V is for Violence

For this year’s A to Z, I will be doing a collection of flash fiction featuring Steven, the MC from Blackbird, from right before he came to Newstead through his first week there.

 

V is for Violence

After I filled my tray I went into the dining hall and surveyed my options. Most of the tables were already full; there were even some guys sitting along the walls with their trays balanced on their legs. But there were still a few tables with some open spots left, so I made my way over toward one.
     I’d just set down my tray when the guy in the seat next to mine turned toward me. “What are you doing, newbie?”

     I looked at my food, then back at him. It seemed pretty obvious.

     He rolled his eyes. “By the wall.”

     “Excuse me?”

     He got to his feet, all eight feet of him.

     The table went silent as all eyes went to the two of us.

     He picked up my tray. “You have to earn a seat here, newbie.”

     Another guy at the table piped in, “I’m sure he wasn’t trying to sit here. I’m sure he was just putting that tray there for you.”

     Behemoth smiled, getting inspiration. “Is that what happened, newbie? Were you putting this here for me?”

     I was at least smart enough by that point not to say anything. Instead, I turned and went to the wall and sat down and watched as he ate my breakfast.

     Dean Erikson was right. I was beginning to see how things worked around here.

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