open | knock knock

[festivalpies]

Who: Julien, and anyone who answers.
Where: The first floor of the Xochipilli Employee Housing.
When: 1st July, early morning.
Summary: Getting to know the neighbours.
Rating: G

One fate averted in favour of another. Julien had exhausted questioning his situation, and despite his uneasy sleep in so foreign a land, El Sera heralded the dawn of a renewed future for him, free of Duke Edmun's dungeon and wrath. If this was the work of the Maker's hand, then his due penance would be paid in service rather than flesh – whether by coincidence or design, the task asked of him played to his strengths and allowed him to remain true to his knight's path.

What he did not have was an appropriate foundation, which was why this morning found Julien knocking upon his neighbours' doors. Though he would not force the matter, in his experience it paid to be acquainted with those in your vicinity. It was no bad place to start.

Comments

[festivalpies]

Julien adds rugby to his mental list of words to research later, even as he laughs. He's certainly fought and won his fair share of duels, but words can be just as effective a weapon in his experience. He is skilled in both manners of combat.

"Facilitating peace and the comfort of others are worthy contributions to make," he answers.

Yet John's perception of his advantageous build, perfectly suited to knighthood and at its physical peak, and martial bearing is not something to dismiss -- he has the honed instincts of a veteran warrior, and those too are likely to be picked up upon if the circumstances are right.

Julien visibly considers for a moment, then sighs. "I have fought in the past, but I've no wish to speak of it. Will that soothe your disbelief?"

There is no offence in his tone, but there is a hidden calculation behind his words, deeper than the thought he openly showed; he has no personal aversion to his actions prior to El Sera, but they are troublesome to reconcile with El Sera's façade, and that is reason to be reluctant. Let John make of that as he will -- it is a portion of the truth, but Julien offers no justification for it.

Instead he looks to John with curiosity, within the bounds of politeness.

“What of your livelihood?” he asks.

[warmgun]

John's a little embarrassed to have asked after something Julien wasn't interested in speaking about. He certainly didn't go banging on about his time in Afghanistan with perfect strangers. Barring Sherlock, but John didn't even have to talk for the other man to figure out everything on his own.

Shrugging to throw off the slight discomfort, John offers a brief smile up at Julien. "I'm a doctor. Peace and comfort are well up my alley, though, a different sort, I suppose. Just putting together everything I need to start at Xochipilli Academy next week. Should be nice."

He tries very hard to sound enthused at the prospect. GP work is all right, after all. Pleasant, on occasion, even. It would also bring in some extra money and give him an excuse to be out and about instead of languishing in a smokey apartment. There's also the curious case of at least one younger man he'd met with extraordinary abilities on the night of the pixie attack.

They stop in front of the Brick and Bell Cafe. It's a quaint little building with mostly-empty white tables outside and a counter for ordering visible inside through the open door and windows. John gestures for Julien to go ahead of him. "They've got a decent set of sandwiches if you're hungry, as well."

[festivalpies]

Sandwiches are yet another thing Julien has not heard of, but he supposes that he will learn very shortly. The prospect of food is very appealing right now however mysterious.

"I have eaten little. The aftermath of moving at such short notice... I am sure that you understand."

John indicated earlier that the full meaning would not be missed.

Julien takes the cue and strides inside the cafe, looking around with interest. He picks the conversation back up after a short moment.

"Yours is a noble profession. There is no greater cause than mercy," even though his reserve, his belief in that sentiment is clear.

Still, it does not prevent the hint of dry humour in his following words -- Julien is a perceptive man well-practiced in reading others as part of his own profession, and John's enthusiasm does not quite ring true. "Though I imagine tending the academy to be somewhat more tedious than caring for a wider community."

[warmgun]

John follows after and considers whether he wants to spend the money on food or go back to beans on toast at the apartment after this. He's entertaining someone, might as well make it entertaining for himself. And someone very astute, at that.

Julien isn't anywhere near what he's used to getting from Sherlock, but John would hope he's not that easy to read. It's a little harder to put up a front, perhaps, when he still feels so out of his element.

"It's a different level of excitement from what I'm used to, certainly," he replies with a light laugh. "I've worked a bit with kids" - on the battlefield, their eyes wide and terrified as he tied a tourniquet around bleeding limbs, pulled out shrapnel, or reset broken bones - "but nothing like this. Plenty to keep things from getting tedious around town, though. Bit of an odd place, El Sera."

John lets Julien make of that what he will as he steps up to the counter and orders a cup of Earl Grey and the turkey club, grateful for the debit card Xochipilli had issued him at the start of all this. He receives a number on a stand and steps aside so that Julien can make his selection.

[festivalpies]

After noting how ordering is done, Julien reads the cafe's menu; the sandwiches thankfully contain a number of familiar ingredients, but the drinks remain enigmatic. He'll have to accustom himself to El Sera's way of eating eventually, so once it is his turn to order he picks his sandwich (honey mustard chicken) and then simply orders the first listed beverage that catches his eye, and follows through the rest of the motions.

With that done, he moves aside, and resumes conversing. "I've heard that even the weather has been strange."

[warmgun]

Once Julien has his number, John leads them out to one of the tables and sits. He speaks as they go. "I haven't been in American very much, but a hard freeze in the middle of summer certainly seems bit off." A wry smile accompanies his next comment. "I mean, I'm sure they've got this climate change thing right, but I didn't think doomsday would come quite that soon."

It's a moment before John continues, trying to decide how much detail to go into. If Julien was bringing it up, he must have heard about it from someone. "I took a step out during it. Hopefully there won't be anything like that again. Did you... hear about it from one of the other tenants in the apartments?"

[festivalpies]

While the reference to climate change is beyond Julien, the latter half of the comment draws from him a short, dry laugh. This world was lucky that it did not have to live under the looming shadow of doom. He takes a seat, setting thoughts of the wyrm aside.

Even when sitting, Julien's posture is impeccable.

"One whose dog suffered frostbite. I thought it a strange injury in a place warm as this."

[warmgun]

"Will," John says after a slight pause in which he resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He hadn't even realized the other man was in the same building. If he'd made an effort at being any kind of social, perhaps he wouldn't have to learn about that from a man who'd only just arrived. "Has he given his mutt a name yet?" John suspects the dog will be staying. "Was waffling a bit last time I'd heard."

Last time he'd snapped at Will via text message. John breathes deeply. He'd rather focus on not mucking up his current conversation with Julien than dwell on possibly pissing some other bloke he hardly knew off.

"Do you like dogs?" he adds, offhand.

[festivalpies]

It is no surprise that John knows Will, given that they live in the same building and both work for Xochipilli -- what he does wonder at is the deep breath that follows, though only minorly.

"Deoji, he introduced it as," Julien recalls, the last syllable of the dog's name softened and elongated by his accent.

His expression softens faintly at the offhand question, tinged with nostalgic sentiment as his thoughts tun back to life in Voldoa and the peaceful stretches between the duty that took him far from his homeland.

"They are faithful, amiable animals. As a boy I oft passed secret scraps to my father's hounds."

[warmgun]

John can't help grinning. Whatever their quarrel, Will's conversation about his dog - it is his dog whatever the man might claim - had been entertaining. The use of the word 'hound' does catch his attention, though. It's a reminder of his and Sherlock's last case, and decidedly less friendly 'hound' than Deoji or Julien's pets might be.

"The good ones are, anyway," he agrees with a nod. "Had a run-in with one that wasn't particularly friendly not long ago. You said your father's 'hounds,' though? Was he into some sort of sport? Fox-hunting?"

[festivalpies]

"Hunting," Julien confirms, though foxes privately strike him as a very odd choice of quarry.

Naturally, John's initial statement makes Julien curious -- it could be but a dog with too much wolf in it, or perhaps something akin to the hellhounds that exist in lore back in his home world, or any number of explanations. The allure of mystery remains as strong as ever.

"If you do not deem it too impertinent an inquiry, might I ask what happened?"

[warmgun]

John's grin fades to a deadly serious expression as he leans forward in chair. "If I told you, I might just have to kill you." He breaks the facade after a moment and offers Julien a wry smile. "The short version that won't get me hanged is that a mate of mine was looking into some demon dog out in the country. I went with him and, well, we found the dog. Mean sort of bastard a pair of the locals let run wild and terrorize the tourists to boost business. There was a local military base around the area doing 'weird' experiments with animals, though, so we thought we'd look into it. We did find some glowing rabbits.

"Hell of a holiday," John sums up. It's the extremely abbreviated and unclassified version of events, but he's still playing at being 'just a doctor' for the time being.

Their food and drinks arrive in the hands of a pleasantly forgettable young waiter who disappears as quickly as he'd come. "Any exciting tales from the wild countrysides of France for you?" It's a round about way of asking after his previous career fighting, but John doesn't want to be rude directly when he's been asked not to ask.