Observational Occupations

About a year ago, Grit recalled being in a familiar situation, albeit with a few more hands to help and more tension in the air. He was standing in a field—or at least near it—watching as members of the Global Communications Setup Foundation ambled around, working farm tools and getting their hands dirty harvesting all manner of vegetation. Around the same time the year prior, Grit was in the very same fields with the earliest members of his bounty hunting team, Enochian.

Not much had changed in the end, he realized, seeing as Rend’s poor attitude still followed him everywhere and Asura was as quiet and seemingly despondent as ever. Yet when his thoughts drifted to those two members of his team in particular, memories of the times he accompanied them—or vice versa—into dungeons and other endeavours throughout the year wandered into view of his mind’s eye. They were not quite different, though not quite the same either. The more he thought about it all, the more he realized that the very sentiment could apply to nearly everybody who was there with him on that day in the fields a year ago.

Now, however, he had a few other fresh faces with him; those who did not whine or complain or make excuses when he presented the notion of coming out into the fields to help with the harvests that morning. Though he could see that Raiju and Rose had begun already, seemingly familiar with the in’s and out’s of such things, there was one more of his teammates who had yet to join the other workers out in the fields.

Grit set down the box he had been carrying whilst he had been musing. It was filled to the brim with potatoes, and was no doubt heavy, yet that did not seem to bother the muscular man in the slightest. He wandered over to where a blond, purple-and-blue-clad man of tanned skin was leaning against the fence. As he was approaching from their blindside, he felt a need to announce himself with a remark. “Not your usual haunt, I take it,” Grit said plainly.

Ingrimm turned his head to look over at the team leader with his one good eye. He was not surprised to see Grit, and merely shrugged his shoulders. “Far from it. I’m a man of the sea m’self. And of the city before that.”

“Really, now.” Grit’s intonation raised as though he was going to respond in a question, though he was not actually surprised. Given Hoshikiri had found Ingrimm in a creek when they met, it was not so far-fetched to hear him say such a thing. “You didn’t have to agree to come out here then, you realize.”

“Eh,” Ingrimm raised a hand and twirled it a few times as he was contemplating his response. He tipped his head to the side. Though it would have been the perfect opportunity for a sarcastic smirk, Grit knew that the man was not often one for smiling—much like a large majority of the rest of their team members. “You weren’t gettin’ the help anywhere else, not with li’l Mx. Goody Two-Shoes occupied with the book stuff today.”

Grit furrowed his brow, confused as to who he could be referring to. “Eos?”

“Yeh, the fungus. ‘Interim Leader’, was it? Far too competent to just be y’er stand-in, but that’s just my two cents, eh?”

Grit—in a rare display of amusement—smiled. “I can’t say I disagree. It’s good to see that there are others who recognize their work.”

Ingrimm, similarly, returned the look. It would have been a sight to behold to many of the others, seeing two of the gruffest-looking members of the team smiling even as fleetingly as they were.

“That said though, you don’t seem to be doing too much,” Grit gestured towards Ingrimm vaguely, who was very much still leaning back on his elbows nonchalantly.

“Oi.” At that, he stood up only a little straighter and snapped back playfully. “It’s hard work supervisin’. Here I thought you of all folks would understand that.”

Each time he wished to survey the area, Ingrimm had to turn bodily in order to crane his neck to see where his left eye could not. He glanced down to the boxes laying a few yards away, where Grit had come from, and to the workers out in the fields with their implements and overall merriment. He soon lowered his voice and murmured to his leader, bringing a hand up to the side of his face as though he were telling a grave secret. “Listen, mate, the truth is that I haven’t the faintest idea where to start.”

Grit followed his gaze outwards, and then shifted it back towards the other man without moving from his spot. “Have you considered asking where you might do so?”

“Hah. I never took the fearsome leader of our bunch to be such a comedian.” Ingrimm scoffed. As he finally pushed himself off the fence, he pulled against the sides of his coat so that it would sit more comfortably on his shoulders. “Don’t know if you’ve realized this about us all, boss, but you haven’t exactly pulled together a group of people who are good at talking to people. So, a bloke like me’s just supposed to wander up to some cutter ‘n ask them how to pull ‘taters ‘n such out of the ground, is that all?”

There was a brief pause as Grit considered Ingrimm’s question. He ultimately shrugged in response and cocked his head towards the rows and rows of vegetables waiting to be harvested. “Yes, actually. There’s no harm in asking for help.”

“No? You’d do well to take your own advice sometime then, Grit.”

For the first time since starting their conversation, Grit was taken aback by what Ingrimm had to say. His eyes widened only slightly, and he took a step back in Ingrimm’s direction to look at him. Though the remark seemed innocent enough, and it did not leave a negative impact on the taller man, it was clear now to him where Ingrimm’s skills had been honed. He already knew that he was a doctor—or at least some sort of medical specialist. What Grit had only just come to realize however was just how observant the man was, despite having never once spoken to his leader outside of a few talks pertaining to paperwork and other uninteresting affairs related to their jobs.

The notion made Grit smile all the same, a bit more sincerely than previously. What Ingrimm had was dangerous when combined with a lack of a social filter. “Now, now. I might reconsider my offer to show you around.”

“Damn. Is that so?” Ingrimm snapped his fingers and huffed disappointedly. “Suppose I’ll have to stay over here, watchin’ you lot work y’erselves to the bone and not joinin’ the fun meself.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Grit said. He beckoned his teammate along, turning to head down the trail into the fields where the others were waiting. “Come. Let’s get you started, shall we?”