❤ The Girl in His Loft ❤ Private: Cass is Busy

Marcus Faire ||17|| Daydreamer, Transparent, Diligent

It didn't usually take Marcus long to fall asleep during a spring storm, but for some reason, it was extremely difficult that night. Never frightened of thunder or lightning, there was no rational reason to explain his body's reluctance to shut down. Feeling drowsy and yet also wide awake, he sat on front of his window, looking out onto the fields below. From this angle, he had a decent view of the barn, as well as the only road, in all its muddy glory, that connected his family to the outside world. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that there was more of Tennessee to see past the fields that surrounded him, trapping Marcus in. This isolation was his future, his legacy, the most sprawling family heirloom he could ever dream to receive.

Marcus looked forward to seeing where his life would lead him, but at the same time, he dreaded being stuck here for the rest of his life. He was the only one of his two siblings that could possibly be seen staying. He had an older sister, Cara, who had taken off to college in Chicago and would never return of her own volition; as well as a younger brother, Drake, who yearned to manage more than cows once he was older. Being the fawned over middle child, Marcus was the main candidate for continuing the family business. Not that he had many qualms about it, but it was oppressive to think that this was all he had to look forward to.

Who was he to talk, though? For all of the hours that he spent dozing off and daydreaming, he didn't have actual aspirations of his own. He was like fish, or a factory made cookie: mindlessly devoted, with no personality.

Feeling pensive, with eyelids drooping, Marcus continued to stare out his window, watching blindly. Even though he could see the barn perfectly, even though there were flashes of lightning to make any intrusion conspicuous, Marcus somehow managed to miss noticing a girl running inside of it.

Finally, he parted from his needless sentinel and climbed into bed. It took over an hour of tossing and turning before he finally won against the inexplicable pull to remain awake, but even once asleep, his mind never truly settled down. Instead of resigning to quiet oblivion for a number of hours, Marcus ended up bobbing in and out of sleep, acting like a buoy on the ocean.

After not even five vain hours spent in restlessness, Marcus finally relented. Not yet fully aware, he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. The bright, florescent light above him stung, so he spent a solid six minutes going about his business with closed or half lidded eyes. Though having been sleepy the night before, and still not feeling the slightest bit refreshed now, it baffled him as to why he felt so restless. Hoping that coffee would do the trick, Marcus pulled on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and windbreaker, then made his way downstairs. Before leaving the room, he glanced at the clock and caught the time.

Not even five thirty a.m. There was a chance that his dad wouldn't even be up yet.

The rest of the house was quiet, so Marcus tried his best to tread lightly. The carpeted hallway was easy to traverse without making too much of a racket, but the stairs of the old house groaned as he made his way to the main floor. After wincing and trying to refrain from waking the entire house all the way down, Marcus tiptoed into the kitchen. Since no one had yet been up to make the coffee, he would have to be the one to do it. And, unfortunately, that meant waiting for it to be ready. Sighing, Marcus started up the coffee pot, then pulled on some boots and slipped outside onto the front porch.

The air was clear and fresh, product of the rainfall the night before. Marcus breathed deeply, the brisk temperature already working to further stimulate his lethargic mind. "Time to wake up Pup," he said to himself, his voice sounding loud in the stillness of the morning. Walking down the porch steps to the muddy ground, Marcus headed the doghouse, which sat about six feet away from the barn.

Pup was the family's golden retriever, which had grown so much in recent years that Marcus's mom had forbade her from entering the house. It was a rough transition, but Pup hadn't remained wounded for long, accepting the doghouse as home. Not that it was a shabby place to sleep, of course; Marcus and Cara had made it as luxurious as possible, making it large in expectation of further growth of their dog. Once upon a time, when they had first gotten the pet, Pup had been aptly named. It had been a small thing, just a puppy, and a young, uncreative Marcus had dubbed her accordingly. Of course, time went on, and now Pup's name falsely advertised her age.

Even before Marcus made it to the doghouse, Pup was on her feet and barking, happily greeting her human friend. "Hey, Pup!" Marcus called out, allowing a wide grin to touch his face. Good thing they lived in the middle of nowhere; if Pup were a city dog, they'd be getting all sorts of calls from the neighbors, telling them to restrain her. She was loud and excitable, becoming an annoyance to most. To Marcus, it was simply endearing.

OOC: Sort of rushed, I'm going to dinner and wanted to get this done for you before I left xD

OOC: You're fine! And thank you so much, I thought it was terrible, so it's good to know that I can still pull through xD

IC: Once Pup's collar was unclipped from the leash staked into the ground, she was rocketing around like an oversized fly, dancing about in complex, esoteric patterns around Marcus. As she ran about, she flung mud in all directions, spattering her owner's pants. She barked up at the male, and despite how dirty he was becoming which even being in the vicinity of Pup, he laughed. "Yes, I'm happy to see you too, girl!" Marcus reached down, and Pup came up to sniff his hand. Her tail wagged enthusiastically as she earned a pat on the head, sitting down on one of the few solid patches of grass left. Between the effects of winter and digging paws, not much green remained in the vicinity of the dog house. "Man, you're going to need a bath later. Can't have a pretty dog like you remain muddy for too long." Not a task he necessarily wanted to pursue, but it was an inevitable requirement. He loved rain and the mud that it created in its wake, but only when it helped the farmland; put it on dogs and clothes, and it became an annoyance.

Straightening, Marcus headed over to the barn. Obediently and without being bid to follow, Pup followed, the tags on her collar jingling around her neck as she bounced happily along. If there was one thing to be said about dogs, it was that they were the most optimistic creatures in perhaps the entire world. That, and, like children, they seemed to have an overwhelming and infinite amount of energy stored under all that fur. "Let's go check up on May and Bea," Marcus said, glancing down at Pup. In response, she gave him that omnipresent lolling smile. "Living on a farm has turned me insane, hasn't it, Pup? I can't tell if you can understand me, or if I'm just talking to myself." Pulling open the door, Marcus shook his head, feeling an equal amount of humor and suspicion. "At least I haven't started talking to the seeds yet, eh? Do me a favor and bite me if I ever try and hold up a conversation with the tractor, though. That may well be the epitome of crazy." Whether or not Pup understood, she barked, as though promising to hold up her end of the deal.

Not planning to stay long, Marcus let the door hang open behind him. He walked in, and was immediately met with the lazy moo of one of the cows, penned in to the left side of the barn. As if it had been an insult, Marcus stuck out his tongue at the cows, and continued walking past them, heading towards the back, aiming for a small cage set on the floor. Pup stopped following him, and started to sniff around the entrance. This not being unusual behavior for a dog, especially the ever curious Pup, Marcus ignored it and kneeled down at the cage.

In it were two rabbits, both with velvet floppy ears. The first, May, was pure black with a mask of white; the second, Bea, was an equal mixture of a light brown and white. While teasing open the small entrance of the cage, Pup began barking. "Jealous much?" Marcus asked, reaching in a hand and scooping out Bea. The docile rabbit didn't protest against his grip, her little nose moving quickly, as if she were hyperventilating. Rabbits were such nervous creatures, and Marcus had always retained a special place in his heart for them. Closing the hatch and standing, Marcus turned back to the golden retriever, who hadn't ceased barking. "What is it now, girl? Find a mouse?"

Upon closer inspection into the situation, however, Marcus knew that it was something different than usual. Pup was focused on the ladder leading up into the loft, looking like a crazed dog yapping at a squirrel that had climbed up a tree. Something told him that this squirrel would be far bigger. Knowing Pup to be a very intelligent creature, Marcus made his way over to her, straining his neck to look up. Frowning, Marcus secured his grip on Bea with one hand, patted Pup's head gratefully, then started to ascend the ladder, using a single hand to skillfully climb.

From up in the loft, there was the sound of movement, the rustling of hay. If there had been any doubt before, it was decimated, vanishing like smoke. Maybe Marcus should have been scared, apprehensive about what he would find, but there wasn't a drop of worry in him. No animal that could pose any threat would have been able to scale up the ladder, and if it was a person, how much of a concern could they really be? A murderer wouldn't have come into the barn, after all; they would have slain him and his family as they slept, leaving behind no sign of struggle and eliminating the chance of the victims raising an alarm. What good would it do for a con to bunk up in a loft full of hay in the middle of nowhere, after all?

So, perhaps full of folly, Marcus steadily made his way up the ladder. He didn't say anything, for he was uncertain as to what to say. It wasn't every day that something like this occurred, so he had no prior knowledge and experience to lean onto. Down below, Pup had gone on to growl, a low sound full of foreboding. It was always reassuring to know that if something bad happened to him, the loyal golden retriever would be there to exact revenge.

But, again, Marcus didn't anticipate that anything would go awry.

Reaching the top of the ladder, Marcus popped his head slowly up and looked around. There, right on front of him, hugging the wall in terror, was a girl. She looked rather terrible: sleepless nights clung to her, producing an exhausted cloud about her; her clothes, while once of a nicer quality, were in need of a wash; and, over all, she, herself, was in desperate need for a shower. Indeed, she certainly didn't appear to be anyone of malevolent intentions. If anything, she just looked like a desperate soul that had been figuratively thrown under a bus by life.

Bewildered, Marcus tightened his one handed grip on the ladder, and openly stared at the girl. What the hell was she doing here? Even greater a question than that, what was he supposed to do about it? Even though he had nothing to do with her presence here, something about having a stranger in his very own barn, and a girl, nonetheless, felt extremely scandalous to Marcus. Despite himself, his face turned bright red, and he regretted not putting Bea back in her cage. He was having difficulties keeping himself from plummeting back to the ground, let alone sustaining a firm hold onto the rabbit. "W-Who are you, exactly?" he managed to ask, stuttering and stammering like a fool. Which, considering the circumstances, he didn't feel embarrassed for openly displaying how caught off guard he was. Slowly, cautiously, he began to climb the rest of the way up, pulling himself up into the loft. It came to him that she might be in trouble, somehow. Perhaps her car had broken down on one of the nearby roads, and she had come to the closest place to find refuge. If it had been late when she reached their house, he could understand why she would have come here instead of waking his family up, especially looking like this. Adopting a tone that he used while speaking to frightened animals -- which she so did look like, in this current moment -- Marcus added uncertainly, "Are you okay?"

OOC: haha this is bad, school makes me so weary physically as well as mentally

IC: Most people, when asked about their wellbeing, tend to fall back on the eternally self reliant answer of 'I'm fine.' This girl, however, didn't. In admitting that she wasn't okay, there were two ways that could be told in explanation: 1) she was a very honest person, unafraid to speak the truth, or 2) extremely desperate. Given the situation, it seemed as though the latter of the two was the true answer. Along with her appearance and the mere sound of her voice, the second of the two explanations was becoming more and more likely.

"Okay. . . . okay. A pretty obvious question, I suppose," Marcus started hesitantly, taking a seat across from the girl. The hay crackled as he settled down, filling up the space between them in place of words. Feeling that his grip was tightening far too much, he released Bea to his lap. Seemingly terrified of having climbed all the way up to the loft, or perhaps smelling the presence of a new human being, she didn't move, just lingered where she was placed. In all reality, this girl looked to be reacting in the exact same manner, cowering back behind her bag as if it were a shield. Maybe he, too, should be frightened of her, but she was far from imposing. "It's okay," Marcus said, holding out a hand. If there was one overriding emotion that was tugging at him, it was indubitably a feeling similar to working with animals. A soothing voice and a steady hand worked on cattle, and, surprising to some, could be used to calm humans, as well. "I'm not going to hurt you. And if you're runnin' from something bad, I'm not going to just turn you in, either."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Marcus began to seriously wonder if that was it. He had heard stories about runaways, from a variety of books and tv shows. Though fictional they were, that sort of thing also happened in real life, as well. How this girl had ended up in his barn, in the middle of nowhere, was beyond him. It made him weary of making assumptions as to why she was here, since few found themselves at his house by accident. Perhaps the storm had picked her up and deposited her here, by some freak happening. Or, beyond that, perhaps this was a near X-Files occurrence, and she was an alien sent to test humanity! If he looked in the field, would he find a crop circle? His mind spinning to impossible situations, and didn't realize that he was spacing off, staring at her.

OOC: I'm sorry, I can't seem to catch a break between school and homework and rehearsals x,D

IC: With that promise, the girl seemed to become instantly relieved. "Yeah," Marcus said, pulling back his outstretched hand and resting it on top of Bea. The rabbit's soft fur and incessant heart beat was endearing, and even though he was in an extremely unprecedented situation, he felt a tug at his heart. Why were animals so darn adorable? If he found a rabbit in his barn that was in need of some love and assistance, he wouldn't hesitate to give it a home and care for it. It was hard to feel the same sense of obligation towards a human, however. It certainly didn't help that he had no clue what the girl's intent was in this. If she was a criminal, something would have to be done about it; if she was a runaway, the end solution could well be more complex than it might appear up front. "Sure. What- What happened? Are you lost?" Marcus hesitated, his face hard with indecisiveness. "Did your car break down or something?"

It came to him that asking such questions, and continuing to press for answers, could be a bad course of action. It was hard to think about things from her perspective, since he didn't know her; everything from her identity to her intent were unknown to him. Changing his tactics, he asked, "What's your name? I'm Marcus." Tentatively, he held out his hand to shake. It wasn't very often that he met someone new, but that was customary for greeting someone, especially a new acquaintance, right?

Eventually, he was going to have to find his father and tell him about this. Especially if this girl was a threat of any sort, or was in trouble and needed help, it was inevitable that he would have to know. Marcus's father wasn't too hardhearted, but he was definitely tough, a hardened character. He was the king of this kingdom, and having someone randomly appear in his barn wouldn't sit too well with him. Depending on what her reasoning was, Marcus might have to convince him not to act too hastily.

But, that would come later. For now, Marcus focused his attention upon the girl, not appearing too openly amiable, but also trying to seem nonthreatening.

Marcus wasn't certain what he expected her to do, but he guessed that he couldn't blame her for being timid of making any physical contact at all. He let his hand fall back down, trying to make the motion seem as nonchalant as possible, hoping that his face didn't turn red out of any sort of embarrassment. More likely than not, it was still mimicking a tomato from the pure shock of finding a random girl up in the loft. "Jenny," he said, echoing her. Repeating names helped him to remember them, and he didn't want to simply forget hers due to a slip of his memory. Then, for the sake of perhaps breaking some of the tension, he added, "That was my first chicken's name." A useless fact, not to mention one that would make her more uncomfortable than anything, but who was he if not awkward?

Focusing down on Bea while Jenny spoke, Marcus listened to her recounting of what had happened. One of the first things that popped up to him was the fact that she was being very vague. A new start from what? Where did she come from, that she thought that making a new start in the middle of nowhere would be a good idea? He knew as well, if not better, than anyone that the only thing to be found in this place were fields, fields, and more fields. Jenny also hadn't admitted to having had her car break down, which any normal person would have under normal circumstances. Even if he, personally, couldn't help her with it if it had mechanical issues, his father seemed to know everything and could easily help. Marcus didn't even stop to consider the option that she had walked all the way here, since making it to his house on foot was extremely unlikely.

So, in a word, her story seemed fishy to Marcus. It just didn't seem to be fully honest and sincere. Luckily for Jenny, Marcus wasn't the type to press, even if the full explanation may well be considered to be his business.

"I guess the storm was pretty bad last night," Marcus conceded, nodding slightly. "But why did you come into the barn? No one in my family is the sort to turn away someone who needs help. You should've just come to the house and knocked. Only someone hard hearted would have turned you away." He gave Jenny an inquisitive look, wondering why she hadn't just done that. He wasn't about to say it out loud, but only someone with a hidden intent would choose straw over the hope of an actual mattress.

Okay, that made sense, probably more than the rest of what Jenny had shared thus far. Not every place, even in the U.S., was as laid back, for lack of a better term, as a country house. There were days that Marcus's family hadn't locked the door after leaving the house, even if they were going to be gone overnight. Sometimes it was due to forgetfulness, other times out of pure disregard. Who in their right mind would want to drive many miles to break into an old house in the middle of the country? The most expensive thing they owned was probably the animals and the farming equipment, and they kept the barn locked up to keep the former from escaping.

If you went to busier cities, though, security couldn't be so lax. It only made sense, since a higher population meant a higher chance of criminal activity. But even then, the police couldn't always get there in time, and locks were only designed to keep good people from entering. At any rate, it was safe to say that Jenny was from a bigger city, perhaps one with a higher crime rate, as well.

Marcus didn't want to jump to conclusions -- he refused to! -- but he wondered if she was the target or the criminal back home.

"A bother? You'd be giving my mom a field day right now. After my sister left for college, she's been awfully down about only having boys around the house." Marcus smiled lightly, not saying exactly what he was thinking. If he made any mention about how terrible Jenny looked right now, he'd most likely offend her, and that wasn't exactly what he wished to do. Granted, he didn't know too much about girls, but if Jenny was anything like Clara, even looking at her in the wrong way could make her irritated.

Girls. Weren't most guys his age supposed to be dating, flirting, and doing that sort of thing? And yet here he was, all but physically chained to this farm in the obscure middle of Tennessee, homeschooled and only getting the chance to talk to one when she suspiciously appeared in his loft. Everything about this was just odd.

"Look, you should come with me," Marcus finally said, tilting his head slightly in a vague gesture towards his house. “My mom would kill me if she found out I had kept someone from cleaning up and getting some breakfast.” And his dad would kill him if he let a stranger just up and leave without his knowing.

OOC: If this doesn't make sense, I'm sorry, didn't have the chance to proof read it

IC: With the utmost of certainty, Marcus nodded. "I don't know if I've been so sure about anything in my life," he said, his lips turning up into an earnest smile. Even if he wasn't, he knew that he would rather take the chance than face any future consequences. His mom was tough, no doubt about it; a person had to be made of steel in order to life on a farm like they did. Her stretch of capabilities seemed to only end in the kitchen, where pots and pans became little more than rocket science. That was all Marcus's mom seemed to struggle with, however. She could do anything in the field as well as any man, and, on top of that, took care of the house and kids like a traditional housewife. Even beyond all that, she also homeschooled Marcus and his brother.

Drake appreciated the opportunity to work at an accelerated rate, something only possible through the coursework obtained via the system of homeschooling. He could read a book and understand it with nary an explanation, eliminating the need for an educated teacher to direct him. The closest school to their house couldn't have offered the higher programs necessary for Drake, but even though he learned and thrived through homeschooling, he still disdained being stuck at home all day, every day. Marcus also felt the benefit in being homeschooled, but whereas his brother was a genius in every subject, he was as slow as a snail. In fact, the very reason their mother had even begun teaching them at home was due to his inability to keep up in school. After failing his math and science classes for two years in a row, even with extra help and in remedial classes, Marcus's mom decided to take his education into her own hands. From seventh grade on, Marcus had barely left the house. Due to that, his level of comprehension in once esoteric subjects began to increase. His grades also began to prove that he was doing better.

On the other hand, whatever ability he had previously held to socialize had greatly diminished. Marcus didn't mind having only his family and his farm for company, since he was already a daydreamer by nature. The switch between public and home schooling didn't change the number of friends he had, at least, since that number was extremely low already.

Now, years later, he was suffering for that. Not only was he remembered by many to be a stereotypically daft country boy from the south, but now he was struggling to not make a fool of himself to Jenny. She could probably tell how out of place he felt, how unequipped he was for a conversation with a girl, let alone one that came into his life under very, very unusual circumstances.

But, all of that aside, there was a decision to be made, and Marcus wasn't going to make any big ones without telling his parents and letting Jenny recover from a night caught out in the rain. "C'mon." He scooped up Bea, slid over to the ladder, and began climbing down. There was nowhere for Jenny to go, so he didn't look to see if she was following him, simply assumed that she was.

While Jenny continued to descend the ladder, Marcus went over to the rabbit cage and returned Bea back to its safety. Even after wrangling the tricky door open and depositing the small mammal back inside, he was still able to return back to the ladder as Jenny was just reaching the ground. Having spent his entire life scampering up to the loft and back down again, he felt a brief spurt of superior disdain, wondering why she was so slow at something so simple. The feeling passed as soon as it had come, however. This girl was obviously out of her element here; her clothes, though dirty, and past experience with security attested to that fact. Besides, people who had always been good at math had said similar things to Marcus, often out loud and to his face. Words could sting.

"Don't be so nervous," Marcus said as he started to walk out of the barn, giving Jenny a mildly amused look. "If anyone should be worried, it should be more. I'm the one bringing a girl home for the first time." It was supposed to be a joke, a light hearted jest to get Jenny to loosen up, but it failed miserably. At least, Marcus imagined that it would. As soon as it escaped from his mouth, he cringed a little, wondering why his filter had failed to catch that before allowing his tongue to bring it to life.

And, still, he wondered why Jenny was so utterly on edge. He refused to believe that she was some convict, a criminal to be careful of; evidence, sparse as it was, pointed far away from that explanation. The conclusion which Marcus feared most, even more than the possibility of being stabbed and left to die in the middle of nowhere, was that Jenny had been abused and decided to run away from home. As though just thinking about that as a likelihood made it a reality, Marcus could feel sympathy well up within him.

Just as Marcus was shutting the door to the barn, Pup popped out from the swinging door like an arrow from a bow. She must have gotten preoccupied while Marcus was up in the loft, and, in full honesty, he had completely forgotten about her. Pup hadn't forgotten about Jenny, though; as soon as she was out of the barn, the lively dog was on top of the stranger, sniffing her suspiciously with a wet nose.