The First Age

He hadn’t expected such an even keel response.

The reaction Jensen offered was not the immediate, predictable burst of anger Matías was accustomed to when his name was spoken. There was emotion on the man’s face, certainly, but it was a faint, continuous ripple of pain and conviction, like the gentle, almost imperceptible movement on the surface of deep water, not the turbulent, wave-gnashing anger that had defined the past years of his life. Jensen took the worst of Matías’s story and responded with sorrow and understanding.

Then came the quiet offer of healing. A hand, gloved against the Moscow cold, held out in the silence. Matías had encountered such an offer before at the Garden, and the incredible, visceral experience of the healer Morven. But this was different. Jensen was not just offering to help; he was also defending Jay, cushioning the blow of the revelation with the steadfast loyalty of a true friend.

Matías felt the distinct, intellectual curiosity that often superseded immediate fear. This man was a puzzle with too many interconnected pieces. The echo he had seen seconds ago, the swirling, layered possibilities of this quiet figure, returned with a sudden, sharper clarity.

Instead of brushing the offered healing aside, he extended his own hand toward Jensen, gloved fingers meeting gloved fingers.

“Matías Amengual,” he said, his own voice steady.

He hadn’t expected an Amengual to be so civil, and when Jensen accepted the handshake, a pulse of shame coursed through his skin. It was a physical heat, prickling beneath his skin and rising to his cheeks. He leaned into the biting wind, hoping the cold would be a sufficient mask for the flush he knew was coloring his face.

“Jensen James,” he replied. There was always a moment of uncertainty whether or not someone from the US recognized his name, but he hoped that Matias was far enough removed from Texan mega-churches to not know it.

He looked toward the gate where the girl and her guardian had vanished. “You seemed to know that girl, Marta. I’m sorry I interrupted your conversation. It’s just. This is the last place I expected to hear your name. Moscow, is a long way from home. What brought you here?”

He realized then that they were literally two men speaking alone in the dark. Jensen was accustomed to night hours, but he was uncertain about Matias. He seemed bright eyed enough to be wide awake, or he hid it well. Regardless, it was cold, and Jensen had personal experience with strange things creeping out of the dark to attack seemingly innocent people. It was best they didn’t linger.

“Can I buy you a coffee?” He asked, only to realize they were unlikely to find anything open this time of night. Not anywhere in this area of the city.