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*almost screens before picking up and waiting*

Hello?

*frowns, listening...he can hear the faint sound of breathing*

...Takai?

Edited 2008-03-29 18:45 (UTC)

"Who is this?"

*His heart beats faster, brain already going into a splicing of panic and calming mode. He swallows, slowing his breathing and attempting to quiet the voice.*

*keeps his voice carefully neutral*

My name is Anson Greene. I'm a friend of Salem's.

I'd like to talk to you about him. You free to meet me someplace this afternoon?

"No," He instinctively replies. Despite the things that had transpired between them, he still trusted Salem, and the boy only knew so much. Still, this guy could be anyone and that damn... suspicion. It told him that. It told him not to trust this guy, that he could be after him.

"I mean. I think I'd rather talk over the phone if you don't mind."

Fuck, this kid is squirrelly. Anson takes a deep breath, concentrates on sounding calm and reasonable and not at all like he'd like to crawl through the phone and smack him one.

"Look...I'm not a cop, okay? I just wanna talk to you, and I'd prefer to do it in person. Now, if it'll make you feel better, we can do it on your terms. You're in control. You pick the place, you pick the time. What do you say?"

"I didn't do anything for the cops to be interested in anyway." His heart was pounding and his eyes were wide as his twisted mind managed to convince him to be careful. Takai struggled to calm himself, it'd been difficult lately with no real calming influences since he'd chased Salem away, and even Salem had been a cause for anxiety.

He tried reason. They guy was trying to work with him. Still though, he didn't get why he wanted to talk and it made him wary.

"Don't patronize me. Why do you want to talk?"

Much better, some control. Good Takai. Good.

Anson closes his eyes.

"I'm not trying to patronize you. And I told you, I want to talk to you about Salem. I'm really worried about him. He's a sweet kid and I don't want anything to happen to him. I'm sure you don't want that, either."

"Fine. Meet me now the Olive Garden in Time Square. You can buy me food."

There, good. Strike a deal in a place where escape would be easy.

"You got it. I'll be there in ten."

Anson unlocks the car door and tosses his cellphone into the passenger seat. Fine. If he has to feed Salem's drug dealer in order to see him face to face, it's worth every penny.

"I'll be there."

Takai made sure to have all of his things with him when he left, just in case he wouldn't be able to return to Rev's.

He left a cryptic message on the coffee table.

Rev. Thanks for everything. If I don't see you later, maybe I'll see you
after that.

He'd never claimed to have very good English.

Anson strides into the restaurant. Like most in Times Square, it's packed with tourists eager for a quick bite. He passes by the harried hostess and scouts the dining room, looking for Takai.

He's not hard to spot. Most of the tables are occupied by families decked out in shorts and T-shirts, chattering excitedly about their plans and refereeing squabbling kids. The nervous kid sitting on his own in the corner booth sticks out like a sore thumb.

Anson makes his way over to him.

"Takai? I'm Anson."

Takai had made a serious effort to come out, and that was something that Salem would never understand. He'd really put himself out there for the kid because Anson had said it was about him and Takai would do anything he could to keep him safe. All of that regardless of his own inability to really be around the younger boy. Salem would never understand that. He could never understand why it was so hard for Takai to even live, knowing that Salem knew so much. He had no idea what it was like to have a constant presence, mocking him, judging him. Nobody could understand that. Takai didn't even understand it, not fully. He just knew that it was better than the alternative. But Salem meant more to him than his own safety, safety from the things that his mind construed for him, and so he had gone out prepared to run or fight or do anything he had to in case this was a trap.

He made sure when he was seated to position himself against the wall, best view of all things possible. He sat angled in the booth, one leg on the seat so that he was in the corner as much as possible, but with as defensiveness as he could muster as well. Takai waited for Anson, eyes darting to anyone who came near, fingers fumbling at things in his pockets, things on the table, and his mind in it's usual chaos of attempted soothing and upsetting mechanisms. On the outside, he looked merely nervous or possible under the influence of some drug that he'd never touch.

Finally, the guy arrived. He didn't say anything yet, other than a mumbled greeting as he waited for this whole thing to happen. Though he appeared mostly in control of things, the boy was as terrified as a rabbit staring down the jaws of a wolf.

OOC: I so overlooked this. Sorry.

Nervous? Hell, the kid's practically vibrating. Anson eyes him suspiciously. Looks like the little shit's been sampling his own product. Anson curses silently. The boy better not be tweaking so bad he can't follow the conversation, because Anson has no intention of saying this twice.

Sighing, he slides into the booth across from Takai. The kid gives him a walleyed look, muscles tensed like he's ready to bolt any second. Anson pushes a menu over to him, hoping to distract him with the promise of free food.

"Order whatever you want, all right? Then we'll talk."

ooc: no problem! hope I didn't godmod there.

Physically, he was appearing more and more calm. The fact that Anson could pick up on his nerves so easily meant a very keen and attentiveness on his part as most people failed to notice.

Takai waited to speak again until the server arrived. She was a pretty girl, though slightly off. He smiled at her kindly as he ordered himself an appetizer of some kind of cheese dip, an entree of portobello stuffed ravioli with ministrone soup and every intention of desert.

Anson raises an eyebrow at the amount of food the kid orders. Not because he gives a damn about the cost, hell, let him eat, he looks like he could use a good meal. It's more surprise, because food is usually the last thing on an addict's mind. Anson looks at him over his menu, studying him. He was acting pretty twitchy when Anson first approached him, yeah, but there are none of the other signs of an amphetamine addiction. The kid's thin but not skinny, and his eyes and skin are relatively clear. Anson frowns. If it's not drugs, then what the fuck is it?

The waitress clears her throat. Anson blinks and takes a hurried glance at the menu. He orders a simple meal of spaghetti and garlic bread, and asks for a cup of coffee. She takes their menus and leaves, returning a few moments later with their drinks and Takai's soup. Anson murmurs a thank you and sits back, pondering the situation. He'd come in pissed off and loaded for bear, fully prepared to scare the bejesus out of the kid to make his point if that's what it took. But now, he's not so sure. He needs to know a little more about Takai before he decides how to approach this.

"You're a hard man to get in touch with," he says finally, sipping his coffee. "Why is that?"

Takai shrugged, huddling around his food the way one would if he'd been in prison. He hadn't ever been in prison, not really, but close enough and whether as cause or effect, he carried himself with a bit of paranoia. He ate his soup, though looked up at Anson often, and glancing around before going back to Anson and then his bowl.

"Because I don't like it when people look for me when I don't want them to."

The answer was simple, it didn't indicate him as having done anything wrong. As of yet, he still didn't know if Anson was a good guy or a bad guy. He got to the point though, taking a breadstick and dipping it in his soup.

"Is Salem in trouble?"

Anson's staring again. Jesus, the kid's guarding that bowl like someone's gonna take it from him. Definitely paranoid...but why? Keeping his movements slow and deliberate, Anson reaches for the sugar and adds a little more to his coffee.

"I guess you could say that," he replies, stirring it in and putting the spoon down. He sighs. May as well get to the point. "He's taking Ritalin, and he shouldn't be. But then you know that. You're the one giving it to him." He opens his mouth to say something else, then closes it when he sees the waitress coming. She puts their plates down in front of them, refills their drinks and whisks off again. Anson watches her go, then turns back to Takai. "That's what I came to talk to you about. I don't want you giving him any more of that shit."

Takai watches Anson's movements, only slightly seeming to. He's calming down more with the food, and it's nice to eat something that he hasn't prepared for himself with stolen groceries or whatever Rev doesn't mind him having.

The Japanese boy finds the man's eyes at the end of his speaking. He understands that people want to get high off of drugs, though he won't touch them himself. At the same time, he understands Anson's concern. Though he continues to survey his surroundings, Takai mostly keeps eye contact as he deliberates on what to do about things.

After what happened the last time, Takai didn't plan on doing it again. He'd already sold what he had left to Rev in order to buy some fast food the other day. The voice piped up. Salem could speak for himself. Unless, you're so patheticly horrible that he sent this guy here to tell you to back off.

Takai willed it to shut up, on top of everything it felt like this conversation was Deja Vu. Maybe you want to go back on your meds, live in a nice home where people tell you all the answers.

He shook his head a little bit, trying to quiet it, unless Anson was staring though he may not have noticed. Takai hoped that he hadn't. He wasn't crazy, he just- He wasn't crazy.

"No problem." He figured that there was no harm in just agreeing. At least someone cared enough to try and protect the kid, even if he didn't want or need it. Now that things had happened, Takai probably wouldn't see him again anyway.

Anson blinks. For a moment, he wonders if he heard correctly. He'd expected defensiveness, even denial, maybe even a suggestion that he mind his own fucking business. He'd expected anything but simple acquiescence.

He watches the boy eat for a moment, wondering just what makes him tick. Takai seems calmer now, more relaxed, more interested in stuffing himself with pasta than looking around the room like he expects the SWAT team to rush the door. He's even made eye contact a few times. Anson watches as he wolfs down another breadstick, barely pausing between bites. He can't help wondering how long it's been since Takai had a decent meal. The kid's like a stray dog, gobbling up a handout with no idea where the next one's gonna come from. Anson finds himself wanting to ask, wanting to know, wanting to help. He groans inwardly.

For Chrissakes, Anson, don't. You can't save them all, and besides, you make a lousy Father Flanagan.

But it's too late. He's gonna have to find out as much as he can about this kid before he leaves here, he knows that. He takes a forkful of spaghetti, washing it down with a sip of water before he continues.

"No problem?" he repeats, looking at Takai curiously. "That's it? You're just gonna stop because I asked you to?"

Edited 2008-04-05 22:55 (UTC)

He stopped eating to watch Anson. Most of his attempts to murder himself via food intake is an effort to shut out that voice.

"Mostly? Honestly?" Takai blinked at him, "No. I'd probably just tell you what you wanted and then do what I want. I don't plan on seeing the people I got that Ritalin from soon and I don't plan on hanging out with Salem much more anyway."

After a few moments of staring he added, "Are you a customer? You aren't a parent... I don't think he'd want you to tell people not to give it to him. It makes him happy. People should be happy. Other people shouldn't try and fix everything because it just makes them miserable, and not who they are. But anyway, I won't give him anymore because I don't have a reason to. He won't take it as a gift, and I need the money more than...Well, I don't really deal with drugs anyway to be honest. It was just....how do you--happening?"

Anson snorts. Well, the kid's no liar, at least.

"No, I'm not a customer. And I'm not his Dad." He pokes disinterestedly at his spaghetti for a moment before putting his fork down. "I'm just a friend of his, someone who cares about him." He takes a sip of coffee, pausing a moment before he continues. "You're right, you know. He'd be mad as hell if he knew I was talking to you about this, but..."

He takes a deep breath.

"Look, Takai...I don't know what Salem told you, but he's only sixteen years old. He's just a kid and he's alone in the world, and he needs somebody to give a damn." He shrugs, at a loss for how to explain his motivations any better. "That's why I'm here. He'll probably never speak to me again if he finds out about this, but that's a chance I've gotta take."

Takai heard the guy out, he meant well, and he no longer felt as threatened that Anson would try to hurt him or turn him in.

"That's about right. Except that he's not alone. I care about him. Sad as it is?" He had no idea why he was admitting this, "He's probably one of my best friends. I knew him before I moved here, I moved here because of him. I don't want him to get hurt, but I've seen a lot of things and what I gave him has a lot less of a chance of hurting him than you'd think. He's not doing meth."

Anson nods.

"Yeah, you're right. It could always be worse. But I've been reading up on Ritalin online. That shit can fuck you up, even with a prescription. And the way he's taking it, just getting it on the street...I mean, they don't call it 'kiddie coke' for nothing." He arches an eyebrow, surprised at Takai's revelation. "You moved here because of Salem?" He frowns. "So what happened? How come you're not gonna see him anymore? You guys have a fight?"

Takai ignored the first part of what the man said as he again watched the area where the escalator brought guests up from the ground floor. He did this for a while before going back to his food. He considered, of course with the help of his friendly voice that only he had the privilege to hear, he considered elaborating but instead, was quiet.

After a significant pause, Takai slowly nodded. "What? Fight? No, we didn't fight."

As jittery as he was earlier, he almost appeared spacey now as he conversed in a place that Anson could not hear or see with a person that only he knew actually existed. Not a person though, a voice.

Anson's spaghetti has gone cold, but that's okay. He wasn't much interested in it anyway. His mysterious dining companion is far more successful at holding his attention, however. Anson finds himself staring at the kid, wondering just what's going on in his head.

Takai has gone past calm to downright spooky, spending several minutes staring intently over Anson's shoulder at the mezzanine before seeming to retreat into himself. He almost seems to be in slow motion, nodding to himself, his eyes hazy and faraway.

Anson takes a sip of coffee and frowns.

"Hey." He raps the table softly with his knuckles. "Uh...hey. You okay?"

Takai was back inside his own mind, where the voice seemed to come from outside and inside all at once. It was pretending to be calm, pretending that it wasn't mocking him. But it was.

It told him that it was his fault that something bad had happened to Salem. He could have stopped it. He knew that he could have stopped it from happening. He hadn't tried. Now, it was worse than if he had hurt Salem himself.

It told him that Salem was glad to be rid of him, glad to never have to again touch him. Takai knew now that he was horrible in bed anyway. Mostly he had sex to quiet the voice, but the last time with Salem He'd been a constant guest, discrediting everything the boy had said. By the time they were done, Takai had been so disoriented that he'd had to leave the room for a long period of time.

When Anson's knuckles hit the table, the sound is ear-splitting. Actually, it may have been soft, but his psychosis perhaps amplified it. Takai jumped a bit, his heart speeding up again.

"What?"

"Whoa." Anson sits back, startled at Takai's reaction. He'd barely touched his knuckles to the table, but the boy jumped as if he'd fired off a pistol shot. "Take it easy. I didn't mean to scare you. You just seemed kinda...out of it there for a second."

The waitress passes by with a fresh pot of coffee and Anson gladly accepts a refill. He takes his time with the sugar, giving the boy time to collect his thoughts. At last, he puts the cup down and considers Takai thoughtfully. He doesn't know how long he's going to be able to keep the kid here, so he might as well come right out with it.

"I'm gonna ask you a question and I want the truth." He gives the boy a no-nonsense look. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Takai worked on his nerves. He'd been here too long and he was becoming convinced that he would soon be too easy to find if he stayed.

"Trouble? Double trouble..." He mumbled the last part a bit. "Aren't we all in trouble? I'm not in trouble."

Anson stares at him for a moment.

"Okay. Let me rephrase that. Do you need help?"

"Why would I need help?"

His heart was already starting a panic episode as the voice went crazy. Anson was trying to trick him. Trying to lull him into a sense of security and then capture him.

Anson blinks.

"I don't know. You tell me." He shrugs. "You just seem kinda freaked out, that's all."

Understatement of the fucking decade. Every moment he spends with Takai, Anson is more and more convinced that this kid has problems a free dinner isn't gonna come close to fixing.

He sighs and leans his elbows on the table.

"Look, Takai. I'm not gonna lie to you. I came in here ready and willing to kick your ass for giving Salem that shit, and for something else too, and you know damn well what I'm talking about." He leans back, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "But I'm not. Because I believe you when you tell me you're not gonna do it anymore." He hesitates, wondering how to put what he intends to say next, then just deciding to go for it. "I don't know what's going on with you, kid, and frankly it's none of my business. I don't know you from a hole in the ground, you know? I came here for one reason and one reason only, and that's to look out for Salem's best interest, 'cause he's not doing a very good job of it himself lately. But..." He shakes his head. "Look...if someone's after you, maybe I can help. But you've gotta trust me a little bit, okay?" He shrugs. "I know what it's like to be young and have no one to turn to. Maybe if you tell me what's going on, I can try to help you figure a way out of this."

Takai was getting antsy again as he fidgeted slightly. Half-way listening to Anson took all of his energy and he and his voice had pretty much decided that it was time to go. As it was, he missed everything Anson said between: "You tell me." and the thing about trust.

Shows how much you know! Mocked the voice in Japanese. There's no helping this one! He's the worst.

Again he shook his head, to clear it, but maybe Anson would figure he was just saying no. Takai stood, "You can't trust anybody."

His eyes darted toward the exit. "I have to go."

"Suit yourself." Anson shrugs again. "But you're really not using your head. You picked the meeting place, remember? And I haven't been out of your sight once since I got here. You've been sitting there watching me. Did you see me make any calls? Besides, this is probably the safest place in New York. Look around. Every damn body in here's got a camera. This would be a lousy place for me - or anyone else - to try and...do whatever the hell it is you think I'm gonna do." He picks up the dessert menu, flipping it open and checking out the options. He's not really hungry, but he figures the promise of more free food might sway Takai. As to why he should care one way or the other...Anson's still not sure. Maybe it's the hunted look in the kid's eyes, that aura of loneliness he seems to wear like a cloak. Maybe Anson's just a sucker for a pair of big eyes and a sad story. Whatever it is, Anson's here now, so he might as well make the effort.

He glances up at Takai as if he's just remembered that the boy is standing there.

"I was just about to order dessert, if you wanna stay. Up to you."

Edited 2008-04-16 23:17 (UTC)

Takai wasn't sure what this guy's deal was. He looked around, extra paranoid as Anson tried to reason with him.

"Pictures can be bad though..." He muttered quietly, "Always documenting always trying to..."

Trailing off, he looked around slowly, again making an effort to calm himself.

You look crazy.

You are crazy.

"Dessert?" He thought about it, sitting slowly though he wasn't sure he was hungry.

Takai leaned on the table, "What do you want from me?"

Anson glances up.

"I got what I came for." He shrugs and goes back to the dessert menu. "Now I want cake. Or one of those brownie ice cream things."

He looks up and catches sight of their waitress. He raises a hand to beckon her, turning back to Takai as she makes her way over to their table.

"You want anything?"

He didn't want anything, though he stayed seated. Takai shook his head. He wasn't hungry anymore but he wanted to calm down before going out onto the crowded streets of the touristy Times Square.

The waitress returns, but Anson's changed his mind about dessert. He'd hoped Takai would open up a little, but the kid's impossible to crack. Not much left to do now but settle up the bill and go home.

The waitress refills Anson's coffee and brings another soda for Takai. Anson hands her his credit card, pausing before he puts his wallet away.

"Here." He pushes one of his cards across the table to Takai. "That's my cell number. It's always on." He leans back. "Put that someplace safe. You may need it sometime."

He took the card, making sure to look it over before putting it away for the time being. Takai wondered if there might be some tracking mechanism on it, but he would wait until Anson was gone to dispose of it. That way the man wouldn't know that Takai had suspected him.

He nodded before taking a sip and looking off to the side of Anson's face.

Well shit, Anson. You can't save them all.

He slips his credit card back into his wallet and thanking the waitress. He looks at Takai, still hoping for some sign that the boy has something to say, but he's just sitting there, staring off into space.

He sighs, standing up and shrugging into his jacket.

"I gotta go. Good luck, kid." He turns to go, then pauses and turns back. "Remember what we talked about."

Takai nodded, but even that small action took him a long time. After Anson left, he too would go. Salem wouldn't be a problem to avoid, the boy probably didn't want to talk to him anymore anyway.

*waits on the sidelines for the phone call to end, because he's found a new friend*

*blinks*

Oh, the guy from last night.

*dies of embarrassment*

Hi. Uh...Alan, right?