He held his knife as if it didn't matter in the least.
As if he were daring her to move past him, or to resume her strange exercises in the sun-dappled clearing.
Francine wasn't sure what to do. But her citylife training served her well and came to her in a flash.
Quick: Attitude to escape notice by Crazy: Eyes down, head slightly inclined. Eyes averted, but watchful. Watch the nose and the hips. Start to walk quickly and purposefully.
"Hello" She said, walking quickly and purposely past him.
He flung the knife away from him as disinterestedly as it were a piece of ear wax. It crossed in front of her, a slight wind bent her eyelashes. It went THRUNG! into a tree across the clearing into a red and white target. (it stuck right in the middle)
"Oh" Francine said, "you scared me. But you're just like target-throwing or whatever! cool! I've never tried that, but I guess I would..."
She realized that she was babbling insanely, but she couldn't stop. More citylife training, the need to appear crazier than the crazy's. Mixed with a little bit of submissive cop-bowing.
"Well," she said edging away. "Nice meeting you and all, but I'm exploring the GreenBelt, so-"
"I know what you're doing," he said "And I don't like it."
"Why? What?" she sputtered.
"You don't know where you're going, you've got a stick for protection, I guess, you're probably going to get lost and die out her anyway, and you have one of those stupid Pocket Oracle's! I hate those things!"
"So what?" Francine was riled and no mistake. To insult her P.O. and say she would die out here in the same breath, it was too much.
"So WHAT. It was nice meeting you Mr. Knife-thrower, but-"
"And we didn't even meet, that's the most ridiculous thing."
"Oh my god!"
"I've seen citydwellers like you out here before, and I'm sorry to say that it's kind of pathetic. Wandering around out here like it's your backyard. And a stick!"
He stepped forward, dusting off his pants.
"That's why you should hire me."
"Hire you for what?"
"As your guide. I'm about done practicing, anyway." He pulled another knife from somewhere on his person and lobbed it at the tree. It stuck, quivering.
"Are you...expensive?" Francine asked.
"I'll tell you what. You can trade me your Pocket Oracle for my services."
"I thought you hated those"
"I want to get it so I can smash it!"
She reconsidered ever even considering.
"Ummm, maybe I don't need...and anyway you called me a pathetic citydweller so why should you care about guiding me? I'm probably just going to turn around here anyway, I've seen enough-"
"Oh don't do that! Come on, I'll lead you out through the Oldest Forest, don't you want to see it?"
"Oh yes, I've heard of that place!"
"So trade me and let's go."
So she handed him the P.O. and he took it, stuffing it down snugly into his pocket. He consulted the sky and the light wind, and they turned eastward to see the Oldest Forest.
"But what's your name?" Francine asked, touching his elbow.
"Mr. Knife-thrower, to you."
She felt trapped in one of those movies they showed in school, an absurdly sarcastic and witty buddy picture of the last century. Was having a guide such a great idea?
"Ok, Mr. Knife-thrower, can you stop?"
He stopped and they faced each other.
"If you're going to be my guide then I'm like..your employer right? Your boss?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Do you want to give me an order?"
"Yes I do actually. Try not to be such a dick. Don't walk so fast. And tell me your name. I'm Francine." She held out her hand, totally prepared to have it sliced off at the wrist if one of his knives appeared.
But he grasped her hand and said "Ok. I'll try."
"And....?" She asked.
"It's Freddy. Don't laugh."
"I won't. I wouldn't! But...our names kind of..."
And they both laughed. He patted the Pocket Oracle and they started walking.
