Tate—"

"So?" Aquarius stepped to the side, avoiding the boy's touch. He let out a tired yawn and scratched his head.

"So? That's your cue to tell me your name, idiot!"

"Why the hell would any of us give you our name, boy?" Tate glared at Aquarius behind his scruffy hair, with piercing golden irises that seemed to swirl with curiosity and mischief.

"I'm not a boy, I'm fifteen. That's not a kid." Aquarius looked unimpressed and almost disgusted with the boy's callow naivety.

"Yeah, whatever, just shut the hell up before I have to gag ya'."

Tate gave a furious sigh, but stayed quiet all the while with both arms crossed at his chest. The unusual trio strolled down the street with a sense of uneasiness. The women and men passing barely glanced at the three, yet the raven-haired boy felt as if they were boring holes through his head, being unaccustomed to the presence of a crowd—even a small one. Lovean sensed this quickly and suggested that they take the back roads. Aquarius agreed, understanding Lovean's plan. If the boy ran away, there might not be any other leads on the Cold. Lovean decided there would be no harm in bringing up the subject now that they were, for the most part, alone.

"So…Tate? Can you tell us anything about the Cold—our map marked that section of the alley already passed with the virus." The youth frowned, and tugged nervously at his red shirt. Aquarius raised an eyebrow at his sudden shyness.

"I...well, you see…um, well—"

"Just tell us already, what in the hell's takin' ya'?"

"Aquarius, stop, he's just a—"

"No, it's okay." The two older men leaned in slightly, hoping to take in all the information. Tate took a big breath of air, and let out a deep sigh. "Well, when the Cold started, it didn't even come close to our neighborhood. It was all the way across town. How in the bleedin' hell can a virus spread so fast? It came to the alleys in no time. Then everyone became sick. First they'd get a fever, with the chills, as common as the freakin' cold, and they were as miserable as dogs. But at first…at first everyone thought it was just the regular old flu passing around." Here he paused, as if remembering the symptoms of the virus. "After a while, their stomachs would start hurting, and they'd start throwin' up like crazy and getting nauseated—like they couldn't stop. They had these horrible blood shot eyes, and it hurt them to breathe, just a tiny little sigh. They—oh God, it was horrible. They'd stay like this for weeks, getting every kind of sick you can think of and shoving it into one virus."

Lovean looked sympathetically at the boy, his electric green eyes silently apologizing for having to go through such an ordeal.

"So…how long did it take them to die?" Tate swallowed, closing his eyes in a silent plea, slightly shaking his head. Lovean understood and backed away knowingly. Aquarius however, would not let the subject drop, and stubbornly pestered the young man persistently.

"What's the matter kid, cat got yer tongue? Can't have been that bad, Eh? Hurry up tell, us, we need to know, else I'll throw another rock at yer head an' I won't aim for the side thistime."

Tate's eyes widened in realization. "So, it was you guys who knocked me out back there—because you needed information on the Cold..." Aquarius glanced quickly at Lovean, who gave a curt nod, despite himself.

"Look," Aquarius stated, "this ain't gonna get easier, okay kid? We really need that information, it could help a friend of ours—"

"Who cares whatever it could do!" Tate cried angrily, clutching his shirt in desperation. "You used me! And I let you, I can't believe—Argh!" Lovean stared stupidly, a rosy tint appearing on his checks, embarrassed by the boy's melodrama. However, Aquarius simply lifted with a small grunt, the boy in one quick movement, and threw him on his right shoulder, despite the curses and kicks. He looked forward with a hard stare and ignored the boy. With a sigh, Lovean followed, conscious of all the stares they were receiving, even on the back streets. An hour later, Tate was asleep on the tall man's chest, lulled to sleep by his own shouts and the continuous rhythm of Aquarius, in spite of his rough steps.

A/N:

Haha, Leon. What in the hell was I thinking? Oooh well. I got his look particularly from this book I read recently. EH, Maximum Ride, was it? Well, yarg, before I knew Max was a gurl. :I But his eyes and da color of his hair are a different story.

In other words I made him up myself.

Erk, Tate…hmmm…Tase…

They sound familiar don't they? Yes, I finally realized this when I was more than halfway done with the bloody chapter. I couldn't bring myself to change it though, seeing as how I'm already used to the names.

3

Smokey Breath.