Eli Pride is Elizabeth Bennet (hybristic) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-05-28 14:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | elizabeth bennet, todd hewitt |
Who: Eli and Rome
What: Coming in from the snow
Where: Reliquary
When: Recent-ish
Warnings: None
Rome didn't stay at Drake's more than two nights in a row. He had a nightmare or two, leftovers from the girl in the alley he'd tried to help, and from past experience he knew that his nightmares were not only broadcast, they tended to be loud. Whatever Drake had said about not caring about the Noise, Rome was sure that it was only a matter of Drake's patience and then he'd be out on the street again. He preferred to keep his independence where possible and avoid burning bridges, so that at least he could go back. That's why he had managed to resist taking the computer or the xbox when he'd taken off the previous night. Rome had several sources of food and shelter, some of them illegal and some not, but none of them were dependable--and none of them were with his brother. He still wasn’t sure what to think of that.
He was wondering (Aloud) to himself if Drake had noticed he was gone, eyes panning the street for food shops with leftovers, when he noticed the temperature drop. The clouds that had been threatening all day suddenly seemed very dark and near overhead, and Rome could smell the water in the air. He stopped worrying about food and started worrying about wet, because he didn’t know enough to be afraid of snow, a transplant from LA having more to worry about in the rainy season than someone who knew people could freeze to death every winter.
Rome crossed the street for a solid building with a small overhang. He barely recognized the sign through the rain that suddenly burst through the clouds, but the name (“Rel-cary”?) reminded him of something. Five degrees is far more abrupt than it sounds, and suddenly the cold started cutting through Rome’s clothing, and his worry became fear.
Eli was pondering the storm. Lilly had left, and he was standing at the window with a coffee mug in his hand, considering the oddly inclement weather. He was fairly certain, after checking the reports elsewhere, that this was another Creation phenomenon. He wondered if it was the same individual who caused the rain and the wind. Likely, he decided, and he took a sip of the coffee as he considered messaging Drake. He could wait, he supposed, until morning. It might be a fluke, could possibly simply stop in the night. He was thinking all of this through when he saw the boy outside.
He was strangely familiar, the boy, and Eli watched him a moment longer before moving to the door and holding it open. The shop was empty. Georgie was gone, no longer puttering around and making enough noise for ten children her age, and Julian was abovestairs. “You’ll catch your death,” said, and then he remembered him; the boy with the television. “Do, come in.”
Even if the place beyond the door offered groping or angry hands, it was better than dying there on the sidewalk. Rome felt his teeth rattling in the back of his mouth, and it was colder than he ever remembered being. He stepped on his shoelaces and they snapped, like crushed ice. His black leather jacket shone with wet and, at the very edges on his sleeves, white. His thin features were blue at the edges, and he met Eli’s eyes with recognition and a quick stream of thought made fast and confusing by panic and the last vestiges of the girl in the alley. It’s the guy from Good Will. This place is warmer, have to stay here, no one here but him? The blue eyes flicked from side to side, and he stepped entirely in to give enough room for the door to shut. The worn jeans dripped onto the floor under the soles of Drake’s boots. Pay him with--No, I don’t want to pay. Rome’s brows pressed down between his eyes and then he directed a clear thought at Eli. Can I stay here until it stops? It’s really fucking cold, I’ve never been this cold, not even in the alley the other day when I was wet in the middle of the night.
“There is someone upstairs,” Eli assured the boy as he closed the door, after a moment of reacquainting himself with the fact that the boy did not actually speak. “A boy, older than you, and there is a cook in the kitchen, a very lovely woman in her sixties. You’re quite safe,” he assured him, stepping away to drive home that fact. “Would you like something warm to drink? I’ve a feeling that isn’t going to stop anytime soon,” he said, and he did have that feeling - possibly even more so since he’d opened the door. The cold felt angry, somehow, and he was rather sure it would be considered haunted, were it a home, this storm.
The step away influenced Rome’s decision more than Eli’s words did, even though his eyes moved to the stairs and to the kitchen door as directed, and small soft questions spilled out as they did so. His son? His mother? Or just workers... it’s a business, just workers. Too bad, people’s grandmothers are supposed to bake them things. What was his name again? This last obviously meaning Eli, but probably not directed at him. A split-second later he thought/said, I don’t have any money. (And then he just thought: Is it free?)
“Friends,” Eli replied, “though Nana does bake.” He called out for the older woman, who he suspected would be happy to find any small child to feed, since Georgie was gone and Renee wasn’t around to harass into working. “I believe my friend here is hungry,” he told the older woman, who proceeded to fuss over Rome’s coat and comment on the weather, before returning to the kitchen with a promise of soup and sandwiches. “Julian has probably eaten all the sweets,” he told Rome apologetically, with another glance toward the window and the odd storm. “Eli. And you were?”
Rome didn’t let anybody take his coat, but after a lot of fussing, he agreed to take it off and let it drip over one skinny arm. He was taller than he looked with the heavy garment on, and the sparseness of his skin over his bones was not youth, nor weakness. His eyes were keen and even “somebody’s grandma” was subjected to a distrusting stare until she went away. I’m Rome, people call me Rome. The two thoughts were almost two voices, the same thought not quite simultaneous, as if he might have decided to choose one over the other; not that you’d ever know which it would be, not when he knew everyone could hear both. Julian is a friend? he asked, expression sardonic. When people say ‘friend’ sometimes they mean sex.
“Julian and I are not having sex,” Eli assured him. “I am in a relationship with a perfectly wonderful individual who is older than I am, and I do not need either of you for that, now do sit down.” He hesitated after the statement, wondering if it was more hope than reality. No, Preston was a perfectly wonderful individual, that much was true. Whether or not Preston was his, that was another matter entirely - one not for this particular conversation.
Oh. Rome lifted one thin shoulder in his ratty blue sweatshirt. Not my business. Wasn’t asking. People answer a lot when I don’t ask. He noticed Eli hesitate after the comment, and he didn’t look too happy, but he had nothing to say about his feeling about it, so there was a brief (blessed) silence.
Walking over to the counter, and then behind it, Eli set about making hot chocolate. It was soothing, the warming of milk and melting of sweet cocoa into the liquid, and he returned with two cups and took a seat himself. “How have you been?” he asked, as if Rome was an old friend and they were merely catching up. He glanced down, noticing. “New boots?” New old boots, but certainly not as bad off as the rest of the boy’s wardrobe.
Rome sat in one of the armchairs out for sale, not noticing the price tag on the leg as he left his jacket on it. From there he could see the front door, the kitchen door, and the stairs, and his lack of Noise concerning the matter made it clear he didn’t do much thinking about it. He held his hands out for what he perceived to be his mug, eyes only on it. Drake gave me boots, he thought. A friend--said I could have them. I didn’t take them.
“Drake?” Eli asked. It could be a coincidence, of course, and there were other Drake’s in Seattle, surely. He looked at the boots again, trying to see if he recognized them, but they were simply boots, and he didn’t. “Drake Wallace?” he ventured.
The reaching hands faltered. Wallace is my name. Oh, yeah, Drake’s name too, brothers, crazy, does he know Drake? A turn of his head to look at Eli’s face. Yeah, why?
“Curious,” Eli said, leaning back on the rear two legs of the chair. “I employ Drake,” he said simply, leaving what Drake did for him unexplained. “Rather, we work together, though I pay the bills,” he admitted, interested in knowing what Drake’s brother thought of that. In all the years he’d worked with Drake - three, now - the other man had never mentioned a sibling.
Rome was surprised; Eli struck him as an intellectual, a rich intellectual, and while he had no clear idea what Drake did, he had always thought it was something sensible and physical. You pay Drake’s bills? For what? He still hadn’t gotten his chocolate, and he didn’t reach for it again, taking his hands back toward his chest as the conversation took a strange turn.
Eli remembered the chocolate when Rome moved his hand, and he pushed it toward the boy. “For his job,” Eli said, realizing belatedly that Drake might be hiding his profession from Rome, though it hardly seemed likely. He sat back, and he listened. Thoughts, it seemed, were more forthcoming than words.
I thought Drake was a mechanic or something like dad. I guess I didn't ask, he never said, did he say, or was it only going after the Creations....? Harder, with emphasis, he thought/said, What job?
“Going after Creations,” Eli said, using the same words Rome had already thought, and doing it quite intentionally. He smiled. “Does this make me more trustworthy?” he asked, motioning toward the hot chocolate. “That is going to get cold.”
It's a job? Rome thought, with a combination of curiosity, worry and a little disgust. Rome had no love for the police, who just made it harder for him to survive, and he thought of himself as the kind of person these people liked to catch. He took the mug, however, because he was freezing, hungry, and Drake's word carried a lot of weight. In that order. Thanks, he thought over the cocoa.
“Protecting people from those who would use their abilities for evil?” Eli asked, nodding. “It’s a job. Not one that pays very well, but an important one. We’re more powerful than the native population of this place, and there are those who take advantage of that. Just as there are those who choose to protect the people who belong to this world,” he said, and there was honest passion there for the cause, much more than he ever showed for the coffee shop.
Rome slurped. When you say it like that it sounds heroic. But that is what the cops say when they arrest somebody, and what the city says sometimes when they take out a building I'm staying in, or what the dealers say about the narcs... They're evil, for your own good. Real evil people get away.
“We are not law enforcement,” Eli assured. Recently, he’d realized they were even further from law enforcement than he’d realized when he embarked on this cause. They were coming painfully close to embarking upon the practice of imprisoning people without trial, without rules, and without any chance of release. It was criminal, in fact, and he knew they would be in quite a bit of trouble if they were apprehended. No, not law enforcement. “Why haven’t I heard of you? Drake and I have worked together well over three years now.”
Rome would wait and see about this EIT thing. He’d wait and see it at work, and then he’d believe it was for everybody’s own good. Guess Dad didn’t mention me, Rome thought/said, with absolutely unmistakable bitterness. It wasn’t entirely alien, nor fresh, because it wasn’t like Dad was around, but it was there. Yeah, he was surprised. But Dad died, so, he didn’t know. Rome shrugged a thin shoulder.
The thought about not being mentioned made Eli frown, unthinking. “He could have done,” he corrected, feeling the need to make the child before him feel less unwanted. “Drake and I work together, but we’ve never discussed personal matters.” There was a bit of apology there as well. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Drake - he did. But they shared little in common, and they were more likely to bait one another than share confessions. “I am sorry about your father,” he added honestly.
It was going to take a lot more than a couple conversations to counteract a lifetime of neglect, and the sympathy rolled off Rome without really touching him. He didn’t have a great deal of empathy for the world at large, but for some reason his father (and by periphery, Drake) appeared to live in a different place in his mind. It’s cool. He was a hero, Drake said so. Something like what you said you do.
“In the name of full disclosure, I should clarify that I do very little in the way of field work. I research, handle the boring minutiae of cases, make decisions about where we expend our energy and the like. Drake handles the vast majority of the fieldwork out of this office,” Eli explained, and there was a longing in his voice for the good old days when he spent most of his time going into old buildings the nation over for EIT. Kenna had left him with a plethora of office work and there was time for little else. He smiled. “Do you live with your brother?”
Rome gave Eli a little smirk at the news about his field work. Yeah, he looks like a smart guy, maybe it’s the sweater. Why do smart people wear sweaters? Rome took a gulp of the hot chocolate, burned his tongue, swore mentally, but took another gulp. You never knew when someone would take it, or when you would eat again. Eat it fast. This wasn’t conscious, so there was no accompanying narrative. Instead he said, No, I don’t. He let me stay there when I got hurt. I think he was afraid I would die... That was kind of cool.
Eli quirked a brow. A talk with Drake was clearly in order. “Family should be together,” he said, because he believed it entirely. If he didn’t, Isobel wouldn’t be living with him, and he wouldn’t be attempting to bring the terror that was Lilly into the fold. He smiled. “Would you like a job, Rome? Your brother is here quite often, you know.” Casual, as if Drake’s presence wouldn’t sway the boy one way or another. “Our office is abovestairs, for EIT.”
Drake comes here? Rome was surprised, and looked around the kitschy, warmly-lit little tea shop. His thin sweatshirt was already drying, even if his jeans were still damp. I’m not good at jobs, people get mad if I hang around long enough to think something they don’t like. Rome always, inevitably, ended up thinking something that someone didn’t like.
Eli chuckled. “I can’t pay very much,” he began, standing and pushing the chair back in once he was on his feet. “Follow me, and you may scream as loudly as you like if you think I’m doing something untoward. Nana would surely beat me upside the head with a cake pan.” He moved toward the stairs, even as the old woman in question came out into the dining area with the promised soup and sandwich. “We’ll be right down,” he assured her, and he walked toward the stairs.
Rome stood up too, mirroring Eli’s action naturally without thinking. He didn’t tense or move for either exit, but he did get on his feet and step back from the table. Where’s he going? was the natural response, but it derailed as food approached, and after a hesitation, Rome walked past Nana and stole half the sandwich with a speed and facility that spoke of practice. That looks good. He got out of her reach fast to avoid potential reprisal, and then he pursued Eli toward the stairs.
Eli didn’t stop until he reached the top step, where he turned left, away from the occupied bedroom and the empty spare. Another set of stairs led to the old house’s attic, and he motioned for Rome to go ahead, lest the distrusting young man think it a trap. At the top of the stairs, a door sat closed, a small, gold door plaque visible from the landing below, the letters E.I.T. blocky and distinguishable, even at a distance.
Rome wasn’t afraid, not really, reassured by a second meeting, the warm room and the old woman. He still didn’t want Eli at his back, however, and he shook his head when he came back from the curious crane of neck to the right, where the bedrooms were.
Eli rolled his eyes, because really. Was he not as harmless a a person could possibly be? He wore sweaters and vests and looked as if a strong wind could blow him over, and well he knew it. He climbed the stairs, and he stopped in front if the door and pushed it open. Inside, a desk overflowed with papers. “We could use help,” he said.
Rome looked at the papers, standing within arm’s reach of Eli but not going entirely in the room. He scanned it, but ended back at the papers again. Help with what? he asked, mystified.
“How about answering the phone?” Eli asked, a smile in the question at the clearly mystified look on Rome’s face. “We could, I suppose, work our way to devising some way of organizing this nightmare. Drake and I, originally, worked for a woman named Kenna. She kept up with things. We’re not terribly good at it.”
I can’t answer a phone. What would I say? I can’t organize anything. He gave the room a look somewhere between aversion and discomfort. I can’t read well enough to tell stuff apart like that. And then, in an obvious attempt to cover the rest of that up: I don’t want to.
Eli rubbed his eyes. “Perhaps sitting behind the desk and figuring it out?” he asked. He could offer the kitchen, of course, but he wasn’t certain how Julian would take to the boy. Renee was friendly enough, even if he suspected him of nearly every small crime committed in the city on a daily basis.
Rome backed out of the room. I can’t do that, I don’t know how. You need somebody smart for all that crap, not me. Rome pushed at the hair making the back of his neck itch, and then gave a little shudder as he accidentally set off his spine. He started moving back to the stairway.
So much for doing a good deed. “There’s hardly a need to panic,” Eli said, motioning toward the stairs. “Shall we? Before your soup chills.” He couldn’t offer the young man a field job, not without talking to Drake, but he reminded Eli very much of a younger Julian, badly in need of clothing, especially given the atypical weather outside. “Can I talk you into a coat, at the very least?”
Rome wasn’t panicking, but he resented the reminder he wasn’t much good at figuring things out behind a desk, and it put him in a rather sour mood, though he wasn’t aggressive about it. So he couldn’t read much. So what? He chewed on the sandwich (still in his hand) and as he did so looked sideways at Eli. Got a coat. Oh. It didn’t take him long to figure things out. Yeah, you got another one you don’t want? Rome couldn’t afford pride in the face of charity, and it obviously didn’t occur to him. If someone offered him food he ate, and if someone offered him gifts he took them.
Eli nodded, and he motioned to the stairs. “Go eat at the table, and I’ll meet you in a moment,” he said, already turning on the landing and heading toward the occupied parts of the old house. He rummaged through his closet, where he’d moved his remaining items when Julian moved in, and he found a thick winter coat, scarf and mittens shoved in the pockets, along with twenty-long forgotten dollars that he left where they were. He came back down the steps moments later, and he draped the coat over the table. “I’ve replaced it with wool,” he said of the snow and rain resistant coat, which was fairly new.
Rome had already finished the soup, which he’d consumed by soaking it up into the remains of the sandwich and shoving it into his mouth. He turned abruptly away from a shelf containing some of the antiques offered at the edge of the store when Eli returned, and came back to the table. Hey, that’s really nice, bet it keeps the rain off. Licking the crumbs off his fingers, Rome picked up his new coat and tried it on, where it suited him rather well thanks to Eli’s slight build, even if Rome’s feet and ragged jeans stuck out the bottom. You don’t want anything for it? Bet I could get sixty bucks for this thing if I sold it. Lot of guys are cold, especially in this. Rome looked out the window into the snow with a frown. If they’re still alive in this.
“I’d prefer you use it to stay warm,” Eli said, and he suspected something was missing off the shelf, but he didn’t mind overly much. “This doesn’t look like it has any intention of letting up, I’m afraid,” he said, walking toward the window Rome was looking out. “You could always wait for your brother here. I’m certain he’d prefer to drive you wherever he was going in that car he’s unnaturally attached to, rather than having you walk in this.” The snow was, in fact, getting worse. There would be no driving soon, he knew, unless something was done. The power cords wouldn’t hold up long under the onslaught and the weight, and the probability of freezing was quite high. He wondered if the news was making that information public yet, or if they were attempting to quell citizen concern.
Thanks, I’m afraid to go out in that. Nobody would bother me, but I’m not sure how long it would take me to get to the shelter on Thirteenth. He didn’t take off the new coat, his automatic impulse to keep valuable belongings close. He’d already slipped his hands into the pockets to inspect within, and he had definitely not returned the cash or any of the included goodies within. Please be more than a buck, was the soft thought in the distance, however, and Rome edged away from the window again. So what’s this place for if you’re being a superhero paperwork guy?
“Something I’m responsible for,” Eli said, smiling despite himself at the hope that the offering was more than a dollar. He did remind him of Julian terribly at times, this boy with all his distrust. He was going to have to speak to Drake about his brother living in a shelter, he realized, though he didn’t say as much aloud. “Thirteenth is quite far. Stay and help me clean up, and I’ll pay you the same wage I pay Rene.” He would simply have to hope Julian stayed abovestairs for the duration.
Rome’s eyes slid over all the tables. Okay. Tell me what you want me to do, then. Sweep? I could probably do that, you just drag a broom over the floor. Take out the trash? Might have something good in there. Still wearing the coat, he came back from the edge of the room and stood in the center. How much am I gonna get? he asked, eagerly.
Eli looked around the space. It would take less than two hours to clean, possibly more if Rome cleaned slowly in order to earn more money. Still, he suspected he could get more money in the young man’s pocket with a flat fee, and he crossed to the register and opened it. He put three, twenty dollar bills on the counter. “Sweep, mop, and help Nana with anything she needs in the kitchen to finish the day,” he said. He would most certainly be speaking with Drake. “Once it clears, there will be more if you’re willing to see Nana home, but not until the snow lightens, I think.”
Rome didn’t recognize the phrase. See her do what at home? he asked, blankly, eyes on the money and already moving in that direction with hand outstretched.
Eli handed him the sixty dollars, and he smiled. “Walk her home. She lives merely blocks away, but she has a bad hip,” he explained. “I grew up in England. We say ‘see’ her home, rather than ‘walk’ her home.” He nodded toward the supply closet. “Broom and mop are in there,” he said, rather expecting the same mess he’d endured when Julian and Georgie decided to mop.
Rome folded up the money and it disappeared into his jeans somewhere, under the sweatshirt. There was a flash of white flesh and sharp ribs, and then he pulled his shirt down and grinned. Oh, walk her there. No problem. Has she gotten mugged before, or something? There’s a few guys who run hits in this neighborhood. Obediently he went to the closet and opened it up, looking through this and that curiously rather than pulling the cleaning tools out immediately.
Eli quirked a brow. “She has not been mugged. Generally, Rene walks her, but Rene could not make it through the snow today,” he said. “These gentlemen who run hits, do you know them?” he asked casually.
Rome’s uncertain face reappeared out of the shadows of the closet, pale and ghostlike. I don’t know them. Tommy, Jake... I know their names, I know of them, I don’t know them. He tensed up like a jackrabbit.
“If you know them, then I’d be willing to pay you to tell me if they’re coming near,” Eli suggested harmlessly.
I’m not fucking getting involved with them, Rome said, stepping out of the closet entirely and shooting Eli a glare that said he knew exactly what the other man was trying to do. I’m not ratting on a bunch of guys who beat the hell out of people for a living. Do I look stupid to you? I said I don’t know them.
“You misunderstand me,” Eli said. “I merely meant work the register, let me know if they come in, that sort of thing. No one is asking you to do anything more than that.” He was starting to think he wasn’t ever going to be able to convince this young man of his good intentions. Preston would, no doubt, having Rome eating out of his hand in a matter of mere moments.
I can’t work behind a counter, people don’t like what I think. Are you not getting that? Is he making fun of me? Rome didn’t look angry now, just puzzled, as if Eli’s behavior simply made no sense. He’s worried about his business? They don’t rob stores, he thought/said, obviously with the idea that might help.
“”I’m trying to give you a bloody job!” Eli finally said, exasperated, and why was life so bloody difficult these days. He dropped into a chair, and he fished a box of cigarettes out of his pocket and threw them on the table. “I’m hardly making fun of you, when I only want to help,” he said, lighting a cigarette and holding it between his fingers.
Rome stared at him. How come? he asked curiously, at a loss, judging from the silence.
“Your brother has saved my life more time than I can count,” Eli said truthfully. “If he encountered one of my sisters without employ or a good coat, I would expect him to help her, as I am trying to help you.”
Oh, you owe favors to Drake. This made perfect sense to Rome. Currency on the street was not just money, and when you owed a guy you took it seriously unless you wanted to get a knife stuck in you when you weren’t paying attention. I can’t work with people, I’m telling you. They get mad at me. Especially women. For really obvious reasons. They don’t like knowing what I’m thinking. I’ll come and mop your floors though, if I can have some of that stuff again, it was great. He pointed at the remains of soup and sandwich.
It would do. Eli was already thinking of possibly allocating Rome to the kitchen, while giving Julian the run of the shop. Perhaps hiring a full time girl to keep an eye on them both. If his aunt and uncle expected him to remain here, being responsible, he might as well do what he could to make it a better place, the shop. Needless to say, they were never going to turn a profit, but that hardly mattered, especially not when a full half of the coffee was given out for free daily. “Very well,” Eli said, leaning back in his chair and taking a drag off his cigarette. “It will do.”
Cool. Always use another place that doesn’t ask me to leave or call the cops, Rome thought/said, seriously, turning back into the closet to pull out a bucket with a series of mops and brooms. Do I use the flat looking broom or do I use the short straw looking one?
“The flat one,” Eli said. “It’s for larger surfaces. Tell me what you’ve been up to since you’ve been in the area,” he said casually, ashing his cigarette and watching to make sure something catastrophic did not occur, utterly casual about it.
Willingly, Rome extracted the flat one. This was a new experience for him and he was relatively engaged in the process. He didn’t care about Eli being there, watching him, because he already had the money in his pocket, and he didn’t think sweeping could be that hard. He took the broom to one wall and started pushing it across, making wide berths around the chairs and tables instead of moving furniture. Nothing. Checking out the neighborhood. Finding food spots and some roofs. Got me a nice place in this old building, nobody cares I’m there, he replied, cheerfully.
“But it must be cold, now the snow has come,” Eli said, biting back a smile at the poor job Rome was doing with the sweeper. It was a very good thing the shop didn’t actually need cleaning just then.
I didn’t know it fucking snowed, Rome admitted with some dismay. He got to the end, shook the junk off the broom, and then started back for the other side of the room, obviously taking a systematic approach. LA was warmer, except when it rained. The cops were all over the place there though, hassling you.
“It snows and it rains. Why did you choose Seattle?” Eli asked, as it seemed Rome had lived in LA on this side of the portal, rather than the other. “This snow is unexpected, but we’d best find you someplace warmer before the fall,” he mused, already taking responsibility with the boy, who had clearly never swept anything in the whole of his life. “Why have you not moved in with Drake?”
You don’t just move into somebody’s house. They get tired of me fast and I’m worried he will and not want me to come back forever. Rome hadn’t meant to communicate that, but about eighty percent of what Rome thought he did not mean to communicate to others. I hitched here, it was just the first ride I got.
Eli sat forward, elbows on his knees and cigarette between his fingers. “Family never tires of you,” he said, with the sort of conviction that came from being raised a very large household, one where everyone forgave everyone in the end, no matter how angered they were. His own relationship with Lilly was proof of that, and no matter how annoyed he became, he would do anything for his sister and cousin. “Don’t underestimate what Drake would do for a sibling, or how much he would like one to be a permanent fixture in his life.”
He doesn't even know me. It's cool we have the same name but you can't expect family to care any more than anyone else. Mom used to say-- The truncated thought whispered something, an echo of 'mama' that Rome didn't seem to notice. Nothing is permanent fixes. Whatever that means. Nothing stays. Rome pushed the broom around more tables. He's awesome though, he let me stay and gave me shoes. Not in that order. Maybe he feels guilty, a lot of people give to charity when they feel guilty.
“Family is quite interesting in that you don’t need to know them to care about them. If my family is any indication, then you don’t even need to necessarily like them to care about them,” Eli confided fondly. “I suspect your mother did not have a close relationship with her family,” he said, knowing it could be quite touchy ground, but stepping onto it regardless. He did chuckle, however, at the idea of Drake feeling guilt. “I hardly think guilt motivates Drake very often,” he added surely. Drake certainly seemed more a man of action, rather than a man of guilt, at least to Eli.
Rome shrugged and gave the broom another whirl in a large circle around a table, the edge of the awkward flat colliding with chair legs and making salt shakers teeter. Mom said her family didn't give a fuck what she was doing, or her kid either. It was a casual relation. If I was them, I wouldn't either.
“Not all families are quite like that,” Eli assured. “And I suspect Drake is quite the opposite.” He might not know Drake personally, not well, but he knew what that man was made of. He stood, pushed back his chair and gave Rome a harmless look. “I’ve some matters to take care of. Can you call out if someone comes to the door?” No one would, of course, but it would give him time to contact Drake before the boy walked out into the snow again.
Sure. I won't ask for another sandwich until I'm done, he decided, as Eli left the room and Rome casually pushed his broom around for another turn.