Post by raptor-chick on Apr 15, 2006 23:45:52 GMT -5
And then he saw him. He could not have been more than five feet tall. His neatly trimmed hair and beard had long gone white with age, though his sky blue eyes were still bright and alert and his face was not too deeply creased. He had only a slight belly, mostly hidden under a perfectly tailored navy blue suit. A khaki trench coat was draped over his shoulders, also of very good quality. A wide brimmed khaki hat was sitting on the antique cherry-red table beside him. A small feather was stuck into the blue hat band. Held across the little old man's lap was a bamboo cane, topped with an ornately carved eagle's head, the pale wood worn slightly and yellowed with use. As he turned it, the brass tip on the bottom glinted in the light streaming in from the large French windows. The little old man looked perfectly harmless, someone's grandfather or rich, eccentric old uncle. But something... Something about his expression, some tiny little nuance made him look sinister... His complete relaxation and ease around Matt was something so bizarre and out of place.
Most humans should have been at least a little afraid, taken aback, something! After all, Matt was a tall, muscled young man, his tanned skin slashed with scars; some pale with age, others pink and new. He wore nothing but an armored loincloth, hanging down to his knees, and a pair of lace-up leather sandals. A pair of silver grey arm guards were fastened on both forearms. There was no obvious way to remove them and they looked like they were much more. Which, of course, they were. But that didn't matter now. The little old man's cronies had disabled both the twin blades that shot from his right one and the bomb that was on the left. There he was, brown eyes glaring out, sun-streaked, shoulder length brown hair escaping from the tie. He had lived and trained among alien creatures and was doing his darndest to silently threaten the man, but to no avail. This made him more than a little uneasy; this man, this little old man, was someone truly dangerous.
((When it is slow at work, I like to make up little stories about the people I see. This one is of a little old dude that comes virtually everyday to buy coffee at Arby's, where I work. I dunno... He just creeps me out, so I made a description that echoes that. Mmmyep... So tell me what you think!
Oh, by the way, Matt is a character from my Predator fanfics. I loves him.))
Most humans should have been at least a little afraid, taken aback, something! After all, Matt was a tall, muscled young man, his tanned skin slashed with scars; some pale with age, others pink and new. He wore nothing but an armored loincloth, hanging down to his knees, and a pair of lace-up leather sandals. A pair of silver grey arm guards were fastened on both forearms. There was no obvious way to remove them and they looked like they were much more. Which, of course, they were. But that didn't matter now. The little old man's cronies had disabled both the twin blades that shot from his right one and the bomb that was on the left. There he was, brown eyes glaring out, sun-streaked, shoulder length brown hair escaping from the tie. He had lived and trained among alien creatures and was doing his darndest to silently threaten the man, but to no avail. This made him more than a little uneasy; this man, this little old man, was someone truly dangerous.
((When it is slow at work, I like to make up little stories about the people I see. This one is of a little old dude that comes virtually everyday to buy coffee at Arby's, where I work. I dunno... He just creeps me out, so I made a description that echoes that. Mmmyep... So tell me what you think!
Oh, by the way, Matt is a character from my Predator fanfics. I loves him.))
