To Make An Impression

For the first time in a very, very long time, Nathan felt nervous.

He'd been through this kind of rigmarole before. High school had been terrifying the first few times, especially around the fourth or fifth time when he was certain things couldn't continue to go smoothly. But over the years he'd gotten good at lying and evading more astute questions. Teachers had gotten dumber, too, he thought. More educated, sure, but less smart. They should probably be paid more. That'd help.

This was different, though. As he sat down on the dark brown pleather couch (or was that real leather? That seemed unlikely), he felt tension starting to work its way into his shoulders and jaw. He'd received a letter. That was, in and of itself, concerning – he wasn't supposed to exist. Not in any way he might be found, anyway. But the contents of the letter scared him. It had called him special. It hinted that someone somehow knew about his little secret.

Part of him was convinced that this was some kind of governmental trap. They'd finally caught on to him and were going to trick him into confessing before kidnapping him and dissecting his brain. Another part dismissed the idea as paranoid and stupid, but that part was admittedly smaller. The largest part of his mind, however, was unbearably curious. He simply had to know what was going on.

And so here Nathan was. He sighed and reclined back into the couch, trying to calm himself down. After all, what was the worst they could do to him?

Nathan had lain his head back and closed his eyes by the time the sound of footsteps approaching reached his ears, and he barely had enough time to look awake before the door swung open and some kid came in like a tornado of teenagedness. He watched the guy cross the room with an uncommon lack of self-consciousness and when he flopped down onto the couch next to him, Nathan's eyebrows raised in semi-questioning, semi-amusement.

He returned the nod with a quirked lip. “You could say that,” he replied.

For a moment, he let the brief silence warp into something a little more awkward. When it came down to it, he enjoyed the company of teenagers for very few reasons, but one of the biggest was that they were just fun to mess with. To troll, as they seemed to be calling it these days (though, admittedly, he wasn't sure he grasped the full meaning of that term).

Finally, he held out his hand for the kid to shake. “Nathan Donne,” he said with a grin. “You're a new student, too, then, are you?”

Nathan shook Nick's hand firmly, then released it, returning his own arm to rest on the couch so that he could recline back more easily. He nodded amiably even as he eyed the coffee table in front of him, considering whether or not he should put his feet up on it. Were this his own apartment, he'd do it in a second, but if these were real leather couches, he was definitely not in a place where that kind of behaviour would be appreciated.

Not that he'd usually care, but maybe his brain was about to be dissected, so maybe it was better to be safe rather than sorry.

Nathan watched as Nick fumbled around in his pocket and heard the unmistakable hollow cardboard sound of a cigarette packet. It was all he could do not to ask for one on the spot, but if he wasn't going to put his feet up then he definitely wasn't going to bring out the cancer sticks. The world didn't look kindly on his habit these days. Bloody liberals.

Nick's question was hardly unexpected, but it still put Nathan on edge. “Not a bloody clue,” he lied easily. “The letter said something about being special, but nobody's said that about me since me ol' mum.” That much was true. “I think they've got me mistaken for someone with half a brain.”

By god, he hoped that this Nick kid was about to shed some light on the situation.

Nathan nodded along sympathetically as Nick talked. I could tell you why you're against it, he felt like saying. Because you're a teenager and you're against everything. Of course, he didn't say it, but it was a thought he amused himself with. Even on remote islands halfway across the world, petty rebellion was still the domain of the young.

Of course, these thoughts were mostly reflex, and only half-believed, because Nathan wasn't sure he liked it, either. As cushy as these seats were, and as clean as this floor was, he couldn't quite reach the idea that any of this was normal or trustworthy. He of all people understood abnormality and lies, and he could practically smell them.

“Not much choice? How d'you mean?” His attention was thoroughly grabbed by this sliver of information. Had he ignored the letter, would he have been abducted in the night? Though he tried to hide it, the sudden possibilities made him extremely uneasy. “Are you special, then?”