First Entrance

[smallgayjew]

"I'll just check in the back," comes a soft, English-accented voice from the door, followed shortly after by a small, blond teenager, who stops dead in his tracks as soon as he turns around to see where he's ended up.

"..."

His jaw drops and he just...STARES.

"It's finally happened. I've cracked under the pressure. I'm too young to be mad."

Comments

[fairytaleknight]

"Not in my experience." The speaker is a fifteen-year-old boy, presently eating dinner at a table by the door. "I can think of at least one crazy person younger than you. Possibly two. You're new here, aren't you?"

[smallgayjew]

"I think that may depend on your definition of 'here'..." Posner glances over at the boy with a frown.

[fairytaleknight]

"It's called Milliways, it's very far away from wherever you came from, and sometimes it traps you and doesn't let you out."

The boy at the table stands up (in a move rather less graceful than his usual standard) and offers his right hand to the new boy. "Fakir."

Fakir's hand is bandaged from the elbow to the knuckles.

[smallgayjew]

"Traps you!?"

He's not going to be paying any attention to that hand just now, too busy conjuring up ideas of kidnapping plots...

[fairytaleknight]

Fakir lowers his hand, his lips twisting dryly. "I spent about four days, the first time I came here, tapping on the wall to look for the door. I still don't know why it disappeared, or why it turned up again."

[smallgayjew]

"The door disappeared?" He glances nervously over his shoulder, but as far as he can tell, the door he came in through is still there.

[fairytaleknight]

"Yes."

Beat.

Fakir scowls. "Don't just stand in the doorway. If you're going to talk, come sit down. There are tables and chairs, you know."

(In Fakir's admittedly difficult-to-translate personal dialect, this means, "I'm having trouble standing up, and I need an excuse to sit down that doesn't involve admitting weakness.")

[smallgayjew]

Posner frowns. Heading back to the shop without the books he was looking for seems like a much better option at this time.

"I...well, all right," he says, stepping further into the bar. It can't hurt after all.

Can it?

[fairytaleknight]

Fakir sits down on his own chair (with some, hopefully hidden, relief) and waits for the older boy to join him.

"Where were you, before you got here?"

[smallgayjew]

Posner hesitates another moment before sitting as well.

"I was just at work."

Probably he should get back, but not if he's in the middle of some sort of mental breakdown.

[fairytaleknight]

"Which would be where, doing what?" This boy is not sharing personal information, Fakir thinks.

If Posner is the kettle, Fakir is the pot.

[smallgayjew]

Posner crosses his arms, arching an eyebrow.

"I don't really see what business that is of yours."

He has no reason to hide it, but he doesn't like this Fakir's tone.

[fairytaleknight]

Nobody ever does like Fakir's tone.

"I don't care where you work," Fakir says, hypocritically.

[smallgayjew]

"Then why did you ask?"

[fairytaleknight]

Fakir shakes his head, disgusted. "I was making conversation. If you're not going to bother talking, just go away."

[smallgayjew]

Posner gets up then, politely. "I think that might be best."