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Picking up the Pieces (With BlueAmbient)

Maverick had tried to be cautious but the inner panic caused him to be too lose, enough that Mason could actually grab him. The world flew by him so quickly as he was swiftly pulled onto the bed and pinned, but that didn't stop him from struggling. His heart was pounding much like the throbbing of his head from that damned headache. He probably could have put up a better fight but he wasn't as physically fit as he used to be. "It's me! Settle down!"

The light reflecting off the blade Mason had procured from beneath the pillow caught his attention caused his heart rate to spike but he was still able to get out of this mess if he needed to. Thankfully Mason seemed to come to his senses so he didn't need to use his ability at all. Maverick was good at holding a fierce facade but the hammering in his chest was a very good indicator that he was panicked.

Once Mason pulled away Maverick let out a sigh of relief. "If you're afraid of hurting me, don't be. I can be slippery when I need to be, and the only mess I see here is you." he stated as he sat up and shook his head. The mess had been the last thing on his mind. "I just thought you might want to wake up before you tear the whole room apart. There's broken glass on the floor by the way, so don't step on it."

It seemed Mason hadn't been as lucky to avoid his nightmares. "Are you alright?" he asked at last, wondering if he should stay or go back to getting cleaned up.
 
Now more awake, Mason can hear Maverick's pounding heart gradually slowing down. He had scared the younger man, had nearly dug a knife into his face. He laughs dryly when Maverick calls him a mess. How right he is.. Mason drops his hands to his lap, his eyes seeing the broken glass Maverick is talking about, right next to his foot. "I'm.. No, I'm not alright. But this has become my normal. I would have woken up eventually.."

Mason turns his blue eyes to the younger man still sat on his bed. Something about seeing Maverick shirtless, specifically on his bed, made his heart leap into his throat. But he can't seem to look away. His eyes roam, studying his scars. He'd seen Maverick shirtless before, had seen many of his scars when they were fresh wounds. But that had been a year and more ago. "Thanks.. For waking me up.. I'm sorry I nearly sliced your face open. Old habit from right after the war.." Mason had started keeping a knife under his pillow when the nightmares had started, because at that time, he had struggled to tell reality from imaginings.
 
That made two of them. "Seems I'm not the only one with problems." Maverick stated before brushed the incident off. He couldn't say much because he also had visceral reactions to being handled or approached unaware. "I only came in because I heard a loud shattering sound and wasn't sure what it was. Thought maybe you got hurt or something."

Maverick suddenly became self conscious as Mason looked him over. Right, he was probably filthy and really needed to get cleaned up. It had been a few days since he'd found a suitable place to get cleaned up after all. "I should go get cleaned up." Maverick got up and grasped his head slightly before shaking it. He really needed to get some damn advil or something when he was done. He was only functional because he had to be.

He left Mason to his own devices and picked up all the stuff he had dropped in the hallway before finally going into the bathroom and taking his time. When he went downstairs he was fully dressed, his hair still moist and just an unruly as it always was. If Mason wasn't already down there he would start looking for something to eat.
 
Seeing Maverick grasping his head, Mason's expression softens. He's lucky he doesn't get hangover headaches, but he'd seen enough people with them to know they're not fun. "There's advil in the medicine cabinet behind the bathroom mirror. Help yourself." Mason watches Maverick leave, then sighs heavily. He's inwardly embarrassed about what happened, and about Maverick seeing his bedroom in this state. Because it's Maverick, it's enough to make him want to clean up, for once. But, later.

Mason follows Maverick's lead, heading to his own bathroom to shower. He takes longer, soaking in the hot spray. He dresses in a fitted grey longsleeve and fresh dark blue jeans, boxers beneath. Mason stays barefoot as he heads downstairs. He finds Maverick in the kitchen, rooting around for breakfast. "Have whatever you find, my food is your food. And you definitely need real food." The last sentence is said in light humor, but it carries a serious weight. If Maverick's been homeless for a year, save for his car, no doubt he's badly malnourished, even if it doesn't seem like it. Not hungry himself, rarely ever eating in the morning, Mason sits down on a barstool to watch Maverick move around.
 
Maverick had been in the middle of considering toast when Mason finally came downstairs. As much as a full meal would do him good, he was a pretty terrible cook so he preferred to stick to easy stuff that was difficult to mess up. That last comment made him snort as he opened the fridge and saw some eggs. Those would be easy to make. "You want any?" Maverick asked as he set to stirring the eggs in a metal bowl and adding just a little salt and pepper to the mix while preheating the stove top.

He would only make as much as was necessary and threw the toast in the toaster while watching the eggs cook on the frying pan. It didn't take too long to cook and once they were done he got himself a plate and a glass of water before he sat at the island counter to eat. "There's extra if you want it. Probably best to have something to eat after all that drinking." he suggested quietly.

A comfortable silence spread between them as Maverick ate. The advil was doing wonders at easing off that headache and the quiet atmosphere helped. When he was done he took his dishes to the sink and washed them since they weren't that dirty and then came back to sit down. With breakfast out of the way he wasn't sure what to do with his time. "You working today?" he asked curiously.
 
Mason sits and watches Maverick, shaking his head when asked if he wanted any. More often than not, breakfast in the morning makes him feel sick, even when he hasn't been drinking. "I know I should, but nobody wants to clean up the mess that may cause. Food in the morning doesn't sit well with me." Mason enjoys the comfortable silence as maverick eats, admittedly staring but not seeming to care this morning if Maverick notices.

When asked about work, Mason shakes his head again. "No, not until tomorrow evening. The club I'm currently hired out to doesn't need me tonight." Mason folds his arms on the island counter, resting his head on them in such a way that he can still see Maverick. "It's nice, working with Alpha Security." Mason pauses, crinkling his nose. "Kind of an ironic name, but being employed under them means I never have to worry about having no job. Occasionally there's downtime without work, but they have a downtime policy, which means I still get paid. It also means I can choose which security gigs I do and don't want to take."
 
Maverick seemed to think nothing of the way Mason stared at him though thought it was a pity that Mason couldn't handle breakfast. Maverick usually went for hopefully two meals a day even if they weren't that big. He couldn't help but think that security was a fitting sort of job given their line of expertise. A year ago even Maverick could have taken down the biggest guy in their unit with some effort, but nowadays he was not in the finest form.

"Sounds like you have it made. That sort of job doesn't require social finesse, just the wits to take people down." he responded. And it was convenient that Mason had such a good contract with them. Since Mason had nothing to do today, Maverick wondered if the man had anything in particular planned. "You have plans? If you aren't working then what will you do all day?" he asked, for his own sake as well as Masons. "I usually just...walk all over the place." Though he didn't admit it, he had a soft spot for cats and so occasionally he'd spend time with any strays he came across. They were far more agreeable than actual people.
 
Mason shrugs when asked what he plans on doing. He takes his time responding. seeming to think. "I don't know. Usually, I just hang around here, reading or watching tv. When I'm not doing that, I'm at Gridiron, the gym I frequent." Mason sits up, pushing his hands through his hair. "If you're interested, I can pay for a membership for you. Then you can go whenever you want. It's only during the day, but premium members get a keycard to have access to the building 24/7."

Mason stretches his arms above his head. As he does, his shirt rides up a bit, revealing a couple inches of skin at his waist. He leans side to side next, still stretching, and his shirt rises further. He doesn't seem to notice when he lowers his arms. "Anything you want to do today? Anything you want to get, or places you want to go?"
 
Both of those were okay for sitting around at home here, but going to the gym? He supposed it couldn’t hurt to keep a bit more in shape. At least it was something to do. “That could be interesting.” he murmured before his eyes were inevitably drawn to the unintentionally revealed skin. Mason was still well-built, probably because he took the time to maintain it.

Soon he pulled his eyes back up to Mason’s face hoping he hadn’t been too obvious. “The gym sounds good, though maybe I could also get a sketch book or something. Have a little variety, you know?” He used to drawn on occasion back in the military but he had never really showed it off. He was strangely good at it despite having no real memory practicing it. He could only assume he drew a lot as a kid.
 
Mason hadn't missed where Maverick's eyes had strayed to, and his curiosity is piqued. Is his attraction to Maverick returned? Mason chooses not to focus on that for now, though. Instead, he pushes to his feet. "Yeah, we can get you that. You like drawing? I remember you used to disappear in the evenings for a couple hours, figured you would just wander off. Is that what you were doing?"

Mason pats his pockets, then sighs. He'd left his keys and wallet in yesterday's jeans when he'd showered. His phone too. "Let me just grab my keys and wallet from upstairs, then we can go. If you think of anything else you want, just say it. Money isn't a concern." Mason smiles, then turns and jogs upstairs. It takes him a moment to figure out where he'd thrown yesterday's jeans, but before too long, he's coming back down the stairs, phone and wallet in the back pockets of his jeans and keys swinging from his fingers.
 
"Sometimes." Maverick answered truthfully. "I don't remember anything before my time at the labs, but when I got my hands on some paper and a pencil I was surprised that I could actually draw things that weren't garbage. It might have been something I did growing up, and the muscle memory still remains." At least, it was as good a guess as he could offer because no one was simply good at something without working toward it, especially fine motor tasks.

Maverick watched Mason head upstairs to retrieve his things and once he was out of sight he made sure he was ready to go as well, grabbing his boots and getting ready himself. Once Mason was back he headed out to the garage. He didn't bother with his own car because it was pointless to take both vehicles, and he didn't really want to drive with anyone else in his own beat up vehicle so he got into the passenger's side of Mason's once it was unlocked. "It feels weird to be settling down in one specific place." he admitted.
 
Mason shoves his feet into a pair of black sneakers on his way into the garage, opening the driver's door. He never locks it in the garage, because the bay door locks itself. In the car, Mason clicks the button on the sun visor to open the bay door as he starts the engine. "You've been wandering for a year. It's going to take some time to get used to being in one place."

Mason pulls out of the garage, then the driveway, and turns toward downtown. The first stop would be the gym. He'd get Maverick a membership, then they'd do the rest of their running around. It might take a while, as afternoon rush traffic would be starting soon. "Oh, do you have a phone? If not, we should get you one, so we can keep in contact when we're not together."
 
"Has it really been a year?" Maverick questioned thoughtfully. "I suppose it has, but it sure feels like longer." Hardship tended to do that, making things feel drawn out. Once they were off he looked around the neighborhood as they drove by. It was such a nice looking place, definitely not somewhere he would have ever imagined staying.

There was a shake of his head when asked about a phone. He did have one at one point, but it was pretty shitty and it broke. He didn't feel the need to replace it when he had so little use for it. "I had one, but it broke and I never replaced it. It's not like I had anyone to be calling anyway. The contacts were nearly empty on it." Nearly. He had kept Huang's number since he had had use of them man when times were rough. As an information broker he was useful when Maverick took on certain jobs. "If you feel that way I suppose a simple phone couldn't hurt, though the newer ones sure seem more useful." He saw people on their phones all the damned time these days.
 
Mason chuckles softly, settling his right arm on the center console as he drives. Mason's got his problems, but he couldn't imagine himself being homeless, having nowhere to go. He's not a wanderer like Maverick has been for the last year. "We'll get you a good phone. They have many uses besides just letting me contact you. Besides, I want you to have one that won't break so easily."

Mason suddenly taps the steering wheel, cursing. "Damn, I just realized we won't be able to get you a gym membership or a phone without an ID. You have your old army one still?" That would raise suspicions, an MIA soldier suddenly pinging in the city. But Mason knows a couple guys that can create a new ID, at the very least give Maverick a new last name, if he wants to keep hiding from the past. He says as much to Maverick. "We can get you a new ID, if you don't want anyone from our army days knowing you're.. You know, alive."
 
At the mention of an ID Maverick frowned. He had it, but did he really want to use it? He was extra caution of who knew he was alive for a reason. "I don't think I should use that one. It's best no one knows I exist." he responded sullenly. There was that list that ability users were on, and if anyone with such a list knew who he was, had access to the laboratory data or anything regarding Maverick...it wouldn't be good. "I'll put it this way, if anyone found out about my ability I'll be back in a fucking lab for the rest of my life." Or at least whatever was left of it.

They may have destroyed the Unions, but there was no doubt there would be those still interested in that sort of work and Maverick might as well have been the Holy Grail of test subjects. Too bad Sagittarius didn't see the success until it was too damned late for him. At least he died knowing that his most ambitious project was a wild success. They destroyed the main lab but that was no guarantee that the records didn't exist. Maverick had always found it odd how the government lists were so expansive now. At the very least they had a lot of data on abilities in general, all data that Delta and Theta hoarded.
 
Mason gives Maverick a reassuring smile, nodding his head. He changes direction slightly, heading to the slightly shadier side of town. Connections had given him rats in the slums, which helped with his security job. He often got tips about upcoming gang raids, or robbery plans. Those same rats often led him to helpful resources. "Don't worry, we won't use it. But we need the information on it to fabricate you a new one. I have a connection to a forger that's never had his ID's pulled for fakes. At least, never anything I've heard about."

Mason changes the subject, choosing to let his curiosity roam. "You know, we all knew you had some kind of ability, but we were never given the clearance to know what it was, or how it worked. And you never talked about it. Mind, you never really talked much about anything that wasn't the mission, or to take a jab at someone else." Mason pauses, weighing his words carefully. "For security's sake, now that you're going to be living with me, do you mind telling me about it?"
 
Having had his own dealing with the shadier types, Maverick didn't at all doubt that there were those who could pull such a thing off. It was reassuring that Mason had such a variety of connections. "That's reassuring. Hopefully they won't ask for too much in return. I can't imagine such...clandestine services being free." Nothing ever was free, at least from his own experience.

When Mason inquired about his ability Maverick gave him a searching look as he tried to decide what exactly to reveal or whether or not it was wise. Of course he trusted Mason, but such knowledge could unnerve people. Given what he knew about Mason's ability in particular, would it be wise to reveal he could very likely replicate that? There was a long pause before Maverick heaved a sigh. Secrets weren't going to be useful, and he doubted he could hide it forever. "I originally believed it to be moving objects with a mere thought. I played it off as such, but I guess you all suspected it was more than that. That alone wasn't enough to make me as useful as I was." he mused.

"Consider my ability...a rudimentary form of imitation." Maverick emphasized the word rudimentary for a reason. It was not a perfect ability. In fact, it was far from it. A perfect ability wouldn't come with as much risk. "You ever wonder how I got into places I shouldn't have been when you turned your back? If I have knowledge of the layout of an area I can teleport limited distances." Mason would surely realize just how big a deal such an ability was. To copy other abilities, to have more than a few at a time. It was the holy grail and researchers would be jerking themselves off to the thought of recreating such an ability. "Limitations do apply, however. It isn't perfect, and the side effects of using such powers..." He trailed off without finishing the statement, but he didn't need to. He was implying that bad things could happen if he wasn't careful. All abilities came with a drawback. As all-powerful as his ability sounded, he couldn't use it to its fullest potential without severe consequence. He had learned that the hard way when he fought with Sagittarius.

"It manifested quite late and it took me a while to realize the scope of this ability. I kept it under wraps because I didn't want to garner the interest of researchers. That, and I didn't need the military putting such an ability to full use. Sometimes I feel like the ends justify the means as far as our superiors were concerned."
 
Mason listens in silence. As Maverick talks, Mason pulls up to a small convenience store. He shuts off the car as Maverick finishes talking. "Wow, that's quite the power. I can see why our squad never got the details." Mason pauses, turning his head to look at Maverick. "Well, now that you've explained your power, I feel like I should explain mine. Basically, I can increase the sensitivty of each of my senses. It's why I often knew things others didn't. Hearing conversations through walls, seeing things others couldn't, or scents others didn't notice. The downside is that alcohol or drugs impairs it. Like last night, when I could hear your heartbeat. I can't control my senses when under chemical influence, and its usually random which sense becomes overpowered. Sometimes it leads to headaches, or momentary sensory overload. Sometimes I get major ringing in my ears, or temporary blindness. I adjust to the complications as needed."

Mason shrugs, then gets out of the car. Without thinking, he comes around and opens Maverick's door. "Come on, let's go inside." Once Maverick is out, Mason leads the way into the convenience store, walking up to the counter. "Hey, tell James he has a fancy friend." The brunet at the counter stares at Mason for a moment, and Mason grimaces. He hates that his connection for false ID's insists on a passcode that makes his clients sound like hookers. After a silent minute, the brunet presses a button under the counter. A buzzing can be heard. "Go into the back hallway, second door on the right is the office." Mason rubs the back of his neck with a sigh, then leads Maverick through the back hallway door.

In the office is a short, heavily tattooed blond man leaning back in the desk chair. He straightens when Mason walks in. "Hey, Mason! What can I do for you, man?" Mason steps into the office, gesturing to Maverick. "I need an ID for my friend. He's, uh, an old army buddy. He went MIA just before the end of the war. He would rather not be on the radar, so we can't use his army ID. Best not to ask questions."
 
Seemed they were sharing their little secrets now. This certainly explained why Mason knew far too much on the battlefield, but it was incredibly useful. "And you said alcohol impairs it? Like...forces you to reflexively use it?" Maverick inquired curiously. It was something he needed to take into account considering he couldn't exactly control what he copied.

Upon arrival he was about to open the door after removing his seat belt but the door was opened for him. "Well, aren't you just the gentleman today." he remarked as he stepped out of the vehicle and glanced at what appeared to be a convenience store. Maybe they were stopping to get something before heading to their real destination? His questions were answered by the questionable exchange at the counter, as this was not just any conversation. Maverick kept his mouth shut and let Mason do the talking, and soon they were on their way upstairs.

Maverick looked the man over carefully while nodding in agreement with Mason before adding his own input. "Richter Emericson will be fine for a name." It was an alias he had gone by in the past when he needed to distance himself from his own identity, at least in scenarios where he didn't require falsified identification to match his bullshit claims. It was convenient in the long run because Maverick sounded more like a nickname than anything else so it wouldn't be questioned why one name was used over the other depending on circumstance.

It was funny that he was using the Emericson name at all given how far removed from his real identity he truly was. He had seen the last name briefly upon laboratory documents which was the extent of what he knew, along with the fact that whatever his real identity was, it was listed as deceased for obvious reasons. The labs didn't like people looking around for those who are taken after all, and a death certificate and bullshit story was a fine way of tying loose ends. His military ID was made up on the spot since he didn't have an identity to begin with aside from Maverick. It was a better name than P-187.
 
James nods as he listens, chewing on his lower lip. When he stands, there's a strange hitch to his walk, and when he comes around from behind the desk, it's obvious to see in his cargo shorts that his left leg is prosthetic from the knee down. "Okay, okay, I can do that, no questions asked. It's not my business. Sure, I can put that name on it, but I need your army ID for the base. I take it, it's safe to assume you're staying with Mason, since youidn't give me an address." James holds out his hand to Maverick, waiting for the ID. Once it's in hand, he steps back, leaning on the desk.

"You want to know why my ID's never get pulled?" James covers the ID completely with both hands, the skin of which immediately turns black between the tattooed lines on them. After a moment of silence without continuing to speak, James opens his hands to reveal a completely different ID, with Maverick's chosen name and an updated image of him. The birthdate and address have changed, and it's no longer an army ID, but has genuine, up to date markers pointing to a real ID, not a fake. James hands Maverick the ID, shaking his hands. The skin is gradually turning grey, and would eventually return to normal colour. "It's because my nifty little power is transmutation. As long as I keep myself updated on what markers identify a real ID, technically, all my ID's are genuine real ones. Hurts like a bitch when I use this, though."

Mason had never seen James create ID's before, had only established this connection because James was a good font of information. So seeing his process in action is fascinating. Redirecting his attention though, Mason glances at Maverick with a smile. "Perfect, now we don't have to be worrying if someone will take it away. James, I'm using the favour you owe me for this. You can consider us even now." James throws his hands in the air with an exaggerated expression of relief. "Finally! You've been holding that favour over my head for months! Now get out, I have an order to make. My main business is still this convenience store, you know." With a grin, James shoos them out of the office. Mason laughs lightly, leading Maverick back to the car.
 
Maverick nodded as he took out his worn ID card. If it weren’t for the military he wouldn’t have had an ID at all really. Once it was handed over he watched the man work his magic on it and once it was done Maverick looked the card over with surprise. Same card, different identity. The damn thing looked new, too. Noting the grey color that enveloped the man’s hands it was clear even without James saying it that it was probably painful to use. “Thank you for this.” Maverick responded as he slipped his ID back into his wallet and pocketed the works.

Once they were back in the car he couldn’t help but wonder what Mason did that coiuld gave could have put the man that deep in his debt. “You must have done something pretty big for him if he owed you that much.” Maverick broached as he buckled himself in. Now with an ID in hand it seemed like they would be back to their initial errands. A gym membership and a phone. Also there was one other matter he would need to bring up, but now was probably not the time. He preferred to avoid ability users whenever possible these days because of his ability, but he didn’t want to cause alarm or make a big deal out of it. It was just best if he avoided any situation that could activate this power of his.
 
Mason ducks his head slightly when Maverick subtly questions how he had earned such a steep favor from James. With a little smug smirk, he starts the engine and pulls away from the curb. "Well, I may have kind of spent a month seducing a guy that had information on James' ID business, but also had his own illegal drug business. In the end, I got stabbed in the leg with a screwdriver, but the guy got jail time for his drug business, and nobody believed him about James." Mason glances at Maverick, chuckling, like it's some everyday sort of story told over coffee. "I held it over James' head that I got stabbed until he promised to repay me me when I asked."

Mason settles his right arm on the center console as he drives, hand hanging loose off the front end of it. Traffic is relatively light, despite it being just after the lunch rush. But they're in no rush to get to their destinations. First stop, get Maverick a phone. That would also make getting him a gym membership easier. "So, any preference in phone brand?" Mason pauses, then looks a bit sheepish. "Ah, I mean, if you know about different brands. Otherwise, I can just get you the same phone as mine. It does a lot, and it's pretty good. The camera is nice too, catches a lot of detail."
 
“Wasn’t wise of him to get greedy while having his own closet full of skeletons.” Maverick mused. Still, a screwdriver to the leg sounded quite painful considering how blunt it was and he could imagine the nuisance of such a wound. “I bet he’s quite happy to no longer have that on his conscience, as well as the knowledge that his secret is safe.” The simplest solution was of course silence, but this matter was likely a bit more complex than just slitting a man’s throat and dumping him into a river.

As for brand , Maverick shrugged. “A phone is a phone as far as I’m concerned. Whatever brand you have is as good as any other.” Maverick replied. “As long as the phone isn’t some wild tacky and obnoxious color. Black, silver, red, those sorts of colors are perfectly fine.” He had seen some of the phones people had and it was hard telling if it was a case or the phone itself but there were some pretty unsightly models out there. The camera itself was a bonus but he didn’t care either way as he had never been the type to take pictures.
 
"Hot pink phone it is, then." Mason smirks as he turns into the parking lot of a mall. His voice is clearly teasing. He finds a spot near enough to the front doors without being the asshole that takes the best spots. Once again, he gets out and comes around the car to open the door for Maverick. He does so without thinking, not realizing how it might seem to the other man. "Come on, there's a phone store in here. I got mine from here, but do most of my account management online now."

Mason locks the car and lead the way inside. Unfortunately, it's very busy, and very crowded. Not knowing how Maverick would react if someone bumps into him, Mason walks them along the wall, with himself between Maverick and the crowd. Nevertheless, an overly excited teenager bumps into him, pushing him into Maverick, and runs off without apologizing. Mason grips Maverick's bicep on instinct to balance him. "Sorry, you okay?"

Once making sure Maverick is alright, Mason leads him into a phone store, going straight up to the counter. The woman behind it looks up from the computer. "Hi, my friend here needs a new phone, and I'd like it connected to my account. He's living with me anyway, so it shooudn't be a problem, right?" The woman shakes her head and proceeds to get all the necessary information from Maverick; account, the phone desired, does he want a screen protector, what kind of case. Finally, she asks for Maverick's ID. Mason nudges Maverick's arm with his elbow.
 
Clearly Mason was fucking with him. Much like how the man seemed to come over to open his door yet again despite the fact that he was not at all feeble and perfectly capable of opening it himself. "I haven't decayed that much over the time I've been gone. I think I'm perfectly capable of opening my own door." That said, Maverick stepped out of the car and without waiting simply started walking toward the mall. Didn't guys only open the car door for girls?

Mason caught up easily enough because Maverick wasn't sure about the layout of this mall. Places like this were rather large, with people everywhere. Maverick didn't like the thought of being too close to all these people no matter how average or innocuous they may have seemed. The wall was the perfect place for him so he didn't at all pay much mind to the fact that Mason was positioned in such a way to keep him away from the crowds. Of course there were always those that just couldn't seem to slow the hell down and had to dash about wherever they went, and that was the case for the careless teenager who ran into them. Or rather, into Mason but that caused Mason to of course bump into him. With the wall so close he wasn't about to tip over from the sudden loss of balance, catching himself on the wall even as Mason caught him. He was clearly tense from the incident but he brushed it off none the less. "I'm fine." he stated, removing his arm from Mason's grip and moving along.

It always seemed like Mason was watching out for him. It was nothing new, it had always been the case during the war but they watched out for one another. That was life and death, whereas now he was being looked out for in everyday situations with a very low likelihood of being fatal, let alone more than an inconvenience. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. Insulted? Or was that perhaps an overreaction? This was needlessly confusing.

The store wasn't too far and once they were inside he was met with a wide variety of phones. The selection was mind-numbing. From phones to accessories to all manner of cases be it just for aesthetics or protection. He was a bit slow in following but he eventually ended up at the counter alongside Mason. Why connect his account to Mason's? It was probably cheaper that way to bundle it into an existing contract. That made the most sense, and it seemed like Mason was paying for it. He decided a case would be wise to have so there was less of a chance of breaking it, and chose a red case. When prompted he silently took out his ID and handed it over. The transaction went smoothly and he had himself a shiny new phone to play with in the end.
 
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