Frederick didn't get along with folks. Never did, never cared to. People had their opinions on him and he'd live with it. Growing up in a sleepy country town, he was always the outsider, the one people whispered about, the one parents warned their kids to stay away from. He knew it wasn't just the way he looked, tall with his head hung low, like he was always leering over others. Always wearing that old, worn-out jacket of his father's. but the way he carried himself, like a man who didn't quite belong even if he were raised here.

The occasional glance or sneer was obnoxious. Hell, by now he appreciated it when he was just outright ignored. Especially at work. Made it easy to keep his own head down and get through the day.

But then there was his coworker. This fucking guy, he was... Different. They talked to Frederick like he was just another man, another coworker, not some creep or a threat. That alone put him on edge. People didn't just accept him. They never had. So, the fuck was up with this guy?

At first, he kept his distance, grunting out short responses, testing the waters, waiting for his coworker to turn on him like the others. But the man didn't. Kept talking to him, making jokes, started eating lunch together, shooting the shit about work, the weather, hunting. God and that was new. Normally when he talked about guns people would look at him like he was crazy.