Taking Pride

The other man was wearing as many colours as possible, like almost everyone else, although he favoured the odd combination of pink, yellow, and blue. Somehow he made it work.

"No, um, I'm sort of undercover," Charlie explained. He wanted to hit himself for giving that information up so easily, but the way he was being eyed up he figured the gun would be spotted sooner rather than later. There was no need for a hysterical man raving about a gun at an already sensitive public event.

"The press?" Brayden asked, eyes still wandering. "I don't mind doing a private interview."

Charlie suspected he had just been flirted with, as evidenced by the wink at the end of the sentence. He tried to overcome his flustered state and corrected the assumption. "Police."

"Oh." The flamboyant man seemed disappointed by the news before he cheered up. "Well, we can't have you going around like this. How do you feel about washable tattoos?"

"Define washable," Charlie started before his companion bounded off into the crowd. He shrugged and continued onward, casting his gaze around in a search for trouble. A few people were tussling, though it was not of a violent nature. He quickly turned away.

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Brayden returned with a selection of small paper squares and he held them out like playing cards. There was the classic rainbow and several more combinations of stripes, one of which matched the tri-colour shirt he was wearing.

"Pick one," he said.

Charlie hesitated and settled on the rainbow. He wasn't sure the meaning of the other flags and didn't want to broadcast totally inaccurate messages about himself.

He let Brayden apply it to his cheek. There was no point standing out in a crowd that already stood out. Perhaps he'd find a pair of rainbow sunglasses in a shop along the road to add to his disguise.

The hand attending to the fake tattoo was warm against his skin. It caressed his cheek, gentle and soothing. Too soon the paper was peeled back and the hand gone. He had missed such contact since he had decided to put building his career first.

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"Does Charlie stand for anything?" Brayden suddenly asked. He was still bouncing along beside the police officer like a puppy. The enthusiasm was disturbingly cute.

"Charles. Why?" Charlie wanted to know.

"Just asking. If you want to look like more of a Charlie and less like a Charles I suggest unbuttoning at least a few buttons on your shirt."

"What's wrong with the way I have it now?"

"Everything," Brayden said. He gestured towards the other man's torso and looked up through his eyelashes. "I can't see the muscles I know you're hiding."

Charlie gave an exaggerated sigh and pulled his button-up apart to reluctantly show a bit more chest. He was giving up too much ground as it was. He was only a giant cape or two away from the people around him.

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Out of the corner of his eye he saw aggravated figures and when he cast his ears in that direction he could pick out yelling. It looked like it could use police intervention. Brayden followed behind as he went to check on the situation.

There was a crowd of people in pink, blue, and white who either presented as male but looked slightly feminine or presented as female and looked slightly masculine. It wasn't too hard to guess where they fit into the community.