First Impressions (Past Thread) [CADMUS & DOMINIC (& Nathalie)]

[Dominic]

2018 July 17th

Hiiiiiii Dom, stopping by around noon. Bringing someone. You still have empty beds, right? Sorry about last time. Started doing background checks. Don’t ask questions. And be nice!!!! - N.

Dominic had reread the message a few times throughout the morning. He had slept in, getting to bed too late last night, and the text from Nathalie was the first thing he saw. He sighed out loud when seeing it. It was just so typical Nathalie. Always dragging someone into the HQ. Dominic had no idea where she found all those people. Some of them, at least, weren’t bad at all and just in need of help. But some of them were pieces of shit. Like last time. She might have done a background check but that didn’t really ease any of Dominic’s concerns when the problem came to her lack of judgment.

Anyways, not much to do than to check the new person out himself. As said, some of those Nathalie brought over really were just in need of help and Dominic wasn’t going to reject anyone before giving them at least one chance. And they did have empty beds - right now there were only three refugees in the HQ with him at the moment and the next ship mission to Ydisia was next month. He could handle one more.

Just in case, though, he had told the other refugees to stay in the room so he was the only one in the main room when Nathalie knocked their agreed upon rhythm on the door. He tensed, instinctively, then told himself to relax. This was most likely a nachon warlock, and he wasn’t going to let them sense his nervousness. He took a deep breath, calmed down his heartbeat and then, he opened the door. To see Nathalie, of course, but he barely looked at her before his eyes landed on her newest finding. Some guy, probably around Dominic’s own age. There was a sort of incoherence between his freshly shaven face and wet, combed hair and then the dark circles under his eyes and the wrinkles on his neatly tucked shirt. The guy looked well-put together and like shit all in one. Dominic didn’t know if the shitty parts were a part of his general looks or if he had had a rough night. Possibly both - that was usually the case with refugees. But he didn’t look dangerous - so far.

“Hey,” Dominic greeted curtly, mostly towards Nathalie. Then, taking a step side and allowing them to enter, he said: “Come on in.” His eyes followed the guy as he walked into the apartment with Nathalie. Just to gauge his reaction to the space he was entering. That was usually a good tell on whether or not he would be safe to have in here. “What’s your name?” he asked while doing so.

[Cadmus]

In her efforts to make sure he knew everything would work out fine – that Dominic would surely not mind and that he had to remember that the EFA was not a terrorist group, despite what rumours he might have heard, that they helped people like him – Nathalie began to make him wonder if, just maybe, there was something to be nervous about after all. He felt a lot better than he had done that morning. He had showered. Even shaved. Still, he felt too aware of what a lacklustre impression he had to make. His possessions, picked up from the safebox at the station, consisted of: a worn backpack with a spare set of clothing: a raincoat which at this point was too small, but he hadn’t the heart to replace: an assortment of papers, including some children’s drawings: a novel: a notebook and a few other necessities. It was what remained of the emergency bag he had once greeted with an eyeroll. It had probably saved his life. That and the sleeping bag which he had handed to the greying woman sitting outside the station, who had once bought him coffee. She had asked him if he was sure, but he didn’t want to consider having to spend another night curled up on a park bench a possibility, so he had told her yes, he was sure. Now, as Nathalie parked the car in an anonymous looking Erast street and told him they had to walk the last bit for “security reasons”, he refused to reconsider that answer.

He lost his sense of direction pretty quick, and when she whispered “here” and let them into a factory building, he couldn’t have given the location away. With the backpack slung over one shoulder, he followed her up the stairs, and stood aside while she knocked what he assumed was the password. It did the job; the door was opened. Dominic – he assumed it was him – was a lot younger than expected, based on Nathalie’s non-descriptions. For a second he wondered if they had misunderstood each other, and this was actually some sort of fraternity with a nachon kink, taking advantage of Erast’s low rent; the guy who opened the door looked college age; far too young to be running anything other than trips after more booze. But the careful manner by which he was being assessed; as if searching for potential threats, and the blatant fact that Dominic was a nachon, convinced him otherwise. This young man was in charge of his future. It wasn’t exactly reassuring, but eh, why not?

Nathalie returned Dominic’s greeting when he stepped aside and they both stepped into the room. It was neither the frat house he had feared nor the crime den he had expected. There were no printed out images of government figures taped to the walls with bullet holes or knives sticking out. No posters or banners with political slogans or a printing press in the corner spitting out paroles. It was just, he observed, a living room. Shabby, yes, but undeniably ordinary. To his right was a small kitchen, just as normal. Of course, both seemed worn, lived in, but he had seen a lot worse. Not very threatening, not very illegal, surprisingly habitable.

It was Dominic’s “What’s your name?” and Nathalie sighing resignedly “What part of ‘Don’t ask questions’ do you not understand?” that turned attention away from the space and towards its inhabitants. He hadn’t prepared an answer. The truth for sure wasn’t one, and he felt that this might be a new start, one which deserved an untainted name. He didn’t hesitate, thinking about the book he had carried around all this time. About the child it had been given to. About the note scribbled on the cover page and who it had been signed by. An ancient story perhaps, and not quite happy. But the idea had taken root and he said, sounding almost certain: “I’m Cadmus.” To which he held out a hand, meeting Dominic’s eyes, smiling politely, because he had to shake on this, and because it was the civil way to go about things, “Pleased to meet you.” He looked to Nathalie, then back, adding: "Dominic, I assume?"

[Dominic]

Immediately, Nathalie scolded him as if he had made any promises to follow her orders. Dominic scowled at her without having the actual means to be mad at her. Not in this situation at least. It was already clear that this man wasn’t a repeat of last time’s nasty stranger.

The man that was named Cadmus, he revealed. Kinda an old name for his young features, not a name usually given to someone seemingly their age. But who was he to judge? People got called even weirder names all the time.

Dominic looked down at the hand reached out towards him. This guy was odd. What refugee had manners like this? Though, Dominic didn’t get any off vibes from him - very much the opposite, in fact. His manners caused Dominic to remember his own, and he grabbed his hand to shake it.

“You too,” he said, easing up in the movement, even as his own name left Cadmus’ mouth. A quick side-eye thrown in Nathalie’s direction. How much had she already told him? If she had told him anything - some nachon warlocks knew how to find that information themselves.

Whatever. Dominic had planned to introduce himself anyways. Though stumped for just a second, he just exhaled and said a short “Yeah” before letting go of the man’s hand and walking into the kitchen.

“Do you drink anything? Coffee?” He had already reached for the overhead cabinet, opening to get out some cups.  “Is that okay to ask?” he added towards Nathalie, somewhere between snark and a joke.

He wasn’t going to ask Cadmus anything else though. Not because of Nathalie, but because it didn’t concern him. Cadmus could tell him whatever he felt was necessary. Dominic wasn’t going to pry. That wasn’t his job.

Pouring from the rusty coffee pot into the cups, looking at the brown liquid oozing out, he said: “We already have our next evacuation mission planned and unfortunately, it won’t be possible to squeeze you in. So you’ll have to wait until the next mission to leave Ilomar. It’ll only be a few months though, and you're free to stay here while you wait.”

[Cadmus]

They shook hands. He and Dominic.

In that shake, he got the sense that Dominic found him strange. At least initially; it appeared he was accepting this oddness, whatever it was – to the great relief of Cadmus, who had to remind himself that his knowledge of youth culture and customs in a sober environment were extremely limited. Perhaps he ought to work on that. Depending on what story accompanied his new identity, of course. He fancied himself a quick learner – and observant! The side-eye which Dominic threw in the direction of Nathalie did not escape his attention. It made sense to worry, but she really had not told him much, apart from the name, which Dominic confirmed himself. Besides, Cadmus was not sure how much he really wanted to know. If they were criminals, which Nathalie seemed adamant about denying, then the less he knew the better.

As Dominic walked the few steps to the kitchen, Cadmus turned briefly to Nathalie, whose relieved smile was not the convincing ‘see, I told you it would go just fine’, she probably meant for it to be. He returned the smile, adjusting his grip on the backpack strap, wondering if he could and should put it down somewhere, when Dominic spoke from the kitchen; asking if he drank anything. More specifically coffee.

“Coffee would be great,” when wasn’t it? He did not, at that time, feel exhausted. That would come later, probably, when the effect of the yellow pill and the caffeine of the morning wore off, but he thought he might as well get something energising preventatively.

He decided to overhear the quib at Nathalie, even when she retorted with a halfhearted; “Yes, obviously,” and the additional “there’s a fine line between politeness and interrogation,” muttered to herself before she too made her way to the kitchen. “I would like a cup too, thanks,” She said, leaning over the island counter, inquisitively “need me to help with anything?”

But they seemed only a courtesy; Dominic was already pouring the coffee, and the smell filled the room, making it almost cosy. There was no real time to linger on this, because Dominic had started speaking, and it took a second for Cadmus to understand what it was about: They – the EFA – had planned an evacuation mission; and he – Cadmus – could not be ‘squeezed in’, (at this Cadmus looked at Nathalie, confused) he would have to wait until the next one.

Nathalie had not mentioned anything about him evacuating. She had mentioned that this organisation helped people out of the country. But he had followed her because she had promised a bed to sleep in. What had she told Dominic?

“I am afraid” He began slowly, still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, “we might have misunderstood each other,” He looked between the two people in the kitchen area, then elaborated: “I’m not interested in leaving.” He couldn’t. Not if Lucy was here somewhere. He couldn’t just leave a child on her own. Well, had left her, in a sense, but it hadn’t been intentional. What if anything happened? – anything might already have happened, he had no way of knowing if she was even alive, and if she was – where she was. Any trace ended here. So that was where he had to be too. He had made a promise, hadn’t he? And he could not turn his back on that. Not totally at least.

He spoke then, mostly to Nathalie; “I apologise if I gave you the wrong idea.”

[Sponsoreret inhold]