Hunter Goes to School
This hadn’t gone so well. Nothing since Tabula Rasa had. Hunter and the others had followed Cheryl around for months as she fixated on this ridiculous Go Fish gang and their bank heists only to be humiliated every time. Humiliated by people in fish masks. Hunter sat on the curb of their latest defeat, staring down at his flip-flops as he wiggled his toes. He had started doing this a lot. After the others had scrambled, he just sat on the curb, looking at his feet.
“You’re going to lose those if you don’t get better footwear,” he said aloud to himself.
He failed to notice the press forming around him like a growth, jabbing recording devices at his head. He leaned back and his head lolled as his eyes stared at them, hidden behind his mirrored aviators. He gave a delayed flinch in recognition.
“Psamurai,” one reported shouted, “How do you…”
“Mr. Psamurai,” another barked, “Would you like to….”
“Psamurai? Sir?,” another chirped, “Could we get a…”
“No questions today,” Hunter growled with a cigarette clinched in his teeth.
“Mr. Psamurai,” the one barked again, “Would you like…”
“Nothing. I’d like nothing,” Hunter teetered to his feet and smoothed out his flannel robe, “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he swayed between the reporters and trotted down the sidewalk.