Just part of the comic I'm working on. Less text, more Comic, hopefully. ;;>>
He sat with his left hand pressed up against his cheek, as if he was trying to crush something unpleasant. His right hand tapped impatiently as he stared out the window with grey, dead looking eyes. They had no life and no real desire. They were also his single defining feature. With startlingly ordinary brown hair, he could melt into a crowd, his slight build and vaguely aquilline features, he was an aspect of mundane representation. Except for those eyes. Not piercing or fiery, simply empty.
The plane landed with the usual grinding. The 'fasten seatbelts' warning flashed for a second before remaining in its position. The plane slowed down and eventually stopped. He kept up his relentless tattoo on the arm of his uncomfortable seat, staring into the plate of oval plexiglass that separated him from the outside. People around him stood up as the 'seatbelts' warning finally halted in its incessant reminders. He stayed sitting.
He waited, continuing the rhythmic tapping.
The plane emptied, until all that was left were a few stragglers. He raised himself to his feet, easily picking up a knapsack as he walked into the thin isle that was the way off the plane. Retrieving the remainder of his carry-on luggage, he stepped out with an unsettling stare at the friendly flight attendant. She glared at him, but he had already moved on. Pausing, he slipped headphones under his jacket collar and plugged them firmly into his ears. He continued on through customs, holding out his passport-- the usual.
It was all just more routine.
That is, until he saw the man holding up a sign containing his name. It was ludicrous. Not the fact that someone was waiting, but the fact of the sign. It was inscribed in bright pink, "ADAM TERRENCE-BRONSON". Not only that, but it was decorated with sparkles and curliques. It was a lesson in absolute clashing despair, considering the fact that the person holding it was a somewhat cheerful looking person with an awful case of bed hair. A portion of his black hair stood straight up, while the rest constricted and contrasted with his skull. Adam tried not to look too closely at the sign. Maybe they hadn't been given a picture. He slowly started to move on.
"Hey! Adam! Over here!" The man waved, and Adam visibly flinched. He turned around and stared at the man, who paid him no attention, "Geez, I go through all the trouble to make it noticeable. I had a hell of a lot of trouble getting through customs with this." The man raised the sign. Apparently he was a Christian. Adam failed to see why this was relevant.
The man turned around.
'The rest of you take 66d6 Damage'
"Mm." Adam commented slowly. He didn't get it. In fact, he would have dragged that nutcase away and thrown him into solitary confinement for a couple hours, too.
"Oh, what'm I talking about. You must be dead on your feet. 12 hour flight and all, right? Jetlag city, there." He said motioning for Adam to give him his larger carryon bag.
"Didn't bring anything else." Adam commented vaguely.
"Ah, not much of a talker, are you?" Adam's companion replied, "I knew someone like that. Of course, they were also kinda buff, so I guess they were a man of few words. Strong and silent type, I suppose you could say..." that infernal voice trailed off and started going on a differing tangent.
Adam wished he had never come.
As they walked through the revolving door, Adam finally thought of something to say that might distract his host.
"What's your name?" It wasn't perfect, but hell, who was?
"Y'know, there's a funny story in that. My parents were arguing about it, even while my mother was giving birth. As the story goes--" Adam tuned it out, reaching into his pocket and turning up the sound.
"So here's the car." Adam kept walking. The man tapped Adam on the shoulder lightly. Adam pulled out one of the earphones.
"Here's the car," the man repeated.
"What a piece of junk!" said Adam, reacting as if it were some form of pungent sewage. As cars went, he wasn't far off.
"She'll make point five past lightspeed." With that otherworldy reference, he opened the trunk.
Adam was duly confused. "What? I don't know what world you come from, but that thing is a goddamn Pinto."
"I'm glad you know your cars! It appears this one is a dud, from the accidents I've been in," replied his 'host'.
"What was your name again? I want to know so I can haunt you for all eternity if I die." Adam said viciously.
"Well, glad- ugh, this is heavy. to see there's some sort of fight in you. Thought you were just going to listen to your damn MP3 player all the way. My name is Darwin. Mister Darwin as you'll be calling me. I'm your Advisory teacher." With that comment, he went back to stuffing the knapsack Adam was holding into the trunk. He seemed to make more room than there actually was in there by simply stuffing it all as far as he could.
Adam on the other hand, just stared with those eyes and an incredulous expression.