The night was bitterly cold, and a heavy fog hung in the air making it thick and damp. The chill seemed to sink down to your bones and stay there, as if out of spite. A solitary figure made his way down the darkened street, hands shoved in his pockets of a thin spring jacket. Thick black hair was plastered around his face, dripping from condensation, and each time a droplet would roll down an touch his skin, he would shudder with an expression of faint disgust.
Furtive glances at street signs, and the furrow to his brow revealed he was a touch lost. He pulled out one hand to brush the hair away from his eyes, wrinkling his nose at his now damp hand. Why London? London had to be the most miserable city in the world, it hadn't stopped drizzling and raining since they had made landfall a few days previous. He had dropped off the packet, a nice manilla envelope, exactly where Bucky had told him too after drilling the directions into his head with far too much enthusiasm at getting to tell him what to do.
Unfortunately, following the directions in reverse to get back was not working nearly so well.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Toro trudged on with the vague hope a recognizable street would show up soon. Despite the late hour, a single shop's light was lingering in it's small window. The larger display window was boarded up, likely the glass was too dangerous to keep in with the risk of bombs falling from the sky. It was amazing that the little place was even still there, he decided, as the area wasn't the most intact. The little wooden sign jostled quietly wth each little breeze that brought a sheet of rain with it, and within a moment the rain was pouring down. He barely had time to jump inside, and his jacket was still soaked through.
An older gentleman sat behind the counter, reading a worn paperback novel. The shop was covered with so much clutter that there were only a few cleared paths to take, and the counter had a glass covering, revealing jewelery and more expensive merchandise. A pawn shop, watches with engraved names, wedding bands, old furniture and sold memories.
"Sorry to bother you, but the rain is coming down something fierce out there, mister."
The old man chuckled quietly, "My eyes may not be what they used to be, but even I can tell that much, lad. Take off your wet jacket, the coat rack is by the door, and pull up a chair." He slid a bookmark inbetween the pages with such care, "The rain will let up soon enough, so take a small rest." Toro couldn't help but break into a small smile, hanging up the jacket, and trying to shake out his hair without getting anything else wet. He pulled up a chair by the case, and was surprised to be offered a book by the other man. A nearly new paperback, with Nightfall scrawled across the cover.
He sat back, and the two read in silence until the rain ebbed and finally seemed to let up entirely. He was only a chapter in, and part of him couldn't wait to talk about it with Bucky. It just seemed the sort of thing his friend would like, and getting him to read a bit would certainly make Steve happy.
"C...could I buy this?" The old man raised an eyebrow at the tentative tone, a bemused expression on his wrinkled face, that reminded Toro vaguely of Bucky's face, when the older boy thought he was being too timid.
"If you would like. That would generally be the point of selling things." He wrinkled his nose again, an almost pout on his lips at the flippant comment. As he was about the respond, he spotted a small silvered flask in the case and hesitated. It was small, an almost entirely unremarkable. Nothing odd or ostentatious about it. Perfect. "That flask too, please." He watched as worn hands slipped out the flask, gave it a quick polish and wrapped it gently before slipping it into a bag with the book.
"A little young for that, aren't you?" It was Toro's turn the chuckle. He wasn't too young for much of anything, anymore. "It isn't for me. It's for a friend. I hope he'll like it."
When he left the store, the sun had just begun to rise, cutting the fog, and he set off with a lighter heart and a confident step.
Three streets later, he was still lost.