TAKE IT EASY • TC ✔️

9: Spartan Warrior!

They hadn't spoken about it. Granted, it had never come up in conversation, but Timothée just presumed she knew. Presumed she hadn't made a fuss of it for his own benefit, and he'd liked her for that immensely. It was one thing to treat a famous person with respect, and it was on an entirely different level to treat them just as you would another human being. Or, at least, it felt that way to Timothée these days.

He'd never once thought that she might really have no idea who the hell he was.

Believing that Lucia was so pleasant towards him without an ulterior motive, without reason to be other than the goodness of her own heart, made Timmy squirm a little. It was so rare that he could find someone who's vision of him wasn't already tainted in some way.

Maybe tainted was a little harsh.

It was hard finding someone who didn't already know him, at least a little bit. Movies, interviews, photos - they were all little bits of his personality, laid out bare for people to scrutinise. Criticise. They could pick and choose the bits of him that they wanted, without really knowing him, without knowing him wholly.

And real people weren't like that. Real people weren't pixels on a screen or words on a page. Real people were complete. Their scenes weren't meticulously edited, their effusions weren't sifted through with a fine tooth comb before being published for the world to see.

They made mistakes, they had flaws, and most importantly, they had power. Power to be invisible until seen, the power to be small. Irrelevant. They had a clean slate. They could be whoever they wanted.

And Timmy was good at being whoever he wanted - it was his job, for God's sake - but somehow, it didn't translate that way into real life.

The person Timmy wanted to be would've kept his head high and ignored the obnoxious teenagers on the sidewalk. Wouldn't be wearing cheap sunglasses in an attempt to hide himself. Wouldn't have checked his phone to avoid eye contact with strangers.

But the person Timmy was in public was the person other people had made him.

Lucia was rattling on about a family she'd passed in Bryant Park, something to do with screaming and behavioural problems and burst eardrums, but Timothée couldn't seem to pay attention. He listened to the story in a haze, nodding when appropriate and adding in interjections when he deemed them necessary. He watched her hands absently as she gesticulated, tongue exploring the inner of his cheek. It was just so strange that-

"What about you?"

He snapped his head towards her, feeling like he was in middle school again, singled out by the teacher who knew he wasn't listening. He was being disgraced in front of the whole class, who were all snickering into their hands with downcast eyes. It would have been a fitting comparison if it weren't for the fact that his only audience was the taxi driver - a stocky guy, well over six feet, with an impressive beard and a stony expression. The man looked like he was as likely to snicker as he was to prance around in a tutu.

"What about me?" he asked quickly.

Recognition flashed over Lucia's face - she'd been rambling again. She knew she shouldn't have started talking; she was prone to stumble over her words until they became one fluid jumble. She could ramble endlessly if given an awkward silence and half a chance.

"What do you think of the parks round here?"

What an awful, bland question. She could almost see the driver wince through the rear-view mirror. He looked like he was glad he wasn't on the receiving end of that enquiry, and Lu didn't blame him. Not in the slightest.