Why is it always about ‘what will you do?’ What will you do, what will she do. DO, do, do, do, do. Why isn’t the issue here who I am?
“Sebastian, what you DO defines who you are.” Seb’s mum snapped.
Seb’s brother stated, “Surely, Mum, it’s not what you do… but how you do it.”
Seb smiled, recalling the memory as she made her way down the hall of her old University. Dinner was awkward the night Seb’s family found out the 22 year old dropped out. Her 17 year old brother, Sam, always had her back though. Seb stepped into her favourite professor’s office about a week later. “Can I come in?” Professor Johnny Byron smiled, ‘Of course, Ms Moran. I thought you left.’ Seb entered and circled the room admiring the trinkets he had all over the walls, showcasing his memories. “I did… but I’m not sure where to go from here.” She said rather distracted, upon coming across an old rifle of his. He nodded, ‘I see.’ Prof. Byron got up from his desk and walked up next to her. ‘You’re bored. Unfullfilled.’ Seb turned her head toward him, “Go on.” He scoffed, ‘What was your major?’ “Pathology.” ‘Mm.’ They were quiet. Seb turned back to the rifle, then reached out and ran her hand along it fondly. “Dickert Rifle… what year.” Prof. Byron nodded, ‘Impressive. 1780.’ He paused, ‘Ms Moran… have you ever shot a gun?’ Seb stopped, then recoiled her hand, “No.”
Prof. Byron smiled.
For the next three months Seb met up with who she now referred to as Johnny or Rooster for a beer and a lesson about guns. He had an extensive collection and almost everyday Seb was out practicing her shot with various styles.
Every day she would take the bus that went from the rural countryside to lower west side London. A lot of private school boys took that bus and Seb usually kept to herself. One day she noticed a young man outside. He wasn’t waiting for the bus, but they made eye contact— and neither one smiled. Who was that man?
The next day he was there again, except her ignored her completely and got on the bus. Seb watched him as he sat by himself about seven rows up from her. This one was different. May how he carried himself or maybe the look in his eye… she found it intriguing. She noticed his attendance on the bus for a week. Finally she stared hard at him through the bus driver’s rear view mirror. The man looked up at the mirror and they made eye contact again, but it was rather short lived. Seb waited for the man to get off the bus. In between them was four private school boys, but she slowly moseyed off as well and stood about ten feet back. Something was up with this kid and she was gonna follow him. Seb took out a smoke and her lighter, a personalized one with the lower half of a pin up girl and a gun, then lit her smoke and took a puff before tucking away her lighter and staying put as everyone dispersed leaving her and the man alone.
After the second day, Jim noticed her. The first time they made eye contact, he made nothing of it. It wasn’t like Jim to dwell on quick eye contact with a person, but the second day she was there again, and she still noticed him. He ignored her, trying to get her eyes off of him. He couldn’t afford to be noticed in his business. Each day, she’d stare at him, and he’d blatantly ignore her. He became increasingly nervous each day, glancing up at the mirror when he thought she wasn’t looking, only to look quickly every time she was.
On the last day, however, she decided to follow him off the bus. He walked slowly down the street, not to his real house, bun in the general direction of one of his warehouses. No matter how many alleys he went down, how many sharp turns he took, he couldn’t shake the girl off of his trail. He hoisted his backpack up his shoulder, the feeling of his handgun in the pack comforting him slightly. At least he was protected if she was a cop.
Finally, once he reached the door of the warehouse, he turned around to face her. There was still about 10 feet in between them, but he could see the smoke coming from her mouth as clear as day. ”Why are you following me?” he half shouted at her, hand hovering over the pocket knife in his back pocket, just in case.
Seb slowly savored each puff of her cigarette. Where was he going? He was clever not to lead him to his house. What was in his back pack? If he was closer when he adjusted it she may be able to guess— a few shakes of it and she’d have a pretty damn good guess. She stayed far enough behind to just barely keep him in sight. Her cigarette was almost down to the filter.
And then he stopped. Seb kept walking until she was about ten feet away. Was he nervous? Yeah… she did that sometimes. Oops. She took one last drag of her cigarette and let the smoke slowly linger out of her mouth and disperse into the air. The blonde then dropped the filter and stepped on it.
She scoffed, “I dunno.” There was a pause. “Why do I find you interesting?” Seb wasn’t armed, but along with gun training Rooster insisted on some self defense training and a dabble of knife work. Seb took a few more steps toward him. She motioned with her head to the building behind the man, “What’s it for?”