A study in contrasts

A guy who is nice, as opposed to a “nice guy” – RecklessPrudence

(#00507 - A132)

Sid’s first question, whenever he encountered someone who was having trouble was, “Would you like some help?”

It was a good question, simply because some people were only experiencing temporary difficulties and tended to get angry when other folks just barged in.

And there were other questions that came first. Like, “Is this guy bothering you?” whenever he saw a man making a woman uncomfortable.

And there were other situations where barging in was welcome. Like tonight, when it was three against one in an alleyway. He knew it was fruitless to call the cops. Here in racist New York, they were more likely to shoot him for his skin colour and ancestry.

There was no time to convince them away, so he launched himself at the lead brute and ploughed the man down by sheer impetus alone. Howling like a wild animal and landing with fists flailing served to alarm the other two, who decided to bail.

The lead brute was lucky one of them was friend enough to drag him away.

Sid settled his hackles and crouched by the lady they’d been curb-stomping. “Do you want me to call an ambulance? Or assist you to a hospital?”

“I’m too far from my clinic,” she managed. Despite the beating, her voice was a sensuous husky purr. She picked herself up into a sitting position. Trying to straighten herself up. She had a trim, lanky build and long, graceful limbs, and the most entrancing eyes Sid had ever seen.

She also had a five o'clock shadow.

Ah. So that was why those alleged gentlemen were offended.

“I can take you there?” he offered. “Are they open? Or perhaps there is somewhere that feels safe for you?”

Her eyes were full of fear. She knew he’d seen. She cringed in on herself and clutched her purse to her chest. “I… I can probably make it? Please don’t…”

“It’s all right,” he cooed. “I won’t hurt you. I want to help. My name’s Siddig. And I promise I am not a terrorist.”

“M’ name’s Claire,” she said. She watched him. Waiting for the bombardment of questions. The unthinking questions. The painful questions.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Claire,” he smiled for her. “And I would be honoured to assist you in any way I can.”

“You-you don’t mind that I’m a… trap?”

He winced at the horrible slur. “Sweet, dear lady,” he said, his voice a mild reprimand. “You are not a trap.” He stood and offered his hand. “If anything… you are a lady who happens to have some interesting bodily accessories at the moment, and who is on an intense journey of self-discovery.”

She was taller than him. And embarrassed about that. Even in her bare feet, she would be taller than him. He would tell her later, when they were finally comfortable with each other, that he adored taller women.

He flirted, oh yes. Life had taught him to never miss an opportunity. But he made sure to flirt in harmless and amusing ways. Raining compliments down on her so that she would blush and smile her beautiful smile.

Such a wonderful lady deserved to be courted. Deserved every help she needed. Deserved happiness.

Sid would be delighted to be part of that. Even if, in the end, she chose to share her life with someone else.

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