Chapter Text
When he stepped onto the escalator leading down to the trains, Orrin wondered if the stuff he and Trianna ate yesterday after work, might have been a bit stronger than he thought. Although he couldn’t remember ever having had hallucinations from weed. Certainly not a day after.
But then again, he was pretty sure that there was a knight standing at the bottom of the stairs, with two swords on his back. He was also wearing chainmail and a faux fur collar and was also very busy pulling in frustration at the attached red cape that had caught in the side of the escalator. His abrupt movements fit rather well to the metal sounding from Orrin’s earbuds and he felt a bit bad about imagining that the stranger was dancing to it.
Perhaps he was hallucinating. And tired and overworked.
Thankfully, one of the posters at the walls along the stairs helpfully informed Orrin of a cosplay convention in another part of the city, before he could make an idiot of himself in some way.
He did feel sorry for the poor man.
Once Orrin had reached the bottom, the other was angrily typing one-handed on his phone, one gauntlet between his teeth, while the escalator was still stubbornly holding onto the thick fabric of the cloak. Orrin walked past him a few steps, then stopped and turned around.
“Do you need scissors?”
The other looked up with a rather stormy expression that wasn’t dampened much by the heavy glove he still had in his mouth. His eyes were fascinating though; one side an almost black grey, the other a dark brown. If the light wouldn’t have fallen so nicely on him, Orrin wouldn’t even have noticed.
The man plucked the gauntlet from his teeth and pushed it behind his belt. Which also held a long knife in a sheath, which unlike the swords on his back, didn’t look as fake as it perhaps should when carried on public transport.
“I actually hoped to keep it intact. It was a stupid amount of work.” He crossed his arms, making the leather parts of his armor creak, then flung a hand out again as the escalator immediately tried to gobble up more of the cloak. His expression smoothened into something far more neutral though, with a hint of tired resignation.
“You could push the emergency button and see if you can pull it out then.”
Swiping a lock of his dark hair out of his face, the other looked down at the red button and pulled a face. “I’d rather not. Especially if it doesn’t work anyway.” He sighed. “I think I’d just rather take those scissors now.”
Orrin nodded, pushed his satchel back and pulled his switchblade from his coat.
“Hold still, I’ll try to cut off as little as possible.”
“Didn’t you say scissors?”
“Ah, you don’t want me to dig through all my books to find that. We’d be standing here for an hour.” Orrin crouched and pulled the fabric taut. “And a scissor is only two knifes screwed together anyway.”
The other made an amused noise which made Orrin’s stomach flutter a bit. Sawing away at the stubborn fabric, he internally smacked himself. It wasn’t like him to get all starry eyed at a random stranger. Even if he was wearing very nice-looking self-made armor and had a face that could make a model envious.
Once the last thread was cut, the man made a long step away from the moving stairs and regarded the cut corner of his cloak with a downtrodden look. Orrin had the sudden urge to hug him.
“If someone asks, you can tell them that you won a fight against a murderous escalator.”
The man snorted and dropped the cloak back behind him. “I didn’t even win though; I had to be saved.” He tilted his head, eyes catching on Orrin’s satchel with the university logo on it. “You study there too? I don’t think I’ve seen you on campus before.”
“Ah, no. Not anymore that is. I work there. Teaching. Chemistry and that.” Orrin swallowed, suddenly feeling rather nervous with the other’s full attention on him.
“You don’t look that old.”
“I went through things quite fast.”
The other made an impressed noise. “Now I feel almost bad for slugging along with my master’s degree.”
“Don’t. I sometimes wish I would have taken things slower.” Remembering his manners, Orrin cleared his throat. “I’m Orrin by the way.” He had no idea why he didn’t introduce himself with his last name.
“Murtagh.” He looked down at his phone and sighed. “I have to go. Thank you again for saving me from ending up sleeping next to the escalator out of stubbornness.”
“No problem, I’m glad to help.” Something clawed at Orrin to make the other stay somehow. Instead, he watched as Murtagh turned away with an irrational feeling of loss.
Only to almost jump when the other turned around again.
“Actually, do you by any chance play DnD?”
“It’s been a while, but I’d be interested.”
“Perfect.” Murtagh fought one hand out of his gauntlet again and tapped on his phone. “Because we’d love to have one person more in the group. Give me your number?”
Orrin almost dropped his phone with how hastily he fumbled it out of his pocket.
Later, when Orrin sat at home over a too large plate of noodles, he caught from the corner of his eye that a message from Murtagh popped up on his lock screen. Almost knocking his water over with his hectic lunge, he unlocked his phone with a giddiness that made his hands shake.
《 Would you be interested in accompanying me for the next convention maybe? My cloak got stuck in the train door on the way back and my dearest best friend kept laughing at me the whole fifteen minutes until the next stop, while I stood there like an idiot. 》