He was on a day trip with his mother. Even if she was severely crippled, the woman enjoyed shopping and Ambrose enjoyed spoiling her thoroughly. He was happy to give her all the things she could not have when he was young. At the moment he was a little miffed. She decided she wanted to buy him something, a gift. He could not come in and see. She shouldn't be wasting what little money the government gave her on things like that. He could very well take care of himself. But when she pleaded with those big brown eyes there was nothing he could do to tell her no. This is the circumstance which caused Ambrose to stand waiting on the sidewalk surrounded by a menagerie of colorful bags.
He felt his pocket vibrate and pulled out the old fashioned cellphone. It was silver in color, thick, and flip style. It rang out with Beethoven's Ode to Joy. The little screen read, 'b*****d'. He grimaced at the thing and grudgingly opened it to find that his father wanted to meet up today to go to the zoo. He quickly tapped a reply. No. Normally he would not respond to the man, but a lack of response meant a thousands texts begging for one. He did not want to deal with that while he was out with his mother. Ambrose snapped the object shut and pushed it into his jean pocket.
He was not an exceptionally tall man. In fact, he was on the shorter spectrum of average. He had a little bit of extra weight to him. By no means fat, but definitely a man who did not go out of his way to exercise. He wore jeans, a long sleeve button up beneath a grey sweater vest, and a pair of thick rimmed glasses on his nose. He pushed them up as someone accosted him. Or rather, simply spoke.
Pale blue eyes looked up to find a startling pair of olive shaded ones. At first he did not register what was said, just watched the eyes. Ambrose shook himself from his revere and frowned. Well... more frowned. He just went on talking, holding out his hand. Ambrose looked from that hand to the eyes and back to the hand. It was as if he were considering taking hold of a scorpion and shaking it around. Finally he accepted the offered hand.
"Ambrose," he growled out in his deep baritone.
"I'm not alone. Just waiting." He felt the man needed no more information that that. It wasn't any of his pretty eyed business what he was up to.
He glanced at his bags and back at the man.
"No." he stated simply. Unfortunately his mother exited the shop at the moment, carrying a small, pink striped paper bag.
"You could help us carry the bags back to my apartment," she said jovially. The woman was full of bubbles and smiles. You would never have guessed at her broken past. She trusted everyone implicitly and put on no pretensions. What you saw was what you got. Her spidery, thick knuckled fingers curled grotesquely around the strings on the bag. Ambrose moved to take it from her, but with a jerky movement she pulled it back. Ambrose scowled. "I am perfectly capable of carrying one tiny bag! You won't see it til we get back." She stuck out her tongue at him and Ambrose heaved a heavy sigh.
