Will Byers

Catching that glance, Sam nodded. She gave Will's arm another soft squeeze, this time, to reassure; she would've lifted her hand to pat his shoulder, instead, but for the boy accepting the support she'd offered. “C'mon, let's have a look at that leg. Be a bit easier if you sit on his steps.” She urged him towards Breakdown but didn't step towards him herself, not wanting Will to forced forward. He was having a rough enough night as it was, and while startling was ~~almost inevitable, given the witchcraft she wanted to work~~ one thing, she didn't want to scare the kid.

“Want to open up? We could use your cab light.”

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Breakdown popped open the driver side door. "Take a seat, kid. She'll fix you up." He wasn't sure how she was going to do that, or to what extent, thought he did wonder briefly if magic would be involved.

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"It's really not a big deal..." Will doesn't have it in him to disobey anyone -- much less an adult and a (presumably also adult) talking truck -- so he hops over to sit on the lowest step, gingerly. Is this like sitting on someone's foot? Maybe? Probably. Either way, he keeps very good posture, even though he's tiny enough that his feet swing above the ground.

"I promise it just looks bad. It'll stop bleeding in a second."

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“Thanks.” It might've been aimed at Breakdown's acquiescence, or his assurance, or both, but anyway, it was aimed at Breakdown. Sam's next remark---an 'eh,'---was aimed at Will, like the shallow shrug which went with it, and after that, an amused assertion: “You don't know how right you are.”

Sam didn't sit beside Will, but knelt on the pavement in front of him, mildly surprised to feel the lot's surface was still slightly warm. She wasn't surprised to see the jeans Will wore were a bit big for him---thin little thing that he was!---but she was glad for the fact, since it meant she could easily roll the leg up enough to uncover his scraped knee. She looked the injury over, then folded her hands, watching Will's face until she could make eye contact. “Okay. You've had some dealings with doctors, and I'd bet enough you don't believe anyone who tells you 'this isn't going to hurt,' anymore. Now, I'm going to fix your knee, and what I'm going to do is going to feel really, really weird, but I promise it isn't going to hurt. Okay? Cool.” Turning her eyes back to the scrape, she paused very briefly before reaching out and taking hold of the wound at its edge, as if she were trying to grip a splinter with her fingernails. It was a small pinch (not hard enough to hurt) and felt 'normal' enough, until she pulled. That didn't hurt, either, though there was some resistance; the scrape came away, came off, like skin peeling after a sunburn, the noise it made a little like tape coming off its roll. In four or five seconds, the wound was free, hanging wet and limp in Sam's hand and looking like a latex scar that came unstuck an hour into trick-or-treating. In contrast, the new skin on Will's knee was exactly that---pink and a little shiny, still, but intact and with no other sign of having been bleeding only a minute before.

Edited Date: 2017-12-26 04:41 pm (UTC)

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Will has both hands knotted in the hem of his sweater, resisting the urge to reach out and push Sam's hands away. He always feels that impulse when people get near him, even the doctors. Especially the doctors. His brow is knitted in anxiety, and he's watching her intently, looking for any sign that she's lying to him. They always lie to him.

But he still nods, slowly, watching Sam's face rather than her hands -- at least until he hears the sound, accompanied by exactly zero pain. Then his eyes flick down to his knee, fixed on whatever it is that's happening. Something strange. For a moment after the wound -- the whole thing -- is removed, he just sort of stares at his knee. Waiting for the punchline.

When it doesn't come, Will looks back up at Sam, eyes very wide. "...are you a cleric?" he asks finally. Not a wizard because that's not specific enough, of course.

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Breakdown watches all of this in a mix of fascination and disgust. It was always interesting and strange to watch Sam use magic, especially when he was aware of her using magic.

"...Frag, Sam, that's gross." Sorry if he ruins your moment of awe at all, Will. "You're not going to use that in some spell now, are ya?" It wouldn't surprise him if she did, which is exactly why he just had to ask. The real question was, if she said yes, then...did he really want to know what she'd use it for?

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That Will kept both hands to himself was something of a surprise; Sam had half-expected him to stop her, seeing something like a shimmer of intent in his aura, in and out of what was probably worry. She looked up from her handiwork to see Will staring at his healed knee, and offered a relieved smile when he looked to her---though it lasted only until he asked if she were a cleric, which surprising her into a soft, uncertain laugh. “No? You could maybe call me a witch, since that's close enough to the truth... but I'm not, like, a gingerbread house witch, or a 'I'll get you, my pretty,' witch. I'm more of a 'put the lime in the coconut,' witch. If you've maybe seen that movie.” With that, her smile returned, as crooked as it had ever been. She stood, brushing her knee off with her free hand; the other still held the scrap of bloodied skin. When Breakdown spoke up, she snorted.

“It's not that gross. And I deserve your asking that, but no.” She considered at the stubby strip in her hand; though it was still quite red, even in the poor light, it didn't look like much. “I'm... probably gonna burn it or run it through the first garburator I come across. Unless Will wants it back.”

She tilted her head, regarding the boy with some curiousity, but otherwise nearly neutral. “You don't, do you?”

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"I haven't...seen any coconut movies," Will says faintly, reaching out to gently poke at his knee. It's a little sore, but it's nothing near what it had been mere seconds before. He gently thumbs over the pink, shiny skin, eyes flicking up to stare at Sam. It's more or less the same expression one might wear looking at their personal hero, so...do with that what you will, Sam.

The question gets a reflexive nose-scrunch. "No, thank you."

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He hadn't planned on speaking up again, but that clear, grossed out look makes him laugh. "See Sam? Even the kid thinks that's gross."

Breakdown had to admit, if only to himself, that the runt was kind of cute, looking at Sam like some kind of hero. It was highly amusing, if nothing else.

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“Never you mind, then.” Sam's tone was amiable enough, though her free hand came to her hip with an audible clap; more or less a piece of punctuation. “I'm not a bubbles-and-ballgown witch, either, but the bottom line is I'm not a bad witch. If 'witch' is the word you want to use.”

She heaved a long-suffering and utterly insincere sigh at Breakdown's laughter, patting through her pockets until she found a few coarse brown foodcourt napkins to wad the skin up in. A bit of blood got on her hand in the process, but she didn't much mind; just wiped it off, indifferent, and answered, “I didn't say it wasn't gross. It's just not that gross. I will spare you the 'compared to,' though, since there is a child present.” She pocketed the little ball of paper and skin as if it were a receipt to be re-read and thrown away, then offered Will her hand.

“We should get you back to your mom soon. Anything you wanna ask, kiddo, you oughtta ask quick.”

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Will's still poking at his knee, but he grins a little at the fact that the enormous talking truck thinks a bit of human blood is "gross". He glances over his shoulder, at the open door, like he's debating the merits of climbing inside. Is that rude? That's probably rude.

Still, even though it's still only early September, and he's been outside for mere minutes, he's waifish enough that he's starting to shiver, huddling down where he sits. Sam's voice has him looking back up at her, brow furrowing for a moment before he speaks.

"Can you do other things? Fix...bigger things?"

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The runt would get out his question, but Sam wouldn't get a chance to answer before Breakdown interjected. He saw the look, and he shivering.

"You need to either get in or go in, kid. I've got a heater I can run if you need."

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What would be rude? Ignoring that offered hand up... if Will's attention wasn't so obviously on his knee. He'd had a very full five minutes, so Sam couldn't fault him for focusing on one thing at a time. She folded her hands and opened her mouth to answer, but Breakdown spoke before she could. She didn't mind that, though the glance Will cast at the 'Con's interior fed a faint uneasiness in her; he'd been away from his mom (had to be his mom: he hadn't corrected her, and they resembled each other enough she was sure) a little while, but that little while was long enough.

(for the woman to wake and flip shit)

Still, Sam answered---once she had an opening. “Yeah, I can do other things. But fixing 'bigger stuff' depends. For fixing, I'm more or less limited to stuff you can see. Like, a scrape, a burn, a scar, a bruise? That I can do, no problem, but I can't do deep.” She shrugged a little, shifting to cross her arms.

“If it was a bad burn, the tissue at and under a certain depth would stay damaged. Or, say, if someone had a puncture wound that went in enough, I could have it fine on top, but that last bit left would still bleed until it stopped on its own.”

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Will's a little overstimulated right now, so he alternates between looking up at Sam and looking back at the warm, cozy inside of the talking truck. He stays right where he is, arms coming to cross over his knees to try and hide how he's shivering. There's a bit of a wind kicking up and it goes right through him. Still, until Sam says he can get inside, he's not moving. Congrats, Sam, you're officially the designated Adult Type.

"No broken bones and stuff? Even though bruises are technically under the skin?" He's going to poke all the holes he can into the logic he's given.

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That's not how to move to get in or go in, kid. So he decides to speed things up a bit. Sorry to be an ass and all, but he'll shift and transform, the kid now cupped in his hand.

"You can keep talking once you're warmed up, runt." The term isn't meant to be degrading at all, he sounds amused if anything. He looks at Sam. "You wanna take him in or sit in the cab with the heater?" Since the kid wasn't making a choice.

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“No broken bones or—-well, if I could touch it, I might be able to do something about a perforated intestine, but I don't really want to test that, and nobody should want me to test that.” Sam was caught somewhere between 'careful consideration' and a pfff which could have lifted into a real laugh, but that lasted only until Breakdown transformed. Before he'd even finished the transition to root mode, the adept was standing open-mouthed and aghast.

“What are you doing?!” The words were out without being weighed, but not without a second, third, or fourth thought---no, those were clearly why, what if someone sees, and you indiscrete asshole. “This---this is not a great time or place for this. Breakdown. Really? Why.”

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Will's next line of questioning -- regarding the possibility of a perforated intestine being somewhere that Sam could touch it -- is abruptly interrupted when the seat he's sitting on becomes...not a seat anymore. Rather, it becomes what seems to be an enormous hand, which is attached to an enormous robot. Will completely loses his balance, tumbling forward and bracing himself with his hands, letting out a startled "oof!"

Then, after a heartbeat of staring around wild-eyed, he looks up at Breakdown, very slowly. And, rather than completely losing his composure (which is...completely understandable), he grins.

"Ohhh, you're a robot!" He sounds...almost relieved? In his world of weirdness, "giant robot" is less strange than "talking truck", apparently.

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He'd kept a hand around the boy, just to make sure he didn't fall, but had at least kept it close tot he ground. He smirked at the kid's enthusiasm.

"Alien robot. And alive just like you, Runt." And with a rather pirate-y metal eye-patch to boot. Also, sorry, Will, seems Runt is your new nickname.

"Now, in the cab, or are you finishing this talk inside?"

By the way, he's totally ignoring Sam's questions. He's an ass like that.

Edited Date: 2017-12-30 05:18 am (UTC)

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Will grinned, and Sam ran both hands over her hair; after a moment to get over her shock, she was more exasperated than agitated, but still uneasy. Her hands fell to her hips and she said to herself, “I've been in transit too long for this shit so early.” She might not have meant it, but she didn't expect the others to pay her much mind---until she kicked at Breakdown for his attention.

“He should see inside your cab so that he doesn't die of unsatisfied curiousity, but then we need to make sure he's not being missed.”

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Will can't stop grinning, in fact, moving to his stomach and army-crawling to the edge of Breakdown's hand, peering down at Sam and kicking his feet a little at how high up he is. "Awww, she's asleep, she won't know," he wheedles, offering Sam his biggest, most beseeching Bambi eyes. How can she resist that face?

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Breakdown chuckled at the kick. He did like ruffling Sam so much, but still... "She's not moved yet." Said to ease Sam's worry. "And I've jammed the cameras and the only security guard is quite a ways down there from here." He points towards the far end of the airport.

But still, she was right that they should hurry things up. So he transforms. Not around Will, as he's done to Sam, but everything but his arm and hand that the boy is in. Once he's transformed he'll set Will in his cab before tucking his arm into the proper place within his alt.

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She can resist that face with a moderate effort, as it's made easier by the self-interest (and nascent paranoia) the occult underground fosters in those who have seen some moving and shaking. Still, she can't quite keep from smiling up at Will as he beams over the side of Breakdown's huge hand... even as she counters with "But she could wake up any minute, now." That said, there's little else she can do---save looking back to Breakdown, considering another kick.

Even if he laughs at the first, he spares himself a second by being good enough to offer some assurance. It's enough to prompt a pause, and then; "You can do that, with the cameras? What else would I like to know, that you've never mentioned?"

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Will's a little disoriented by the whole...shifting thing that happens, squeezing his eyes shut until he's settled into the seat, just so he doesn't get dizzy. He blinks one eye, then the other open, then waves at Sam to join him. "C'mon, you'll get cold!"

Then, to Breakdown, with mild interest: "Can you hack the Pentagon?"

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He chuckled. "Pentagon? Nah, that's out of my scope for basic stuff. Soundwave could though, if he wanted to." If he hasn't already for any reason.

To same his seat gave it's customary wobble as he "shrugged" in his alt. "Probably a lot of things." Now ask if he'll tell her.

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