In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Fifty-One: Feast Your Eyes, or Lack Thereof

        "No, we lost that game," Salvador grumbles. "Iremborough sucked, we lost all the time."

"Metalworks has pure class scores, laddie, I'm sure this'll be belter," Demo says, turning to see Salvador in the back with his eye. They've been chatting nonstop ever since I got back from Boston, and the topic in the car has wandered to sports. Pyro and I are pretty much left out of the conversation at this point as the two yak on about whatever they can come up with. Having Salvador be so talkative is... New, to say the least. Especially with someone he met a couple of weeks ago.

The male influence in his life is needed, so I don't blame him too much for gravitating to Demo. Maybe they have a lot more in common than I thought.

"I still can't believe you called this place a shack, Tav," I dispute. "This is a mansion."

"Ah, I mean--" he hesitates.

"That is a mansion, Mr. Tavish," Salvador reinforces.

"Very well," he gives. I pull up to the fountain and park in the curved driveway, glancing at Salvador and Pyro in the backseat before taking off my seatbelt. "Mum'll come oot in a second. I'd watch yer noggin."

When Demo asked if we'd be staying with him, I didn't think we'd be staying with him over the weekend. It's better than having Salvador at the fort since his school doesn't open up again until Monday. I haven't had the chance to ask him how it's been going there yet, even if he was only there for three days. We pour out of the car, and Demo comes to the back of the car to help me take out our things. Salvador has a new duffel bag, red instead of yellow and it carries that circle symbol with the lines through it that I've seen a couple of times already when it comes to the team.

Pyro has a suitcase of his own, but I can't imagine what the contents inside are like other than more flame-retardant suits and flammable objects. Salvador hasn't expressed any certain type of emotion toward Pyro, and I can see why. He's hard to connect with. I don't know anything about Pyro other than the fact he likes fire and he's the newest member on the team. I don't even know if he's really a man or not, come to think of it. If he's a she, she hasn't made any effort to correct anyone on the team. How old is Pyro?

"Tavish, me boy!" A woman calls from the front porch, an accent even thicker than Demo's and a voice high and sweet. "Ye brought company."

"Aye, Maw," he says back to her. I close the trunk and peer over at the small black woman, holding a probing cane with large, round black sunglasses on. She's wearing a pink dress and has to be half a foot smaller than me. How did such a tiny woman create such a large man? We walk to the front door with Demo after he takes my things, and he puts his hand on her back. "Mum, this be Miss Fredrickson an' her wean, Salvador. Pyro's also chum. This is me Maw, Tilly DeGroot."

"Ah, just Mona is fine, Tavish," I whisper to him, knowing how some of the team's parents are about bringing work home.

She raises her cane and hits me over the head, then Salvador. I rub my forehead, flinching as she slowly lowers it and gently taps me this time. "Wee yin, haud movin', I'm trying tae measure how tall ye be." She taps the top of my head and then Salvador again, bopping Pyro for good measure and whacking her son just because she can. "Aye, anno, how tall yeez are now. Tavish, ye said 'wean?'"

"Brother, Mum," he tells.

"Oh, yes, I'm not married," I quickly clarify. "He's my little brother, Mrs. DeGroot."

"Ah," she takes a moment. "Welcome hame," she hoots as she turns around and goes into the house, Demo holding his hand out to let us in. It's not too fancy in here, feeling homey and modest. Demo doesn't seem to be the kind to splurge on himself, so the interior of his house looks the way I somewhat expected it to. It has a rustic look with browns and reds, the kitchen being a noticeable and clean white beyond the sitting room. A hallway is off the left, and stairs lead upwards from that way, too. We leave our things by the door for now as Mrs. DeGroot makes her way into the kitchen. "Take aff yeez shins, I wanna ken how yeez walks."