Dealing with Trouble (Samael)

[Ichabod]

It was a grim morning at the cemetery as Ichabod left his cabin of work supplies and his lunch. I was still dark but the sun was sure to raise shortly. He had gotten a notice at the office telling him that he had a special case coming to him from Kumorai High. A troubling student that needs some fixing.

He looked down at the note from Aurelian Kinzoku,

"Samael Mishra III, caught under the influence of alcohol and verbal threats on several occasions. In turn I am turning the punishment duties over to you. Detention does not seem to work with this one and I think you can give him a run for his money."

He folded up the letter and slid it into his back pocket, he pulled one of his beers from his lunch and popped it open with his finger nail and sat down just outside the door to the cabin. The cabin was directly on-site and his team is the only one that had the keys to the small building. He took a sip and closed his eyes.

Ichabod had done most of the hard work, he has been working since about midnight and the only things that needed to be done was raking which was easy and cleaning a few more of the gravestones. There was one large monstrous above ground area set far from the rest for one individual only. It was something he built many years ago before it was classified as a cemetery. That was the home of the family that he no long had. That's why he had started working at the cemetery, it was to keep nosy humans away from the one thing left he hold dear to him.

He continued to sip quietly on his beer until his "trouble" shows up.

[Samael Mishra III]

Samael groaned lightly and rolled out of bed, running fingers through his thick hair. It was early alright, but he didn't mind getting up at this hour. He was a morning person, so it should only take a few moments to actually wake up fully. Just in case, though, he went and set his coffee pot to start brewing as he got ready for his detention. He wasn't sure who he was going to be working with, only that he was supposed to be taking his punishment in a cemetery. One look at him could tell anyone that he was more than excited to do this work. After all, it would help break up the monotony of schoolwork and give him something else to do. How long would this last? A few days? A few weeks? To be honest, he wouldn't mind working at a graveyard for longer than that. He'd always been drawn to the darker things in life, anyways. Maybe this could be an opportunity for him...

A small smile played on his lips as he brushed his long hair and slipped all of his silver piercings into place. Once the coffee was done and he was ready to start the day, he poured the hot drink into a travel cup and set off, locking the dorm door behind himself and taking his time moseying along until he reached his destination.

He wasn't at all surprised to see a scraggly, stitched-up man sitting around with a beer in hand and actually felt relaxed at the sight. "Good morning," he said, black and red eyes alight with curiosity. "What can I help you with?"

[Ichabod]

Ichabod could hear the boy walking down the path, with his intense hearing he could hear an ant fart if he was paying attention. He opened his eyes and stood, showing that his 6'8" self wont be taking any shit from some punk kid.

He didn't hate kids, they were rather tasty back in the old days but people now are seething with drugs and medication so the taste for humans died out fairly rapidly over the generations. He spoke with his war-torn throat. "Samael Mishra...the third, I would presume." He took the final sip of his beer and put it back with his lunch. "Do you know, or remember, why you are here?" He figure since he would have to be here then he would answer the basic questions along the way.

[Samael Mishra III]

Samael's interest in the other only grew as he saw the man stand to his full height. So people could grow that tall? Samael himself only reached about the man's chest, and he was wearing platform boots again today. Geez, his neck was going to hurt if he'd always need to look the other in the eyes.

Even still, he craned his neck up to watch the other, tilting his head lightly. "Well, I was joking with another student because she said that she felt as if she'd be better off dead. So I told her politely that if she needed anyone to help her with the suicide, just let me know." He blinked innocently and took another sip of his coffee. "Of course, I had also been drinking for a few hours before I went outside to get some fresh air and ended up meeting her, but that was completely unrelated. I just enjoy drinking when I watch movies."

[Ichabod]

If he tried hard enough he was sure he could find the hint of alcohol coming from his sweat. "I am Ichabod and you will be working for me for the next..." He stopped as he pulled the sheet of paper from his back pocket to read it over. "lifetime, it would seem. I would like to say it would be for today but until I get a chance to speak with your Principal, you are mine until then." He bared his teeth to the boy, "And there will be no drugs or alcohol on or in you while here. If I see or have an idea that you are under the influence while working for me, I will run you down so fast that your blood alcohol content will become zero within the hour and you will still have to work on top of it."

He stepped away from Samael and looked out towards the cemetery, "I work the graveyard shift, no pun intended. I am active from sun down to sun up, you will need to be here as the sun sets and you will work until 3 in the morning." Three in the morning sounded like the right time for someone to go to bed and wake up for class the next morning.

He wanted to stress this part out so the boy would understand, "I do not and will not take shit from people younger than myself and the day you are older than myself I will let you hand me a shovel, but of course, that will never happen." He had better things to do than having to watch over this kid until he learns something.

He stood back in front of the kid looking down into his unique eyes. "Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?" Saying each word as if it was its own sentence. "If so, I will answer any questions you might have."

[Samael Mishra III]

It didn't upset Samael that he might be working here for the rest of his life. Hell, it actually sparked more interest. It didn't even upset him that he wouldn't be able to drink alcohol as often as he currently did. What did visibly upset him, though, was the time he'd have to spend here. "A-ah... I see..." A frown tugged at his lips, then he dropped his head somewhat and sighed. "Well, there go my perfect grades," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "I should have enough time to do all of my homework... besides the reading. Maybe I could get notes from someone else... if anyone else even takes reading notes." At this point, he was simply talking to himself, one hand finding its way to his hip and the other messing with the dark ponytail. "Maybe Azazel does... but he really doesn't seem to like me that much, eh? I might just have to pull some all-nighters, then." His voice had dropped considerably, although Ichabod was sure to hear every breath he took.

After a moment of dazing off, he snapped his attention back to the other. "D-does this mean that I can't drink coffee while I'm here, either? Because caffeine is definitely a drug." He eyed the cup in his hand, instantly regretting that he hadn't downed all of it by the time he got here. A pout was quite evident on his face, one eyebrow lifted curiously, wondering just what he would say. "And... shall I call you Mr. Ichabod? Or would you prefer something else, sir?"

[Ichabod]

He could tell that the boy was struggling with himself about a few matters, it was perfect thought. It was what Ichabod was relying on, with the boy being distracted on so many different levels he would have to sort his life around. Of course, with time the punishment would gradually decrease but this was a good start.

He let out of boisterous laugh, "Coffee is fine, even I can't function without that. I actually have a supply in the cabin for those late nights." and behind that is my stash of beer he said in his head, since coffee and beer were his drinks of choice anything else is like drinking piss.

"Ichabod is fine or would you prefer to call me Master?" He knew how to make a joke.

[Samael Mishra III]

Samael was take aback at first by the laugh, but after the confirmation that he could drink it, he happily sipped at the beverage with a small smile, content now with the situation. Excitement glowed in his eyes again as he tilted his head at the question, and quickly, his cheeks turned a shade of red. "A-ah... um... well..." Flustered, he looked away, clutching the cup with both hands. "I... wouldn't mind either, but wouldn't calling you M-'Master' be... err..."

He quickly sipped at the drink again, probably thinking too deeply about the question. Of course he respected the man, but was it really necessary to call him Master? Of course he wouldn't mind calling his lover that...

Rather quickly, his imagination turned and he became docile again from his thoughts. "Hmmm... I suppose it wouldn't be... so bad, would it...?" He wasn't thinking of his current situation anymore, but he was definitely interested in a whole other topic as he continued to sip his coffee.

[Ichabod]

Another booming laughed escaped the mans throat, "Calm down boy, take a joke." He spun the boy quickly around, neatly pivoting the boy in place scuffing the gravel under his feet, pointing him in the direction of the main graveyard which was littered with leaves. He let go of him and passes a rake into his free hand. "Get to work and I'll make more coffee we are going to need it. You sure are lucky it's Saturday."

He walked away back into the cabin to start up a pot of coffee. He waited patiently as the coffee maker started to drip, he leaned against the door with his eyes closed. He was beat already, he yawned silently and reveled in the glorious smell of hot coffee.

[Samael Mishra III]

Samael was ripped from his musings and was actually rather shocked from being manhandled. Normally, people didn't so much as want to look at him directly, so it felt more than awkward to be spun, but he carefully landed on his feet, glad that he was used to walking in platforms, before taking the rake and wobbling toward the leafy lawn. It took a moment for him to come back into the world, and he took another sip of coffee before setting it a few feet away from the actual tombstones, then began raking at the leaves. It didn't take long for him to get into a groove, a smile on his face as he hummed one of his favorite songs that went along with the pace he had set for himself.

[Ichabod]

He took a moment to peer out the small window on the side of the shabby cabin, but had to wipe away the dust and grim that had affixed itself to it first. He looked directly at the boy as he was starting to rake the leave, he said a little scripture of his own to the gods to look over the people we were taking care of.

His eyes reverted back to the coffee maker as the thought of the monolith towards the back of the graveyard and a single tear slowly dropped from his eye weaving its way past the stubble of his chin. He managed to collect himself again by the end of the seventh minute of the brewing. He could time this maker to the second he was that good.

[Samael Mishra III]

Samael carefully raked around the graves, making sure to stop and hand-pick the leaves off of appropriate places. He didn't want to disturb the graves; he had a deep respect for the dead, especially since, as far as he knew, both of his parents had passed on to the other side. The thought of anyone disturbing their graves sickened him, but he quickly capped that feeling as to not bring any negative energy into the graveyard. He set down the rake and went back to finish off the coffee he had brought, then as he passed each grave on his way back, he stopped and gave them a moment of silence, praying for their well-being in the afterlife.

Once he felt that each had been given a proper greeting, he smiled again and retrieved the rake to continue his work. He was getting closer and closer to the midpoint already, and he made sure to continue the small offering of thought as he cleaned off each grave.

[Ichabod]

He poured his coffee into a tall and skinny thermos leaving the rest to the kid. He capped it with the appropriate lid. He looked out the window again as he was taking his first sip of the glorious liquid. Ichabod couldn't quite tell what Sam was doing but it looked like he was paying his respect to the graves as he tended to them being cautious as he moved the rake around the stones in the ground.

"The boy does have a heart." He thought to himself. He walked out the door thermos in hand, walking over to his new worker. "Save the apologize until you are done with your work. Suns coming up and we need to split soon. Today was just an introduction to what needed to be done, I will have more things for you to do later on." He began to turn back but through better of it, "These people wont be going anywhere, they can be generous people, they will gladly wait for anything you have to say." He walked to the back of the cabin making sure the boy was not following him.

[Samael Mishra III]

"A-ah." He nodded, then watched as the man took a few steps before turning back and looking at the graves. "S-sorry, everyone," he muttered, then bowed lightly before continuing to rake at the leaves, piling them all up neatly until he had a rather large mountain of the things. It had taken him a while, but he felt like he had gotten it done fairly quickly. Then again, he was an artist, not a physical worker. He probably hadn't done very well overall, but at least the place was immaculately raked now. He gave a satisfied smirk and wiped the sweat from his face onto his black jacket. It had gotten fairly warm, and he had worked up a nice sweat. After he set the rake back down, he pulled off the jacket and wrapped it around his waist, tying the arms together to hold it in place. He took the rake back to the cabin and knocked gingerly on the door. "M-Mr. Ichabod? The leaves are raked. Should they be put into bags?"

[Ichabod]

Ichabod came out from the back of the cabin with a large device strapped to his forearm with a massive hose shooting out the end of it. The barrel of the device was pointed upward almost in line to Samaels head. "Did good." He said with a curt nod. "I don't use bags, bad for the world all that."

He lifted the device up a bit more and started to walk over to the large pile of leaves. "This here is a modified industrial vacuum." Which it wasn't modded to much, moved come belts and gears and fed the hose to a closed up truck behind the cabin. "Flip the switch and goodbye leaves." He did as he said and flipped the switch and the leaves began to fly toward him at an amazing rate. It also managed to pick up a few strays that got caught in the grass. Once the pile was cleared he turn it off and smiled. "And that's how it done."

If you looked at his arm thought, the straps where tightly fitted to his arm making the veins noticeable around his wrist. The thing was massive but no one could use it besides him, no one had the strength to wield it.