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Ductility
Keillan doesn't notice him at first, well. more doesn't make note of him. snot nosed shit talker, probably won't make another season before his mouth writes a check he can't cash. Keillan doesn't have time to waste on him, he gets his coin per project, and this one's been taking him longer than he'd like.
He ignores the red headed child's demand for attention, turning his back on him to carefully guide the super heated pinpoint of flame down the seam, hands steady as the tip of the wire in his right hand melts into place.
He's distantly aware that he's being watched, the boy studying the hot glow of metal. 'What are you making?'
Honestly, Keillan doesn't have the first clue. Boss tells him to weld, and he does so. Goes until all he sees are bright spots when he closes his eyes, his face and forearms tingling from a thousand spark falls, and his body numb from sitting hunched over for hours.
He's mentioned once, in the beginning, that his back hurt from sitting like that, and Boss sneered at him, said to come back after 30 years and complain then. Said if he didn't want the work, there were loads of other kids on the island that'd be happy for the coin.
The kid has more questions Keillan can't answer, before the door shuffles open and he almost sags with relief at Boss' telltale limp. Sure enough, his distraction wanders over to the older man, and Keillan returns to his lines.
"What's the catch?"
"Excuse me?" Keillan can hear the frown in his question, aiming it partially at Keillan's turned back.
"You really pay coin for metal? On an island full of scraps? What are you really doing?" the kid demands, and Keillan smirks. Okay - maybe the brat had a brain or two to go along with his obnoxious demeanor.
Boss chuckled, and the kid 'tched' audibly, "see - knew there was something funny going on with you. What are you really buying, old man?"
"Metal, just like I said." There was a sound of scraps being shuffled around, and Keillan returned back to his work. Different metal was worth a lot, and Boss really was the best one to sell aluminum, copper and brass if you were one of the scrap rats living in the Heaps.
Keillan had done well as a scrap rat, what he'd struggled with was getting his ass kicked by the older boys every time he'd gotten paid for a good haul. One had to sleep eventually, and the last time he was robbed was by someone he'd made the mistake of trusting to watch his back.
Doing mindless weld jobs might not have the big paydays the scrap did, but it was stable and enough to make sure he ate everyday, and could sometimes splurge on second-hand shoes or getting his clothes and blanket laundered and mended every few weeks.
Boss might also pretend he had an island of boys to slave away under him, but Keillan had steady hands and was strong enough to help around the shop with other things - and they both knew Boss was going to come up short getting help that were both, and still willing to work for so little.
He ignores the red headed child's demand for attention, turning his back on him to carefully guide the super heated pinpoint of flame down the seam, hands steady as the tip of the wire in his right hand melts into place.
He's distantly aware that he's being watched, the boy studying the hot glow of metal. 'What are you making?'
Honestly, Keillan doesn't have the first clue. Boss tells him to weld, and he does so. Goes until all he sees are bright spots when he closes his eyes, his face and forearms tingling from a thousand spark falls, and his body numb from sitting hunched over for hours.
He's mentioned once, in the beginning, that his back hurt from sitting like that, and Boss sneered at him, said to come back after 30 years and complain then. Said if he didn't want the work, there were loads of other kids on the island that'd be happy for the coin.
The kid has more questions Keillan can't answer, before the door shuffles open and he almost sags with relief at Boss' telltale limp. Sure enough, his distraction wanders over to the older man, and Keillan returns to his lines.
"What's the catch?"
"Excuse me?" Keillan can hear the frown in his question, aiming it partially at Keillan's turned back.
"You really pay coin for metal? On an island full of scraps? What are you really doing?" the kid demands, and Keillan smirks. Okay - maybe the brat had a brain or two to go along with his obnoxious demeanor.
Boss chuckled, and the kid 'tched' audibly, "see - knew there was something funny going on with you. What are you really buying, old man?"
"Metal, just like I said." There was a sound of scraps being shuffled around, and Keillan returned back to his work. Different metal was worth a lot, and Boss really was the best one to sell aluminum, copper and brass if you were one of the scrap rats living in the Heaps.
Keillan had done well as a scrap rat, what he'd struggled with was getting his ass kicked by the older boys every time he'd gotten paid for a good haul. One had to sleep eventually, and the last time he was robbed was by someone he'd made the mistake of trusting to watch his back.
Doing mindless weld jobs might not have the big paydays the scrap did, but it was stable and enough to make sure he ate everyday, and could sometimes splurge on second-hand shoes or getting his clothes and blanket laundered and mended every few weeks.
Boss might also pretend he had an island of boys to slave away under him, but Keillan had steady hands and was strong enough to help around the shop with other things - and they both knew Boss was going to come up short getting help that were both, and still willing to work for so little.