The kid groaned again and shook his head.
Myriel put his hand on the table gently, next to the kid’s ear. “I can teach you how to play them ahead of time so you can jump right in if you change your mind.” He paused a moment, waiting for a response. When the kid didn’t move he patted the table firmly. “One game. Do me a favor?”
The kid turned his head and Myriel was met with a narrowed glowing red eye. “You want Count Bleck… me… to play games as a personal favor to you?”
“Absolutely.”
The kid mulled it over, again without budging. After a moment, Myriel caught a small “fine,” hidden in a drawn-out sigh.
Myriel smiled and dropped his Tokaido box in front of the kid. “Here, I’ll get you started on something easy.” He opened the box. The noise got the kid’s attention and he angled himself to stare at Myriel with his head still on the table. “No energy today, huh,” Myriel sighed.
The kid blinked once, slowly, in response.
“Tokaido is a game about sight-seeing,” Myriel started, pulling the box out and setting it aside. “It’s about collecting as many experiences as you can while you travel along a road in a faraway country. You’ll want to collect ‘sets’ of experiences to get more points. You can go quickly or slowly. There’s only a little competition. It’s only a race if you want it to be.” He took out each piece individually, making sure the kid could get a good look from his position. “Each player is represented by one piece here, called a pawn. The pawn that is nearest to the beginning is the one that moves. You can move as many spaces as you like,” He demonstrated, tapping the orange pawn along the board’s spaces. “When you stop at a space, you ‘take an action,’ which, in this game, is to collect some fun experience your pawn had while it was staying at that spot. But if someone else’s pawn is already in that spot, then you can’t stop there.”
The kid’s ears perked up a little. Myriel stopped and waited for the kid to speak. “So… the competition then comes from having to move quickly enough to reach some location before it’s blocked, and you must move on. Because… the other players cannot leave their space until they are the closest to the beginning,” the kid said eventually.
“Oh, you caught on quick. You’ve played board games before?” Myriel straightened.
The kid sagged and went quiet. Myriel waited, but the kid didn’t speak again. So he continued more quietly, showing the kid each piece and card as he went. Myriel was pretty sure the kid was still paying attention, but it was hard to tell, sometimes, with him.
Eventually, the kid took another heavy breath. “… Zombie dice,” he mumbled.
Myriel stopped and stared. “What?”
The kid shifted his weight. “She liked strange visuals. Games of chance. I could not provide much competition.”
“Low roller?”
He nodded, eyes closed.
“Mister Blue…” Myriel started, keeping his attention carefully on the table. He started putting the pieces away. “If you want to play, tonight, my friends need something to call you. What do you want me to say?”
“Count Bleck,” the kid responded, barely audible.
Myriel gave the kid a longsuffering look. “I’m not…” He paused, and then changed his mind. “We don’t have royalty here,” he said instead.
The kid frowned. Myriel caught him glance at his book, set on the shelf opposite from the front door. “Ah, uh, well,” he started.
Myriel narrowed his eyes. Best to make his move now. “Why don’t you want to use your real name any more, Blue?”
The kid jerked as if he’d been struck, lost his balance, and fell out of his chair.
Myriel leaned forward over the table to keep his eyes on the kid, who seemed to be dead. “Don’t think I didn’t notice. Now, I’m pretty sure that’s a nickname, but it’s close enough. Why can’t we just call you Blue, kid?”
The kid said nothing, and refused to move.
“Is it because of your book? Did it do something to your name?”
The kid crawled under the table. Myriel took a deep breath. He ran his hand through his hair. He glanced around.
“Look, I don’t know how all this magic stuff works. If you don’t want to use your name…” He sighed. “We can just call you ‘Kid.’ Is that okay? Deal?”
“’It will have to do,’ growled Count Bleck through gritted teeth,” the kid’s voice scratched from under the table.
Myriel closed his eyes patiently. “I don’t think you can grit your teeth, but okay. If you’re as cranky as you sound, you should probably rest before the others get here. We get pretty boisterous.”
The kid practically hissed before scrambling into Myriel’s bedroom. Then he gently closed the door with a soft click. Myriel watched the door for a moment, and then set about clearing the kid’s project off the table. It could sit in the kitchen for now.
“You can keep the door closed tonight, if you want,” Myriel called after him. “No pressure. But we’d all like if you hung out with us.”
The kid stayed silent for the whole afternoon, and the only indication he was still alive in there was a single thump when Myriel’s doorbell rang after dinner. The gang was right on time, like clockwork.
Myriel’s mouth twisted to the side. He probably shouldn’t think of them as “the gang.” Seeing, helping a kid in trouble had just sparked the old slang. He scratched the back of his head and opened the door.
Gladys barged in first, nearly knocking Myriel over. “You got the snacks right this time, Myriel?” She headed right to the table and examined his trail mix.
“Look, when you make this stuff yourself it’s hit or miss!” Myriel put his open hands up toward his shoulders in a plea for mercy.
“It’s been four years!” Gladys called back. “You should be good at this by now.”
A deep-bellied laugh escaped her husband. Mathis stepped in next, leaning against the door’s frame and casually blocking Charlie’s path. But Charlie was not to be stopped. The thinner man squeezed past Mathis’ bulk and the door frame with a grunt.
“I’m telling you, cashews and mangoes are meant to go together!” Myriel stepped back toward the table.
“So, where’s the magic kid?” Charlie interrupted, hushed.
Myriel shrugged on his way over to the table. “Eh, leave him be. He’ll come out if he wants.”
“Alright,” Mathis began, closing the door behind himself. “Which game are we playing first? Are we pulling out the big guns right away? A nice game of Eighteen-O-E?”
“Absolutely not,” Charlie replied. “I’m not sitting in your garbage chairs for ten hours again.”
Myriel laughed.
...
Myriel was glad he had seated himself facing the bedroom door. When the kid peeked out about an hour into their party, he saw Myriel first. Myriel nodded his chin up in greeting, so the kid slid out, quiet as a shadow. The kid watched their game from behind Mathis and Gladys. Myriel let him examine the cluttered board in peace as his friends discussed how to best treat the latest epidemic.
Until Charlie glanced up to stretch as he was ruminating on his next move. He and the kid locked eyes for an instant. “Holy cow!” Charlie practically shouted, leaning forward across the table.
The kid glanced at Myriel, uncertain. Myriel waved a hand dismissively, so the kid stayed, betrayed only by his nervous efforts to breathe.
“Calm down, Charlie, you’re gonna give the kid a heart attack,” he scolded, nudging Charlie with his shoulder. Fortunately, the other two stayed calm- or at least quiet- when they turned to see the newcomer. Myriel held out his hand. “Everyone, this is the blue kid. Be gentle.”
The kid made a face Myriel wasn’t sure how to describe. Somewhere between ‘offended’ and ‘deer in the headlights.’
Mathis interrupted the kid’s thoughts with an outstretched hand. “Name’s Mathis. Nice to meet you, kid.”
The kid frowned at Mathis’ hand for a moment before taking it. “Um… yes,” he offered quietly.
Gladys offered hers next. “Gladys.” The kid took it with his free hand.
Charlie reached across the table. The kid stared at the third hand confusedly, then turned to Myriel, looking lost.
“You’re going to have to let one go,” Myriel prompted. The kid gently pulled his hands away from the first two and took Charlie’s.
Mathis grinned at Myriel. “Gosh, this kid’s nothing like how we were. I don’t think he could even manage taking candy from a baby.”
Myriel tilted his head. “That’s not a bad thing.”
Mathis hummed. “… Yeah, you’re right.” He checked the kid over and blinked when he saw the stab wound in the kid’s chest, still heavily scabbed. He softened. “You shouldn’t be out there alone, kid.”
The kid shrugged a shoulder. Charlie was examining his claws.
“Wait, you float? How does that work?” He asked, letting go of the kid’s hand and checking under the table.
The kid huddled in on himself. Myriel realized he must be overwhelmed. He never talked about anyone but that girl he was friends with… And how long had they been separated? When was the last time this kid had someone to talk to?
“Alright, that’s enough, lay off,” Myriel interjected, leaning forward in his chair to get a better look at the board. It really was uncomfortable to sit like that for too long. The seat was just barely not the right shape. Charlie crossed his arms. Mathis pulled the last spare chair closer to himself and the kid, and gestured for him to sit. The kid practically collapsed into it.
Myriel glanced at the board. “Kid, you’ll have to wait until we’re done before you can join. But I think we’re going to lose anyway if Gladys draws another Epidemic card.”
The kid tilted his head. Gladys slapped her cards against the table. “Who shuffled this deck anyway? Mathis?”
“Careful, don’t break my table with those cards,” Myriel grinned, elbow on the table.
“Yeah, you’d have to build him a new one,” Charlie jumped in. “And you might be good with the bricks but we all know how your last furniture experience went.”
“We don’t talk about the rocking chair!” Gladys shrieked.
Mathis sucked in air through his teeth. “Low blow.”
The three of them continued back and forth. “Kid, do you want something to drink?” Myriel turned his attention back toward the kid, who was starting to look like he’d just sprinted several miles. The kid narrowed his eyes at Myriel suspiciously. Myriel held up his hands. “I’m not giving you any more wine. I’m cutting you off. You can have apple juice, though. No alcohol.”
“Ah, I will, um, join you,” The kid stammered.
Myriel raised an eyebrow. “Alright.”
When they got to the kitchen, the kid braced his hands against Myriel’s counter top and panted.
“Hey, are you okay?” Myriel leaned on the counter to get a better look at him. ‘Overwhelmed’ barely scratched at how the kid was doing.
The kid gave Myriel a pained look. “I-I’ve never… There’s so many…”
“You’ve never been around this many people at once?” Myriel folded his hands on the counter top.
The kid shook his head, taking a rattled breath. Myriel frowned. The kid looked toward the door to the front room. “Not more than one other, in, over ten years… Never more than two…”
Myriel put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Don’t feel pressured to talk, okay? If the conversation’s going too fast for you, just focus on the game. Do you want to go back in my bedroom?”
The kid shook his head again. Myriel couldn’t help but smile. He appreciated the effort. He pushed a tall box of apple juice into the kid’s clawed hands and led him back out to the table.
They did, in fact, fail to save the world when Charlie drew the last Epidemic card the very next turn. Charlie glared at Mathis. “Did you actually stack the deck, though?”
Mathis rolled his eyes. “We’re playing on the hardest difficulty, my friend. Why would I stack the deck against us?”
The kid scratched at the crack in his horn and flinched at the pain. “What is stacking the deck?”
“It’s a style of cheating,” Mathis grinned. “The cards are supposed to be random, but when you stack the deck you put them in a certain order ahead of time.”
Myriel wondered if he should have maybe also bandaged the kid’s horn. It looked like it was healing, if slowly. He didn’t think horns could do that… The kid was full of surprises.
“Great way to hustle people, when you’re really young and they don’t expect it,” Mathis continued.
Myriel started collecting the pieces to put away. “Don’t do that, kid. Crime’s not worth it after a few years.”
Gladys rested her cheek in her fist, arm propped against the table. “Here we go again.”
“It’s always better to ask for help when you’re in trouble than to take that help uninvited,” Myriel insisted. “If you get in trouble for breaking the rules, then you’re just in even more trouble. Not worth it. Believe me.”
The kid frowned, putting the pieces together. “Are you…”
Mathis passed Myriel the folded-up board. “Myriel and I were lucky we had resources here. Someone in our corner. We were a little older than the others in our group, but it’s never too late to turn yourself around, you know?”
Charlie was staring at the kid carefully, but Myriel knew the kid’s full attention was on him. He could see it too. Mathis and Gladys couldn’t see the kid, sitting next to him, but for a moment Myriel plainly saw the kid looked haunted. He mouthed something silently, but with the unnatural way the kid’s mouth moved, Myriel couldn’t tell what it was. The kid struggled to get his face arranged into a more neutral expression.
He figured it would be like that. The way the kid was dressed. The black book following him around everywhere. That disjointed ramble he’d spilled out while he was drunk the other day. Myriel hoped it was just self-esteem problems. Those were easier to handle. He prayed to whoever would listen it was just self-esteem problems.
He managed to keep his hands busy while he’d been lost in thought, at least. Everything was all folded up into the box. He swapped it out for Tokaido, since he didn’t want Gladys and Charlie to lose momentum. He wouldn’t have to stop to explain this one to the kid.
They might need to talk about this later. But Myriel doubted the kid would share.
“You remember how to play this?” He asked the kid. The kid flinched, stared at the box for a moment, and then nodded. Charlie was still watching him with furrowed brows, but the kid hadn’t looked in his direction yet.
The game started well enough. Myriel was paying enough attention that he could tell Charlie was paying as little attention as he was to the game.
...
The day before, at work, Mathis had scoffed at Myriel. “You’ve talked about this sprout every day, Myriel,” he accused. “When did you become such a dad?”
“About when you started actually being a dad,” Myriel retorted. Mathis grinned and sipped his water.
“We’ve never had someone from another world drop in,” Charlie mused, perched on a stack of heavy bricks. “I’d say it’s worth talking about every day, while it’s going on. You have done more than I would’ve, though.”
Myriel sighed and scratched the back of his head. Dust sprinkled down the back of his neck. “Well, you know, he wasn’t doing great when I found him. Still isn’t… But it looked like life had just chewed him up and spat him back out on that hill. I couldn’t do nothing.”
Gladys leaned against their half-finished wall, arms folded, getting the dirt caked on her gloves all over her shirt. She looked like she was about to say something, but Mathis spoke up first, and she let him.
“I’m not gonna rag on you for being generous. I’m still trying to find ways to pay it all back, myself,” he said. “But you’re not planning on keeping the kid, are you…?”
Myriel shrugged. “He’s a sweet kid. A little weird, but, he tries. Looks like he might be headed down the wrong alley, if no one steps in. And I’m in a position to step in. I don’t mind.”
Gladys hummed. “Remember, Myriel, he’s not an animal. He’ll have to make his own decision there. You can only take it so far.”
“I just don’t want to watch this cycle happen over and over and over,” Myriel sighed. “But, you’re right. I’ll ease up.”
...
From the look on Charlie’s face, Myriel figured they’d have to have a private conversation about something he noticed that Myriel was probably missing. He hoped it was something about the kid’s magic situation. Charlie caught his eye and Myriel gently shook his head. They’d deal with it later. Best to have fun, while the mood was light. Charlie frowned, tapped his right hand, and then let it go.
Myriel blinked at the board. The kid had been trying to be meticulous, stopping at every available space and moving only one at a time. Mathis had caught on to his early goals, though, and immediately started blocking him off from completing his art sets. Every time he moved, Mathis was rewarded with the kid’s angry huff. Gladys was pulling ahead point wise, naturally. Charlie was clearly phoning it in, but Myriel was amused to find himself in second place.
At the end of the game, the kid pounded his palms on the table, shaking nervously. “I- We must play again! You were sabotaging me!” He glared at Mathis, who leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head gleefully.
“At my own expense, too!” He laughed. “You got more points than I did.”
The kid looked outraged. “But why!?”
Mathis shrugged. “Everyone benefits from a little picking-on every now and then. Keeps us humble.”
The kid grumbled and slouched in his chair. Gladys passed him the trail mix and he took a few cashews.
“Hey,” Charlie finally said. “Could we get a picture of you, kid? I’ve got a good camera. Not every day an alien stops by, you know.”
Myriel raised an eyebrow at Charlie.
“Better be of all of us!” Gladys chimed in. “We haven’t had a group photo in years. It’s as good a day as any. I’m in my nice dress.”
“Yeah, alright,” Charlie grinned and pulled out his digital camera. Myriel had helped him soup it up a few years back, but he wasn’t sure what the modification exactly did. Charlie had said something about auras, but magic tended to go straight over Myriel’s head.
Charlie pushed a few pin-sized buttons on the extra chip and then passed Myriel the camera. “Here, you have longer arms than I do,” he said. “Make sure everyone’s in the frame. I can print out multiple copies.”
“Of course!” Myriel grinned, spun the camera in his hand, and held it out. “Yeah, there’s enough room. Just gotta huddle in. Pretend like you like us, Gladys.”
She grinned. “But I’m so bad at acting!” She draped herself over Mathis, weighing him down as he tried to get behind the kid’s chair.
The kid stared up at everyone, entirely lost.
“You ever had your picture taken, kid?” Charlie asked, with an odd expression on his face.
The kid shook his head, wide-eyed. “What is a group photo?”
“Hmm.” Charlie rubbed his chin. “A photograph is like… Have you ever seen your reflection?”
“Yes, a few times.”
Charlie paused to blink confusedly, his train of thought momentarily interrupted, then continued. “It’s like when you see your reflection, but then you can take that moment and see it again whenever you want, later, on a little piece of paper. Like the camera draws a portrait very fast and can draw that same portrait as many times as you want.” He scratched his brow. “It’s a way people like to use to remember a fun moment, or a great view.”
The kid looked puzzled, but allowed Charlie to scoot in behind him, leaving room for Myriel to come over on the side.
“Alright, smile!” Myriel said. He put his hand on the kid’s shoulder and pulled him a little closer. Gladys hopped up and blew a raspberry in Mathis’ ear. Myriel hit the button.
“… That’s all?” The kid asked, turning his head at everyone.
“Well, we need to see how the photo came out,” Charlie explained as Myriel checked the camera’s screen. “I can print out some copies for all of you and get ‘em passed out next week. Kid, you want one?”
The kid shrugged. “Perhaps… If I have not departed before that.”
Charlie turned toward Myriel. “I got something to show you later, too. But first, how does it look? You didn’t cut off the top of Mathis’ head again, did you?”
Myriel looked down at the camera, holding it low enough for everyone to see.
“Ah,” Myriel clicked his tongue. “I was making my awful photo face again.”
-
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