[7]: Little Banters (1)

Marco seems to bore witness to yet another possible good beating awaiting the poor tan youngster. He saw a familiar person with a large physique and blonde-brown hair entering the premises. He already knew who it was just by the body built.

'Oh, thank heavens Mr. Charles is here. I'll be able to clear my name from their accusations,' Marco heaved a sigh of relief seeing the very person who had brought him to such a place.

As soon as Charleston stepped foot in his workshop through the side door, he saw the two problematic youths looking unusually serious with their arms across their chests. He could not help but raise an eyebrow at the odd behavior of the two.

Charleston's head blew a fuse when he remembered the state of his workshop from last night. He hastily strode towards the two and gave them both a knock on the back of their heads. It was heavy enough for them to stumble.

"You bloody idiots!" Charleston greets them with his rough voice. His irritation was hinted through the tone of his voice that made the young lads falter.

Cooper stepped aside quietly from the danger zone, watching as the old man grabs the back of Dacron's shirt and pulling him upward. The auburn-haired silently prayed for his and his friend's unlucky fate. But he was mostly hoping to be spared from their uncle's wrath, only giving a little to nothing concern for his friend.

He couldn't prevent letting out a snicker when he heard what Dacron muttered in the hands of their grumpy boss but benign uncle at the same time. They knew that the elder acts depending on the situation at hand, and unfortunately for them, he was in the role of a boss this time.

Marco just silently watched them, not moving from his spot. He just stood there, not making his presence known, and intends to not interrupt with their affairs. He just hopes that it would be resolved fast and without the use of violence and so that he could also clear his name.

"Early in the morning, and I see you two behaving weirdly? Are you plotting something again?" Charleston inquired the two youngsters. He narrowed his eyes at Dacron, who was shuddering in his grip before turning his gaze to the less problematic kid, Cooper.

"So? Are you going to answer me or not?" the old man asked again, now slightly losing patience. "This should not be another silly prank, or you two would surely get a good beating."

"No, no! We're not plotting anything this time," Cooper hurriedly answered while rapidly shaking his hands as if the gesture would convince the old man.

Dacron recovered from his fright and was shuffling to get off from his uncle's hold. He succeeded at doing so. Since the elder was getting tired of holding him up anyway, and so he clumsily sprawled onto the floor.

He didn't forget about the stranger in the room, so he quickly addressed it to the building's owner. At the same time, he was diverting the old man's attention to someone else so that they would have a chance to be spared.

"Gramps! I mean, Tito Charles! There's an intruder inside the shop!" Dacron cried out while pointing drastically towards the staircase. The intensity of his shrill voice was that of a whiny, wronged child, who was complaining about an unlikable playmate to their guardian.

Charleston glanced to where he was pointing and landed his gaze on the lost lad standing in the middle of the staircase. He narrowed his eyes but gave the youngster a nod in acknowledgment before turning back to the two problematic youths.

That simple gesture reassured the anxious soul of Marco, who seems detached from his physical body. His mind was drifting with the wind from being under unwanted pressure.

'Ah, I'm glad old man Charles still remembers me,' Marco sighed to himself. He had thought that even the man who let him barge in would forget about giving his consent for staying in the premises to him.

Charleston gave his nephews a death stare before he lifted his head and addressed the other person in the room, "Hey, kid. You're up early. Did these two loudmouths wake you?"

The brunette and auburn-haired youngsters were both dumbfounded by the unexpected development. Dacron and Cooper gaped at the unidentified person and to their uncle before looking at each other.

'They knew each other?' was the question running on both their minds.

Dacron and Cooper's eyes were glued on the young man at the staircase, eyeing him curiously. They were even more flabbergasted when they heard the stranger's deep yet calm voice.

"Guid mornin," Marco, the ever so polite and traditional kid that he is, greeted everyone with his natural accent that he has been trying to suppress. [1]

His head wasn't as lightheaded as before, and he finally had a grip on himself. He could smoothly speak now without his mind going into chaos for being startled. Although him, being taken aback might not be visible to anyone but himself since he always had a blank expression.

"Ah. No, Sir. I was already up before the brunette lad's concert even begun," Marco cleared his throat when he inadvertently said that. "I meant before they arrived."

"That's pretty early. I guess you're a morning person then," Charleston commented and then glanced at the clock hanging by the wall above the counter to check the time. "It's even barely seven in the morning."

Marco decided to climb down the stairs so that the other people in the room wouldn't have to look up to him. His steps were light, and it was solely normal for him, simply coming down, but all eyes in the room were on him, watching as he descends.

"Not really, sir, but perhaps I may be," Marco modestly said. He stopped right in front of the three men with his right hand inside his pocket.

The two youngsters felt more intimidated by his temperament, even though he wasn't even doing anything out of ordinary. Just by watching him walk casually and meeting his dull eyes, they already felt a cold creeping in their spines.

'Damn, this dude really shouldn't be messed,' Dacron quietly reminds to his own.

Cooper sighed in his heart, 'Aish! Here comes another iceberg.'

Marco tilted his head while narrowing his eyes as he observed the young lads right in front of him. He could not quite get their displayed manners at all.

'Why are they shuddering? It's not that even cold now?' he asked himself, completely clueless of the chill he was giving off. It didn't even cross his mind about the possibility that they were a little afraid and intimidated of him.

The once-proud pair of friends felt so small before the Scottish young man who was towering over them. Although the two were also relatively tall, their height somewhat shrunk when faced with the man in black.

Dacron and Cooper were used to their uncle towering them, but they felt rather intimidated by the stranger before them. They regretted taunting him earlier and were relieved that the latter wasn't triggered by it.

The old man watching on the sidelines chuckled at the sight of the two problematic youths shivering from an innocent and dense stranger. He likes seeing them restrained from their usual troublesome nature, especially if it was not caused by himself.

Charleston knew that he was not an ideal elder, but he would make sure that his family and loved ones would be safe, before himself, always. He wouldn't just let anybody trample them.

The three young men stared at him, so Charleston needed to act like the adult he was supposed to be. He cleared his throat, stared back at his nephews, and spoke with his rough and hoarse voice.

"Dacron, Cooper." The two young lads instantly perked up upon hearing their names. "Don't expect me to forget about your tardiness yesterday. You didn't even pick up your trash or even just wash the mugs but left them lying anywhere instead. "

"Chill, Tito! I admit that I was responsible for the plastic wrappers and sodas, but those mugs weren't even mine. Every unwashed mug was used by that coffee maniac Sync. He's the one who left the-" Dacron did not finish his tirade when Cooper nudged him in the shoulder. He grumbled and glowered at his small friend.

The auburn-haired lad glared at the tan young man in return, hinting for him to shut up and keep his mouth to himself. The latter childishly stuck out his tongue and moved to sit on the trunk of the under repair car. Dacron raised his right foot and let his elbow rest on his knee, the red paint of the vehicle contrasted with his dark blue jersey shorts.

Marco does not want to eavesdrop on their conversation, so he moved aside to the counter and partly leaned on it, his elbows supporting his weight. His body was still sore, and he endured the aching as he waits there, feeling quite bored with the conversation.

He sighed and told himself, 'Well, at least now, I'm void from being an intruder.'

***

[1] "Guid mornin" is basically "Good morning" in a Scottish accent.