[Closed] A Friend in Need? (Yazad)
Posted: Thu Dec 24, 2020 12:28 pm
Dentis 17, 2719 | Afternoon
Some café, The Stacks
Some café, The Stacks
.
If something occurred repeatedly then it was supposed to become familiar, a habit, and yet Fionn didn’t know that he’d ever get used to this idea of having a day off, despite having taken a number of them at this point. It was strange to wake up as the sun peeked its way into his room, bleary-eyed and feeling the effects of Umberto’s strange hours, and being able to tell himself that he could go back to sleep for as long as he liked. He’d certainly been tired enough to go slip back into slumber this morning, pulling the bedclothes up over his head to cocoon himself in darkness, but it hadn’t been exactly restful. The teenager kept awakening with a start, convinced that he’d overslept before his memory caught up with his panicked brain.
When he’d eventually dragged himself out of bed, it had still been too early for the boy’s liking, the long hours with nothing to fill them stretching out ahead of him. It wouldn’t do to have him moping about the house all day, the academic certainly wouldn’t approve and even if the man stepped out, Fionn hardly wanted to be on edge as he prepared for a quick, ideally unnoticed escape just to remain indoors. Umberto would be ill-pleased if he caught him here, so determined that the passive should have time off as other servants did, failing to comprehend how difficult that was for the youth to achieve.
Instead, the middle Madden had to dress in his ‘human’ guise, the passive blues discarded for the day as he bundled up for the cooling Dentis weather and left his confines with his drawing things. From there, Fionn simply walked, bundle of pencils tucked away in his coat pocket and his drawing paper cradled to his chest while he traversed the streets of the Stacks with no particular destination in mind beyond ‘away’.
The area nearest to the Bastian’s home had become exceptionally familiar to him, but his knowledge beyond it was growing every time he went on one of these excursions. Coming across a strange new place was almost an adventure, the youth sure to go unrecognised, but often anxious and uncertain all the same. There was safety in familiarity, comfort in predictability and he always found himself furtively seeking those landmarks that would lead back to the world that he knew, never giving the impression that he was lost, even when he couldn’t tell one twisting street or one shadowy alleyway from another.
Some sections of the university city were more affluent than others, and while there would be more members of the lower races in the poorer areas, they were the sorts of places where Fionn was more likely to stick out considering the quality of his clothing—second-hand, but good material and not heavily patched—and the way he spoke. It was all about finding a comfortable middle ground so that when he inevitably settled down somewhere, he would be less likely to be kicked out again—and Fionn would settle somewhere; the season was beginning to grow too cold to linger outside.
The boy didn’t know how long he walked, the overcast sky hiding the sun from view so that he couldn’t properly judge the passage of time. The dullness of the day made it feel later than it probably was, closer to the gloom of approaching night rather than noon, which might have been and gone for all the passive knew.
While he maintained a brisk pace, the chill air gnawed at him over time in spite of his layers, leaving his skin icy and his bones faintly aching. Only when a slight shiver had set in and the teenager was left wondering what warmth felt like, only then did he venture indoors, falling into step with a group of humans—empty, so empty with neither field nor nexus—as they entered a café. With the flurry of new activity, it was easier to go unnoticed by those that worked there, the distinctive flash of blond hair carefully tucked away beneath a cap so that it didn’t draw the eye.
It was a smaller establishment than he’d thought from outside, which meant that this might prove more difficult than he’d first believed, fewer working here, more chance that he’d be noticed, even though it was busy. He found himself a table, snatching up a used cup and saucer along the way before the server could clear it. A good ruse, something that could probably buy him a fair bit of time, buy him the day if it’d been a larger place but here…
The youth attempted to relax, quick to remove his coat and doing his best not to shiver as the heat soaked into his limbs. He was supposed to have been here for a while if he’d already gotten his order so he couldn’t start shivering as if he’d just stepped in through the door. He placed his sketchpad in front of him, arranged his pencils on the table and then set to work.
It began simply enough—proper—as he worked on a warm-up, considering the cup before him, sketching the ovals of its rim, the saucer, curves marked on the page before being erased, revised, erased again. When it began, he could remember the pretense, the fact that he should pick up the cup and pretend to drink before setting it back just so, turning it to align with what he’d been drawing. However, after a few minutes, he forgot to keep up the charade, grew exceptionally comfortable as he loosely crossed his legs, setting his knee against the edge of the table as he rested the sketchpad against it.
Fionn was working on adding some shape to his representation by shading in curved lines when a shadow fell over him.
“Can I get you somet’in’, lad?” the man asked, eyes moving to the cup. Fionn looked at it too, tilting up the peak of his cap a little as he considered the contents of the cup, the remnants of the tea having set into the porcelain, obviously having been left to stand for quite some time.
“Uh no, I’m all right. Thanks,” the passive replied, fixing a smile on his lips that was artificial, almost nervous as he gazed up at the… owner? Human, neatly dressed—nicely dressed—with his salt-and-pepper hair and his greying, twitching moustache, considering the servant with a knowing air. There was something a little hard in those grey eyes, as he considered the youth before him and something in those eyes told Fionn that he knew—or suspected.
“Well, lad, if you aren’t going to buy somet’in’ then I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. I know it’s cold out and you’re more’n welcome to stay—so long as you’re paying.”
The blond licked his lips, considering how well he could lie, or rather how likely he was to be believed.
“Do you usually rush your customers out the door soon as they finish their drinks?“ Fionn retorted, chuckling, trying for good-humoured, joking, and wondering if he succeeded.
“No, I don’t usually chase customers out when they finish their drinks, but I’ve been watching you and I’m not sure when you came in, I didn’t see you getting served and you haven’t touched… your drink... in awhile either. There’s nothing left to drink so… are you going to order something or am I going to have to ask you to leave?”
The teenager made a show of looking past the man, thinking on his feet.
“Actually, I’m waiting for someone- Well, they said they’d meet me here—a friend,” he explained, not expecting to see anyone even remotely familiar.
“Waiting for someone? Well, I’m sure that you can have somet’in’ while you wait, and I’m sure you and your… friend will be staying… as customers.”
Paying in other words.
Fionn’s eye had been drawn to an unexpectedly familiar face, not that he knew the person per se, but an awareness built purely on sight. Never spoken, never been this near and yet he knew them; it would be difficult to forget such a peculiar… individual.
The youth had no idea if they were a man or a woman but now that they’d come in here and there was less distance between them at other times, he could feel…
The nexus told him that they were passive, something that seemed wholly unexpected, but the proof appeared to be undeniable. Could it belong to someone else? No one else seemed to be a likely candidate, but then he didn’t exactly look like a candidate himself. At least this… passive who dressed like a man—no skirt anyways—did seem to be a servant so that certainly lent credence to this one being the passive, whatever sex.
The proprietor caught him looking.
“That your friend?”
Fionn paused. It stretched onwards, a beat too long, two beats, caught in uncertainty. He couldn’t say yes, not with any confidence at least, because if he said yes and he didn’t interact with them…
Saying no would buy him time but it was too late for that, the man had a knowing smile on his face.
“Who do you think you’re codding, lad?” he remarked, turning away and taking a step towards that bizarre… creature. “Excuse me… do you know this boy? He seems to think that he can stay here without buying anything if he says he’s waiting for someone.”
There was something smug in that question, an undertone, subtle enough that he could hear it and it was all too clear that he expected the answer to be ‘no’. What else could it be?
“Fuck!” the servant muttered under his breath, half-risen now, his sketches forgotten on the table as he gazed at the other passive, something pleading in his brown eyes.