What a K/Night (Hold)

A Helping Hand

"The name is Stephen by the way. Stephen Connor. Yours?" Stephen was an African-American man who looked to be in his mid-20s with barely any hair on his head, but if you looked you could see it. He held his hand out to Leavold but, when no response came he took a second glance noticing Leavold was stunned. A quick snap of Stephen's fingers returned Leavold from his mind.

"Sir Leavold. Alaire Leavold is my full name. It's French," The knight then clutched his helmet and paced through the snow in a fit of confusion and fear.

Stephen chuckled to himself at the sight but, his generosity and kindness wouldn't let him enjoy it for long, "Hey, hey, hey! Lemme ease your spirits yeah?"

Leavold ceased his agonizing movement and stared over his shoulder at Stephen, "Unless you can find me my lord then I dou-"

"Man, your lord is dead! We're in New York! Twenty...Eight...Teen!"

"Well then what else do you propose!?" Leavold stormed towards his current source of news and guidance in this world.

"You stick with me," Stephen pressed his thumb into his chest with a grin, "and I'll show ya the ropes!"

Leavold chuckled sadly and shook his head at the idea, "You live in the slums..."

"That's where you're wrong newbie. It's called method acting. Kind of. Here, lemme show you my real place," Stephen took the hand of his self-appointed charge and guided them down the alleyway.

After what seemed like an eternity of walking through the mix of unlit and lit portions of the city did the duo reach a towering construct of stone.

Leavold was filled with surprise at how such a filth-ridden, method-acting, commoner could afford such a place, "My god... Are you a lord?"

"I don't own the whole place," Stephen pushed open the front door and stepped inside, "just one room."

A man reading a newspaper sat at the front desk of the apartment building. He spoke without looking from it, "Out looking for more inspiration, Stephen?"

"Yeah but, I found way more than I expected, Jack."

With a rustle and a shout of surprise, Jack saw the towering knight in the lobby and quickly went back to his reading.

Stephen laughed as Leavold tilted his head baffled at the one-sided exchange. A ding sounded through the lobby as an elevator arrived at the ground floor, "Here, first lesson. The floating box," Stephen pulled Leavold into the box and hit a button for the seventh floor.

Leavold knelt before the panel of numbers and brushed his hand over them, "Extraordinary. This takes you to wherever you want?"

"So long as it's up, yeah."

"So I can go to anyone one of these numbers," Leavold didn't wait for a response instead pushing every single button from one to ten.

Stephen sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets, "I should've seen that coming."

"I will discover all the wonders of this magic wagon!" Leavold heard the ding for the second floor and pried the door open to be greeted by a frightened old woman, "I apologize m'lady but, have you seen anything miraculous in this land?"

The woman started to strike Leavold with her handbag, "Oh, you brute! Get away from me!"

Stephen snickered as Leavold retreated into the elevator once more. After stopping at the other floors, and being met with a myriad of reactions, Stephen beckoned Leavold to follow him.

With a quick turn of a key, a twist of the doorknob, and a push, Leavold saw a room covered in paint, "May I welcome you to my humble abode!"

"It's... well it isn't a fort that is for certain," Leavold stepped inside and brushed his hand along the wall, "but it's strangely... enchanting."

"Make yourself at home. I'm gonna change out of this real quick," Stephen disappeared into a sideroom, leaving Leavold to his own devices.

"So far this... New York... isn't so bad!" The knight dropped himself onto a couch and rested his sword on the accompanying table, "then again, I have only been here for a few hours at the most."

"Think fast!" A shirt wrapped around Leavold's helmet. He removed it and held the aritcle of clothing out at arms length.

It was a navy blue t-shirt with a symbol unfamiliar to Leavold, "The Yankees?"

Stephen was dressed in a similar shirt to the one Leavold held, "Yeah. They play a game called baseball. The players use sticks to knock baseballs through the air and run to safe zones. Two teams participate and only one can win!"

The idea sounded familiar to Leavold, albeit a bit less violent, "To war! For the Yankees!" He practically knocked the door to the hall down and pushed the elevator button frantically. So maybe the lack of violence was lost on him, oh well.