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[chink-in-armor.insanejournal.com]

Who: Achilles and Neoptolemus
What: Father and son meet for the first time...
When: Tuesday afternoon
Where: New York streets/passing by? (I'm very uncreative right now...)
Warnings: Hard to say...

Achilles had not been in the limelight for a year, but there were times he was still recognized in the street. He had decided to take a break from directing and acting to focus on himself (true to the nature of a worthy hero). The script he had been writing on and off for years finally took a different turn towards a novel which felt more comfortable. It was the right spear in hand to drive forward.

He still couldn't shake that feeling that something else was looming in the air. It agitated him greatly. There was an unseen confrontation coming because he felt his blood boil. He felt the need to seek it out as he left the quiet corner of the coffee shop outside to the streets.It was when he was shoved into by a passerby, grabbing the boy's arm in reaction that he felt that uneasiness come to rest. He didn't know the boy, but something struck him, an arrow hitting its target the moment they made contact.

"Excuse yourself," Achilles said roughly as if the youth today should have more manners than they did. It bothered him they had no respect for anyone including themselves.

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[phonomania.insanejournal.com]

Neoptolemus hated the holiday season. It meant more people milling about, obnoxious Christmas music, and a general cheer that nauseated him. Now so many Christmases later, he'd become immune to the familiar drone of the same holiday carols that evidently needed repeating every December, and for the first time in a long while, he didn't mind the gaudy decorations hanging in store windows. For the moment. His level of tolerance for the holidays was directly proportional to the days that counted down to Christmas.

On his way from skipping last period, he easily slipped through the throngs of people, not minding who he slammed his shoulder into. Judging from the 'hey!'s and the 'watch it, asshole!'s, he was doing his job as a kind, thoughtful person. Often times, Neoptolemus didn't care much for who he brushed by on the street. New York was full of insignificant people who thought they were so important with their hipster hats and Starbucks, but he saw through it. He saw through it all.

The hand that wrapped around his arm wasn't as much of a surprise as the manner in which he was manhandled. Not one to be too quick to anger, he merely stared, running his gaze over familiar features. Did he know this guy? Somewhere, he'd seen him. But he could ponder about it later.

"And if I don't?" His voice was low. Two stores over, 'Deck The Halls' bled from a set of speakers.