Mitch was trying to go over what just happened in his head.

Maybe going to the Cafe wasn’t the best idea but he needed to be around people. Maybe because that somehow gave him some security, maybe not. But after what had just happened... Well, he was still trying to wrap his mind around that right now. He had known his new foster dad had a temper - that he wasn’t very nice. But....

But an adult had never hit him before.

He ran his hand along his cheek which throbbed a little. He wondered if it had bruised, and if it had, whether or not it stood out. His hand was already shaky about the whole thing, he didn’t want to cause more trouble by being obvious. But he was a fair bit scared - the man had hit him. And over one failed homework assignment too.

He sucked in a breath, and kept his eyes on his soda as if it were somehow interesting. He’d figure out what to do, he told himself. 

Carl had just come back from a training run, having showered and made sure that he was ready for the next go around when he had been called. He was famished and needed something in his stomach before the hunger got too unbearable. He had thrown on his hoodie over his ACDC shirt and his baseball cap, walking along to the local cafe off-base.

Upon entering, he looked around noticing that the cafe was fairly full before approaching the counter with a friendly smile on his face and leaning against it with elbow propping him up. Carl knew better than to gorge himself and make himself sick if the time came to him being back up in the F-22, experience told him that.

"Tea and one of those cakes, please." He gave the waitress a flash of a smile as his order was placed for him.

He took his items and looked around for a booth. Of course, through his training, he had been taught to look out for targets; though, this was no target but a kid sat by himself looking in a sorry state. Carl glanced about, searching for any whereabouts of the parent or parents, as the case may have been. He could see no such indication on his approach.

"Hey kid," His voice had taken a softer tone. "Mind if I share the booth?"

Tag: Mitchell Rogers

The voice made him jump - mostly because it was male.

Of course, Mtch relaxed greatly when he realized it wasn’t his foster dad. He stood out among most men given he wasn’t military, so the second he looked over before he even looked at his face he knew he was OK. It wasn’t like his fear was unfounded, it would hardly have been the first time he’d shown up to haul Mitch off screaming something about how he was wasting his money.

He relaxed when he realized this man looked at least friendly. And furthermore was military. Growing up in it, he could easily say he felt much more comfortable around them, than say, the average guy. But at the same time he did feel a tightness in his stomach at the thought he may ask what the bruise was about. Not many kids just casually sat at booths with a bruise on their cheek, alone.

All the same, with a shaky hand he motioned to the seat. “Go right ahead, I’m not meeting anyone,” he explained. “I mean as long as you don’t mind a teenager for company anyway.”

Of course, having the height advantage on the kid, he had noticed the slight shift as the kid jumped. Carl hadn't mean to spook the kid, he was just curious to why the lad was out without supervision. But, it was almost like the kid had physically relaxed once he had pinned a face to the voice. Being that the kid's face was angled more towards him - Carl could not help but notice the bruise that had formed on the kid's cheek.

It had not escaped him that the kid's hand was shaking either. Carl might not have been the sharpest pencil in the box at school with his dyslexia but certainly he knew what a bad situation looked like, and his own gut tightened at the conclusion that he had jumped to.

“I mean as long as you don’t mind a teenager for company anyway.”

Carl sat himself down on the opposite side of the booth, making sure that the kid had enough leg room as he gently placed the tea and cake in front of himself, removing his hat and placing it to one side. He glanced from the kid to the cake and then back to the kid as he slid the cake towards him. "Name's Carlisle, folks just call me Carl. Here, kid, help yourself to some cake."


Tag: Mitchell Rogers

Mitch visibly was relaxing a bit more.

The mans body language told him he wasn’t going to hurt him. And furthermore that he was friendly. So he let himself lose his edginess, at least for now. After all, the man had offered cake. What kind of man who had any real bad intent offered cake? Though Mitch still had to think a bit about that, not entirely sure if he should politely decline. Ultimately though, his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten in a bit and he decided to take the offer while he had it. “Thanks. I uh, didn’t eat much today,” He then realized quickly how that sounded. “Not that I couldn’t, just wasn’t hungry.” Man he was a bad liar.

Realizing the man had introduced himself he gave a small smile. Of course he was a bit shy, but he didn’t mind giving his name. Most people knew him anyway from seeing him around town at this point. And in a town like this it was good to keep on a first name basis, just in case. “I’m Mitch,” he replied with a nod of his head.

Looking for any indication on what he was, Mitch scanned his persons quietly. But after not being able to find anything obvious, he decided that was a good topic to steer them away from any obvious questions. “So you look like military. What are you? Army, Navy, Air Force?” He asked curiously. “My dad was in the Army before he passed.” He added.

He didn't have much experience with kids, though he could sniff out a lie a mile off; something of a learned behavior from his own experience with his extended family. Carl had not been a golden boy, he had lied in his youth and had been caught out several times on it. Of course he knew there was something being withheld from him but he also knew the guilt of being caught out on a lie was often more crushing than if one simply let it pass. He smiled. "Good to meet you, Mitch."

The bruise was somewhat of an elephant in the room, and something he wanted to bring up to the kid but he couldn't find the right opening - or time for him to do it in a delicate matter. Carl was curious about it, in the sense that he wanted his suspicions to be debunked, that Mitch had simply gotten into a playground fight rather than what his brain had jumped to.

“So you look like military. What are you? Army, Navy, Air Force?”

Carl snapped back into reality, focusing on the kid's question. He was partially glad for the change in path but also had been pushed further from what he wanted to achieve.

"Major in the air force." Carl replied, with a nod.

“My dad was in the Army before he passed.”

His brows raised slightly, nodding in the recognition of a fallen comrade - even if he was not part of the same branch. Carl felt a connection with pretty much the forces in itself, as a big family. Carl was silent as he eyed the kid. He had suffered loss; both in his personal life and in his military career, he knew what it was like to lose someone and empathised.

"He raised a good kid. Who you living with now, then?" His voice was gentle, still coming out of the silence that had hung over them.

Tag:: Mitchell Rogers

Ah, Air Force that was really cool.

Mitch might have wanted to go into the Air Force if it weren’t for his fear of heights. He couldn’t imagine really being very good as a pilot for that reason - so he’d settled on the Marines as his focal point as a result. “Nice! The Air Force is awesome. I couldn’t do it though. Too afraid of heights,” he admitted out loud. “I wanna go in the Marines personally once I’m old enough.

He gave a small smile at the raised a good kid part though. Not entirely sure if that was true sometimes. If it had been wouldn’t he have been in an actual home now instead of bouncing between them like a pinball?

He didn’t know how to answer the next part.

Leaning back, he looked at the man. Did he give him names? His foster father would totally lose his shit if CPS decided to come poking in their business. He often threatened things when he was scared - and the thought also scared him. So he decided to go for the easiest way to put it. “I uh - stayed with family friends for a couple of months. But they had three kids already, so they put me in foster care,” he explained. “I’ve been bouncing around in it since. Sometimes in group homes, sometimes with families. Its not bad...” Whaf a lie that was, he hated every moment of it.

With a sigh he then added. “Currently living with a couple down the street. But who knows in a couple of weeks or months.”