05-11-2020, 02:03 PM
Carmen was at her desk, sorting through papers with a line of thought pressed between her brow. It was a terribly traditional way to do it, not that anyone would think to point it out to her -- Raffe certainly wouldn’t dare. Whatever fears she had harboured about the club’s reopening, Kallisti had risen apparently unscathed from the ashes. He leaned in the doorway, watching her work until those sharp eyes drew upwards with a sigh that suggested she had been aware of him for some time. His grin brightened.
“I don’t want to know why you’re smiling like that, Rafael,” she said, one brow arched in emphasis. She softened a little too though, her red lips almost curving into a smile of her own. “How is he?”
“Alive,” Raffe said. “Though he seems to think you’ll be angry with him.”
“For losing a fucking arm?”
“Because of the show.”
Carmen frowned, but she did finally pause from working around the conversation. Her brows slashed low, making her look somewhere between irritated and angry -- which might have been true, but Raffe knew her well enough to guess the ire was stabbing inwards, not at him. He held up a consolatory palm. “It’d just be better coming from you.”
Her gaze broke away after a moment of brief consideration, and though she didn’t nod, Raffe understood the dismissal. She had a heart of gold but a tongue like razor-wire. Most likely she would even be annoyed that Nox had doubted his place here now, whether he could dance or not. But she wouldn’t let any misunderstanding persist. She’d talk to him.
The club was mostly quiet as he passed through, though he could hear music beating faintly from behind the theatre doors. He’d overheard the girls talking about new faces, and it seemed the seeds Oriena planted grew shoots even in her absence, but he usually skirted around that business. He had no intention of intruding on practice either, now there was extra work to do. If they wanted his opinion, and he was more than happy to watch, they would ask for it.
He spent the morning busy, visiting with numerous friends, catching up and fielding the questions and fawning over his new scars. His orphan roots mostly drew him to the poor places, plunging in and out of the shallow tunnels of the underground city at times, though he looked upon those shadows with new eyes now. Moscow did not much care for its vagrant poor, though, and those places were dry if not warm. He frowned, scrubbing a hand over his chin. Thinking of what Nox had said of the swarming creatures somewhere below his feet.
When the second message chimed some time later, he couldn’t stop the spread of his smile. He didn’t answer it, but he did load up the gps, and headed to the park.
“I don’t want to know why you’re smiling like that, Rafael,” she said, one brow arched in emphasis. She softened a little too though, her red lips almost curving into a smile of her own. “How is he?”
“Alive,” Raffe said. “Though he seems to think you’ll be angry with him.”
“For losing a fucking arm?”
“Because of the show.”
Carmen frowned, but she did finally pause from working around the conversation. Her brows slashed low, making her look somewhere between irritated and angry -- which might have been true, but Raffe knew her well enough to guess the ire was stabbing inwards, not at him. He held up a consolatory palm. “It’d just be better coming from you.”
Her gaze broke away after a moment of brief consideration, and though she didn’t nod, Raffe understood the dismissal. She had a heart of gold but a tongue like razor-wire. Most likely she would even be annoyed that Nox had doubted his place here now, whether he could dance or not. But she wouldn’t let any misunderstanding persist. She’d talk to him.
The club was mostly quiet as he passed through, though he could hear music beating faintly from behind the theatre doors. He’d overheard the girls talking about new faces, and it seemed the seeds Oriena planted grew shoots even in her absence, but he usually skirted around that business. He had no intention of intruding on practice either, now there was extra work to do. If they wanted his opinion, and he was more than happy to watch, they would ask for it.
***
He spent the morning busy, visiting with numerous friends, catching up and fielding the questions and fawning over his new scars. His orphan roots mostly drew him to the poor places, plunging in and out of the shallow tunnels of the underground city at times, though he looked upon those shadows with new eyes now. Moscow did not much care for its vagrant poor, though, and those places were dry if not warm. He frowned, scrubbing a hand over his chin. Thinking of what Nox had said of the swarming creatures somewhere below his feet.
When the second message chimed some time later, he couldn’t stop the spread of his smile. He didn’t answer it, but he did load up the gps, and headed to the park.