the steve with no name  (part 5)

“steve? are you in there?”

the slightly bewildered voice was that of his co-worker, vince, who was now nervously peering at steve’s home-made fort whilst simultaneously trying to figure out whether or not steve might also have a shotgun in there, and who in the office he was most likely to turn it on first.

steve popped his head out from the roof of his little ramshackle desk fort.

“... i don’t have a gun in here if that’s what you’re thinking.”

vince thought this was hardly the greatest sentence in the world to instil a sense of trust about firearms, so had gone with his initial plan of trying to build rapport with him instead.

“you know, i’ve always thought your hair really suited you... ” he replied nervously.

steve wasn’t entirely sure how to take this seeing as he was currently bald, but had decided to take it as a compliment anyway and had invited vince inside for a look around.

once inside, vince was actually quite impressed with the ergonomic proficiency of what steve had achieved with the place, which had a surprisingly more spacious feel than the mere 1 metre by 2 exterior of the desk would suggest – something which steve attributed to going through a slightly awkward ‘feng shui phase’ as a teenager. in truth, he had only done it to impress a girl he liked who lived in a bungalow down the road, but his attempts at trying to induce "a sense of space" into her parents’ modest dwellings had merely come across as patronising, and steve had totally struck out with her.

“er... look... steve, we need to... oh!" 

vince was momentarily impressed by a rather fetching print steve had adorned on one of the desk walls 

"... is that a Hokusai?“

before recalling the initial point of his endeavour.

“... er... i mean, look... are you alright?"

steve sheepishly looked at him with the eyes of a man who desperately needed to believe he was still at least vaguely intact with reality.  

"what do you mean?"

"it’s just, you seem to have been acting a little bit more... ”

vince kind of wanted to say ‘crazy’, but thought this might come across as a little bit insensitive – especially as he was still trying to establish whether or not there was indeed a shotgun involved yet.

“... well... a bit more mental than usual i guess.”

steve spoke suddenly with a sense of purpose which had the effect of catching vince off-guard. 

“look vince – I know that we’ve never really talked that much, and I know I don’t really like you... but I think I might need your help with something... 

"... oh."

an awkward and unexpected silence followed. 

"... and it needs to be now.” continued steve.

eventually, and after some consideration, it was the sad intensity in steve's eyes that vince felt was the most deserving of reply.

"what? 'now' as in 'now', now?"

"yes. we should leave immediately." 

"... oh... right."

vince looked at him with a vague uneasiness, and wondered why he was even considering it. if he was perfectly honest with himself, it was mainly the idea of getting out of work which was appealing to him - and always had been - ever since he had first seen 'the mask' as a teenager and been impressed at jim carrey's ability to get paid for shouting and wobbling about lots, whilst occasionally 'doing a face'. to these ends, vince somehow found himself apathetically shrugging and simply saying:

“... alright then... i guess.”