Re: log: welcome home - adrian and dietre
The house suited Dietre’s tastes, he did love anything victorian, be it literature, clothing, or architecture. He could not help but hope, while waiting for the bell to be answered, that though the home had been converted to apartments it would still retain its original features. The modernization of old houses was disgraceful, in his opinion. A grand stairway with unpainted wood in its original finish would be lovely, but he wouldn’t hold his breath. People these days seemed to love drowning everything in white paint.
Footsteps on the other side of the door made Dietre tense subconsciously. Misha hadn’t told him anything about Adrian, only implied he thought he could use some company too. He did not know what to expect, and if it was someone who was as sad and lonely as himself then that was not what he found (as far as he could tell on first impression.) The man who opened the door did not look to be too much older than himself, though Dietre wasn’t the best judge of age. His smile was nice, it reassured him, and he was reminded of what he told himself before, ‘If Adrian is even half as nice as Sadie, then everything would be okay.’
Dietre’s smiles were few and far between, and when he was nervous, they would not come at all. He only nodded at his name before following Adrian inside. He could almost let out a sigh of relief at the cooler air past the threshold, he tried to be summer friendly with his attire by rolling the sleeves of his shirt and leaving the first two buttons at his collar undone, but it was not enough.
Sieglinde behaved well until being acknowledged, the petting was too much to resist, and she jumped up, eyes bright, tongue lolling, her paws all over Adrian’s front as her tail wagged merrily.
“Um… You could distract her,” was his response to being offered help. It was difficult to juggle a suitcase and an excited dog at the same time. He did not mean to be rude, but he was protective of his keyboard. Sieglinde’s leash was released, and she was free to fawn on her new friend all she wished.
“She’s a German Shepherd…” To match her german owner and his accent. Dietre’s voice was soft, husky, his words coming reluctantly, often with awkward gaps between sentences. “...It is nice to meet you.” One would think he’d be getting used to meeting new people by now, but it was just as hard as ever.
Remembering his manners, he stuck out a hand to shake. “Thank you for allowing me to stay here…”