That gets his attention.
“Keep talking dirty to me, baby,” Dean says when his eyes start coming back to life, “I like it.”
We’re standing in line to get something to eat. We have walked around the whole terrain to see all they have to offer, and the boys have settled on a stand that sells all kinds of hot meats. It is a popular stand, so we have to wait for a bit. Our previous stop was the mead booth, and currently we’re all armed with a different flavor of mead. I’ve opted for a vanilla one, while Jonah has picked a cherry flavored kind. O was drinking water, being our designated driver that day. Without an umbrella as a reward for not drinking it was a lot less fun. But meats and mead was a match made in heaven.
“Cool outfit,” a guy dressed up as a court jester says as he approaches me. He’s not standing in line with us, and he walks up to me solely to tell me about my outfit. His outfit looks awesome as well. It’s a dark blue and silver Fools outfit, complete with shoes that have a curled-up nose and a fool’s hat with little silver bells. It’s made of expensive material as well. Going to these fairs all the time has given me some knowledge about what looks expensive but really isn’t, and what looks mundane but actually is good quality.
His face is bare beneath his fool’s hat. I guess you don't really need face paint when you’re dressed as a fool. Anyone could get away with it, given the right attitude.
“Thanks, yours looks good as well.”
He makes a funny bow. While he bends down, his eyes focus on my cleavage, and they don’t come back up again when he’s done with bowing. I like a little bit of attention, certainly when it’s from a nice-looking guy, but the whole situation makes me kind of uncomfortable.
“You sure she’s wearing a nice outfit?” O asks the jester in a not so friendly tone. His words are short and there’s no kindness to his voice. “You’re staring at what is definitely not her costume.”
The jester tears his eyes away from my boobs and squints at O.
“What the fuck are you doing here? You’re not even in costume.”
Wow, that’s very out of character, his jesterlike persona is nowhere to be found.
O points at his sticker. “Sure I am.”
I hold myself back in saying ‘I told you so’ to O, because he’s actually helping me by telling creep-jester off. But I make a mental note to tell him sometime after this encounter is over that he should’ve put on a costume. The conversation between the jester and O makes something change in the atmosphere. It’s almost touchable.
“What’s your problem?” jester asks.
“My problem? You’re the one walking up to a woman you don’t know to start staring at her boobs and acting creepy. It’s kind of improper to be tenting your pants in public, buddy.”
Did he just say that? Really? I’d not noticed that happening, but apparently O has. It makes me even more happy he’s sticking up for me. While I don’t normally experience anything like this at fairs, it makes me wonder if it’s because of my own naivety. How many guys have acted like creeps around me while I haven’t noticed it because I was too polite to think anything about it?
The jester, who I now mentally refer to as The Fool, doesn’t like O’s comment. Must suck to be him. His demeanour changes and he pushes himself against O, who puffs up and gets twice as broad as he usually is.
“What did you just say?”
“Dude, just fucking listen. Start acting like a decent human being and start treating women with some respect.”
The Fool steps back and tries to hit O, but he manages to evade the punch by stepping to the side. He does immediately step back in, and punches The Fool. His fist finds its mark and lands on his jaw. It’s happening so fast I don’t really understand what’s going on, but I can almost taste the adrenaline in the air. I wait until I hear the sounds of punches like you do in movies, but the real thing is less loud. I do, however, hear The Fool’s little bells tingle as he gets punched, and it must be the cutest hit in the history of punches. Somehow, I expect this to turn into a full fight, where The Fool and O suddenly know all kinds of cool fighting moves, but that just ain’t real life, now is it? Somewhere in my mind I hear my mother saying that I shouldn’t stand next to a fight, so I don’t get pulled into it, but this is O, and the fight is about my boobs, so I’m kind of obligated to stay there. It’s boob-honor, you know? Gil is pulling my arm to make sure he’s standing in front of me and both Jonah and Dean head over to O, to help him. But he doesn’t need any help. O is rubbing the knuckles of his fist with his other hand while he gives The Fool a nasty look. His shoulders are tense, and he looks like he wants to punch the creep again.
The Fool is standing a few steps back, rubbing his cheek as he gives O a poisonous look. He keeps his mouth shut though and after a moment he takes off. That’s something I don’t expect to happen. Somehow I thought this would escalate into a full-blown fight. Like we’re about to re-enact a whole battle. It’s a little bit of a deception if I’m being honest.
“Look who’s the one that doesn’t wear a costume now, you fucking fool,” O says while the creep walks away as he keeps rubbing the spot O has hit.
O walks over to me, draping an arm over my shoulder, pulling me close to him. It’s familiar and weird at the same time, because I’m used to being this close to him, but not to him being this protective and possessive over me. I just let it happen, it’s nice to be in his arms.
I don’t exactly understand what has just happened, but my honor’s very defended.
We end up skipping the line for the meat. People are staring at us after the altercation with The Fool and it affects my appetite. Jonah sees my unease and makes us leave. Dean scores a very un-renaissancy hotdog and seems perfectly happy with it. I don’t take the chef for a fast-food kind of guy and in the short amount of time I’ve known him I’ve never seen him eat any, but who am I to judge people with crappy taste in food? If anything, it makes me feel more related to the tall blonde Asgardian.
We’re scouring the booths with merchandise when we find a stand with all kinds of weapons. They’re not real, they’re for cosplay, but the stand we’re standing in front of has really good ones. Gil picks up a flog and turns it around in his hands. He looks at the price tag, weighs it in his hand and starts negotiating with the seller before eventually buying it.
“Why did you just buy a flog?” I ask him as he walks back with it, looking very pleased with himself.
“Do you know what a good flog usually costs?” he asks me while showing me his new purchase. “This,” he says as he waves it in front of my face, “is extremely good quality and costs half of what I usually pay.”
“You usually pay for flogs?” I ask, sounding every bit as inexperienced as I seem to be.
“You do realise flogs are used as sex toys, right? And you do realize what kind of business I run?”