Sweet child of mine- chap 7 (1/5)
anonymous
September 23 2010, 12:30:49 UTC
I'm on a roll! and thanks to my beta who's been doing a great work!
_______
Tomasz watched the battle recreation intently, fascinated and awed by the careful detailing. It was perfectly accurate- and wonderfully made. The shields bore the coat of arms and the flags and battle horns were just right, down to the very last detail as written in the history books. But more inspiring was the recreation team. They were extraordinary performers and they did it with all their heart. It was only a small demonstration but it sent a shiver down his spine, almost like he had when he pictured the battle in his head, back in his senior year in University. And also- Lorinaitis sure wasn't lying when he said Łukasiewicz stood out above everyone else. The hussar armor sure helped - enormous wings tend to gather the gawkers- But even in the small group playing hussars he stood out more. He looked like a real hussar. Like he was acting from real battle experience, Tomasz thought for a moment. Something in his moves, in the way he held himself. He was also the best rider in the group, which was a bit surprising. After all, Łukasiewicz had a certain reputation around the parliament building, and it wasn't very horse-compatible, "My Little Pony" notwithstanding. He just didn't look the type. After pulling his gaze off Łukasiewicz and his wings, Tomasz spotted a few more familiar faces in the recreation. Like that one guy from floor 2 who usually forgot to fill his reports, one particularly fervent man from accounts department, and a couple he saw a few times around the coffee room. He felt it odd that the maestro wasn't there, but since like all mortal men, the maestro was getting too old for all this violence - it was understandable. The crowd seemed fascinated and watched without falter, even as the speakers offered explanations and light comments out of the blue. He himself enjoyed it a lot, especially since there were none of those irksome errors that seem to show up whenever history ensues. It looked like someone picked a small piece of the past and planted it in the middle of the modern day festival. He could have sworn the arena really became a small patch of elsewhere, where time simply stopped marching on. But to his dismay, time did go by. And when the recreation was over and the arena was filled with a medieval style flag show, his beeper went off with the horrifying message that sent chills down his spine for the last month. "Get over to the main center; you need to prepare." He took a deep breath and walked as far away as possible from other people, trying to avoid attention. He hoped no one could see how feeble and nervous he was all of a sudden. It was almost as bad as his first job interview, when after three minutes he started peppering his babble with the oddest things like going off-topic about the Spice Girls, of all things, and cursing at random in three languages, until the interviewer kicked him out and told him to take some pills and Oh my goodness why am I even thinking about this now this is not helping and if I spill about this now they'll never let me live it down and this is not helping stop thinking about iiiit! Enough! He tried his best to undo some of the damage this train wreck just did to his sanity. He told himself that this is nothing. He is only going to say what he was told to and that's that. It was just his job to say someone else's words, everyone knows it, and all he had to do was just say it and leave… But he was going to say it in front of a crowd. A big damn crowd of potential voters and probably a few politicians too. And cameras. And reporters. And this time he wasn't going to be the snack delivery guy in charge of making sure these people of certain importance have something to nibble on- he was supposed to talk to them, answer their questions, face their sharp tongues and even sharper pens that will write the morning's newspapers and columns and blogs-! His mind was flooded with horror as he stepped in the main grounds. The maestro, still in his red royal cape, welcomed him with a big, bright smile that did nothing to make him less terrified.
Sweet child of mine- chap 7 (2/5)
anonymous
September 23 2010, 12:33:46 UTC
"There you are, Firley!" he walked over to him, and Tomasz felt his mind fizzling. "The senators are all waiting to hear the speech! Our candidate is also pleased-" Did the maestro not see the faint vapor of melted brain coming from Tomasz's ears? - "Boy, come over here- you need some styling-" Tomasz was pushed into a chair in front of a large mirror, his reflection looking back with a nauseated blank stare; not the best look to go up and give a speech with. He was mortified even further as the horrible idea of throwing up on the stand crossed his mind. Pulling out his rosary, he held it and whispered a familiar prayer, wishing God will hear him and will pull off some divine neurochemical intervention with his brain (a godly chill pill, if you will) and if that didn't happen, well, at least holding the rosary had a soothing effect in itself. His figures traced the familiar, even intimate, trinket, a small souvenir from his parents that he could hold on to. That little metal cross was very old; well kept, but old. A family heirloom, possibly. Once he took it to an expert, hoping he will be able to use it to trace his parents. He was about nineteen. But all he was told that his rosary is from around the fourteenth century, probably belonged to a rich family as it was pure silver- "but with a family name like Firley it's not surprising, not really. After all it used to belong to nobles." Tomasz let the prayer on his lips and the silver cross in his hand to work on his rumbling mind for a few more moments. Like a silent trickle of cool water over a pot plant, traces of comfort seeped back to him and he absorbed them, slowly leading his high-strung mind somewhere completely different, where he never rambled about whores in German and spilling coffee and throwing up mid-sentence. His own strange version of "the happy place"; A place with no age or time, were he was everything and everything was him. Complete. Tranquil. At peace. Confident. Right. Then he opened his eyes to look at himself in the mirror again and everything fell back into place. He was himself again. Brown hair, green eyes, a little slim, wearing that god-awful costume, and knowing what he needed to say, word by word. He was going to say a whole lot of words. Pretty words, but thankfully nothing flowery. Mainly of love to the country and cleaner politics, more emphasis on social matters and a lot of adoration to his party's candidate. Tomasz never met him, but he did believe in him. He would go up there, confident in his words and tell all the people out there about his party's vision of the future. "You, uh, look good, Firley was it?" One of the maestro's girls- probably the one assigned to help him prepare, do his hair and makeup ("otherwise you'll, umm, look all gray and stuff, right?"), walked to him. "I was, uh, about to umm offer you a cup of tea, but you… mm… seem to be holding yourself together, yes?" "-thanks," He smiled at her, "just need to sort things out in my head a little. I'm still nervous, just… ugh, just less afraid." "Good, good- now, eh…- sit straight, okay?- let's, uhm, get you ready… it’s the opening speech of the campaign, isn't it?"
Sweet child of mine- chap 7 (3/5)
anonymous
September 23 2010, 12:35:18 UTC
Tomasz spent the next half hour being promptly covered in makeup and getting his hair fixed by this uncertain lady. He felt better, looking into the space in the mirror and replaying the speech in his mind, again and again. "All right everyone, fifteen minutes to roll!" (Tomasz could swear these were the shortest fifteen minutes ever. Before he could even compose himself, he was already standing behind the curtain of the big stand and he felt his mind go out with the click of a light switch, and here goes nothing-!)
Taking a deep breath, he walked out there and up on the stage, to the podium, noticing a prompter and feeling better already. Good to know the maestro had some sort of safety net for him. He swallowed the lump in his throat, then remembered the lessons he got in the last month- back straight, steps wide! Wear your expression like you'd wear a medal, Firley, as he was told more than once in the last month - and tried to put on a confident face. Serenity now, he reminded himself. And may God help him- he was going to do it and he was going to do it right! So like a brave warrior storming into battle, at least in his mind, he marched right to that podium. A small water bottle was placed there in advance, and he took a small sip and smiled to the blinding lights that prevented him from seeing the crowd properly beyond the two first rows. It was a blessing, really, because he could pretend only the first two rows existed; the ones for VIPs and people he knew, even if not by name but by face (and the type of coffee they liked). He cleared his throat. "Uhm, good evening, and thank you for coming to the festival hosted by-" The words began to fall out, taking a steady pace; he knew he was doing fine, but… something felt wrong, like a pair of glasses with the lenses on backwards. He believed his words, and the approving looks on the senators' faces in the second row meant he wasn't doing anything off. Still, something was poking uncomfortably at his gut. Something akin to the feeling of hundreds of people growing tired all at once. Not just tired, actually. Bored, too. Cynical, even. Why? His speech was polished to rhetorical perfection and well presented… ( Just like every other speech since the history of ever... ) (Maybe we could sneak back to the car?) (Like hell I'm listening to this guy spout nonsense!) (When will these people ever say something and really mean it?) (What ever…) Like a shockwave going thought his system, he could almost feel what the crowed was thinking in general. Promises, feh. The kinds all politicians are giving but almost none fulfill. They wanted something else. Something really different… they wanted- they have heard it all before and frankly… "-I know you've already heard all this, I know! I did too!"
Sweet child of mine- chap 7 (4/5)
anonymous
September 23 2010, 12:36:29 UTC
The shockwave stopped for a moment of poignant void, and turned into a soft vibe pity. So they were sorry now, for the wee spokesman who lost his cool? No, Tomasz thought. I have to keep going. I drove this car off the road and now I'm stuck in some serious mud, aren't I… Tomasz kept talking, ignoring the prompter. The surge of emotion was already drifting from pity to surprise, even from the cynics. He knew what he had to say. What the people needed to hear. He would probably get himself fired for this but come on! he had to! It was like a force, stronger than him- forming the right words in his mouth. The prompter kept running- but the connection between what it read and what he said was only in spirit, the idea being pretty much the same, only in words people were willing to hear. He told them how much he adored his party's candidate not as someone who was paid to say it. He talked to them from up there- but somehow, he knew he could see eye to eye with them (even with those horrid projectors). And as he kept going, they flowed into him more and more. He was overwhelmed by mass sympathy, for crying out loud. He told them with utmost sincerity about the faith he had in his party, about the vision of cleaner politics. He knew that lying now would be the death of him. His honesty thrived on the crowd's love, that thrived on his honesty. It was beautiful. And then it stopped. He could hear loud applause as he walked off the stage, his brain feeling fuzzy. He half expected being yelled at for improvising and going totally off track, even if he did give all the information he was supposed to pass on. So no one was more surprised than him when the maestro ran up to him, smiling triumphantly.
"I knew it! The moment I looked at you I knew! And I was right! Up there- splendid! Absolutely splendid, and so honest! Original! Wonderful job, Firley!" Tomasz gawked in surprise. "You… aren’t mad…?" "Mad? I've always been a little mad!" The maestro joked. "If I weren't, I wouldn't have had this hunch that you simply have it in you, boy! But I never expected! Fantastic!" The maestro gave him a wide grin, "The speech we wrote was good, but you made it yours and made even me feel a little lacking compared to your sheer overflowing charisma- it was absolutely splendid!" Tomasz just blushed and smiled a little. He didn't know what got into him up there - sheer overflowing charisma? The hell is going on? But whatever that was, it felt good. More than that - it felt right. "Maestro! Maestro! The main channel news wants a personal interview with both you and Firley- two newspapers too- you really impressed them!" Alicja came running towards them, all smiles and joy- "You were amazing Firley! I mean really, wow… !"
"-No interviews for you, Firley- I will go up there in a moment- tell them that, Alicja sweetheart, yes? But not you," he gave patted Tomasz on the shoulder, "-you tell Gofer to call you a cab back to the hotel -on the party, I'll take care of that. You need to lie down, Firley, I think you're going to throw up." Tomasz sat down and let the shock sink in while people around him were busy running somewhere and looking pleased. Now was time to just let things happen.
Sweet child of mine- chap 7 (5/5)
anonymous
September 23 2010, 12:37:51 UTC
"Well, it went a lot better then I dared hope," said Lithuania into the phone "He ran into America- but he hadn't noticed anything funny about him, because, well, he was busy being America… and Estonia told me Russia managed to pester him a bit but luckily Belarus came around before he could reach any ominous conclusions…" "Yeah." Poland's voice was a little muffled, a lot calmer than it was last night, over the phone. "No one but Hungary- who is still a little disappointed she didn't have a chance to see Tomasz in person- stayed for the speech." "I talked to him a bit, you know." Lithuania smiled. "At first I just tried to get him away from America but I couldn't help it. He… he's grown nicely. "
As they talked into the night, Lithuania's mind was still filled with the picture of the little boy he once had- for a moment there, he almost broke his cover: when Tomasz asked his name without even a trace of familiarity. But he must think of what was best for his boy. It's better for him if he never knows. No use being selfish, but it was one of the moments where his feelings as human clashed with his emotions as a nation- Lithuania knew it would be very unwise to let Tomasz in on this, not to mention very unsettling for the boy, but Toris… he wanted to give his logic the finger and tell him everything. He hung up the phone after a very emotional talk with Poland, closing his eyes. He was proud, that's for sure. When he looked at Tomasz up there, heard him talking, he could feel he did maintain more than just his fluency in Lithuanian… He still had some sort of bond with the people. He wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse- but it was still there. not as strong as it used to be when he was a little boy though. Ilona, after all, had lost everything but a hunch for political happenings by age twenty four, and he expected Tomasz to be about the same. But then again, perhaps the large amount of people focused on him like that might have triggered something. Or maybe it was because they did raise him for a longer time? He couldn't know for sure. As kids both he and his deceased sister showed, mostly in their sleep, a firm connection to the earth- mainly around their birthplace, and could tell some things about the general feeling of people. But it diminished to near non-existence as they grew up. At three years old- when they left him at the orphanage- he thought Tomasz already lost his direct connection to people almost completely… Tomasz. Tomasz and his pout. That pout on his face brought up a fond smile. He still did that… well, he did pick that expression up from his "mother", and even as a grownup it didn’t make him look as foolish as it would anyone else. Must be his "Polish ancestry". He could see the fine similarities between them, the nuances of his face which kept him from looking like a clone of his "father". Particularly something in his eyes… the color was his, for sure, but the shape wasn't as round, and they were more prominent in his face. Just like mama's. Probably what gave him such a baby face. Lithuania sighed. His mind will not find any peace for a while, he knew. But it was worth it- talking to his son for the first time in thirty years, it was most certainly worth it.
And far from there, Tomasz was asleep, having his old dream again, in a bouncy hotel bed.
Re: Sweet child of mine- chap 7 (5/5)
anonymous
September 23 2010, 17:39:28 UTC
Tomasz is too cute - I like how you woven the whole "son-of-nations" thing in the plot, it makes a lot of sense and it's also really romantic and idealistic and all sort of nice things. <3
...let's hope this mysterious party leader is worth all the love Tomasz is giving him...
Re: Sweet child of mine- chap 7 (5/5)
anonymous
September 23 2010, 22:42:11 UTC
I like it, anon, I do. Particularly the last part gave me fuzzies, although I'm curious about where this will be going now that the political aspirations are growing~
Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (1/6)
anonymous
October 17 2010, 01:09:16 UTC
(Chapter 8 is here! Horry. Just to remind- this is a 20 minutes into the future kind-a of an AU, as said. Political or diplomatic- all events from about a decade before Tomasz is born an on are purely fictional.)
____
These days, Tomasz found himself thinking of his office as no less than sanctuary. A sanctuary with no reporters, no bustling cameramen, no microphones shoved in his face, a small bubble of peace in all this mess. In the last few days he's been interviewed over and over, repeatedly asked so many questions to which the answer was either obvious or meaningless, and survived. He was surprised to find that he could speak competently to a crowd and, in a strange case of reverse stage fright- it came to him more naturally whenever more people were involved. But it was still wrecking his nerves quite a bit and in his office, thank God, he was safe and sound and busy doing his job. Just what he needed to ease his mind, for some reason. It made him feel important, like he was helping with something, and it made him feel better.
He took his time going through the papers he received- something about a party member going to make a public announcement regarding the party's will to reform the law of information security, something the press is sure going to like. After all, was their main agenda not about cleaner politics, and wouldn't bringing out some dirt about financial affairs of certain important government personnel really be a big part of it? It will be hard to pass in the parliament… but that wasn't his responsibility, as he wasn't even close to being ranked that high in the list.
After looking over the statement and rephrasing in a way that sounded less antagonizing ("seriously, who writes this? It sounds like a threat to invade Russia!"), it came to his mind that a cup of coffee could really do him good right now. He still felt slightly uncomfortable asking someone else to make his coffee for him. Only a few weeks before he was down making coffee for himself and everybody around in floor 1, and the mentality tends to stick - so down to the first floor it was for Tomasz.
He took the stairs, enjoying the fine sensation of moving his muscles after sitting on his behind for unnecessarily long periods of time, receiving a quick "hi Firley bye Firley we'll talk!" from Gofer, who, as always, moved very competently with too many cups of coffee on a tray in his hand, not spilling a single drop and still managing to look like a bumbling idiot. Tomasz couldn't help but smile whenever Gofer was around doing his usual work, and with a smile he entered the first floor coffee room. The coffee room was as crowded as it always was. The coffee machine- oh my, it was finally working- was making its usual groggity-gurgle noises and bringing blessed coffee to the offices.
"Firely! Good morning! Looking sharp in that suit!" Alicja, noticeably cheerful, welcomed him after a few moments, holding a fat pile of newspapers in her hands. "Look, look! The weekly is all about the festival! They even have a picture of you in it- look, look!" She shoved one of the weekend's magazine's into his hands- "look! Page twenty one! They took a photo of you while you were talking with one of the Lithuanian organizers- It's funny- you look so much like each other! Take a look-! Come on, come on!"
Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (2/6)
anonymous
October 17 2010, 01:10:49 UTC
While doubting Alicja drinking coffee while so bubbly was a good idea, he did look for the article. The magazine was filled with pictures- most of people more important then he or the guys who did the battle recreation… okay, so Alicja was off by a page, but there it was.
The picture wasn't even labeled. But their faces were shown clearly. It must have been taken right before they parted- because it caught the Lithuanian just as he pulled his hair back so it won't bother him when he puts on the helmet.
He looked at the picture again. The resemblance was a little uncanny.
"-Hi, Alicja-" he looked at the bubbly woman, who turned to him with a cup of fresh coffee- "Can I borrow it?"
"Sure, why not! I'll send gofer to get it later if anyone else wants to have a look!"
Tomasz nodded to her, and picked up the magazine with his coffee. His heart raced. He wasn't that dense. He was mistaken for Lorinaitisnaitis a few times that day- but now that he could see it with his own eyes- they looked, and he held in a happy, hopeful sound that climbed up his chest- related.
He just wanted to study the picture more. It could be just coincidence. It happened before. He had that annoying generic look, the look indistinguishable from a crowd of one hundred other green-eyed brunets. It could be just his inner child feeding him sick, unrealistic delusions, too willing to find out even a little bit more about whatever family he may have out there. He assumes he was being foolish. But it could be real. Maybe this time it was the real thing? He wasn't going to let the chance slip.
(Lost battles, Tomasz would always say to himself, were his field of expertise. Too willing to look for chances, too desperate to give up.)
"And here I go on another wild goose chase, no?" he thought to himself as he closed the door behind him.
He shut himself in his office and opened the magazine with a pondering heart, torn between excitement and that voice in his head telling him he was raising his hopes more than is good for him. But miracles happen, and he was a believer since he could remember and it could happen. Just this once he could have his turn, no?
Biting his lips, he looked carefully, and the more he looked- the more the triumph in his chest grew. At some point it even roared. The jaw line was just the same, eye color was off maybe by a shade. Different eyelid shape, though. The cheekbones were similar- his more rounded, and his hair might have been a bit lighter- but blame that on the haircut.
Their looks matched too much for this to be mere coincidence, it had to mean something… and he was part-Lithuanian, wasn't he? He had to contact this person somehow. For his own peace of mind.
Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (3/6)
anonymous
October 17 2010, 01:12:28 UTC
But how could he contact Laurinaitis? It took him a moment to realize it was pretty obvious- he could just ask someone around. Somebody must know who to contact in the Lithuanian embassy, and from there it would be easy to get at least an e-mail.
___
A few hours later, he discovered it was a lot harder than he thought. He just didn't bring into consideration the fact that contacting someone important (and it looked like Laurinaitis was quite important indeed)- should have been difficult to anyone who wasn't supposed to, i.e. anyone who wasn't that important, e.g. Tomasz Firley.
He asked, but he only got the same numbers in the embassy, who again and again told him to call to the ministry, were he was (not rudely, but quite fiercely) told they could not share the information with him. And no one he knew in the office had access to such information… and asking one of the real bigwigs would raise unwanted questions…
It took him three whole days to realize the answer was there from the very beginning. It took another "Łukasiewicz story" to fresh up his memory. It looked like he wasn't getting along so well with the prime minister- and was quite vocal about it. He never caught a glimpse of one of the famous arguments- but the whole building knew about them. It made a lot of people wonder why the hell Łukasiewicz wasn't getting the pink slip - especially Alicja. He worked with her long enough to know she took making up strange theories about Łukasiewicz as a hobby. It was her who came up- without realizing- with the solution to his problem.
"-it's amazing, really." Said gofer, while filling up a try with cups of different cups of coffee- he explained the colors helps him remember who's was each cup. "-I was just outside the office this time. They were arguing again about this incident with the Russian ambassador." Gofer put one try aside and begun making a second one, "- They weren't yelling this time, thought. And y'know what Łukasiewicz said after the Prime minister finished scolding him?"
"What, what?!" Alicja almost fell off her chair because she bounced on it like en over-excited child who just happened to see a candy bar in her dad's hand..
"He said-" Gofer stopped and tried to mimic something a bit like a valley girl- "Whatevs boss. You're out of this office anyway in three months. If I were you I'd be packing my stuff and preparing for a loooong cool-off time, ya know? Now if you finished playing around being the responsible grown-up in international relationships, I'm off to interact with a nation whose hobby isn’t stalking others-Like, I donno', Lithuania, perhaps?"
Alicja giggled and clapped to gofer's performance. He, in turn, managed to bow without spilling anything. "He's spending a whole lot of time bonding with that Lithuanian guy, doesn't he?" she mumbled to herself. "And the relations between our nations been real good since those pacts a few decades ago so there isn’t much official reason behind this-"
Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (4/6)
anonymous
October 17 2010, 01:13:28 UTC
But Tomasz didn't hear the rest. His mind was reeling in the big fish. That was it! He could ask Łukasiewicz, he'll know… but, ugh. Contacting him would prove to be hard… he hasn't even seen him, not counting this flash a few months ago when he hyperventilated and passed out. And he was working directly under the prime minister…
"-sorry guys, gots to fly! Łukasiewicz takes his "I'm pissed off" coffee as soon after a fight as possible- otherwise everyone will have to endure his pink sulkiness of doom… I heard he once made the last minister of economics cry when he was like this. He takes it 'so sweet it will rot your teeth instantly, so strong it will make you bounce and ricochet off the ceiling for a week and so hot it'll burn what's left of your mouth'- at least that's what they told me to bring when he's like this. Never heard him complaining about it so I assume I'm making it right…"
Tomasz beamed. There's the chance. No need to set up a meeting or anything like this to bring someone his coffee…
"Gofer- can I take the coffee up? Please?"
Gofer and Alicja looked at him funny. "What for?" "Yeah, what the hell, Firley?"
"I- ugh…" He tried to think of a reason. Something that would make sense and won't make him look too strange. Then he decided to go for plan B. "It's complicated. Just… please?"
"Whatever you want, buddy. Last floor, second corridor to the right, office 1569, it's all the way down the hall to the left. I'm off to deliver the rest of these- see ya!" Gofer left behind one mug- it was very large, colored light yellow with little stalks of grain painted around the rim, and he could see the inscription "to my best friend" on it.
"-ooh, Łukasiewicz's mug! Heard it was a present from an ambassador from Hungary." Said Alicja, smiling and almost falling over, spilling her coffee all over the place- but not on him, luckily. She mumbled and grumbled and searched for something absorbent to clean up the mess she made, and Tomasz picked up a disposable cardboard cup carrier and walked to the elevator.
____
Poland stormed back into his office and slammed the door behind him with such force he was surprised it didn't crack like last time. It would have made it the third door they'd need to replace in six months. He might not have been as inhumanly strong like Russia or America, or even like he was when he was younger- but he still was stronger then the average human, as were all nations. And at the moment he was way too pissed off to think about his cover. This man- his cursed boss!
He will not go apologize to Russia- he had that slap coming- and a few more, too, if it was up to him- come on! How thick can one man be?! He told him over and over that Ivan was really mentally ill (well, more then the rest of them), and had a tendency to bully whoever he could. He's seen and known from personal experience what Russia could do.
Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (5/6)
anonymous
October 17 2010, 01:14:31 UTC
And he wasn't going to just…. Stand there and watch him abusing Latvia like that! It took the poor boy years to stop quivering every time he sees Russia, and he was just recovering from a nasty cold caused by turmoil in one of his big financial companies! For crying out loud, Latvia might not have been a very useful ally like Russia might have been, but he was a good, trustworthy boy.
And before that- he wanted him to take down the pink curtains he hang in his office, and to remove the oil panting he had there, saying it made the office look ridiculous. True, he didn't know that the painting was a 16th century original, and that the girl drown there was his daughter, or that the curtains were hand-made, a gift Hungary gave him when he complained how gray his office was. But it didn't matter. He had no right to tell him how to decorate his office.
"-I like, totally could use a cup of coffee-" He pressed the button connecting to the secretaries' center- "someone please bring my coffee to my office- thanks. You know how I drink it."
And until he gets his boiling cup of relaxation, he was going to do the second-best thing. Rant and Bitch and Whine. He picked up his phone and speed dialed to Lithuania's office. Toris was good at listening to his rants. Good- he answered- "-Liet~!"
"-let me guess, you're boss is being- and let me quote- 'a total, absolute ass'?"
"-you bet! God. He wants me to apologize to Russia for that slap I gave him after the last world conference. And he just never listens to me! y'know- I just love democracy now- 'cause back then you couldn't just tell a crappy boss to fuck off- I can't wait to the elections anymore! He's totally going to lose. Honestly- I won't say that ANYONE could do better- I've had worse- but- sheesh!"
On the other end of the line Lithuania put the phone on speaker and kept reading the papers, offering Poland an occasional "you're right" and "huh, sure". He would just let him rant until he'll run out of things to complain about. It might take a while, so He'll get some work done in the meantime. He knew Poland for over a thousand years now, and he could never remember the beginning of his own rant at the end so it didn't matter if he was listening or not.
"-and then he was, like, so what? And I said, like, hello, are you stupid or something? And he said no way because it would be against that stupid information security law- I was against it but then it was like, whatever. Y'know, but things change. I don't need that thing now. Not with what happened around in the last decades. Now they just use it to hide all the dirt about themselves and its like, totally not what this law was made for! and god I'm so glad that Tomasz's party want to change it because this law just suck! And talking bout him-I should send you a few of last week papers. He's all over them. Well-"
Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (6/6)
anonymous
October 17 2010, 01:15:45 UTC
Lithuania left the papers immediately. Now that was a better subject then Poland's problems with his boss or the financial records he was reading. He smiled to the phone. "-well, He did great."
"- Tomasz sure made his 'dad' one proud parent, don't you agree, Toris?"
Crash!
___
Outside a partly-opened door, Tomasz was paralyzed. The cardboard carrier was on the floor, swimming in the coffee and the broken pieces of the mug. But he was too shocked to be worried about the mug.
It was the last line. He didn't mean to eavesdrop! But- god, he was glad he showed up right there- it must be a sign!
He was right. Laurinaitis did know something about his parents- his father, apparently. Łukasiewicz did too-!
"-Feliks? What happened?"
He could hear the phone, and then, lifting his eyes from the puddle of coffee on the floor-
He looked into Feliks' eyes, and they were perhaps too familiar, like the eyes he'd seen a thousand times before in his dreams. Too close to be real.
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(Horry for sappy cliffhangers! Just kidding. Next chap- as soon as possible! And thank my beta once more for doing her job so quickly, and may your time at the boarding school will be al least nice! ^___^ Hope all of you anon's like it!)
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Tomasz watched the battle recreation intently, fascinated and awed by the careful detailing. It was perfectly accurate- and wonderfully made. The shields bore the coat of arms and the flags and battle horns were just right, down to the very last detail as written in the history books. But more inspiring was the recreation team. They were extraordinary performers and they did it with all their heart. It was only a small demonstration but it sent a shiver down his spine, almost like he had when he pictured the battle in his head, back in his senior year in University. And also-
Lorinaitis sure wasn't lying when he said Łukasiewicz stood out above everyone else. The hussar armor sure helped - enormous wings tend to gather the gawkers- But even in the small group playing hussars he stood out more. He looked like a real hussar. Like he was acting from real battle experience, Tomasz thought for a moment. Something in his moves, in the way he held himself. He was also the best rider in the group, which was a bit surprising. After all, Łukasiewicz had a certain reputation around the parliament building, and it wasn't very horse-compatible, "My Little Pony" notwithstanding. He just didn't look the type.
After pulling his gaze off Łukasiewicz and his wings, Tomasz spotted a few more familiar faces in the recreation. Like that one guy from floor 2 who usually forgot to fill his reports, one particularly fervent man from accounts department, and a couple he saw a few times around the coffee room. He felt it odd that the maestro wasn't there, but since like all mortal men, the maestro was getting too old for all this violence - it was understandable.
The crowd seemed fascinated and watched without falter, even as the speakers offered explanations and light comments out of the blue. He himself enjoyed it a lot, especially since there were none of those irksome errors that seem to show up whenever history ensues. It looked like someone picked a small piece of the past and planted it in the middle of the modern day festival. He could have sworn the arena really became a small patch of elsewhere, where time simply stopped marching on. But to his dismay, time did go by. And when the recreation was over and the arena was filled with a medieval style flag show, his beeper went off with the horrifying message that sent chills down his spine for the last month.
"Get over to the main center; you need to prepare."
He took a deep breath and walked as far away as possible from other people, trying to avoid attention. He hoped no one could see how feeble and nervous he was all of a sudden. It was almost as bad as his first job interview, when after three minutes he started peppering his babble with the oddest things like going off-topic about the Spice Girls, of all things, and cursing at random in three languages, until the interviewer kicked him out and told him to take some pills and Oh my goodness why am I even thinking about this now this is not helping and if I spill about this now they'll never let me live it down and this is not helping stop thinking about iiiit! Enough! He tried his best to undo some of the damage this train wreck just did to his sanity. He told himself that this is nothing. He is only going to say what he was told to and that's that. It was just his job to say someone else's words, everyone knows it, and all he had to do was just say it and leave…
But he was going to say it in front of a crowd. A big damn crowd of potential voters and probably a few politicians too. And cameras. And reporters. And this time he wasn't going to be the snack delivery guy in charge of making sure these people of certain importance have something to nibble on- he was supposed to talk to them, answer their questions, face their sharp tongues and even sharper pens that will write the morning's newspapers and columns and blogs-!
His mind was flooded with horror as he stepped in the main grounds. The maestro, still in his red royal cape, welcomed him with a big, bright smile that did nothing to make him less terrified.
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Tomasz let the prayer on his lips and the silver cross in his hand to work on his rumbling mind for a few more moments. Like a silent trickle of cool water over a pot plant, traces of comfort seeped back to him and he absorbed them, slowly leading his high-strung mind somewhere completely different, where he never rambled about whores in German and spilling coffee and throwing up mid-sentence. His own strange version of "the happy place"; A place with no age or time, were he was everything and everything was him. Complete. Tranquil. At peace.
Confident.
Right.
Then he opened his eyes to look at himself in the mirror again and everything fell back into place. He was himself again. Brown hair, green eyes, a little slim, wearing that god-awful costume, and knowing what he needed to say, word by word.
He was going to say a whole lot of words. Pretty words, but thankfully nothing flowery. Mainly of love to the country and cleaner politics, more emphasis on social matters and a lot of adoration to his party's candidate. Tomasz never met him, but he did believe in him. He would go up there, confident in his words and tell all the people out there about his party's vision of the future.
"You, uh, look good, Firley was it?" One of the maestro's girls- probably the one assigned to help him prepare, do his hair and makeup ("otherwise you'll, umm, look all gray and stuff, right?"), walked to him. "I was, uh, about to umm offer you a cup of tea, but you… mm… seem to be holding yourself together, yes?"
"-thanks," He smiled at her, "just need to sort things out in my head a little. I'm still nervous, just… ugh, just less afraid."
"Good, good- now, eh…- sit straight, okay?- let's, uhm, get you ready… it’s the opening speech of the campaign, isn't it?"
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"All right everyone, fifteen minutes to roll!"
(Tomasz could swear these were the shortest fifteen minutes ever. Before he could even compose himself, he was already standing behind the curtain of the big stand and he felt his mind go out with the click of a light switch, and here goes nothing-!)
Taking a deep breath, he walked out there and up on the stage, to the podium, noticing a prompter and feeling better already. Good to know the maestro had some sort of safety net for him. He swallowed the lump in his throat, then remembered the lessons he got in the last month- back straight, steps wide! Wear your expression like you'd wear a medal, Firley, as he was told more than once in the last month - and tried to put on a confident face. Serenity now, he reminded himself. And may God help him- he was going to do it and he was going to do it right!
So like a brave warrior storming into battle, at least in his mind, he marched right to that podium. A small water bottle was placed there in advance, and he took a small sip and smiled to the blinding lights that prevented him from seeing the crowd properly beyond the two first rows. It was a blessing, really, because he could pretend only the first two rows existed; the ones for VIPs and people he knew, even if not by name but by face (and the type of coffee they liked). He cleared his throat.
"Uhm, good evening, and thank you for coming to the festival hosted by-"
The words began to fall out, taking a steady pace; he knew he was doing fine, but… something felt wrong, like a pair of glasses with the lenses on backwards. He believed his words, and the approving looks on the senators' faces in the second row meant he wasn't doing anything off. Still, something was poking uncomfortably at his gut. Something akin to the feeling of hundreds of people growing tired all at once.
Not just tired, actually. Bored, too. Cynical, even. Why? His speech was polished to rhetorical perfection and well presented…
( Just like every other speech since the history of ever... )
(Maybe we could sneak back to the car?)
(Like hell I'm listening to this guy spout nonsense!)
(When will these people ever say something and really mean it?)
(What ever…)
Like a shockwave going thought his system, he could almost feel what the crowed was thinking in general. Promises, feh. The kinds all politicians are giving but almost none fulfill. They wanted something else. Something really different… they wanted- they have heard it all before and frankly…
"-I know you've already heard all this, I know! I did too!"
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Tomasz kept talking, ignoring the prompter. The surge of emotion was already drifting from pity to surprise, even from the cynics. He knew what he had to say. What the people needed to hear. He would probably get himself fired for this but come on! he had to! It was like a force, stronger than him- forming the right words in his mouth. The prompter kept running- but the connection between what it read and what he said was only in spirit, the idea being pretty much the same, only in words people were willing to hear. He told them how much he adored his party's candidate not as someone who was paid to say it. He talked to them from up there- but somehow, he knew he could see eye to eye with them (even with those horrid projectors). And as he kept going, they flowed into him more and more. He was overwhelmed by mass sympathy, for crying out loud. He told them with utmost sincerity about the faith he had in his party, about the vision of cleaner politics. He knew that lying now would be the death of him. His honesty thrived on the crowd's love, that thrived on his honesty. It was beautiful.
And then it stopped.
He could hear loud applause as he walked off the stage, his brain feeling fuzzy. He half expected being yelled at for improvising and going totally off track, even if he did give all the information he was supposed to pass on. So no one was more surprised than him when the maestro ran up to him, smiling triumphantly.
"I knew it! The moment I looked at you I knew! And I was right! Up there- splendid! Absolutely splendid, and so honest! Original! Wonderful job, Firley!"
Tomasz gawked in surprise. "You… aren’t mad…?"
"Mad? I've always been a little mad!" The maestro joked. "If I weren't, I wouldn't have had this hunch that you simply have it in you, boy! But I never expected! Fantastic!" The maestro gave him a wide grin, "The speech we wrote was good, but you made it yours and made even me feel a little lacking compared to your sheer overflowing charisma- it was absolutely splendid!"
Tomasz just blushed and smiled a little. He didn't know what got into him up there - sheer overflowing charisma? The hell is going on? But whatever that was, it felt good. More than that - it felt right.
"Maestro! Maestro! The main channel news wants a personal interview with both you and Firley- two newspapers too- you really impressed them!" Alicja came running towards them, all smiles and joy- "You were amazing Firley! I mean really, wow… !"
"-No interviews for you, Firley- I will go up there in a moment- tell them that, Alicja sweetheart, yes? But not you," he gave patted Tomasz on the shoulder, "-you tell Gofer to call you a cab back to the hotel -on the party, I'll take care of that. You need to lie down, Firley, I think you're going to throw up."
Tomasz sat down and let the shock sink in while people around him were busy running somewhere and looking pleased. Now was time to just let things happen.
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"Yeah." Poland's voice was a little muffled, a lot calmer than it was last night, over the phone. "No one but Hungary- who is still a little disappointed she didn't have a chance to see Tomasz in person- stayed for the speech."
"I talked to him a bit, you know." Lithuania smiled. "At first I just tried to get him away from America but I couldn't help it. He… he's grown nicely. "
As they talked into the night, Lithuania's mind was still filled with the picture of the little boy he once had- for a moment there, he almost broke his cover: when Tomasz asked his name without even a trace of familiarity.
But he must think of what was best for his boy. It's better for him if he never knows. No use being selfish, but it was one of the moments where his feelings as human clashed with his emotions as a nation- Lithuania knew it would be very unwise to let Tomasz in on this, not to mention very unsettling for the boy, but Toris… he wanted to give his logic the finger and tell him everything.
He hung up the phone after a very emotional talk with Poland, closing his eyes. He was proud, that's for sure. When he looked at Tomasz up there, heard him talking, he could feel he did maintain more than just his fluency in Lithuanian… He still had some sort of bond with the people. He wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse- but it was still there. not as strong as it used to be when he was a little boy though.
Ilona, after all, had lost everything but a hunch for political happenings by age twenty four, and he expected Tomasz to be about the same. But then again, perhaps the large amount of people focused on him like that might have triggered something. Or maybe it was because they did raise him for a longer time? He couldn't know for sure. As kids both he and his deceased sister showed, mostly in their sleep, a firm connection to the earth- mainly around their birthplace, and could tell some things about the general feeling of people. But it diminished to near non-existence as they grew up. At three years old- when they left him at the orphanage- he thought Tomasz already lost his direct connection to people almost completely…
Tomasz. Tomasz and his pout. That pout on his face brought up a fond smile. He still did that… well, he did pick that expression up from his "mother", and even as a grownup it didn’t make him look as foolish as it would anyone else. Must be his "Polish ancestry". He could see the fine similarities between them, the nuances of his face which kept him from looking like a clone of his "father". Particularly something in his eyes… the color was his, for sure, but the shape wasn't as round, and they were more prominent in his face. Just like mama's. Probably what gave him such a baby face.
Lithuania sighed. His mind will not find any peace for a while, he knew. But it was worth it- talking to his son for the first time in thirty years, it was most certainly worth it.
And far from there, Tomasz was asleep, having his old dream again, in a bouncy hotel bed.
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hope you all like it! ^__^
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...let's hope this mysterious party leader is worth all the love Tomasz is giving him...
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This is your old beta here. Sorry I haven't been able to edit anymore; school's been a nightmare.
But this is adorable! Tomasz has totally stolen my heart, and GOD, Liet! Say it with me! "Tomasz, I am your father!" Come ooooon.
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These days, Tomasz found himself thinking of his office as no less than sanctuary. A sanctuary with no reporters, no bustling cameramen, no microphones shoved in his face, a small bubble of peace in all this mess. In the last few days he's been interviewed over and over, repeatedly asked so many questions to which the answer was either obvious or meaningless, and survived. He was surprised to find that he could speak competently to a crowd and, in a strange case of reverse stage fright- it came to him more naturally whenever more people were involved. But it was still wrecking his nerves quite a bit and in his office, thank God, he was safe and sound and busy doing his job. Just what he needed to ease his mind, for some reason. It made him feel important, like he was helping with something, and it made him feel better.
He took his time going through the papers he received- something about a party member going to make a public announcement regarding the party's will to reform the law of information security, something the press is sure going to like. After all, was their main agenda not about cleaner politics, and wouldn't bringing out some dirt about financial affairs of certain important government personnel really be a big part of it?
It will be hard to pass in the parliament… but that wasn't his responsibility, as he wasn't even close to being ranked that high in the list.
After looking over the statement and rephrasing in a way that sounded less antagonizing ("seriously, who writes this? It sounds like a threat to invade Russia!"), it came to his mind that a cup of coffee could really do him good right now. He still felt slightly uncomfortable asking someone else to make his coffee for him. Only a few weeks before he was down making coffee for himself and everybody around in floor 1, and the mentality tends to stick - so down to the first floor it was for Tomasz.
He took the stairs, enjoying the fine sensation of moving his muscles after sitting on his behind for unnecessarily long periods of time, receiving a quick "hi Firley bye Firley we'll talk!" from Gofer, who, as always, moved very competently with too many cups of coffee on a tray in his hand, not spilling a single drop and still managing to look like a bumbling idiot. Tomasz couldn't help but smile whenever Gofer was around doing his usual work, and with a smile he entered the first floor coffee room.
The coffee room was as crowded as it always was. The coffee machine- oh my, it was finally working- was making its usual groggity-gurgle noises and bringing blessed coffee to the offices.
"Firely! Good morning! Looking sharp in that suit!" Alicja, noticeably cheerful, welcomed him after a few moments, holding a fat pile of newspapers in her hands. "Look, look! The weekly is all about the festival! They even have a picture of you in it- look, look!" She shoved one of the weekend's magazine's into his hands- "look! Page twenty one! They took a photo of you while you were talking with one of the Lithuanian organizers- It's funny- you look so much like each other! Take a look-! Come on, come on!"
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The picture wasn't even labeled. But their faces were shown clearly. It must have been taken right before they parted- because it caught the Lithuanian just as he pulled his hair back so it won't bother him when he puts on the helmet.
He looked at the picture again. The resemblance was a little uncanny.
"-Hi, Alicja-" he looked at the bubbly woman, who turned to him with a cup of fresh coffee- "Can I borrow it?"
"Sure, why not! I'll send gofer to get it later if anyone else wants to have a look!"
Tomasz nodded to her, and picked up the magazine with his coffee. His heart raced. He wasn't that dense. He was mistaken for Lorinaitisnaitis a few times that day- but now that he could see it with his own eyes- they looked, and he held in a happy, hopeful sound that climbed up his chest- related.
He just wanted to study the picture more. It could be just coincidence. It happened before. He had that annoying generic look, the look indistinguishable from a crowd of one hundred other green-eyed brunets. It could be just his inner child feeding him sick, unrealistic delusions, too willing to find out even a little bit more about whatever family he may have out there. He assumes he was being foolish. But it could be real.
Maybe this time it was the real thing? He wasn't going to let the chance slip.
(Lost battles, Tomasz would always say to himself, were his field of expertise. Too willing to look for chances, too desperate to give up.)
"And here I go on another wild goose chase, no?" he thought to himself as he closed the door behind him.
He shut himself in his office and opened the magazine with a pondering heart, torn between excitement and that voice in his head telling him he was raising his hopes more than is good for him. But miracles happen, and he was a believer since he could remember and it could happen. Just this once he could have his turn, no?
Biting his lips, he looked carefully, and the more he looked- the more the triumph in his chest grew. At some point it even roared. The jaw line was just the same, eye color was off maybe by a shade. Different eyelid shape, though. The cheekbones were similar- his more rounded, and his hair might have been a bit lighter- but blame that on the haircut.
Their looks matched too much for this to be mere coincidence, it had to mean something… and he was part-Lithuanian, wasn't he? He had to contact this person somehow. For his own peace of mind.
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A few hours later, he discovered it was a lot harder than he thought. He just didn't bring into consideration the fact that contacting someone important (and it looked like Laurinaitis was quite important indeed)- should have been difficult to anyone who wasn't supposed to, i.e. anyone who wasn't that important, e.g. Tomasz Firley.
He asked, but he only got the same numbers in the embassy, who again and again told him to call to the ministry, were he was (not rudely, but quite fiercely) told they could not share the information with him. And no one he knew in the office had access to such information… and asking one of the real bigwigs would raise unwanted questions…
It took him three whole days to realize the answer was there from the very beginning. It took another "Łukasiewicz story" to fresh up his memory. It looked like he wasn't getting along so well with the prime minister- and was quite vocal about it. He never caught a glimpse of one of the famous arguments- but the whole building knew about them. It made a lot of people wonder why the hell Łukasiewicz wasn't getting the pink slip - especially Alicja. He worked with her long enough to know she took making up strange theories about Łukasiewicz as a hobby. It was her who came up- without realizing- with the solution to his problem.
"-it's amazing, really." Said gofer, while filling up a try with cups of different cups of coffee- he explained the colors helps him remember who's was each cup. "-I was just outside the office this time. They were arguing again about this incident with the Russian ambassador." Gofer put one try aside and begun making a second one, "- They weren't yelling this time, thought. And y'know what Łukasiewicz said after the Prime minister finished scolding him?"
"What, what?!" Alicja almost fell off her chair because she bounced on it like en over-excited child who just happened to see a candy bar in her dad's hand..
"He said-" Gofer stopped and tried to mimic something a bit like a valley girl- "Whatevs boss. You're out of this office anyway in three months. If I were you I'd be packing my stuff and preparing for a loooong cool-off time, ya know? Now if you finished playing around being the responsible grown-up in international relationships, I'm off to interact with a nation whose hobby isn’t stalking others-Like, I donno', Lithuania, perhaps?"
Alicja giggled and clapped to gofer's performance. He, in turn, managed to bow without spilling anything. "He's spending a whole lot of time bonding with that Lithuanian guy, doesn't he?" she mumbled to herself. "And the relations between our nations been real good since those pacts a few decades ago so there isn’t much official reason behind this-"
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"-sorry guys, gots to fly! Łukasiewicz takes his "I'm pissed off" coffee as soon after a fight as possible- otherwise everyone will have to endure his pink sulkiness of doom… I heard he once made the last minister of economics cry when he was like this. He takes it 'so sweet it will rot your teeth instantly, so strong it will make you bounce and ricochet off the ceiling for a week and so hot it'll burn what's left of your mouth'- at least that's what they told me to bring when he's like this. Never heard him complaining about it so I assume I'm making it right…"
Tomasz beamed. There's the chance. No need to set up a meeting or anything like this to bring someone his coffee…
"Gofer- can I take the coffee up? Please?"
Gofer and Alicja looked at him funny. "What for?"
"Yeah, what the hell, Firley?"
"I- ugh…" He tried to think of a reason. Something that would make sense and won't make him look too strange. Then he decided to go for plan B. "It's complicated. Just… please?"
"Whatever you want, buddy. Last floor, second corridor to the right, office 1569, it's all the way down the hall to the left. I'm off to deliver the rest of these- see ya!" Gofer left behind one mug- it was very large, colored light yellow with little stalks of grain painted around the rim, and he could see the inscription "to my best friend" on it.
"-ooh, Łukasiewicz's mug! Heard it was a present from an ambassador from Hungary." Said Alicja, smiling and almost falling over, spilling her coffee all over the place- but not on him, luckily. She mumbled and grumbled and searched for something absorbent to clean up the mess she made, and Tomasz picked up a disposable cardboard cup carrier and walked to the elevator.
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Poland stormed back into his office and slammed the door behind him with such force he was surprised it didn't crack like last time. It would have made it the third door they'd need to replace in six months. He might not have been as inhumanly strong like Russia or America, or even like he was when he was younger- but he still was stronger then the average human, as were all nations. And at the moment he was way too pissed off to think about his cover. This man- his cursed boss!
He will not go apologize to Russia- he had that slap coming- and a few more, too, if it was up to him- come on! How thick can one man be?! He told him over and over that Ivan was really mentally ill (well, more then the rest of them), and had a tendency to bully whoever he could. He's seen and known from personal experience what Russia could do.
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And before that- he wanted him to take down the pink curtains he hang in his office, and to remove the oil panting he had there, saying it made the office look ridiculous. True, he didn't know that the painting was a 16th century original, and that the girl drown there was his daughter, or that the curtains were hand-made, a gift Hungary gave him when he complained how gray his office was. But it didn't matter. He had no right to tell him how to decorate his office.
"-I like, totally could use a cup of coffee-" He pressed the button connecting to the secretaries' center- "someone please bring my coffee to my office- thanks. You know how I drink it."
And until he gets his boiling cup of relaxation, he was going to do the second-best thing. Rant and Bitch and Whine. He picked up his phone and speed dialed to Lithuania's office. Toris was good at listening to his rants. Good- he answered-
"-Liet~!"
"-let me guess, you're boss is being- and let me quote- 'a total, absolute ass'?"
"-you bet! God. He wants me to apologize to Russia for that slap I gave him after the last world conference. And he just never listens to me! y'know- I just love democracy now- 'cause back then you couldn't just tell a crappy boss to fuck off- I can't wait to the elections anymore! He's totally going to lose. Honestly- I won't say that ANYONE could do better- I've had worse- but- sheesh!"
On the other end of the line Lithuania put the phone on speaker and kept reading the papers, offering Poland an occasional "you're right" and "huh, sure". He would just let him rant until he'll run out of things to complain about. It might take a while, so He'll get some work done in the meantime. He knew Poland for over a thousand years now, and he could never remember the beginning of his own rant at the end so it didn't matter if he was listening or not.
"-and then he was, like, so what? And I said, like, hello, are you stupid or something? And he said no way because it would be against that stupid information security law- I was against it but then it was like, whatever. Y'know, but things change. I don't need that thing now. Not with what happened around in the last decades. Now they just use it to hide all the dirt about themselves and its like, totally not what this law was made for! and god I'm so glad that Tomasz's party want to change it because this law just suck! And talking bout him-I should send you a few of last week papers. He's all over them. Well-"
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"- Tomasz sure made his 'dad' one proud parent, don't you agree, Toris?"
Crash!
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Outside a partly-opened door, Tomasz was paralyzed. The cardboard carrier was on the floor, swimming in the coffee and the broken pieces of the mug.
But he was too shocked to be worried about the mug.
It was the last line. He didn't mean to eavesdrop! But- god, he was glad he showed up right there- it must be a sign!
He was right. Laurinaitis did know something about his parents- his father, apparently. Łukasiewicz did too-!
"-Feliks? What happened?"
He could hear the phone, and then, lifting his eyes from the puddle of coffee on the floor-
He looked into Feliks' eyes, and they were perhaps too familiar, like the eyes he'd seen a thousand times before in his dreams.
Too close to be real.
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(Horry for sappy cliffhangers! Just kidding. Next chap- as soon as possible! And thank my beta once more for doing her job so quickly, and may your time at the boarding school will be al least nice! ^___^ Hope all of you anon's like it!)
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