Declan closed his eyes, a deep sigh exhaled. Not that closing his eyes ever helped stop the voices. In truth, he was used to it by now, though one tended to want at least five seconds of privacy during their day. He lowered the newspaper, making a show of removing his phone, checking the number that was not there, then pushing talk, the phone then lifted to his ear.
"Muldoon." He said quietly into the phone, his gaze subtly shifting about the small sidewalk cafe. Not that a man talking on the phone would look unusual, nor the fact that he was not dressed to stand out. A button down shirt, untucked, the sleeves rolled up, faded jeans and Timberland boots. Just another guy, doing normal things. It was much easier to fit in here than in his village of Churchtown in Cork. But the conversation was far from normal. The two girls at the next table made a show of not looking at him, though peripherally, Declan noticed. He felt this should please him, or at least amuse him. Perhaps a few years ago. And who knows, perhaps again, should he finally reach a point in his life where they would leave him be.
"I understand." Declan said into the phone, shifting to lean back in his chair, absently adding another spoon of sugar to his tea, stirring it slowly. "No, you listen. I can't...no, I won't help you if you take that tone with me. Slow down, and start from the beginning."
Declan made a show of concentration, the occasional nod and shifting of his position, the phone held to his ear. He lifted the cup to sip, though the rim never made it to his lips. He paused, a slow sliding of his gaze towards the waiter who was asking the gentleman three tables away if he needed another refill.
"Him?" Declan asked in almost a whisper, trying not to look directly at the man. "He's just a kid. You're sure it was...alright, alright, you're sure. I get that." The lilting brogue of his voice had the girls at the next table whispering to themselves, giggling softly, and again looking but not looking at him. He never understood the appeal of his accent, when it was them who had one. He found himself wishing again that he was pleased by the attention. Even if he did manage to ask one of them out, it would end the same way all of them had. He would grow bored, or they would begin to think he was just weird. One day, perhaps a girl would come along who appreciated lengthy silences, or distant stares. And one day he might drop a third testicle.
"Let's just...take it easy, alright? I'll look into...I'll look into it." He said a bit firmly. "I promise. No...not right now. Trust me, alright? Because you don't have much choice, and it was you who came to me, weren't it." His gaze continued to discretely follow the movements of the waiter, a slight furrow to his brow. He was hard pressed to picture the kid he was looking at, who couldn't be more than 18 commiting the acts he was being told about, but then again, nothing surprised him anymore. He made sure not to transmit his doubt, lest he be granted a vision by his new friend as proof. Those hurt. Badly. And they were difficult to unsee. Declan had learned that the hard way.
"Yes, I will be in touch." he said, pressing the disconnect button on the phone, sliding it back into his shirt pocket, and wishing he could end the conversation that easily. All it meant was the public display was over. The conversation would continue until she decided to stop talking, or until he could find a way to tune them out. He gulped down the remainder of his tea, slid two dollars from his pocket onto the table, wiped his mouth with his napkin as he lifted to his feet, the napkin dropped beside his empty teacup. He stretched his arms over his head with a soft groan as he quickly scanned the block for a good vantage point. The small park a half a block away across the street would have to do. He lifted his newspaper, for he would need it, and pondered buying a magazine from the stand on the way, for who knew how long this would last.
Upon reaching the park, he found a bench facing the right direction, and lowered upon it, ready to wait. The newspaper lifted, unfolded, though not focused upon as he let his gaze remain upon the cafe down the way. A look left and right, he was alone enough for his tastes, the phone remained in his pocket.
"Alright. Do you want punishment or justice. The two aren't always the same. We can do this legally, and of course run the risk of your justice system being worked to his advantage, or we could do this the simple but dangerous way. Well, dangerous to me. Which is my second question. What can you give me?" Declan asked into the paper. If anyone happened to be looking, he could easily be reading aloud, though there weren't any passersby close enough to care about a possibly insane Irishman.
"Because the satisfaction of justice, while a noble thing, does not pay me bills." He said in answer, though quickly lifted his hand in a quieting gesture. It was hard to recall that none else could hear the now shrill raised voice. "Alright, alright. Point taken. Not every person has a buried nestegg somewhere. I get that. Fine. But keep me in mind if you recollect somethin, aye? I know you're not going anywhere." he said with a slight smirk, though another sigh escaped. "Don't worry. He'll suffer. Before it's over, he'll suffer. How old are you, anyways?" He asked curiously. A slow shake of his head given, he tsked quietly as he again regarded the distant waiter as he chatted up the same two girls that had been looking at Declan. "Pity. I'm sorry, yeah. But don't worry. He's soon to be out of the raping and murdering game." Declan said with a tone of determination in his voice. His brow lifted as he noticed one of the girls writing something on a piece of paper and handing it to the waiter. Another shake of his head given, Declan nodded. "And it best end right soon."
