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Post by Mortimer on May 12, 2009 14:47:15 GMT -5
Mortimer hopped up to follow, clutching onto Carlos' coat tails to keep himself steady.
"Are you getting tired, monsieur? It is very late, for people."
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Post by Carlos Castro on May 12, 2009 15:46:07 GMT -5
For people.
What did that mean, anymore? What was Mortimer? What, for that matter, was he?
"I sleep a great deal," he admitted. "But I am not tired now, no."
They moved down the corridor of the fairly unpopulated train, towards the dining car. They had to cross through that enclosed but jointed space between the cars, but the new car was set up differently. Instead of the corridor, with doors lining one side, the car had tables and chairs and a bar-like area with beverages, snacks, and meals for sale.
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Post by Mortimer on May 13, 2009 13:13:49 GMT -5
Mortimer trilled at the difference and padded over to a table, pressing up against the window there and giving a hum of slight disappointment that the scenary was exactly the same but he quickly became distracted by the smell of food and turned right way around in his seat.
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Post by Carlos Castro on May 13, 2009 13:40:00 GMT -5
Carlos sat opposite, watching Mortimer with amusement but not knowing what the little man was looking for, or expecting. A waiter approached, a little suspicious at the pair and the lateness of the hour, but then again Carlos found most French waiters had appalling manners.
"Apples and chocolate, isn't that what you wanted?" he said, order for Mortimer but letting him disagree if he wished. "And... just a brandy, for me." He retrieved a cigar from his jacket pocket.
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Post by Mortimer on May 13, 2009 13:56:19 GMT -5
He nodded and leaned forward to inspect the cigar--he'd seen people smoking them before, like giant cigarettes, but hadn't ever seen one up close.
"What is it?"
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Post by Carlos Castro on May 13, 2009 14:05:23 GMT -5
Carlos thought of saying, "You've never seen a cigar?" but thought it was a bit obvious and probably repetitive. There was so much the man didn't seem to know. It was hard for someone like Carlos to make sense of that.
"It's a cigar," he said instead. "You smoke them."
He demonstrated, snipping off the end and lighting it to take a satisfied puff.
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Post by Mortimer on May 13, 2009 14:25:05 GMT -5
"Is it better than a cigarette?"
He tilted his head curiously and rapped his fingers on the table in little waves.
"It smells good."
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Post by Carlos Castro on May 13, 2009 14:58:28 GMT -5
"Does it?" Carlos asked idly. He knew they were an acquired taste. "They're more elegant than cigarettes, certainly. They taste better. And they're not as harsh on the throat."
He held it out.
"Do you want to try?"
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Post by Mortimer on May 13, 2009 15:40:56 GMT -5
"Oh, no thank you. It's not as fun because I don't need to breathe at all--only that I need to speak." He had smoked cigarettes on two different occasions and didn't find it all that enjoyable.
"But the smell is nice."
He gave an appreciative cello hum when the little tray of sliced apples and melted chocolate was brought to him, quickly discovering that the later was meant as a sort of dip for the former and trilled excitedly at the combined taste of his two favorite things.
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Post by Carlos Castro on May 13, 2009 15:46:26 GMT -5
Carlos watched as Mortimer dipped his apples in chocolate, which he supposed was not all that odd, considering certain Halloween treats.
What was odd, and what had him puffing a bit on his cigar as the brandy glass rested in his hand, was the whole "not breathing" thing. Which was, frankly, impossible. It went against Nature, or Science, or God. He wasn't sure he cared which.
"You don't breath," he said. He opened his mouth to ask further, but then decided that the man probably had no idea what made this possible. And if it wasn't, he'd be in no humor to divulge why he believed such a thing.
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Post by Mortimer on May 13, 2009 15:51:49 GMT -5
"No, monsieur. Otherwise, I couldn't swim as along as I like."
He scooted out from his seat and shuffled next to Carlos in his, lifting up the edge of his shirt to show the gill scars along his ribs.
"These aren't real gills, they just wanted me to look like I had them. It made me exotic, I think? It hurt very much."
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Post by Carlos Castro on May 13, 2009 15:54:26 GMT -5
Carlos recoiled a bit, torn between horror and pity. What must he have been through? The knowledge that his own secret might lead, in the wrong hands, to a similar fate lanced through him suddenly.
"I imagine it did," Carlos said, a little shaken. So they'd been inflicted on purpose. No accident. He tried to find his way back to some point that could be discussed. "But... fish have gills, they breathe. I know of no creature that does not breathe somehow."
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Post by Mortimer on May 13, 2009 15:56:57 GMT -5
"I'm not a fish," he chuckled and snuggled against the man to show him that it was really alright and he didn't hurt anymore anyway.
"But I don't need to breathe. And I'm not like you because you can only become one thing. I can be anything I want, I think. But I don't want to be anything but what I am."
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Post by Carlos Castro on May 13, 2009 15:59:39 GMT -5
Carlos knew he was not a fish, or a shark... or, it seemed, a man. It was hard to fit his head around that. But what was Erik?
Erik. He'd have to get back, soon.
"I don't understand," he murmured. He needed a category to put things in. To make sense of things. He was not a fanciful person. "What are you?"
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Post by Mortimer on May 13, 2009 16:11:27 GMT -5
"Hm. Wanizame. I don't remember beyond that."
He smiled and nuzzled into the man's softish side before sitting up and dipping a piece of apple into chocolate, holding it up for the tenor. "try it!"
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