Alright. Samael said softly, opening the door lightly, giving himself just enough space to pull his slim body through it. Outside, even though it was noon, the light in the bar was lit, and for a moment, the soft yellow of the artificial lamp light illuminated the room. Like I said, I'll be back in a minute. You can use the bathroom while I'm gone, if you're feeling up to it. It's the door to your left. he said, pointing towards the small door which connected the guest room to first floor toilet.
With that, Samael exited the room, closing carefully the door behind him. However, he didn't immediately go for the bar. Instead, he stopped for a second, focusing on the sudden panic that suddenly rose in the man when he said that he would have to leave. Yes, there was definitely panic there, and longing, as well as missing someone dearly. Turning his head slightly black, he could still see the mass of dulled lines that was the man, his blind-sight being obstructed by the wall just as much a normal one would, but he could still imagine him wearing what seemed like a very arrogant grin. There was no trace of arrogance in what he was feeling.
So, he has lost someone. he muttered, finally heading for the bar, where his father was waiting.
He awake? the man asked, sternly, wiping what was left of the glasses used the previous night.
Yes. Samael answered, taking a seat on the stool by the bar. He feels like shit though. Looks like it too. I don't think he'll leave any time soon.
And you know that because? Samael's father asked, raising an eyebrow, without looking at the boy yet.
I formed the Connection with him? Samael answered weekly, hoping that his father won't go in one of his berserker moods.
I see. the older man said, putting the glass down, and grasping the counter with his left hand. He said nothing for several seconds, before turning his back to his son, and starting to wipe the bottles Samael had used last night. Tell him he can stay until tonight. Also, he has drank half of our most expensive bottles, on your urging, yes, but it is still his stomach the alcohol went to. He will either pay for it with cash or find another way to pay us back. A night or two at the bar should be about right.
Samael wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. I'm sure he has other things to do, dad. And he doesn't exactly seem to type to be willing to do that.
I don't care. I'll go see what your mother has made for lunch. the man said, leaving the cloth he had been wiping the bottles with behind and exiting the counter. Come up when you're hungry. Your guest too.
Samael sighed, standing up himself. I don't think he will be processing food any time soon. And I ate six eggs this morning, so I'm good. Have a good meal. Heading back to the spare room, Samael draw his fingers through the loose strands of his long hair. He was sure his father meant well, but this wasn't going to work.
Hey, you decent in there? he asked, knocking on the door, his sight not precise enough to determine safely whether the door to the bathroom was opened or not, and if stranger still had all of his clothes on. Though he didn't know why would he take it off in the first place...
With that, Samael exited the room, closing carefully the door behind him. However, he didn't immediately go for the bar. Instead, he stopped for a second, focusing on the sudden panic that suddenly rose in the man when he said that he would have to leave. Yes, there was definitely panic there, and longing, as well as missing someone dearly. Turning his head slightly black, he could still see the mass of dulled lines that was the man, his blind-sight being obstructed by the wall just as much a normal one would, but he could still imagine him wearing what seemed like a very arrogant grin. There was no trace of arrogance in what he was feeling.
So, he has lost someone. he muttered, finally heading for the bar, where his father was waiting.
He awake? the man asked, sternly, wiping what was left of the glasses used the previous night.
Yes. Samael answered, taking a seat on the stool by the bar. He feels like shit though. Looks like it too. I don't think he'll leave any time soon.
And you know that because? Samael's father asked, raising an eyebrow, without looking at the boy yet.
I formed the Connection with him? Samael answered weekly, hoping that his father won't go in one of his berserker moods.
I see. the older man said, putting the glass down, and grasping the counter with his left hand. He said nothing for several seconds, before turning his back to his son, and starting to wipe the bottles Samael had used last night. Tell him he can stay until tonight. Also, he has drank half of our most expensive bottles, on your urging, yes, but it is still his stomach the alcohol went to. He will either pay for it with cash or find another way to pay us back. A night or two at the bar should be about right.
Samael wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. I'm sure he has other things to do, dad. And he doesn't exactly seem to type to be willing to do that.
I don't care. I'll go see what your mother has made for lunch. the man said, leaving the cloth he had been wiping the bottles with behind and exiting the counter. Come up when you're hungry. Your guest too.
Samael sighed, standing up himself. I don't think he will be processing food any time soon. And I ate six eggs this morning, so I'm good. Have a good meal. Heading back to the spare room, Samael draw his fingers through the loose strands of his long hair. He was sure his father meant well, but this wasn't going to work.
Hey, you decent in there? he asked, knocking on the door, his sight not precise enough to determine safely whether the door to the bathroom was opened or not, and if stranger still had all of his clothes on. Though he didn't know why would he take it off in the first place...