To Each Their Own

If there was one thing everyone who knew John Taylor, whether friend, enemy, or a combination of the two, could agree on (besides his truly incredible luck) it was why they all put up with him. Of course, none of them would ever admit to the actual reason.

His friends—those that would even admit to being so—would claim it was because they knew he'd always do his best to help them if they needed it, no matter how painful, impossible, or downright unpleasant the situation.

His enemies—these were rather more numerous than his friends—would usually offer a look as though to say, "You think I willingly put up with him?" The rare few that answered would typically mutter about there being so few challenges nowadays or waiting for just the right moment.

Not a single one would ever admit to the truth, for a multitude of reasons. But the truth was: John Taylor accepted them. Whether they were friend, enemy, or both, he never tried to change who they were no matter how he may disapprove.

Cathy partied until all hours of the day and night and drank more booze than could possibly be healthy for anyone and all he did was ask her to be careful and keep an eye out for news.

Alex Morrisey was downright depressing, regularly cursed the air blue in his presence, and recently began dating his daughter/secretary/partner. All that mattered to him was that they were both happy.

His love, Suzie Shooter (also known as Shotgun Suzie or Oh Christ, it's her run!) was a bounty hunter with little to no conscience, psychologically incapable of physical contact, but all he asked of her was to try and keep her apartment cleaner because the smell was seeping through the walls.

Even his enemies enjoyed his unquestioning acceptance of their personalities.

Sandra Chance, the necromancer, slept with dead bodies for pleasure, had loved the Lamentation, and on more than one occasion had attempted to kill him. And the closest Taylor ever came to criticizing her was to ask how she could love the Lamentation even when it could never love her.

John Taylor was a curse. He was bad luck. He was a king-in-waiting. He was a hero and a monster and a dozen things in between.

He was also one of the very few people in the world, let alone the Nightside, who would never try to change who you were. He accepted every little quirk, every disturbing tendency, as just the way it was. So they all put up with him. Because everyone needs that sort of acceptance sometimes. And John Taylor was, well…John Taylor.

A/N: I apologize for any grammar, flow, or structure mistakes. I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year and the "literary abandon" is beginning to get to me.