12-08-2022, 10:05 PM
[[continued from Following the White Rabbit]]
Sage proved to be easy company, and Raffe was both relieved and grateful to be pulled along without having to think about where he was going or what he was doing. Despite his oblivion at the church Sage was surprisingly cognisant when he wanted to be. If he still tuned out a little oddly now and then, Raffe stopped noticing the quirk as the time rolled on. Not that he judged it even in the first place. He was happy enough just to not be alone to pass the time like molasses, and Sage accepted him like he’d known him a lifetime. Raffe extended the same courtesy.
Hearing about Nox’s life from someone else’s perspective was curious (and certainly Sage had a curious perspective). Raffe knew about Aurora, about her life and her death, but it was something painful for Nox to talk about, and Raffe rarely pressed on those kinds of wounds – just listened to what was offered, and comforted when it was needed. It buried something sad in his chest to hear Sage talk about her and the impression she had clearly left on him. Nox had been right; Raffe would have liked to have met her. They would have gotten on.
By the second coffee house, the conversation moved on to stranger things. He wasn’t sure if Sage made up the stories about the people who drifted or marched or paraded past their table; the details seemed too specific and random for him to be making it all up on the fly, but there wasn’t a wallet or device in Sage’s hand – and Raffe couldn’t see how he’d trace strangers so quickly even he did, no matter how talented a hacker he was. Not that it mattered either way. The distraction worked, and Raffe let it. He’d done the same thing once, with fairytales for frightened and lonely kids in the orphanage growing up. He knew the power of a good story.
He’d relaxed some, but tension still strung him through when his phone finally vibrated a message. Anticipation this time, rather than worry. Raffe grinned to himself as he shoved the device back in his pocket, about to speak, but Sage was ready to leave like he’d already known.
When they arrived the club was past opening, the line still snaking around the elaborate stone steps of the entrance, so Raffe led them to the staff door down a clean and well kept side alley. If he pushed his way through to security they’d likely recognise him, but wander in dressed like this and Carmen would only frown (and possibly worry – not about his clothes, but about the tiredness pinching his face). Plus he wasn’t working tonight, and he didn’t want the distraction of the girls or clients that might want his attention. After he scanned himself in and waited for the beep of admittance, he paused to affably pat Sage’s shoulder, and grinned. “Thanks for today,” he said, and meant it. “Free drink on the house if you’re interested? Just tell them Raffe said so.”
Sage proved to be easy company, and Raffe was both relieved and grateful to be pulled along without having to think about where he was going or what he was doing. Despite his oblivion at the church Sage was surprisingly cognisant when he wanted to be. If he still tuned out a little oddly now and then, Raffe stopped noticing the quirk as the time rolled on. Not that he judged it even in the first place. He was happy enough just to not be alone to pass the time like molasses, and Sage accepted him like he’d known him a lifetime. Raffe extended the same courtesy.
Hearing about Nox’s life from someone else’s perspective was curious (and certainly Sage had a curious perspective). Raffe knew about Aurora, about her life and her death, but it was something painful for Nox to talk about, and Raffe rarely pressed on those kinds of wounds – just listened to what was offered, and comforted when it was needed. It buried something sad in his chest to hear Sage talk about her and the impression she had clearly left on him. Nox had been right; Raffe would have liked to have met her. They would have gotten on.
By the second coffee house, the conversation moved on to stranger things. He wasn’t sure if Sage made up the stories about the people who drifted or marched or paraded past their table; the details seemed too specific and random for him to be making it all up on the fly, but there wasn’t a wallet or device in Sage’s hand – and Raffe couldn’t see how he’d trace strangers so quickly even he did, no matter how talented a hacker he was. Not that it mattered either way. The distraction worked, and Raffe let it. He’d done the same thing once, with fairytales for frightened and lonely kids in the orphanage growing up. He knew the power of a good story.
He’d relaxed some, but tension still strung him through when his phone finally vibrated a message. Anticipation this time, rather than worry. Raffe grinned to himself as he shoved the device back in his pocket, about to speak, but Sage was ready to leave like he’d already known.
When they arrived the club was past opening, the line still snaking around the elaborate stone steps of the entrance, so Raffe led them to the staff door down a clean and well kept side alley. If he pushed his way through to security they’d likely recognise him, but wander in dressed like this and Carmen would only frown (and possibly worry – not about his clothes, but about the tiredness pinching his face). Plus he wasn’t working tonight, and he didn’t want the distraction of the girls or clients that might want his attention. After he scanned himself in and waited for the beep of admittance, he paused to affably pat Sage’s shoulder, and grinned. “Thanks for today,” he said, and meant it. “Free drink on the house if you’re interested? Just tell them Raffe said so.”
![[Image: Raffe-banner--scaled.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/Raffe-banner--scaled.jpg)