The guilt returned to his eyes when Dominique called himself lousy, not sure how to really respond to something like that. It was true that thinking of him as a wife was difficult. He was a man who never sought a bride. He was a monk. He especially never sought to be wed to a man in a dress. But that didn’t mean he was lousy. Just as he was about to agree that he hoped they could be friends, that his only optimism about living through until maybe the craziness of the revolution was over relied on such, Dominique dropped the ball.
It was a question he had heard plenty of times, but more often than not his face was just greeted by curious, confused, or disgusted stares. In that sense, Caspar almost felt a bit of relief when Dominique let the words slip, especially since he knew he could be grateful to his new mother-in-law for one more kindness. A small smile was formed along with a short laugh. He just shook his head. It was the difficulty of being French, but not physically French. At least in this moment he could squeeze some amusement from the look on Dominique’s face. Were he being honest with himself, it would have been an endearing moment.
“It’s fine, honest. I was told that my parents were foreign traders from a faraway land in the east. My appearance would be very common there, but… that’s really as much as I know. My twin sister and I were left behind in an orphanage when we were infants.” For a moment his heart panged with the thought of what his sister may have been doing. The only blood relative he knew in the world had left the country years ago. He missed her, but he was thankful that she had left when she did looking at where the world was today. Perhaps he should have left with her back then, but her absence was what solidified his decision to join the monastery. She probably would have been amused if she saw what sort of scenario he was in now. “She lives in Germany now,” he clarified as the reason for her absence before it was even asked.
Caspar took a pause to think if there was really anything else, but his life was simple. He was an orphan raised by the church who had stayed with his church his entire life. There was nothing really all that notable he could say about himself, even to a person who hardly knew anything about him. “I did sing often, but anyone can.” Instead of pondering what else he could have possibly said about himself, he instead thought back to what he knew about his ‘wife’. He had basics, yes, but that was really all. He supposed they were even in that sense, though he did look up at him curiously. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?” He should know. They were his in-laws now, technically. He was trying to count the names in his head, but it seemed as if he was counting too many.