Eyes on Me (Harry/Casual) FINISHED

[SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN]

"Look, Sebastian, I know you mean well, but don't you think that's going a little overboard?"

"No, Anna. When you've been in the position that kid is in, you'd understand. Until you're ready to realize that the whole world doesn't revolve around you, you're just gonna have to let me do my thing," Sebastain shifted his phone to his other shoulder as he walked the streets of New York City, sipping his scalding coffee while arguing with his colleague. "I know you're his boss, and you get to tell him what to do, but now that his father died, you cannot just extend his workload."

"But he is MY assistant. I do not appreciate you doing his work for him, and still expect me to pay him the same amount," Anna retorted.

"Fine, dock him. I'll just pay him myself."

"That's just stupid. You'd pay him out of your own pocket for nothing?"

Sebastian stopped suddenly in front of a shop window. He looked at himself in the sunlit reflection, sighing. "Anna... He's just a kid... An intern. He's doing the best he can... And if that's not good enough for you why don't you just--"

He wasn't cut off. No, he cut himself off. A vision. A black out into another, gruesome world full of murder and violence.

A teenage boy. A struggle. A dark alley. A heartless man. Blood. Cries for help. Left for dead.

"Hello? Sebastian, are you there?

Sebastian was pulled out of his vision abruptly. "Sorry, Anna... But... I have to go... Now." He didn't wait for her to respond before hitting the end button.

He sprinted off to the alley, dropping his coffee onto the pavement. He always saw the times in his visions. Sometimes they would be a week from that point, and he could warn the person beforehand.

This was not one of those visions.

He had less than 5 minutes to get there. The boy was already in the alley. He sprinted out of the good side of town, letting his feet lead him to the violent neighborhood. He skidded across the pavement, crossing the street with cars still going. He heard the drivers blow their horns, but he didn't care. Someone's life was at stake.

He panted, forcing his feet to move faster. Finally, he was closing in on the alleyway. He could already hear the struggle. 'Dammit...' he thought. He was too early. He did NOT want to be there while the killer was on the scene. He skidded to a halt just around the corner of the alley.

"Please... Please don't hurt me..." the boy cried. He gasped, letting out an agonizing moan filled with tears.

Sebastian flinched, backing up against the stone of the building. There was no one around this part of town. It was too dangerous. No one to hear this boy's screams.

'Coward...' he cursed himself. 'You'd risk the chance of him dying, all for the sake of your own skin? You're better than that, Sebastian...' He started tearing up, catching his heavy breaths in his throat so the killer wouldn't notice him. He was good at being stealthy, even in an intense situation like this.

Sebastian heard a piece of metal hit the cold concrete. He heard footsteps run away, out the other side of the alley. He peeked around the corner, to make sure he was gone.

Sure enough, there was only a convulsing young man lying in the middle of the alley, in a pool of his own blood. His tears mixed with the dirt and blood staining his face. Sebastian stepped towards him quickly, taking off his coat to in turn take off his button down oxford, leaving his undershirt behind. He ripped it up and pressed the shreds of cloth to the boys wounds.

"A--A--Are you an an--angel?" the boy whispered, looking Sebastian in the eye with nothing but heartbreak.

Sebastian cleared his throat. "No," he said. He reached into his back pocket to pull out his spare phone. "No, I'm not... Far from it." He dialed 9-1-1, taking the boy's hand and placing it there, gently, letting his fingers curl around it. He placed both hand and phone to the boy's ear, moving some of his hair from his eyes. They were a warm chocolate brown. "Tell them this phone has a tracker, so that they can trace you here. You'll be safe, don't worry. Don't mention I'm here. I'll stay with you until I hear the sirens..."

He pressed the call button. Now all he had to do was wait.

[hamlet]

(sorry for the lateness of this!)

Sometimes Harry didn't even know where he was driving towards. Sometimes he'd just jump in the car and go. After his little 'pep talk' with his uncle in his office, he needed to get the hell out of wall street and not exist for a bit. How easy would it be to just keep going, to get out of the prison of NYC, and take Ophelia with him. All he had to do was keep going, keep driving. But it was never that easy, was it? No, his mother needed him in NYC. And Harry, deep down, did not trust Claudius with her. Harry had deep affections for his mother, but he hated what she's become since Hamlet Enterprise's takeover. It could only get worse from here. That was pessimistic, sure, but Harry didn't know of any thing else but pessimism ever since his father died.

...ever since his father seemed to follow Harry, beyond the grave - in his every sleeping and waking dream. He had no choice. He had to stay in NYC. He couldn't shake this feeling that his father wanted him to stay. He wanted him to be suspicious of Claudius. Was Harry going to go so far as to say that he believed Claudius killed his father, just because he - for some reason - envisioned the concept? That would be irrational. But his intuition was screaming at him - telling him - begging him - to accept this very fact and act on it. And some part of him wanted to. He wanted to put his father to rest, he wanted to put himself to rest.

But no. This was silly. If he was going to act on anything, it'll be when he's sure. Until then, he was stuck. He was stuck being Claudius' employee and nephew. Stuck grieving. Stuck with this foreboding feeling in the core of his being - that ever present emptiness. Nothing mattered anymore. He was simply going through the motions. Playing a role. Always playing a role.

Suddenly his car started to drive roughly on its wheels and Harry knew immediately that he had a flat. A great end to a perfect day, in all sarcasm. Before the car completely conked out on him, Harry pulled over to the curb, parking the car with a frustrated pull of the gear stick. He collapsed back into his seat and sat there for a bit, the lack of movement and silence within the car making him fall deeper into his own internal thoughts - a place he rarely wanted to be in.

He stared out of his windshield recognizing he wasn't in the best part of town. And to add insult to injury, he was in an expensive car and in an expensive suit, since he was coming straight from work. Great. The funny thing was that if someone came to mug him, he would be completely indifferent. Not even his possessions seemed all that important in the scheme of things.

Suddenly sirens started to sound, something that Harry wasn't particularly alarmed about since he figured that was a pretty common occurrence in this part of the city. He watched his surroundings though, looking out his rear view, through his windshield and out the side windows - where he had a clear view down an alley he was parked in front of. His eyes widened a bit when saw a man with a young boy down the alley. The sirens were coming closer and Harry, through some form of instinct, started to move out of the car.

Probably a stupid move. But as much as he wanted to remain indifferent to this situation, some part of him just couldn't. Perhaps it was his father's mark on Harry. As he got out of the car, keeping an eye on the alley, and glancing down the street to see the cop cars approaching. He wanted to make sure the cops got the guy they were after if the man was going to run, at least.

[SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN]

Sebastian's heart was pounding, more so than usual. He hated this part of town. These narrow streets and harsh corners made it hard to get away. It would be hard to explain how he got there, what he was doing, and the ever pressing question of why he was doing it.

Why was he doing this? Was it to ease his guilty conscience? What guilty conscience? What did he do to deserve this, these visions? He wasn't a murderer... All he wanted to do was help. But what could he really do in the long run, when he was just a civilian? He wasn't Superman, or even Batman. How could he be this saviour forever when he could barely keep on his own two feet at the end of the day.

He wiped some blood away from the young boy's face, furrowing his eyebrows. "It's gonna be okay... Don't... Don't worry... They'll save you..." he muttered. He said it to the kid, but he truly he wanted to reassure himself. He didn't know who "they" was, but he hoped "they" would come soon, for him. He needed to be saved from this nightmare that was his entire existence.

"They," however, did come, but not for him. Sirens. They sounded in his eardrums like the cries of every victim in his mind. He gave the boy's hand one last squeeze, and started to get up. He had to run, and do it fast. He started down the other side of the alley, looking back to make sure the boy would be taken care of. His eyes widened, and he began sprinting.

What he saw was a man behind him.

[hamlet]

Harry glanced down the street briefly but kept at least one eye on the alley as the sirens and lights came closer. He had walked around to the passengers side and leaned casually against the car, trying to act as if he were just hanging out. Taking a cigarette break (even though he didn't smoke), in the middle of a rough area, in a full out suit - yeah that'll go over well. Not that he had much a choice in the matter anyway, even if he knew something was amiss in that alley. He couldn't exactly change his mind, get in the car and drive away anyway.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, sighing a bit, pushing himself off the car as the cop cars drew near, but the next time he glanced in the alley, he saw a man start running from it. You gotta be kidding me, Harry thought. He didn't really feel up to chasing a potential felon but he was standing there doing nothing. He couldn't just let him get away. Wasn't that the reason he was keeping an eye out instead of calling a towing company right about now?

Right. Exactly.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Harry finally decided to go after the guy, running down the street in leather business shoes. By the time he was around the corner, Harry caught up with him and pushed him into the wall of a building. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Harry asked, not exactly yelling at him but, a tinge of anger graced his voice as his light eyes studied him. Geez, this guy didn't look like a thug but Harry now knew he should never assume. It irritated him that he was even in the middle of this mess. "What? You think you could just run away?"

[SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN]

Those rapid footsteps behind him caught him offguard. Oh, God, this was it. He'd finally be caught. But what could he do? He had blood all over his body from the kid. Even if he wasn't accused, he'd have to have some explaination for running away. He couldn't very well tell the authorities he had "visions" of people dying, now could he?

He was finally caught up with. Sebastian was thrown against a building, staring into the eyes of a younger, very attractive man. His rough words almost made him have a heart attack. "Please--Please, let me go! I just wanted to help him, that's all! I didn't hurt him!" He was whipping his head back and forth, with absolute fear that the cops would be there any second.

"Look, I--I promise I didn't do anything! I just, I saw him a--and a man, and the man stabbed him. I just wanted to help him!" He was stating the truth, in a way. He had indeed saw them. Just not by normal means.

[hamlet]

Harry was stunned as he looked at the guy, not releasing his hold on his arms. It wasn't quite what he was expecting. He was expecting the man to fight with him - he was certainly prepared for it. He was almost afraid the guy would pull out a weapon, but the impulse to stop the man took precedence. For some odd reason, he wasn't thinking about his own life - it just didn't even cross his mind that this man could kill him, right this second. When had he become so dismissive of his own survival? It shocked even himself.

"Look, I--I promise I didn't do anything! I just, I saw him a--and a man, and the man stabbed him. I just wanted to help him!"

"Why should I believe you?" Harry retorted immediately, his brow furrowed. "You were running away from the scene - you're not exactly making yourself look good, if you hadn't noticed." The guy had blood all over him - how could he not have been the guilty party in all this mess. All Harry knew was that he'd better start explaining because he was about 10 seconds away from alerting the cops he was here.

[SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN]

"L--listen to me! I--I--I--" he was hyperventilating now. He couldn't look at the man, he was so scared. The sirens blazed in his ear as they came closer still. He heard the men getting out of their cars, taking care of the boy, no doubt. He pulled against the man's arms in a surpressed panic.

"Please believe me! I've never wanted to hurt anyone! I just wanted to save th-- AH!" He gripped his head in agony. Something was wrong. He wasn't having a vision. It was like a migraine, times 100. He panted and sobbed, breaking away from the man. He didn't run, but rather move away toward another end of the wall, sinking down a little. "Oh, God, make it stop!" His memories of all his visions poured into his mind, a mass conjumbling of death after death after death, Andrew's smack dab in the middle. "Make the visions STOP!" he cried.

[hamlet]

Harry watched with wide, troubled eyes as the man eased away from him, going off in a panic, crying out about some visions. Harry just watched, stunned for a second, and trying to figure out what his next step should be. His first impulse? Call the cops over. He could just let them take care of this mess and this would be done. It appeared as if he'd made up his mind to do just that, running a hand through his dark hair as he watched the man sink a bit against the wall. THe man was clearly not right in the head, so telling the cops, clearly, was the best thing.

"Look, I wish I could help you," Harry said as he eased to the corner, peaking around it and seeing the cops and ambulance down the street. They didn't hear the man's cries because of the sirens. And when he realized that, something else occurred to Harry. Harry turned to look at the man and realized - what made this man so different from him? Did he not have visions of his own? Of his father? The very source of his irrational paranoia?

And if this man truly was a criminal, he surely would have pulled out a weapon by now or tried to get away. This man didn't.

Harry sighed heavily and approached the man, really not knowing how to react to his vision episode. "Okay listen, you're going to have to calm down. Just calm down and tell me what happened. What visions are you having? Why did you run? You doing some much needed explaining, by the way, is the only thing stopping me from shouting to the cops right about now."

[SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN]

Sebastian looked up to the man, barely seeing him throught the thick, seering fog of pain that had clouded his mind. "I--I--!" He clenched his teeth, still holding his head in his hand. "I--I don--don't know what to say!" He felt like he was about to hurl. He knew, though, that if he didn't start talking, he was about to get into a whole lot of hell. "Come with me!"

He grabbed the mans hand, still clutching his head, and raced off down the street. His grip was like death so that the man couldn't let go, and almost acted as a pain releaser from this god awful episode he was having. This had never happened to him before, and he didn't know how to counter it. His heart ached as all the death and despair seeped into his mind, and wouldn't let go. All those deaths, all those poor souls that would never see the sun again, they all called his name, forcing him to drink their sorrow and suffering, like he was one of them.

They rounded a corner now, far away from the police and peering eyes. The migraine was fading now, but he still gripped his hair in agony. "Look, I--I don't know how to explain it. I never thought I had to, but since you don't want to believe me, I have no choice." He sobbed back the vomit that was slowly creeping up his throat. "I--I--I--!" He didn't want to say it. He couldn't. Not to some stranger. Not to some man who would surely lock him up in the nuthouse.

But what choice did he have?

"I'm psychic."

[hamlet]

"I--I don--don't know what to say!"

Harry sighed heavily, clearly in frustration. Hell, he sure knew what to say. Probably anything loud enough to bring the cops high tailing over in this direction. God, but what if this guy really was telling the truth? But if he wasn't, he'd probably do and say anything to get himself out of his predicament. But if that was the case, why didn't he just run away? Why didn't he fight Harry? Or was he just that sick of a person not to see what was about to happen to him - that he was a few seconds away from getting busted for nearly killing some child?

Before Harry could eve act on his thoughts, his hand was snatched and he was pulled down the street. He would have pulled against the man but he was caught of guard and before he knew it, they were far away from the scene. Probably not the best place to be in a situation like this - at least for Harry. Once they stopped, Harry snatched his hand away and glared at the man with slightly narrowed eyes, now a bit miffed.

"You better start talking. Now." The tone in his own voice surprised him. The assertiveness almost mirrored his tyrant of an uncle. After all, he was dragged against his own will with some guy he didn't know - who could quite possibly be a murderer. Oh, and his car was totaled. Harry wasn't usually a happy guy but now he was really not in a good mood. He didn't ask to be in this situation. If he could have just let his ambivalence take over and not get himself involved with this, he wouldn't be standing here quite possibly speaking to a felon.

But the man spoke and what he said...well, it made Harry a bit speechless.

"I'm psychic."

Harry tilted his head slightly as he looked at the man, brow furrowed, blinking a few times in astonishment. After a second, he let out a dry, humorless chuckle - one that said 'you gotta be kidding me.'

"Okay look I know the papers say I'm nuts and you might have recognized me or something, but I'm not going for this. A for effort, though," He shook his head. The guy must've thought that he could find some 'common ground' with a guy who might be just as crazy as he was. Harry had to hand it to him, it was a good psychological move - if only Harry wasn't pretending to be crazy for the cameras.

Harry started slowly backing away while fishing inside his suit jacket for his cell. "Listen, if you just cooperate with the police, you won't give yourself a hard time."

Psychic? Really? Psychic? Thats what he could come up with?!

[SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN]

Sebastian shook his head. "What? I don't even know who you are!" He sobbed, grabbing the man's arm in a frantic gesture. "Please!" he cried. "Does this look like the face of a man who's pulling a j-- AH!" The pain again. Immense. He couldn't take this. He couldn't take a man accusing him of murder and massive vision epidemic in his head all at the same time.

He gripped his head in agony, but reached out to pause the man from pulling his phone out. "I know it sounds crazy, like something I just made up. But I'm telling the truth! I don't know how to explain it, but ever since I was in high school... Ever since I was in a car accident then... I've been able to see the future, and the past, and the present, all smashed together, like clockwork. All I see is death and destruction, like the plague. I could tell you the battle statistics of Gettysburg without even ever having studied it. I could tell you exactly how a person in the fifties was murdered and disposed of, and where to find the body. I could tell you how that druggie down the street is going to die. AND I CAN'T CONTROL IT!"

He sobbed uncontrollably. He stepped into the man's arms unexpectedly, not caring if he put his arms around him. "I just want them to stop, I just want all the deaths to stop!" He gripped his head in anguish. "I... I see people dying, in the future... A few years ago, I saw myself. I saw me kill myself. It didn't happen. I wouldn't let it. Ever since then, I realized I could save these people in the future, so I do. I run to them, while they're dying, and call an ambulence for them. I always run away, because hell, why wouldn't anyone expect me to be the murderer, just as you have?! They'd want to know why I was there, why I had acted immediately, and could I tell them? No, never. I'd be sent to an asylum, and be run through tests." His voice cracked. "Test after test after test, I know how it works. I'm a teacher at a University. Of science. I know what they do. They bring in subjects to examine, like labrats. I don't want to be on the table. I just want my visions to go away. I don't see them as God's gift to the world! It's a fucking curse!"

His face was stained with blood and tears that wouldn't go away.

[hamlet]

Harry kept a 'what the heck?' look on his face as the guy grabbed his arm. Reflexively, he pulled away from him, his eyes widening slightly. Talk about pretending to be crazy - this man was so over the top, he had to be disturbed. Harry thought maybe he should take notes from this guy. And on top of that, he didn't know why he was even hesitating - ugh, why did Harry always hesitate? Instead of listening to this guy spewing nonsense, he could be calling the cops right now.

"AND I CAN'T CONTROL IT!" the guy sobbed and Harry opened his mouth to say...well he wasn't exactly sure what. He was a bit speechless. When suddenly the guy threw his arms around him and started sobbing, continuing his rant. Harry froze where he stood, not moving his arms to return the hug. Instead, he entertained the thought of this guy pulling out a knife while he was having this break down, and stabbing him in the back while his arms were around him. And it would be over. The thought scared him, sure, but it was also perplexing. Was the thought of this crazy man killing him some sign that he actually wanted him to do it? That right here, on this street, where know one even knows his whereabouts...some stranger would murder Harry Chandler - heir of Hamlet Enterprises? And Harry would not have to worry about life anymore? Did he want that? His heart raced at the thought, and his instincts - his primal motivation to live rather than die - won.

He was thinking crazy thoughts. Absolutely crazy.

Harry used his hands against the man's chest and shoved him away - before Harry's thoughts about a knife came true. He swallowed hard, adrenaline now running high and thoughts of surviving and not surviving swirled in his head. A tinge of tense frustration mixed with panic laced his words as he spoke. "Look, I'm sorry. I can't help you, alright? I'm sorry about this stuff that you think is happening to you, but I don't know what you expect me to do. You ran from a crime scene with blood all over you, you're telling me you're psychic, and if you were in my shoes you would be running like hell right now. I shouldn't have gotten myself involved with this shit anyway - I don't care about any of it."

Harry hardly even thought about the words coming out of his mouth, but he meant every bit of it. He didn't care on the surface. He stopped caring when his father died - things that used to matter, even life and death apparently, just didn't. And he didn't even know why - against his better judgment - he got wrapped up in this. He took his cell phone out of his pocket, turned his back on him and began pacing away while beginning to dial - hoping the man didn't try to jump in front of him or grab him.

[SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN]

Sebastian didn't know what to do. He never thought he'd have to explain his visions, let alone fight for the fact that they'd existed. His eyes searched for an answer that wasn't there. He gripped frantic hands in his hair, tears starting to brim as his brow furrowed. This was it. This was going to be the end of him. One stupid mistake and he'd be paying the piper.

It didn't help that that migraine was still going on in his head. His brain was pounding, pouring into his consciousness all the visions he'd ever had. The good and the bad. Why now? Why did they pick now to screw with him? Did the higher power above just love to smother him in confusion and misery?

"Look, wait!" he started. He went after the man, and touched him on the shoulder.

Just then, he blinked. He wasn't in his body anymore.

He was in the man's body.

This wasn't any ordinary vision. He'd had something similar to him when he'd been with Victor, but that was a vision he'd seen before. This was new. The man was still standing in front of Sebastian, and even had his cell phone going. He could feel his OWN touch against his shoulder. The words coming from his mouth weren't his own, but the annoyance of the man's. Suddenly, it was like a shot in the dark.

It must have been about a minute after the moment he was still in. Because the cops were rounding the corner. They were next to another alley, but he couldn't stop it.

The motorcycle went out of control. It was riding along the side of the street when the driver couldn't keep up with it. It sped over the pavement, and hit the stranger full on.

Sebastian could feel the intense pain, could feel the scream escaping his throat, and he was helpless to do anything.

Finally, the vision ended, and he was himself again, still touching the man's shoulder. He didn't think, now, he just did what he always did when he had a vision. He took control of the situation.

He ripped the phone from the man's hand and flung it down the street, roughly turning him to face him. "I don't know who you are, I never know who any of the people I save are. I just know you're about to die, and if you don't move into this alley right this minute, a motorcycle will go out of control and subsequently kill you, maybe even me." He looked beyond the man's shoulder. It wasn't in sight yet, but it would be. "I advise that you gert out of the way."

There was no humour in his voice. He gazed up at the man's eyes with such dark intensity. He would save this man and prove to him once and for all he was telling the truth.

[hamlet]

Harry paused and looked at this guy touching his shoulder. Why did he pause? If he could shoot himself in the foot for always second guessing himself, he would. But nonetheless, he froze, looking at the guy for a second...which, of course, was just enough time for him to take Harry's phone and throw it. He watched as it hit the pavement some feet away and break apart. Eyes emoting outrage, Harry turn towards the guy, realizing he had no easy way of calling for help anymore. Shit.

Listening to his words, and matching the guy's intense gaze with his own, at first what he had to say didn't quite register. But Harry saw him looking over his shoulder, so naturally, he turned to see for himself. He turned to see the motorcycle coming straight for him. Chest tightening in a rush of panic, and his whole body acting on pure instinct, he dived out of the way while grabbing the guy - taking him with. After hitting the ground, he quickly turned over and watched as the motorcycle burned rubber on breaks, and flipping over multiple times down the street , throwing the rider off of it. Harry was about a milisecond away from meeting his end.

Harry huffed out a breath he didn't know he was holding, blinking multiple times in shock. Well that confirmed, at least, that he was not suicidal - at least for now. He couldn't be sure about tomorrow (funny how somehow his thoughts, the very depths of his misery seemed like an out-of-body experience). But for today, he was still panicked out of his wits about the prospect of death. Being so close to it just now made death tangible, like touching a skull with one's bare hands. Much more tangible than staring at his dead father's body before they closed the coffin. For that second, when he saw the motorcycle come towards him, he could feel death reach a hand to him. Harry couldn't take it.

Not yet.

And then it all began to register. Somewhat still in panic, he sat up and grabbed the man by his shirt, yanking him towards him. "What was that?! You knew that was going to happen!" The guy was telling the truth. But how?! How could that be possible?!

It wasn't possible. People can't see the future.

...then again, people can't see "ghosts" either.

Was this some sort of sign? God's sick joke? Because of his complete inadequacy of doing his father justice, his time was running out?

Harry's expression slowly dropped and his gaze remained on the man, becoming aloft and distant. "...I'm going crazy." He mumbled mostly to himself, even if it looked as if he was talking to the guy. He slowly let go of the man's shirt. "I'm really am going crazy." His gaze gained focus again, carrying a ton of bemusement. "...because you couldn't have just done that."

[SEBASTIAN TIMOTHY MARTIN]

Sebastian panted from the exhiliration as he watched the man when the realization started to sink in. "I'm not a liar," he said, though he doubted the man cared. "I told you, I can't explain it. But I did just do that. And I want to keep doing that for all the people in this world who are forced to die alone. Even if they're beyond saving... I at least want to be there for them, when they're going cold with no one to hold their hand." He shrugged, sighing as he drew the man further into the alley, into the dark of it, so that the cops that began to passby wouldn't see them.

"Come on... We should probably get out of here. I know you don't want to be caught with me just as much as I don't want to be caught here, around the crime scene." He started to walk to the other side of the lot. He turned his head to look back at the stranger. "You look like you could use a drink... Maybe coffee? Coffee usually helps in these sitations. I could buy you a cup and explain further?"

He was so calm now, almost happy. Happy that the vision happened, perhaps? Though the man on the motorcycle was probably seriously injured, he doubted he died, and he had pretty much proved his case to the man.

"I can tell you're still a little skeptical, and I would be too in your position." He shuffled his feet, hoping the man was following. "And don't worry, I won't pull a weapon on you like I know your thinking. If you want you can even check me. You won't find anything."

He smiled up at the man. "To prove it to you that I'm telling the truth, I'll tell you my name. I'm Sebastian, but my friends call me Bastian." He held out his hand for the man to shake.