Ordinary: A TGSC Short

The Keiji Bar
Tokyo, Japan

August 2015

  

They were drinking buddies.

As strange as it seemed, Mack and Peters blended well together. Peters was loud, extroverted, and passionate while Mack remained quiet, introverted, and calm. Despite many people saying that Mack was more like A, that wasn’t really the case. Although A was also quite introverted like him, she could get fiery. A had the large potential to be like Peters in some ways – someone just as dedicated, passionate, and wholeheartedly stubborn.

That probably explained why the two tended to clash and butt heads while he and Peters got along more and found each other’s company quite enjoyable.

For Peters, Mack was a breath of fresh air. There was A who sometimes tended to debate with him if she thought something he said was sketchy; and then there was Touta who acted both as a mentor and a parental figure. In the squad, there was a younger sister figure and a father figure. As nice as it was, he never quite rang with someone who was almost at the same familial vibe as he.

That was when Mack stepped in. Peters did his best to analyze the half-awake man who drank from his tea and later shed his mask to turn into the usual Mack – someone snarky and who served as the middle ground. He did his best to match him with any familial archetype. Was he a father, was he a mother, was he an older sibling, or was he a younger sibling?

Peters tried everything, even going towards the ‘vodka aunt’ and ‘sketchy uncle’ options. As much as he tried, he never really saw Mack in any of those. At the same time, it both amused and irritated him, not being able to properly sort the enigmatic forensic scientist into a singular category.

He realized it a little later than usual:

Mack was just like him.

* * * * *

Despite the minimal age gap, Mack knew just exactly how to talk to Peters. Never mind the fact that the guy liked to people watch and guess how their lives went (a little creepy but okay, that’s cool). They just clicked and got along better than they initially expected.

Somehow, it was always a bar. They usually tended to end up either at a bar or at a restaurant – but usually they’d stumble to the front of a bar, look at each other, shrug, and proceed to go inside, talking loudly of what they’d order and how the night would be. Peters would talk and Mack would listen. On other occasions, it would be the other way around although Peters noticed that Mack was more the listening type than the ‘I’d-rather-not-word-vomit” type.

And it was alright – Peters would talk, Mack would hum and insert ideas and then Peters would proceed to build up on them. Mack in turn would continue to listen, giving his input, questioning his theories and encouraging the other to expand a little bit more.

He could relate. Despite the other man being a few years older, from across the pond and being a little more apathetic than Peters would appreciate, they somehow managed to understand each other.

The first time Mack was introduced, he didn’t really know what to think of the man aside from an abundance of reluctance and respect.

Touta had introduced Mack over coffee; he had assembled the team for something important during the afternoon. By the time he and A had arrived, Touta was conversing quietly with a man with unruly brown hair. The man had set his cup down on the table and the two police agents exchanged hesitant looks before approaching the two seated. The Japanese caught A’s eye and waved them over, the other man suddenly rising and turning to face both of them.

He was an inch or so shorter than Peters; his hair was crazy – there were messy curls getting in his eyes and he flicked away one of the loose strands with his fingers. The man’s eyes were a startling hazel, obvious despite his half-lidded gaze and blank expression on his face.

Touta cleared his throat.

“Right…A and Peters, this is Macmillan Thomas. Call him Mack. He’s the forensic scientist who assists us on our cases; however, I decided to bring him in full time with us,” Touta explained. “An additional member for Squad A. It’s going to be more convenient for us as well as him, and…he has a few talents and skillsets which can be of assistance to us.”

He noticed Mack’s eyes turn to A for a few seconds. “Mack, that’s Agent Maxwell – Arianne Heather, but call her A. Squad A’s one and only Team Lead.” He extended a hand and she shook, merely smiling yet keeping silent at the same time. Peters remembered that she wasn’t really great with new people. “She’ll warm up soon enough. A isn’t chatty with new people.”

“It’s nothing personal,” she told him. “I like getting a read on people before I start to talk.” Mack nodded and let go of her hand, letting his fall limply to his side.

“I understand that. I sort of do the same,” he replied, and Peters was surprised to hear an English accent rolling in. A’s eyes widened yet she nodded anyway, taking a seat next to Touta. He faced Peters next.

“And of course, Agent Peters – Samuel Vincent – he’s more known as Peters. He’s the muscle and the guns.” Again did Mack extend a hand and they shook, Mack giving a firm shake before letting go. “More extroverted and more likely to talk.”

“I give off a nicer impression than A,” he said smoothly. The corner of Mack’s mouth rose and from her seat, A rolled her eyes. “But really, welcome to our band of semi-racially diverse misfits.”

“Semi because we have Touta,” A added. Touta merely shook his head and Mack chuckled, letting Peters sit down before returning to his own. “When does he start, T?”

“I start on Monday,” Mack replied. “With the rest of you.”

“The Squad A hangout will be a little less cozy from this point,” Peters joked. “But let’s stay the fuck away from work and focus on our new member.” All eyes fell on Mack, who fidgeted slightly in his seat and took a sip from his tea slowly.

“Shouldn’t we talk about work?”

“Fuck that.” Mack looked bewildered and Touta chuckled, patting the other’s shoulder comfortingly.

“We’ve had a bad day. We’d rather not.”

* * * * *

“Making eyes at the bartender?”

“Sod off,” Mack groaned. “And I thought A was bad enough about me finding a bloke to be affectionate with.”

“It’s A. She’s a hidden softie for love. She lives for that shit,” Peters snickered. “You and Mr. Bartender have some kind of magnetic chemistry going on.”

“How the fuck is it magnetic?”

“You two are drawn to each other. Opposites attract.” Peters lifted a brow lazily, “I never thought you’d go for that type.”

“…what did you think?”

“Someone also introverted and looks like they have Friends, Doctor Who, or Eastenders on their Netflix queue. Also can be the type who likes poetry or reading obscure novels.”

“Wrong. I don’t have a type.”

A swig of beer, “Yeah, fucking yeah you do. Mr. B looks like he’s got a few tricks up his sleeves.”

“Just. Get the fuck away from my love life or lack thereof,” Mack groaned, only making Peters grin wider and continue teasing. The conversation eventually melted away to why they got there in the first place and before they knew it, they were talking normally.

Mack didn’t have a parental vibe like Touta or a sisterly one like A; nor did he give off the younger or older brother vibe. Mack definitely wasn’t the vodka aunt nor was he the strange uncle.

He was just Mack.

And perhaps that’s what made Peters connect to him a little more.