What's a friend?

Arthur had never been very good at making friends. He had acquaintances. He was alright at networking, communicating with his clients and going to dinners with his fellows at his Inn and whatnot, but he had never been good at friends. This wasn't something that bothered him very much. He worked best alone, after all, and never found it important to make any friends.

For the 5 years at the island, he had generally worked fine without having many friends outside of work. However, when he had accepted Theo into his firm, the boy seemed to make it his own personal goal to get Arthur to make more friends. Recently. he gave in to Theo's antics and signed up for a networking app. On there he had met several people. One, similar to him in age, had offered to meet up.

He had Sundays off usually, though he tends to spend them at the office as well. Not today, though. Here he was, sitting in a cafe, his cane leaning against his chair, waiting for his potential friend to show up. He hadn’t even ordered anything. Is this how normal people made friends? He suspected that it was not the case, but at this point all he could do was wait.

@Romi

Arthur, owing mostly to boredom, had spotted Valli as soon as he came through the door. He didn't make eye contact, however, until Valli had came to his table and offered a handshake.

Handshakes. He can deal with those, though generally he preferred his left hand. Still, he had enough practice so that his tremor was barely noticeable when he did use his right. First impressions were important in his line of work, and most of those began with a handshake or a greeting.

Well, he was not at work now. But his habits stuck more than he would like.

Taking in his potential new friend, Arthur didn't find much that was out of the ordinary with him. Tall, blond, well-groomed. Valli looked like a nice person. Or at least a normal person. The one thing that was interesting was the low amount of guilt, though that likely meant he was just more well-adjusted than Arthur. Of course, appearances can be deceiving, and he wasn't the biggest fan of judging by appearances, but he'd at least like to think that he's making friends with a decent person.

"Yes. Nice to meet you, Valli," Arthur said, trying to keep his tone casual. He tended to fall into the habit of professionalisms when out of work, but he's working on it, or at least he's telling himself that. "Do you want anything to drink? A coffee?"

"Two coffees, please," Arthur said, to the young waiter who had been near their table. He personally didn't drink coffee, but it didn't hurt to have one once in a while. He tended to stray away from anything even remotely addictive, caffeine included.

Valgarður. Definitely Nordic, though he couldn't tell whether it's Norwegian or Icelandic. He was tempted to guess the former - a higher population means that he hag a higher statistical chance to get it right, but it would probably be easier if he just asked. He knew, though, that some people on the island didn't like to speak about their background. Would it be intrusive?

How long had it been since he's had a normal conversation lasting longer than a minute that's not about his work with somebody? He wasn't surprised to know that he didn't recall.

"Would you prefer to be called Valgarður or Valli?" Arthur asked. He was lucky, personally, to have a common first name. Less explaining, less hassle. "Yes, Nyström is Swedish. I left Sweden when I was young, though."

"I think I'll stay with Valgarður," Arthur answered. He knew that some people appreciated the extra effort, and he personally didn't find the pronunciation too difficult. His surname was the same. He always appreciated those people who cared enough to add the umlaut to his surname.

"I suppose I'm lucky to have a first name that's very difficult to pronounce in correctly," he responded. It takes a very special person to mispronounce Arthur. "It's normal amongst expats who left their home countries young to feel a disconnect to their culture. You could always return to visit. It's never too late."

He wondered whether he had been too formal. He was told that his speech patterns can give people that impression. Hopefully Valgarður didn't mind.

"Asgard?" Arthur asked, tilting his head to the side. A demigod, then, like him. Well, sort of like him. He wasn't surprised, not in the normal sense of the word. Not many people here explicitly advertised who they were. There were people that you could tell from their appearance, of course, but most you can't.

He took his coffee and blew on it, taking a sip. It was almost hot enough to burn his tongue, but he didn't let that show.

"Tyr is my grandfather," he confessed, running a hand through his hair to push it away from his face. Not something that he told to everybody, but having something in common helped people get closer to each other. "My father was a demigod. Asgard... maybe I would visit sometime. But only for the sake of him."