Something Quite Unsettling (Layton)

[Deleted]

"Today's the big day," he muttered to himself as his fist collided with the punching bag. Even though his match wasn't for a few hours, Richard felt like it was just in a few moments, and he couldn't quite shake the feeling of nervousness no matter how much he tried to work it out of his system.

It was strange to him because this wasn't his first boxing match in front of a crowd, but he felt like it was. Sure, the others had been in another city where most of the audience had been people he knew, so it might just be he was just  worried about looking foolish in front of a bunch of strangers.

That was when his stomached rumbled. "Or maybe I am just hungry." His hope was that it was going to be the latter because the alternative could be a major factor during the actual fight, which would guarantee a loss for him. With that thought in mind, Richard left the training area, took a quick shower and went in search of something to eat.

Wandering around the building, it didn't take long for him to find a concession area that was already serving food to people who were watching earlier matches, so he ordered a hot dog and a large drink. This tournament was supposed to be a four day event that would eliminate fighters until the final match on the last day, and Richard didn't expect to win the thing. He was just hoping to make it to day three.

Aside from that, he was hoping to learn a thing or two from his opponents that he could incorporate into his own fighting style, but his nerves were keeping him from even going to watch the other match-ups to get a heads up on what he might be walking into. "Let's see if this helps," he said as he got his order and went to sit down at one of the tables.

Richard quickly downed his food and just sat their sipping his drink while tapping his fingers on the table, and after the drink was gone he let out a loud sigh. "Yeah, that didn't work. Looks like I am going to get my butt stomped today," he said with a nervous chuckle. His body could already feel where the bruises were going to form in all the usual places, which was even more foreboding than his uneasy nerves.

[Layton Ranta]

All my life, I'm in the stakin' bar; I got debts and I'm a debaser.
All my life, Saturnz' about to make love and I'm just... a heartbreaker.
And I won't get a take in 'cause I'm out when I'm stakin'...
...and the rings I am breaking are making you a personal day.
______________________________Gorillaz - "Saturnz Barz (Spirit House)"

Just as he assumed all of the other guests had, Layton had got right back to his regular day-to-day life after getting home from Ryan and Adele's wedding. Before making the trip to Saint Tropez, he hadn't actually attended a wedding. The most he'd managed up to that point had been the day he'd spent working at a wedding fair nestled somewhere out in the picturesque wine country of California, away from the city. Due to being on the books for a Los Angeles-based promotional staffing agency, Layton's working life was about as varied as it was possible to get. Every day he worked had him doing something vastly different than the one before.

Today - and for the three days which followed - Layton had been tasked with manning the concession area which both surrounded and mingled with a four-day amateur boxing tournament being held at the Los Angeles Convention Centre. While some events had the odd stand here and there serving food, the tournament was such big business, showcasing talent from across the country, that it had taken over the convention centre's entire food court, turning it almost into a marketplace where all those in attendance were spoiled for choice. The people from the agency with whom he'd arrived had all been spread out around the area, each assigned to a different food stall.

Food from a variety of regions were represented, provided the attendees were willing to scout around, the various bars and stalls arranged in a loose grid formation around a central seating area. Being so (relatively) close to the border, the stalls which dealt primarily in spicy food - culinary offerings from Mexico, India, southern Asia and the like - were enjoying booming business, as were the ones serving more traditional American fare. An array of large screens ensured that nobody missed any of the sporting action and, all in all, things were going well now that the meticulous planning had come to fruition.

Having learned of the existence of a stall serving up Finnish food which specialised in kalakukko - a fish pie filling encased in rye bread instead of pastry - Layton had been yearning to break away from his duties to go and see how it measured up. He doubted it would have compared to his father's efforts, but it would have been an interesting experience nonetheless. Alas, his break came later, leaving him shackled to the confines of a gourmet hot dog stand. A far cry from the offerings prepared near the streets in larger American cities, the more upmarket food was given a more appealing-looking twist while still maintaining whatever made it popular.

To the people who had come to see the boxing tournament, however, hot dogs were hot dogs and the line had been mostly consistent in size. As soon as one person received their order and went to find a table, it seemed that a new customer would take their place at the back of the queue. "Hey, there." For Layton, the process was easy: greet them, find out what they wanted, help with getting the food cooked and ready, take their money and watch them walk away happy. He'd long since slid into the routine and, just like any day when he was at work, wasn't expecting anything untoward or unusual to happen.

Onko yhtään...________
...yest'il kakiye-libo...______________
...c'e qualche..._____________________

And, as such, when he first picked up on the quiet cacophony of languages prodding at the back of his mind, Layton was quick to pass it off as nothing more than distant conversation. Los Angeles was a decently multicultural city and thousands of people had come out to see the tournament. Therefore, it stood to reason that there would be people present who were more comfortable speaking their native languages around family or friends. But, as if his mind was automatically filtering out the superfluous shit he didn't need, the more he could hear the odd Finnish word mixed in amongst the noise.

Even in the heart of the city, hearing spoken Finnish was a rarity. Especially when he could immediately tell that the voice was asking a question which pertained to his job. However, when he glanced up, he found himself face-to-face with a rather lean-looking man in his twenties. Speaking English and not seeming like he wanted to - or even could - speak another language. "Kyllä, mei-..." Operating on instinct, Layton's mind defaulted momentarily to Finnish as he set about answering the inquiry. The onions were kept separately depending on how they'd been prepared - from simple boiling to frying or caramelising them - and were set out within easy reach.

Of course, making mention of a cooler would have probably confused everyone who wasn't him. "Sorry. We've got a lot of onions; all cooked different ways. Boiled, fried... hell, there's been a couple people who've wanted 'em raw. Guess that's why they call it catering." After a moment to get the conversation back on track, the man finished dictating his order and, with food and drink in hand, set off towards a nearby table. As he turned around, Layton caught sight of the back of the man's shirt, making reference to a New York gym that may or may not have existed. Could he have been one of the competitors in the tournament?

More to the point, was the phenomenon he'd just experienced a reaction from his ability? Now that the potential boxer had put some distance between himself and the stall, the noise in the back of his mind had subsided considerably; not to the point of vanishing entirely, but enough that it was no longer a distraction while he worked. Whenever he turned to look somewhere else, the buzzing, static-y voices would subtly shift, as if changing positions on a radar.

Che non è andato bene...________
...Sore wa kikanakatta...______________
...Het is niet gelukt..._____________________

It was him. It had to be. There was no better explanation which sprung to mind. This guy, as well as being a boxer, was... what? Some kind of human translator? Whenever he picked up on a person's ability like this, Layton's mind painted an abstract picture of what their genetic capabilities entailed. He wasn't entirely sure why, but it was something he couldn't really control; something which was "always on". The best thing he could really do to block it out was... ignore it. But this felt strange to him. It was the first time that the image in his mind had been so explicit; all but spelling out what this man could do.

And, being a(n amateur) scientist, Layton felt almost compelled to investigate. To conduct research. The boxer's food was polished off in rather short order but, rather than immediately leave, he just continued to sit there. Fighting nerves, probably. It was probably quite difficult to suppress the instinctive desire to not have one's face pummelled long enough to step inside a combat arena. Layton wouldn't have dreamed of doing so himself. He was quite content with being out here, serving food. He would get paid and there'd be no real risk of injury.

By the time Layton's break rolled around almost half an hour later, the curious boxer was still there, not moving beyond occasionally shifting his arm to gradually down the drink he'd ordered. Now was as good a chance as any, he surmised. Setting his apron down on a small secluded rack, but still wearing the hot dog stall's branded shirt he'd been given at the beginning of the day, he strode out from behind the counter and made a much-needed detour before setting his current plan in motion. The Finnish food stall was still serving food, preparing and cooking up various local delicacies. As he'd expected, the line was pretty short, allowing him to place his order rather quickly.

Getting a karjalanpiirakkka was tempting, but not enough to turn him away from his quest. The stall prepared the kalakukko in one of two sizes. The first was a larger loaf of rye bread about the size of the average dinner plate, intented to be sliced up like a pie and sold piecemeal, while the other took on the form of an elongated bread roll; a handheld snack wrapped in foil as though it was a burrito. Layton, not wanting to cause any extra work for his colleagues, chose the latter.

"Hey. You feeling nervous?" The next time the boxer heard Layton's Nordic-tinged British accent, he was sitting himself down at the other end of the small table. Today, Layton had decided to keep his hair mostly in its natural colour, just as he'd done at Ryan and Adele's wedding. However, unlike then, he had painstakingly added a series of bright green highlights. "Hope it's not that hot dog disagreeing with you, though. I'd never hear the end of it." Hey, humour helped, right? "I'm Layton, by the way."

[Deleted]

As he sat there, Richard attempted to do the one thing he had done before every other match, which was to start replaying every bout he had been in, fight he had ever seen in his life and speeches his trainer had ever said to him. It was one of the ways he just got into the zone and reminded himself of what signs to look out for from his opponents, and for the most part it was doing that as he forgot his nerves. Heck, he even forgot that he was sitting at a table with dozens of people nearby, or even that his first match was inching closer and closer by the second.

Yes, he brought himself back to his first real boxing match, which hadn't ended well for him. Richard had gone in the ring quite cocky about his chances of winning, and while he had gotten in some decent shots at his opponent the more experienced fighter quickly backed him in to the corner. Three quick right hooks delivered after that point, and the next thing he saw was the ceiling above the ring as he finally came to. Just a reminder to keep a level head when in the ring, and every fight after reminded him of another lesson.

With his mind so out of focus with the real world, the young boxer didn't even hear when someone approached and sat down his table until words were spoken, which caused him to look up with a surprised expression on his face. "Huh," he said in reaction to the man that was sitting across from him. Taking a minute to study him, Richard realized this was the guy who had given him his order, which made sense given the question that had been asked. Although, he didn't remember the guy's hair looking like that, but he had been distracted by his own thoughts.

"How could you tell? I thought I was doing so well at hiding the nerves." While he said that, he tried to smile like a normal person, but it probably was closer to that face that someone who never smile made when they tried to force one out. Either that, or something close to an abstract artist's rendering of his portrait. "And don't worry. The food was fine. In fact, I think it started to help with the nerves," he said as the humorous tone of the comment was all but lost on him at that moment.

"This is my first big tournament, so I am kind of feeling like I did on my first day of school, you know? Just worried that I am going to do something to make a fool of myself," stated Richard as he pushed his cup back and forth on the table. The only difference between what he was about to do and going to school was there was a greater chance of him getting sent to the hospital with broken bones or internal bleeding when all was said and done.

Realizing that Layton had introduced himself, he internally face palmed at his own lack of manners at what the proper procedure of the conversation was these days. "Sorry, my mind is kind of discombobulated today. My name is Richard, and it is nice to meet you." This time, his grin was slightly more genuine when he did it, which was probably because he wasn't trying to force it. In fact, talking was helping him out tremendously, but Richard was going to have to keep it away from talking about his nerves. "So do you see a lot of people like me when working things like this?"

[Layton Ranta]

Lady Vagine, you know I'm dyin'.
But, to my surprise, the punishment subsides!
It's cold inside, my son! Nothing ever bothers you now.
______________________________Devin Townsend Project - "Juular"

"How could you tell? I thought I was doing so well at hiding the nerves."

Not even close, Layton thought to himself. He'd spotted the occasional fidgeting even before he had sat down and, now that the boxer was actually giving him a response, the sheepish smile came across as a little unnatural; forced, even. As though he was trying to trample down whatever was gnawing away at him. "That's good," he sighed quietly as the man across from him put his own nagging fears to rest in a quartet of short words. "I bet food poisoning's the last thing you want today."

Now only separated from the boxer by mere inches, Layton could once again hear the trickling of static, mimicking a few words of Richard's every response in multiple languages at once. Some he could identify, either from prior knowledge or their sound alone - like Finnish, French and Japanese - while others were just a maddening mystery. What had once been a sensation his mind deemed to be behind him was now squarely dead ahead. The sensation refused to budge from the space between his eyebrows and, for one moment after another, he just stared and listened. When he spoke, the static grew louder, like an old broken TV on a stormy night, before subsiding again whenever he shut up.

"This is mein erstes big kyōsō..." This was stupid. Even when he was saddled with the almost crushing mental sensation of being within the vicinity of Khalidah's ability, Layton had grown proficient enough in blocking it out that he could actually function, persevering beyond the annoyance. At the end of the day, it was just one thing he had to worry about. But, with this, the flood of words refused to stop cutting in; making it almost impossible for him to compartmentalise what he knew to be a single phenomenon into a single mental task.

As soon as he'd managed to block out the fragments of German, the Japanese would kick a hole in his mental wall as though the voices were a tag-team, banding together to piss him off. It was definitely something new. But, on the bright side, it was a few extra notes to think about later. "Just worried that I am going to do something to make a fool of myself." Taking another bite of fish-filled bread, Layton rubbed at his temple with his other hand. The short reprieve was a welcome moment. With Richard's voice gone, Layton could finally recover and, now that he fully knew what to expect, his mind was learning to adapt. Even with Khalidah, repeated exposure to her was enough for him to manage the feelings her ability gave him.

A bit like the Borg from Star Trek. Sooner or later, this barrage too would have no effect on him. "Sorry. My mind's kind of discombobulated today. My name's Richard and it's nice to meet you." Layton slowly nodded, both acknowledging the reciprocation of his own introduction and in satisfaction that he was getting a handle on internally combatting this new unintentional adversary. Was every single ability going to be like this? It was a wonder he'd even survived Ryan and Adele's wedding last year with just about everyone being as genetically special as he was. "Do you see a lot of people like me when working things like this?"

"You mean nervous people?" Layton couldn't help but smirk as he shook his head. "Not really." The last thing he wanted to do was excessively poke fun at Richard's expense. If his assumptions were correct and this guy was one of the boxers set to fight in the tournament, there was every chance he would have been laid flat on his ass if he inadvertantly pushed the wrong buttons. "I'm actually part of a staffing agency based here in LA so, potentially, I can work a different job whenever I leave the house. More often than not, one of the only nervous people I end up encountering is me. Especially if it's something I've not done before." Serving food, however? He'd done that a few times. "Thankfully, this ain't one of 'em."

Eventually, the scientist in Layton was nagging him again. Interacting with Richard was only going to get him so far. It was likely that he had an ability but, for whatever understandable reason, he was keeping it under wraps. What he needed to do - preferably without the whole conversation becoming awkward - was steer this towards a way he could confirm or disprove his theory. "So... besides eating, what else do you do to get rid of nerves and stress?" Another glance down. The food he'd ordered was almost completely gone, mostly eaten as they'd gone back and forth. "Sure, eating's fun and all - I'm surprised people're making stuff like kalakukko at events like this; Finland's not a big place - but you're an athlete. You can't just eat whatever shit you want. Gotta be other stuff you do, right?"

In retrospect, maybe namedropping the food he'd ordered wasn't the best thing to do. While the latter syllables were apparently archaic in nature and derived from something innocuous, modern-day Finnish had led younger people to find the name amusing, with the two halves literally translating - albeit incorrectly - to form what was essentially an aquatic dick joke. Then again, if Layton was right and Richard did have some superhuman linguistic knowledge in there, the slightly puerile humour might have outed him a bit quicker. Either way, there wasn't much he could do now other than wait. Wait, mentally document the results and, if they didn't stack up, try something else.