;;This is what I brought you (Deon)

[Deon De Soto]

"I can definitely talk someone to death." Deon said somewhat sheepishly. He ran a nervous hand through his hair at that, realizing this was Doyle's way of complaining about his talking so much, which he was guilty of doing, but really had no intention of stopping. He was curious, god help him. It was in his nature to get to know people and this strange reserved young man's tendency to try helplessly to prevent such things only made it all the more intriguing. It was a challenge, exciting and tantalizingly curious, like a tomb full of booby traps. Where other explorers got scared or killed, Deon wanted to be the one to make it through, to disarm every trap, to figure out all the pit falls set in place for him to fail, and to come out on the other side to find a unique, one of a kind, immeasurable treasure laying in wait for someone like him to not give up, to not turn and run. Just one, just one man was all it took. Why not him?

Because he was blind? Hell no. He almost wanted it more strongly to prove such a defect wouldn't stop him. It wasn't a defect at all, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, this all meant that Doyle would be rapidly throwing booby traps at him in a fit of fearful discomfort, it was a bit of a necessary evil, for which Deon wanted to apologize. He didn't though, it'd probably be more dangerous than was necessary.

"Well if either of you haven't checked it out, it's a great series, I'm sure you've heard, though I prefer the books to the movies. I thought they were terribly inaccurate. I don't think it has anyone named Norman in it but Peter and obviously Harry are relevant names. Would've been a great cover story." Deon shrugged with a bit of a laugh, though he was clearly trying to keep a lid on it. "Why don't you read anymore? Something wrong with your eyes?"

With a shit eating grin, Deon waggled an eyebrow in the general direction of his companion's voice. It wasn't a good joke but he was easily impressed, by himself as well as others so it tickled him just the same.

[Brandon Doyle]

"I don't concentrate well" Doyle said in a very general way. That never warranted questions in his past experience. Usually people stopped talking to him a long time ago. His tones were offputting and he was very obvious about not liking this conversation or this person. He flat out said it. Why is he still talking to him? It was baffling him. His persistance was just... really confusing him. "Well this has been great" he said with obvious sarcasm as he stopped. They had reached their destination and he was running late to just sit around in his room and do nothing.

He stepped back, eyes drifting to Jimmy-6, prefering to look at his canine companion as opposed to the person who wouldn't be able to tell the difference anyway. As if any of it mattered. And he guessed it didn't. But it did, in a way. He gripping the bag in his hand a little tighter. Not wanting to wait for him to say anything. Just wanting to leave. "I am going to go" he said without much thought to it. What if his above sarcasm wasn't a clear enough exit? Then again that would have been hilarious if he walked away and Deon continued to talk to him even though he wasn't there.

[Deon De Soto]

"Oh my that was quick."

Deon turned as though the look at the Radio Shack stationed behind him, but as he could not see anything, the movement was more a formality than a sincere attempt to look around. The turn of his head did allow him to triangulate sounds a little more accurately though and he could in fact hear a radio shack sales representative somewhere far behind him, talking to someone about a GPS for their car. So that at least confirmed their location. He smiled warmly and turned back to Doyle.

"Thanks for the assistance, I can move a lot faster and with more certainty when someone is with me. It takes away a lot of the guesswork." As though it were unclear as to what he was referring to, Deon waved one of his big strong hands in front of his face. As he let go of the handle to do this, Jimmy-6 took the opportunity to wander forward and give Doyle a farewell sniff and a pleasant wag of his tail. He looked up with big brown soulful eyes that were just begging for another scratch under the chin or a rub of one of his big droopy ears. He even whimpered quietly. Definitely begging. "Jimbo, don't be annoying."

Deon spoke distractedly, digging around in the small pocket on the chest of his work shirt. He came up with a small white business card, which he held out over Jimmy's head, in Doyle's general direction. It was a card for his band, truthfully, and had the names, emails and phone numbers of four people, but Deon's was the first, right beneath his name- Deon De Soto.

"Let me know the next time you're in Spencer's. I'd let to pay you back for the help. In fact, I've got a bit of a powwow to go to later on this week, on friday I believe. My family's all outside of the country, so if you'd like I could bring you along. Lots of free food and something to do for an evening, little bit of music, ya know?"

[Brandon Doyle]

Doyle looked down at the dog and happily gave him the scritches he longed for. Without a moment's hesitation, actually. Leaning down very slightly and using both hands for maximum loves. His dog Scott taught him a lot about scratching some squish so he considered himself a professional at it by this point. He was distracted for a moment by the dog but then suddenly remembered he was technically still part of a conversation and he was in public. He quickly stood up straight and looked at the other just to notice he was still talking and was handing him something.

He didn't want to grab it, mostly wanting to just walk away. But something happened and he wasn't sure what and he snatched it rather rudely from him, making darn well sure that no physical contact happened. He stuffed it in his pocket where he was sure he would forget it and wash it and he had no qualms with that. He could do with forgetting all of this. He did also catch the invitation that was thrown in and he grimaced. Yeah, no. That wasn't going to happen.

"How about no" he said as he turned around. His hand finding it's way back into his hoodie pocket "later" he called with the exact lack of interest they entered this converation with. His hand running over the card in his pocket.

[Deon De Soto]

"Sure, maybe next time." Deon smiled blissfully, seemingly ignorant as a pile of rocks. It wasn't that he didn't notice Doyle's sour demeanor, he just wasn't at all put off by it.

He wasn't really put off by much of anything really. He'd seen enough hardship, cried enough tears, and felt enough pain in his youth that a few harsh words and a few angry glances didn't bother him, it paled in comparison to the sight of an entire neighborhood of dead bodies, of children murdered in the street, sisters raped and orphans out the wazoo. A teenager with a foul mouth and a short temper was nothing compared to the horrors he'd both seen and simply heard about, the friends he had lost, the family that had abandoned him. It just wasn't an issue on his mind. It wasn't an issue to speak of really. So the boy was a little crotchety, so what? Maybe he was having an off day. Maybe every one of his days was an off day for reasons outside of his control, who was Deon to judge? He had his rude moments, his weird days when all he wanted more than anything in the world was to be left alone. Doyle was allowed his as well, as many as he needed.

Raising his hand, the twenty year old waved lazily as his temporary companion walked away. He wanted to say more, to say 'thanks' again for the company, thanks for listening, thanks for not punching him in the face or shooting him with an ak-47. But he couldn't find the words suddenly, his throat closed and his spine tensed in a weird way and he ended up letting the moment pass in silence.

Once he'd waited an appropriate amount of time for Doyle to move away, Deon knelt down slightly to pat his leg and make kissy noises. He wasn't sure where Jimmy had wandered, if the mastiff had maybe followed their new friend away from him, but wherever he'd been, the dog returned in short order, letting his master play with his ears and mush up his droopy face before finally falling into place at his side. Deon took the handle in his hand, checked the box under his other one and turned, letting the dog lead him into the store and out of sight.