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

[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.