Harder than Herding Cats {Hoss & Trace}

by **Hoss** Fri Aug 17, 2012 11:33 pm

Harvey had done a number of tasks for money in the past five years since leaving his home. The first job he ever did living on his own was simply washing windows for a business. He had even done far stranger jobs such as walking pets, bathing elderly people, and bartending a private party. The last one was strange because he had never done it before, some drunk just grabbed him and roped him into doing the task so that people would stop bitching about making their own drinks. Harvey made a killing that night and ended up treating himself to an all you can eat restaurant. Those jobs were few and far between though and his need for cash required he take shitty jobs alongside the good ones. Today, however, was definitely another check for the strange column.

So the story, so far as Harvey knows, went like this. A man breeds cats and gets a litter of kittens to sell. In his infinite wisdom the man leaves his door open thinking the little fur balls can't get out over the cardboard box they are in. He, however, failed to take into account the fact that these little fur balls are accompanied by two fully grown adult cats who will pick these little shits up and take them wherever they go for safety. This means that if they are hungry one of them will get food and bring it back. When the cat does this it may, and apparently did in this case, knock over the box as it leaps out and kittens, though unable to fully walk, may start crawling in all directions.

Cute?

Yes. It's fucking precious.

Except that's the story as Harvey was told it. The man was obviously in fucking sane or maybe was suffering from dementia because these weren't kittens.

They were fucking cats. These were walking, meowing, mouse killing machines. Fully capable of swallowing souls and dumpster diving at will, but he still called them kittens. This was not the job he signed on for but money was money and just because his boss was insane he didn't need to stop hunting down these cats. Besides, the job was made infinitely easier by his abilities.

So there he stood, a handful of catnip in one hand and some newspaper in the other. He was just about to copy the catnip and spread it around so that these large kitty's could get their rock star on when he saw him. There were a few things that could just piss Harvey off at first sight, one of them being his family members, but this was even worse. Just look, look how fucking happy that fucker was. I mean honestly, what possessed someone to be that happy? Harvey could grin like no tomorrow but this was nearly the level of used car salesman happy. It was sickening.

"Hey assmunch, why you so smiley?" He called over to the other side of the street as he pocketed the catnip and shoved the newspaper into his messenger bag.

by **Trace** Sat Aug 18, 2012 12:10 am

Oh man. Odd jobs. The wonderful world of odd jobs. Trace could stand on a pedestal all day and sing glorious praises about odd jobs but then that would take away from odd job completion time, so he'd have to pass. But it goes without saying that if you knew Trace, you knew about him and odd jobs. He and odd jobs were good friends; they were the kind that went way back. I'm talking about these kids were born at the same time in the same operating room, and they even went to school together-- heck, Trace's first memory probably involved odd jobs. It wouldn't be a surprise if they got married -- Probably a summer wedding on a beach -- and had a beautiful little family of four somewhere in downtown suburbia.

Trace promptly scrapped that train of thought-- partially because it was just downright stupid, and partly because, well, he had an odd job to do! Yes, Trace was currently so entrenched in the throes of doing and odd job that he just couldn't afford to lose focus. (Naturally, all of that is a crock of freshly baked bullshit, but at least the part about him loving odd jobs was true). It was really simple. The guy who lived out here had a really bad case of arthritis. So bad in fact that he needed a cane to walk; Obviously cutting his hedges would be a big no-no, but with the prime piece of real estate that he possessed, obviously untrimmed hedges were a crime against humanity.

So Trace got to work snipping away. It wasn't particularly hard work-- just a few inches off the top. The best part of it: He was free to make all sorts of zany shapes and creations before he leveled the top. So there was no need to worry about boredom. And he had his good on, which meant he had some decent sun protection. A few hours in the sun was going to earn him a good 30 credits. Two-thirds of that would go towards dinner tonight, and the remainder into his rainy day fund. Which was to say, his pocket.

"Hey assmunch, why you so smiley?"

Trace was broken out of his daydream of barbecued meat and ice-cold drinks. He dropped the pair of rusty shears in hand and turned toward the sound of the voice. Eh, would you look at that? Apparently he wasn't the only odd job-goer in this neck of the woods. He made his way over to the other guy, grinning his signature grin.

"Is there any reason I shouldn't be?"

by **Hoss** Sat Aug 18, 2012 12:44 am

Oh just look at this guy. How were assmunch and Harvey different, you ask? Let me count thy ways. The blonde hair was much more attractive than Harvey's currently greasy brown hair. It was kept hidden for the most part under his newsie cap though as he seemed to tower the kid more and more as he approached. He couldn't tell the kid's age but he appeared to be younger by at least a few years. So the differences were definitely notable to the naked eye. The rest of the differences were just up to speculation based off of the smile and the way the kid asked that question.

Is there any reason he shouldn't be so smiley? What kind of dumbass question was that? Like that was something Harvey could just answer on the spot. He didn't know this kid's story, but it couldn't be too interesting if he was smiling like it was his birthday and trimming his or someone else's hedges without a care in the world. He reached into his bag and pulled out a cigarette, figuring it was a free world and he could enjoy a smoke on his break if he had wanted one. Pulling out the single cancer stick he rested the filter between his lips and lit up.

After the first smooth drag he pulled it away and said in rhythm, "Famine, poverty, sick kids, lost kittens, hedges being tortured by some smiling psychopath, toxic substances, gang territories, the prices of a good salmon fillet and gasoline." He put the cigarette back in his mouth for a victory smoke as he thought over a number of other reasons. Oh the reasons he could name, but he was more interested in the fact that he heard a few of the cats he was looking for. He couldn't see them, but he had heard them meowing in the distance and he could guess that they were getting closer to his location.

Maybe the breeze caught the smell of the catnip...

He decided to pay no heed to the distant meowing as his deadened red eyes stared into the boys. There was another reason right there, their eyes. Their eyes were a motherfuck. Why? Because their eyes betrayed their greatest secret from birth. It turned their greatest secret into their greatest truth despite how they may feel about the subject, leaving them to become second class citizens in most of the eyes of normal folk. This was a larger problem for Harvey from the looks of it though, as the kid’s own eyes were nearly a normal shade of blue.

And so he stared into the eyes that were so subtly out of the ordinary that he was second guessing himself. Had he been a less observant or intelligent person he might have missed that little detail.

Note to self, don't get picking a fight.

He might have the power to blow people up with his mind for all Harvey knew, and he didn't feel like experiencing anything like that first hand.

by **Trace** Sat Aug 18, 2012 1:13 am

There were several things that were pretty clear to Trace-- and first and foremost was the fact that mister pouty face over here wasn't feeling too hot about whatever it is that he was doing. It was always sort of sad when he saw people toiling with meagre jobs. Trace was by no means some kind of expert laborer -- Heck, he wasn't even that strong -- but he always found ways to make the work bearable, or at least distract himself while working so that by the end of it he wasn't just a rumbling thundercloud of annoyance. He'd gotten quite good over time, actually, if he thought about it. But then again, the ways that you could entertain the simple human mind were virtually limitless, right?

He gave the guy a cursory glance. He had a habit of doing that-- it was almost second-nature. You'd be surprised how much a first glance could tell about someone. And, if you pay enough attention, over time you'd be able to notice more and more things in the same amount of time it takes for you to glance at someone and then away again. Harbinger -- definitely -- and unless those eyes were some kind of fashion statement (who knew with people these days?), there was no way that people would be able to mistake him for anything other than what he was, unlike Trace himself who managed to get by undetected a lot of the time. Besides physical appearances (which Trace usually decided to skim over if unnecessary), there was nothing much to note about this guy. Besides the fact that he seemed to be a smoker. And if his eyes hadn't told him that on the first try, the smell of smoke when he decided to light up definitely would.

He listened with genuine interest as the guy in front of him rattled off a seemingly-endless list of reasons why Trace shouldn't be smiling. Though, they didn't seem like reasons he shouldn't be smiling as much as problems that struck various parts of the world and were in no way solvable-- not by Trace, at least. So he decided he'd respond neutrally. There was no sense in getting off to a bad start, right?

"You know, there would be no joy without suffering, right? Life's all about a balance-- there would be none without suffering. In a perverse way, it's necessary."

by **Hoss** Sat Aug 18, 2012 3:00 pm

It was an interesting proposition to consider. Would a rose smell as sweet without the stench of shit filling the sewers? Would a kiss feel so tender without getting knocked around by somebody from time to time? Critical thought like this called for another drag. He had things to think over. He tried to remember all the shit in his life as his eyes dropped from the boy's own. After he remembered that he tried to think of things in his life that had made him happy. Whether it was a larger payout or a nice filling meal with a beer or two to relax, and a smoke. A nice buzz from drinking with a good smoke was always the best feeling in the world to him.

Now that he thought about it, he could really go for a drink.

His eyes caught an approaching cat as it seemed to join the two by climbing up on his leg, it's nose stretching up to sniff at the hand which had been holding the catnip. He could still hear a little bit of meowing in the distance as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the catnip he had. He kept his cigarette in the corner of his lips and mumbled the next sentence as his free hand moved into his messenger bag. He grabbed a large mound of newspaper, scrunching it out of sight in the bag as he made the copy.

Slowly the paper turned in texture and broke apart in flakes of catnip into his hand. Once the process was done he focused hard on putting off the whistling just yet. He pulled his hand from out of his bag as he stretched it out over the boy's head. "Well, this might make the rest of your day seem that much sweeter."

His hand would unclasp over the boys head, releasing the large mound of catnip above his head as cat's watched with great interest. It was clear enough to Hoss that these cats really wanted that catnip and he figured they weren't above jumping and clawing into this guy to get to it. Of course, they might just be playful and jump on him. The jerk might even like it but for the moment he would take his sweet with his sour. He increased the chance that cats might jump onto and scratch the guy and maybe, just maybe, he would stop smiling for a brief moment.

He wasn't sure why it was so important to him to make this guy stop smiling for a moment, but it just seemed to bother him a little.

by **Trace** Sat Aug 18, 2012 4:28 pm

It seemed like what he said had gotten through to Smoky McSmokypants over here. There might be some hope yet. Sound the church bells because God must exist; there is hope in this world yet. This was cause to celebrate. The minute he was done with the hedges he'd dash right over to the nearest chapel, climb up on a pew, and belt out 'Hallelujah' to the waiting masses. And when he was done, and the congregation was whipped into a frenzy, he'd recite the words of the Parable of the Man Who Couldn't Smile, and his disciples would kneel at his feet, with their eyes widened, for they will have seen the light. The universe's secrets will have been revealed to them. Nothing less than a legitimate, bona fide miracle.

Well, just because he took the time to let it sink in didn't mean he was suddenly attempting to let a new ideology set in. Once you believe something it's really hard to change those core beliefs. But it was worth following that train of thought for the sweet payout at the end. He was rather impressed where the tangent led him on this particular occasion.

It was about that time that he heard the faint meowing start to increase in volume. He'd give it a second thought except now there was a cat clinging to its leg as if it were a tree-dwelling animal like it was a vicious carnivore trying to climb a tree in order to catch its prey; Though, Trace was unsure of what the prey was-- Mr. McSmokypants, or whatever was in his bag. He didn't get much chance to question that because the next thing he new, this guy had released a handful of who knows what onto his head.

He smiled until the odor of catnip hit him. The smile then froze on his face, not changing, but unmoving also-- a sickly kind of smile. He barely had time to blink before he was down on his knees, failing to take in enough air, clutching at his throat desperately.

"Water," he gasped, pointing in the direction of the backpack he'd dropped by the hedges.

by **Hoss** Sun Aug 19, 2012 5:41 pm

"Huh..." He looked down, his mind going to different scenarios of how this could end. The kid was on his knees and it seemed that while not vicious the cats were mildly interested in him. Did he feel bad? If the kid died from this he may feel a little responsible, but it just seemed kind of coincidental. Still, the drop to his knees was convincing enough that he looked over to the water bottle and grabbed it. Of course, by now, he couldn't focus on holding back.

This kid was really going to think he was an asshole or something.

He began whistling the globetrotters theme song as he made his way back toward the kid. He wasn't exactly sure if this was an allergic reaction to the catnip so much as the cats, but if it was bad enough he'd have to take him to the hospital. He just couldn't really talk at the moment, he had another couple minutes of whistling to do first. So he knelt down and set the water bottle on the ground where the kid could reach it if he needed it while Harvey went to work trying to wipe off the catnip in the guys hair.

All five cats he had been looking for had gathered around, and began licking at the fallen flakes as well as trying to sniff in curiosity at Harvey's pockets and Assmunch's hair. It was annoying to say the least but he wasn't sure what to expect from this kid. If this was some sort of trick he was going to have to get him back for it.

I really hope this isn't a severe cat allergy.

by **Trace** Sun Aug 19, 2012 7:10 pm

While he was on his knees facing the ground, Trace's smile widened. He prided himself on his acting ability. Even if the guy didn't believe him, at least the fact that Trace appeared to be in dire straits would force his hand. That was the key to acting; Raise the stakes and no one will doubt you. And even if they do, they won't be able to help but be your puppet. And it proved true because there he was kneeling there while Smoky McSmokypants fetched him his water bottle like a good dog and started brushing the catnip out of his hair.

He was whistling-- the globetrotters theme? It didn't really seem to appropriate in the situation, so Trace had to surmise that he'd used his powers sometime in the past minute or so. He highly doubted that the power had anything to do directly with the catnip, unless this guy was just one of the unlucky ones who was a blatantly obvious harbinger and had a stupid ability. That would suck, but then again maybe it was Divine Retribution or some sort of karmic shift working behind the scenes.

He waited until the flakes were more or less completely brushed off, still gasping, and reached shakily for the water bottle. Once he'd pulled it towards him and unscrewed the cap (taking a respectable 4 attempts), he brought the bottle to his lips. Only he didn't drink. Instead he looked up straight at Smoky and smirked for barely a second before he pulled the 500mL bottle from his lips and the fingers of his free hand twitched.

In the next second a jet of ice-cold water hit that smug asshole's face, half of it going up his nose. And with that Trace hopped back to his feet and took several (large) steps back as he watched the other's reaction. He brushed off his shorts gently and smiled jovially to himself. Today was gonna be a good day. This little incident only proved it further.

by **Hoss** Sun Aug 19, 2012 8:36 pm

It was one thing to be proven right, it was another thing entirely to be proven right and lose a cigarette because of it. Granted, whistling prevented him from taking any long drags regardless of the amount of water that made it's way up his nose and mouth. Still though, he knew you couldn't trust anyone in this world. Even little tricksters like this when they were faking a medical emergency couldn't be trusted. He had to laugh though, between whistles, because at least the kid wasn't a pushover.

If anything he could respect that.

"You." A bit of whistling. "Owe." More whistling. "Me." Still more whistling. "A ciga-" Cue even more whistling. "-rette." The song continued for a few moments as he began coughing out the water and cigarette mush that had managed to get into his mouth. As he spat and sputtered it seemed the cats were all there in front of him so he quickly scooped his arms around them, hugging them tight to his body and lowering his face to wipe himself dry against one of them.

It's not like he was told he couldn't use one as a makeshift towel, right?

He looked up with significantly more cat hair on his face than normal, normal of course being none, but his face was dry as a result. He managed to satisfy his restitution before he spoke up again. "So that's why you got smug smile on your face. It's because you do have something to smile about, I wonder just how many pranks like that are floating up in your head. I hope you can run...."

Harvey didn't know much about cats, but he knew that they had claws. He knew they preferred to land on their feet. He also knew, that he had a good number of them scooped up in his arms so high on catnip they probably weren't sure what the fuck was going on in their lives. He pulled one up, and let it launch toward the kid.

Cat dodge ball had begun.

by **Trace** Sun Aug 19, 2012 10:48 pm

Trace couldn't help but smirk and feel a stab of pride as he watched his work at play. There was just no way he was going to let Smoky get away with that little catnip stunt-- that was just not gonna fly with him. He was no pushover. Not in the slightest, even though he might seem like it. The thing with Trace was that he wasn't what he seemed-- not in the slightest. Maybe it was because no one was worthy of getting close enough to get a sneak peek at the real him. Or just that he didn't trust anyone enough to show them the real him. Who knew?

But back to the situation at hand, Smoky was spluttering and coughing -- between whistles -- and it was nothing shy of a miracle. He should get a comedy routine. One where he's the guy who ends up slipping on the peel or with the pie in his face. He seemed like he'd do well as the butt of the joke. Very well, in fact. And it was just pure enjoyment watching him spit out bits of cigarette mush while he tried to whistle. His restitution had hilarious applications. Even more reason for him to be in a comedy routine-- or a circus. He wonder what would happen if this guy's mouth was stuffed so full he couldn't get any sound out. He was almost tempted to try-- for scientific reasons, of course!

Trace of course did not respond to his comment about the cigarettes. Like Hell he'd be buying anything for this chump, unless it happened to be a one-way ticket to dreamland. Just look at the way he smoked around those poor kitties. At least he had the decency to give them a little TLC. If he hadn't picked them up, Trace would have to-- What the hell is he rubbing the cat on his face for. That was a cruel way to dry your face, and really dumb because then you'd get annoying, ticklish cat dander all over you. But it seemed like this guy didn't care. Trace might've even offered him a towel to dry his face, but. It looked like any chance for an amicable settlement has been ruined. Especially when a kitty came flying at him.

He caught the cat in his right hand, holding out his other (which contained the half-empty bottle) to steady him. He made sure to keep his hand a good distance away from his body because kitty claws wouldn't look so nice embedded in his skin. That was a little harsh. When he'd finally steadied the cat, he stared hard at Smoky and raised an eyebrow, the smile never leaving his face. In fact, it only increased in size. It seemed he'd need to use another tactic if he wanted to get this guy off his back.

"Do you see this water bottle?" he asked. "It's still half full. So if you don't put down those cats in the next few seconds, so help me I will wet the lot of you. And then you'll have wet, hissing cats to bring back in!"

He smirked jovially, a closed-eyed smile that would have betrayed friendliness if not for the threat he'd just spoken.

"And I really, really don't think you want wet cats on your hands."

by **Hoss** Sun Aug 19, 2012 11:12 pm

Throwing a cat hadn't been his intention from the start, far from it. He needed these things for money and throwing them was taking him a step away from those few short and easy credits. I mean really this job was a glorified lost cat poster. The reward wasn't even that good when compared to your normal rich white collar pet finding fees. So in terms of fighting he didn't really stand anything to gain here except foolish pride. Once he let that cat fly he immediately regretted throwing it and hoped that it would be okay. To his surprise, the guy caught the damned thing.

So the guy had pretty decent reflexes, he'd give him that. He honestly didn't expect him to catch the cat so much as get mauled by it. Either way at least he didn't hurt the cat from the looks of it, that would have been pretty bad and however hypocritical it seemed he'd have to beat the guy's ass for hurting a weak animal just to get his way. He looked down after the threat was given to look at the kitty next in line, it looked up and let out a loud meow before it's dry sandpaper tongue licked at Harvey's nose.

"So what you're saying is you can shoot that water out again like before. It wasn't some freak incident. That's your deal, right?" He asked with a grin. "Regardless of what or how you do it I didn't notice you do anything after my face got hit with water. What'd you have to give up for that ability?"

He walked over in an obviously calm manner to try and get the other cat from him. He'd reach over and grab the cat from his hand and set him on the other ones held tightly to him in his left arm. He was bowing down in this fight, because he really didn't want to get soaked and he didn't want to kill the buzz these little guys were on. Not over a single cigarette anyway, not when he could just replicate one to replace it. The buzz was just the same either way when he replicated cigarettes. He just didn't know if smoking copies had any sort of medical backlash worse than normal cigarettes so he avoided it unless he was really short on dough.

by **Trace** Sun Aug 19, 2012 11:34 pm

Half of the reason Trace managed to catch the cat was because Smoky hadn't tried to lob the thing at him. Sure he threw it, but nearly hard or fast enough to catch Trace off guard too much. Besides, his reflexes were pretty good and he had gloves so he wasn't worried about his hands getting scratched. He scritched the cat behind the ears as he watched the other boy look down at the next cat in line. Trace chuckled as the cat licked his nose. Pretty cute stuff, all things considered.

And then Smoky decided to ask him about his power. And his restitution. That was a surprise. And then he walked over and took the cat from him, putting it under his arm with the rest. Backing down from the challenge. Trace's eyebrows raised just a smidgeon, and his face lost all semblance of condescension. So Smoky was more of a real man that he let on. Trace was maybe just a little impressed. It took a lot to swallow your pride like that, especially when Smoky'd gotten it a lot worse than Trace himself did. That took a lot, and he had to acknowledge it. So he gave the other guy a small smile and decided to answer his questions truthfully.

"Yeah, that is my deal. If you searched my bag more thoroughly there's 9 other bottles just like this one," he said, lifting up the one he currently held in his hand. He brought it to his lips and downed the rest of it. He'd put it back in his bag to refill later. After a certain incident he realized that he should always be prepared, so he always carried 10 full water bottles with him. That was 5L of water at his disposal. Not much actually, if you thought about it. But with that and his staff he was usually just fine.

"As for the price? Let's just say I get thirsty a lot."

He grinned. That was just the tip of the iceberg. Dehydration was something that most people took for granted. It was actually really dangerous stuff-- people died from dehydration. Good thing he kept extra water with him now. It would do him good. But then, he had to make sure not to waste it in case he needed it in a fight.

"And how about your power? You used it just before you dumped the catnip on my head."

by **Hoss** Mon Aug 20, 2012 5:10 am

Pride was definitely not a priority to Harvey. If anything he felt he didn't really have a downfall with his outlook. He always took care of himself and made sure that he came out alive even if it meant cutting his losses. This meant potentially less injury and a guaranteed payment so why not take it? It was mutually beneficial and all that fighting could do is hurt the both of them with no possible good outcome. So he tucked his tail, which wasn't hard in the slightest.

"Nine others..." He tried to imagine the different uses of the ability. Water bottles seemed a good option but he wondered the actual details of the power itself. It could have been hydrokinesis but there was so much force. He didn't want to boil down the specifics or ask anything else, it felt a little invasive to ask someone their ability and the details. He was, however, very forthcoming with the restitution which was a little surprising. So he gets thirsty, dehydration was a bad thing. He was glad the kid knew to drink the rest of the bottle at least.

"Are you so sure?" He asked with a grin on his face. "I did an awful lot of whistling I guess. Can't really help it. Let's just say it's embarrassing so I don't like to brag about it. It involves turning newspaper into catnip and it's quite possibly the dumbest thing in history."

He wasn't trusting in the least. Not an ounce of trust. "So let's just keep that between you and me, huh?" He winked at the kid, a signal of trust. Hopefully that'd be the end of that as he looked back toward the house. "In any case it looks like I'm finished, and I guess you got your hedges to finish, yeah?"

He wasn't exactly sure what else to say to the kid. He seemed like an alright guy who could take care of himself, so he didn't need to lecture him or anything on that. Though... "Just... promise me one thing. That ace up your sleeve, you shouldn't go telling people the details of it, not even me. Next time someone asks you, tell them to shove it or tell them a lie. People are bastards. Okay?"

by **Trace** Mon Aug 20, 2012 12:09 pm

Trace watched Smoky musing to himself about what his power could be. Or at least that's what he surmised by the way he'd murmured about the other nine bottles, all pensive. It was all about the pressure. But then again, what was pressure manipulation but exciting or slowing down the water? By adding enough pressure to a liquid, the particles would move closer together. So in a way, yes, he was hydrokinetic. Just not conventionally. Of course, there were a few little limitations and add-ons to just plain hydrokinesis, but he'd always kept them to himself. He wasn't a trusting person in general, even if he might seem to be one. Which was one reason why he puzzled himself by letting the other in on his restitution. And his power too, somewhat. That would leave him open if the other was a powerful harbinger -- though, that wasn't a problem -- he knew as much. That may have been part of the reason why he did decide to tell him, though... he could have powerful connections, so it didn't really make sense to. But he did regardless.

Then Smoky responded to his question, smiling. And he nodded to himself. Turning newspaper into catnip, eh? Sounded like some form of mimicry. Though, Trace found it hiiighly unlikely that this guy was the unluckiest harbinger on the planet-- what with that ability and the glaring color of his eyes. Yes, object mimicry sounded about right. He probably could turn something -- newspaper? -- into other things at whim. He was sure there had to be some kind of restriction. He'd probably have to have a sample to study or something before he could mimic anything. But of course it was none of his business.

He nodded at the other guy and smiled. "Yeah, just between us." Then he remembered the hedges he still needed to tend to. Whoops.

"And yeah, I've still got a few to trim."

And then Trace's smile disappeared, to be replaced by a look of surprise. He swallowed. The fact that Smoky cared was.. oddly endearing. Nice, even. So he grinned, scratching his head. "Okay," he said, "I promise." And he did. He didn't often (Read: ever) tell people about him, or his power. That's why he never told anyone his real name, and why he had a fake name and and alias just in case he needed them. Whoops. With that, he turned to go back to tend to the hedges, waving 'seeya' over his shoulder.

"And the name's Trace."

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