Chapter Text
“I’m tellin’ ya she was right here!” Goodbid groans looking around the food court frantically.
He had decided to take his daughter to the mall after work and his friends had decided to tag along. It was supposed to be a fun day of ice cream and shopping, but instead, his lovely little girl disappeared.
“She’ll turn up, Bid,” Glib soothes despite his own nerves. He wrings his hands on his black jacket, but he stops when Goodbid looks at him.
“Yes, and we’ll keep searching for her,” S.G. asserts, their accent coming out stronger from stress. S.G. always considered themselves a secondary parent to his daughter, down to even demanding to have every other weekend with her.
“But what if she doesn’t? What if she walked off with some-”
“Found her,” Emmy whispers, cutting Goodbid short, as he points into the crowd. Glib goes to the black-haired kid as Goodbid and S.G. shoot up, immediately running toward the shining white hair in the distance.
On the other side of the food court, his social butterfly of a daughter is chatting happily with a man around Goodbid’s age.
“Friday!” He shouts, more relieved than angry as he runs toward her like a bat out of hell, not caring about the strange looks he’s getting from the other customers.
Friday turns and smiles innocently at him. “Oh hi, daddy!” she says happily. He drops to his knees and pulls her into a death-grip hug. She pulls back and pears up at him. “Daddy? What’s wrong?” she asks genuinely, her green eyes catching in the light.
“Friday, you can’t just disappear like that! You scared me plum to death!” Goodbid chides, his accent coming out thicker than he normally lets it.
“But I was with him!” She laughs pointing over her shoulder to the man who is still sitting. Goodbid’s gaze snaps to the man who looks genuinely guilty.
“Sorry, mate,” he says with a thick New Zealand accent, scratching the back of his neck. “I was trying to keep her here until someone claimed her.” Almost as an afterthought, he sticks out his hand with a kind smile that would have knocked Goodbid off his feet if he weren’t crouched on his knees. “I’m Mercury.”
From somewhere behind Goodbid he hears S.G. mutter something that sounds suspiciously like “oh my god, he’s hot.”
Goodbid accepts the hand and slowly stands up, not acknowledging the Russian. “Goodbid, John Goodbid,” he says with his most charismatic grin.
“He’s leaving out the best part,” S.G. teases. “His middle name is Brixton and they used to call him Johnny which makes his full name Johnny B. Goodbid.”
Mercury looks at them incredulously but without malice.
“Right, well, they’re leavin’ out the part where I was named after my Daddy’s best friend who died in a farmin’ accident right before my Mama got pregnant with me, and Brixton was my grandaddy’s name,” Goodbid explains as he picks up Friday and sets her on his hip. “Not to mention their name is S.G.!” Goodbid counters.
“What’s that stand for?”
“Some Guy,” Glib says as he joins the group. Friday squeals, “Uncle Glib!” and gets a fond look and a bit of ruffled hair in return. “Oh and I’m Gilbert, but everyone calls me Glib.”
Mercury laughs good-naturedly at them. “I can’t fault you for your names,” he laughs. “My name is Mercury Avery Saylor -that’s with a y and not an i- and I’m from a family of seamen, but now I’m a pilot.”
“Really?” Glib laughs, flinching as it pulls at the fresh cut on his cheek. “There’s no way that’s your family name.” As always, Emerald seems to just appear next to his adopted dad, hiding his face in the back of Glib’s long black jacket.
“No, no, really!” Mercury laughs. “And my dad used to be called Legs and I used to be called Legs Jr.”
“What’s so funny about that?” S.G. asks, plucking a fry off of the pilot’s plate. Friday and Emerald laugh in a strange, all-knowing way, as the blonde lays her head on her father’s shoulder and Emmy steps more into the open. Without missing a beat, Mercury grabs his pant legs and pulls them up, revealing two prosthetic legs. S.G. chokes on and then spits out their food, turning away as they hack-cough.
He cracks a smile and then says, “you can laugh” to which S.G. starts howling with laughter as the others stare at him.
“How? Or- no- why that nickname?” Glib sputters out, slack-jawed.
“The prosthetic legs have nothing to do with the nickname, actually,” he says, dropping the pant legs and smoothing them back down. “My dad used to have these short stumpy legs so they used to call him Legs, and I used to have these really long legs so, of course, they had to call me Legs Jr. to mock my dad.”
“Well, do they still call ya Legs?” Goodbid asks slowly, watching Mercury’s expression to see if he’s overstepping.
“No, uh, they haven’t called me that in years,” Mercury says with a slightly solemn expression before shaking his head as he stands up, coming out about half a head taller than Goodbid. “Not because of the prosthetics though.”
“Oh, uh, sorry I didn’t mean to hold you if you got somewhere else to be,” Goodbid says as he backs up slightly, making a way for Mercury to leave. He pushes down the several less-than-civil thoughts that appear in his head as he looks up at the man.
“Ah, no, I don’t really have anywhere to be,” Mercury says lightly.
“You should stay with us!” Friday says joyfully, to which Emmy nods.
“Now, Friday, I’m sure that this lovely gentleman has something better to do today other than follow around a group of strangers,” Goodbid jokes lightly and is met with a warm smile from the pilot which makes him a little weak in the knees.
“But Daddy, don’t you want to talk to your future husband?” Friday asks with genuine concern. Everyone goes dead quiet and stares at her, only to be broken by Mercury’s laughing.
“Quite the little one ya got there,” Mercury says through his laughs.
“Honey, you can’t just say that,” Goodbid chides her, ignoring the blush that is sitting high on his cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” he apologizes quickly, “She’s six and has no filter.”
Mercury chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah, mate, you’re alright,” he claps Goodbid on the shoulder and ruffles Friday’s hair and offers Emmy a fist bump to which he nervously accepts. “It was nice meetin’ all of ya, but I gotta be off now!” He picks his bag off the floor and leaves the group, waving over his shoulder as he does.
As soon as Mercury is out of ear range, Goodbid looks down at Friday. “You and I are goin’ to have a talk about what we can and cannot say to strangers in public .”