One for the Market {Diethelm

for what it's worth, I always aim to please
but I nearly died

The heat engulfed him now, settled like an added weight on his back. The sweat poured down him, salt in his eyes and mouth. Finally they made it to the market and he directed his sisters (for lack of a better term) to sell their bundles off while he dragged the cart through the thick of things to the butcher. It wasn't pretty, dragging fresh meat through the sauna of the market. The blood attracted all sorts of bugs, even with the plastic and burlap.

And then there were always more people. Mace didn't have a civil bone in his body, but he had no desire to be carted off by the Peacekeepers. Still, when he found his path blocked by a boy, he found that his tongue was faster than his logic. "Shit or get off the can, boy," he said quite distinctly, although it was neither a yell, or anything louder than the din of the street. But his dead eyes - they said it all.

Perhaps the boy had not really been paying attention, or maybe he had and just been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Mace didn't care, didn't even really think about it. All he could think about was the ton of weight he was levering through his shoulders and the stink of his own sweat. It was enough to make any irritable.

for what it's worth, I always aim to please
but I nearly died

Well, at least the boy apologized. Etiquette was one of the many things Mace enforced at the home. It contributed to a good working environment, and it was easy, after all. Say please and thank you and life went a little more smoothly. So he was willing to give the kid a pass when he tripped over his own feet, smashed through some crates, and fell right across Mace's path.

His nostrils flared, which only sent more of his own stink into his body, down across the back of his tongue. He nearly gagged, cheeks puffing, before he'd finally had enough. With a heave that looked right like an exaggerated sigh, Mace lifted the two wooden prongs from his shoulders and let them drop to one side. They hit the dusty earth, bounced and then righted itself. It came to rest with the cart leaning just slightly forward, clearly having been well built and balanced.

Quite unlike Mace, who could not be describing as balanced, even if he was built. He rubbed each hand along the opposite forearm as he stalked forward, ridding himself first of the sweat on his palms. And now he planned to rid himself of this small annoyance. "Get up." He commanded, because he couldn't hit a person on the ground. That was cruel, and while Mace could be cruel to animals, he was very rarely so to people.

Although he might make an exception.

for what it's worth, I always aim to please
but I nearly died

One minute he was down, tripped up by his own feet, and then the next he was up, like a spring chicken. Mace didn't exactly understand where that phrase came from or why it made sense. The chicken he'd seen in spring acted just like any other time. What would make sense would be something along the lines of popping up like a toddler. His littlest siblings could take the biggest falls, bash their heads against door knobs, and be fine within a matter of minutes. Not unlike the kid he was now standing face-to-face with.

And then the brush off, the worst use of the word 'sorry' which should begin a full apology, or not be used at all. Mace glowered. "Going my way? I wouldn't even know what that would look like. I just don't need you to be in my way, get me?" He took a step forward, all muscle and mass moving in sync. There was a certain physicality to Mace, a primal way he moved that was more ape-like than human.

And this suited him just fine as he spent most of his time around animals. God knows, this was not making him like his species any better. "The hell did you fall over for anyhow? You know this is a market, where people got business to do? What use are you, cluttering this place up?"

for what it's worth, I always aim to please
but I nearly died

He could feel people staring, starting to gather as the angry words fell out of his mouth. Mace was so much better with his body than his words, but he wasn't quite ready to resort to his fists. He felt some of his rage deflate as the boy shrank before him. He had a good point, too, about yelling in the market. Although he hadn't said the word Peacekeeper, Mace heard it nevertheless. There were always those around to protect the weak, to beat them senseless if need be. He hated the Peacekeepers more than he hated people who got in the way of his transactions.

Mace's dead eyes swung around them, at the staring faces. He scowled, lips twisting and then reached out and gave the boy a rough pat on the shoulder. "Yeah, well, just watch your step." It wasn't nearly as kind as what Diethelm said, but then, Mace wasn't nice. Ever.

He made a shooing motion with his other hand for the crowd to disperse, and then looked back at his discarded cart. "Tell you what. I'll call it square if you help me get this meat to the butcher. Overloaded the cart a bit." Which was true. He could probably have managed, but it would be nice to have some help. His shoulders burned, and he still had the long walk home.