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Description
Inlé sat in the hallway during lunch, hoping to get some small rest, having gone without the night before. But rest would elude him as the boy Jim, much to Inlé's disappointment, sat beside him.

Opening one eye, Inlé asked, "Does this mean you are to eat with me daily now?"

"Hmm. Maybe," Jim answered around a mouthful of pizza. "We'll see. Why, is that a problem?"

"Problem," Inlé echoed. "Perhaps. I have never sat with another student for meals. Atop that, you were told not to get involved in my affairs."

"You told me," Jim said, "not to get involved with the beef between you and the football squad. I didn't. And that's over now, right? I heard you sent them to the hospital."

"I sent them nowhere," Inlé said. "They took their wounded to the hospital without any command by myself."

Jim snorted. "Dude, beating the hell out of them is sending them to the hospital."

"The only one I attacked was the one called Greg. Then only because he struck me with a baseball bat." Inlé paused, then added after a thought, "And also with brass knuckles."

"What?" Jim said, pizza forgotten. "Dude, I've seen some of the jocks that jumped you yesterday. Some of them're pretty messed up.

"You don't have a scratch on you, and you mean to say that you, who they hit with bats and brass knuckles, are fine?"

Inlé closed his eyes, patience fraying, but outwardly placid. "Only one used weapons. The others were respectful enough in that sense. And yes. I am still in good health."

"Still," Jim said, "they're all beat to hell. But you didn't do any of it?"

"None whatsoever."

"Come on, don't tell me you weren't involved."

"I was most certainly involved," Inlé said. "But I repeat: those wounds are not my doing. The injuries to the group were relatively self-inflicted."

"It's true," another voice agreed. Looking up, Inlé and Jim saw the redheaded jock from the day before standing over them with a tray heaped with food. Jim was visibly surprised to see him, but Inlé appeared unfazed as the jock sat and continued, "Inlé's telling the truth. Much as I hate to admit it, he's out of our league.

"Seriously," the redhead said, biting into a thick sandwich, "he took two swings the whole fight. Everything else was redirecting our punches at each other."

Inlé interrupted, "But you stopped after the bat."

The redhead looked incredulously at Inlé. "Are you kidding? That surprises you? Shit, I was surprised the others kept at it. I know when I'm beat."

"Yet you still said you would repay me for the example I made."

"Of course," the jock agreed. "I owe you for that. But hell if I'm gonna get my ass handed to me by a guy half my size. Talk about dumping my rep." He took another bite from his sandwich, and there was a pause as he chewed. Then, with a surprised "Oh", he asked, "Is it okay that I sit here?"

"Sure!" Jim said cheerfully, seeing Inlé was disinclined to answer.

The jock nodded. "Thanks. Jock Caimbeul, by the way."

"A Scotsman, then," Inlé noted, closing his eyes once more. "You are welcome enough."

Jim turned to Inlé, looking hurt. "He's 'welcome enough', and I'm a 'problem'? That's cold, man. Which of us jumped you yesterday, again?"

"Two problems are as troublesome as one if they are dealt with simultaneously," Inlé lectured.

Sensing tension, Jock began to rise, saying, "I can leave ..."

Jim grabbed his arm. "No! Please, stay. He needs some normaling up."

"'Normaling up', huh?" Jock chuckled, returning to the floor.

The two ate in silence for a while as Inlé sat, feigning sleep.

After a while, Jim ventured, "So, Jock, you're a ... sports guy ..."

"Yeah," Jock interrupted. "I'm a jock. Jock the jock, laugh it up."

"No!" Jim said, hands up in appeasement. "That's not it!" he continued more nervously, "What I meant was, what do you do outside school sports?"

"Not much, really," Jock answered. "Dad works construction, and I help sometimes. I'm handy with a wrench, you know? Why do you ask?"

"Just making small talk," Jim said. "It's amazing how little this guy talks." The two looked at Inlé. If they expected him to defend himself, they were disappointed.

The two leaned closer together as Jock said conspiratorially, "Yeah, I'll bet. He's a piece of work."

"Right?" Jim agreed. "He seems like an okay guy, though."

They chattered on for the rest of the period, laughing together quietly as they playfully mocked their silent partner.

Description
Inlé sat in the hallway during lunch, hoping to get some small rest, having gone without the night before. But rest would elude him as the boy Jim, much to Inlé's disappointment, sat beside him.

Opening one eye, Inlé asked, "Does this mean you are to eat with me daily now?"

"Hmm. Maybe," Jim answered around a mouthful of pizza. "We'll see. Why, is that a problem?"

"Problem," Inlé echoed. "Perhaps. I have never sat with another student for meals. Atop that, you were told not to get involved in my affairs."

"You told me," Jim said, "not to get involved with the beef between you and the football squad. I didn't. And that's over now, right? I heard you sent them to the hospital."

"I sent them nowhere," Inlé said. "They took their wounded to the hospital without any command by myself."

Jim snorted. "Dude, beating the hell out of them is sending them to the hospital."

"The only one I attacked was the one called Greg. Then only because he struck me with a baseball bat." Inlé paused, then added after a thought, "And also with brass knuckles."

"What?" Jim said, pizza forgotten. "Dude, I've seen some of the jocks that jumped you yesterday. Some of them're pretty messed up.

"You don't have a scratch on you, and you mean to say that you, who they hit with bats and brass knuckles, are fine?"

Inlé closed his eyes, patience fraying, but outwardly placid. "Only one used weapons. The others were respectful enough in that sense. And yes. I am still in good health."

"Still," Jim said, "they're all beat to hell. But you didn't do any of it?"

"None whatsoever."

"Come on, don't tell me you weren't involved."

"I was most certainly involved," Inlé said. "But I repeat: those wounds are not my doing. The injuries to the group were relatively self-inflicted."

"It's true," another voice agreed. Looking up, Inlé and Jim saw the redheaded jock from the day before standing over them with a tray heaped with food. Jim was visibly surprised to see him, but Inlé appeared unfazed as the jock sat and continued, "Inlé's telling the truth. Much as I hate to admit it, he's out of our league.

"Seriously," the redhead said, biting into a thick sandwich, "he took two swings the whole fight. Everything else was redirecting our punches at each other."

Inlé interrupted, "But you stopped after the bat."

The redhead looked incredulously at Inlé. "Are you kidding? That surprises you? Shit, I was surprised the others kept at it. I know when I'm beat."

"Yet you still said you would repay me for the example I made."

"Of course," the jock agreed. "I owe you for that. But hell if I'm gonna get my ass handed to me by a guy half my size. Talk about dumping my rep." He took another bite from his sandwich, and there was a pause as he chewed. Then, with a surprised "Oh", he asked, "Is it okay that I sit here?"

"Sure!" Jim said cheerfully, seeing Inlé was disinclined to answer.

The jock nodded. "Thanks. Jock Caimbeul, by the way."

"A Scotsman, then," Inlé noted, closing his eyes once more. "You are welcome enough."

Jim turned to Inlé, looking hurt. "He's 'welcome enough', and I'm a 'problem'? That's cold, man. Which of us jumped you yesterday, again?"

"Two problems are as troublesome as one if they are dealt with simultaneously," Inlé lectured.

Sensing tension, Jock began to rise, saying, "I can leave ..."

Jim grabbed his arm. "No! Please, stay. He needs some normaling up."

"'Normaling up', huh?" Jock chuckled, returning to the floor.

The two ate in silence for a while as Inlé sat, feigning sleep.

After a while, Jim ventured, "So, Jock, you're a ... sports guy ..."

"Yeah," Jock interrupted. "I'm a jock. Jock the jock, laugh it up."

"No!" Jim said, hands up in appeasement. "That's not it!" he continued more nervously, "What I meant was, what do you do outside school sports?"

"Not much, really," Jock answered. "Dad works construction, and I help sometimes. I'm handy with a wrench, you know? Why do you ask?"

"Just making small talk," Jim said. "It's amazing how little this guy talks." The two looked at Inlé. If they expected him to defend himself, they were disappointed.

The two leaned closer together as Jock said conspiratorially, "Yeah, I'll bet. He's a piece of work."

"Right?" Jim agreed. "He seems like an okay guy, though."

They chattered on for the rest of the period, laughing together quietly as they playfully mocked their silent partner.