“Ooooh, look who it is- Calvin Ransom! The blood trader himself!” A middle-aged man Calvin had probably gone to school with once-upon-a-time mocked, elbowing his buddy as if it was actually a clever joke. Calvin had been on his way home when he had run into the two ‘geniuses’, who held him up, forming a human wall. Calvin frowned when the other man spoke up, “Where you headed, Cal? Off to the Ministry to kiss the Minister’s feet?”
It didn’t take much to scare Calvin, or to snatch his confidence from him for that matter, and so, that made the situation all the more difficult for him to get himself out of. Of course, he could always pull out some impressive identification that proved he was a certified member of the Ministry, but it was clear that these men cared not for stories of success, and so that was out of the question, clearly.
Calvin spun around quickly and walked as fast as he could without it being considered ‘running’, to the nearest escape he could find. It just so happened that Calvin Ransom was good at fast walking, oh, and hiding in random pubs from strangers that wanted to hex him until he sobbed like the wimp he truly was.
It had been the Leaky Cauldren that he had entered, but he did not figure this out until only after he had darted to the furthest end of the room and sat down at a table hidden in the shadows. He blinked, taking in his new surroundings with his fear-filled brown eyes. He looked calm for the most part, sitting there in the very back of the place, but secretly, he was praying to Merlin, or God, or whoever could save him from injury, that those men who had confronted him on the street would NOT find him again.
Much to Calvin’s relief, they came, looked, swore, and left.
The young man leaned into his palms, screaming as quietly as possible simply to get it out of his system. He was shaking, much to his embarrassment, but he stood anyway, and headed for the door a few minutes after the door had swung shut once more, just to make sure that they were not waiting for him outside. Calvin walked forward, laughing to himself both awkwardly and shakily- when all of a sudden his face collided with someone’s skull. He heard the crack, of course, when his nose smashed into what he swore felt like cement, causing him to topple over in pain.
Sure, Calvin Ransom was good at fast walking, and hiding in random pubs from angry strangers, but he sure as hell wasn’t good at avoiding pain. Not in any circumstance.
by Angelique Pyrites Sat Jun 26, 2010 12:51 am
