03-21-2019, 11:22 AM
Her brows rose ready for sharp admonishment, but he caught himself. It was clear the reaction to her speech was to be judged carefully, so it was no bad thing that he cared enough about what she thought to rephrase himself in a more palatable way. Either that or he needed a roof and job very badly. Kallisti’s people erred towards women because that was apparently Oriena’s preference for collection, but there were a few men among the servers and performers. In all honesty, Carmen rarely turned anyone in need away. His words about family turned out to be the only thing she really needed to hear.
“No one is just a weapon, Nox. I don’t care who brought you up or what they taught you to believe. Don’t let me hear you say that again.” The words were no-nonsense, but they were not a telling off either. She considered it quietly in terms of his role here. His ability and willingness to deal with the more… unusual aspects of the club were beyond doubt his main draw for hire. But dropping the weight of security on his shoulders felt like a betrayal of what she suspected the kid really needed.
“Maybe they will,” she agreed, glancing up as Rafael pottered back in with one of the serving trays laden with coffee, milk and sugar. Carmen hadn’t asked him to play host, but it didn’t surprise her that he took it upon himself. He’d dressed in the interim, the folds of his sweater pulled high to obscure the scars, like he was ashamed. It hadn’t seemed to bother him before. She watched him set the tray down and pluck free his own cup with a crooked grin.
“What do you think about us opening the doors again, Rafael?”
His gaze swept to Nox, curious, but the light of his expression suggested the surprise of her question was a pleasant one. “Suits me fine,” he rasped.
Honestly, she knew what he’d say. There wasn’t a bad bone in that boy’s body, let alone enough to hold much of a grudge. But she’d wanted his blessing anyway, and she’d wanted the final word to be his. Carmen leaned to pour her own coffee, then filled up the last remaining cup too. She sat back, fingers wrapped around the warmth, and looked Nox in the eye. “You said dancing reminded you of your mother. Performing here isn’t the same as cutting moves in a club, but if you want the shot it’s yours.”
“No one is just a weapon, Nox. I don’t care who brought you up or what they taught you to believe. Don’t let me hear you say that again.” The words were no-nonsense, but they were not a telling off either. She considered it quietly in terms of his role here. His ability and willingness to deal with the more… unusual aspects of the club were beyond doubt his main draw for hire. But dropping the weight of security on his shoulders felt like a betrayal of what she suspected the kid really needed.
“Maybe they will,” she agreed, glancing up as Rafael pottered back in with one of the serving trays laden with coffee, milk and sugar. Carmen hadn’t asked him to play host, but it didn’t surprise her that he took it upon himself. He’d dressed in the interim, the folds of his sweater pulled high to obscure the scars, like he was ashamed. It hadn’t seemed to bother him before. She watched him set the tray down and pluck free his own cup with a crooked grin.
“What do you think about us opening the doors again, Rafael?”
His gaze swept to Nox, curious, but the light of his expression suggested the surprise of her question was a pleasant one. “Suits me fine,” he rasped.
Honestly, she knew what he’d say. There wasn’t a bad bone in that boy’s body, let alone enough to hold much of a grudge. But she’d wanted his blessing anyway, and she’d wanted the final word to be his. Carmen leaned to pour her own coffee, then filled up the last remaining cup too. She sat back, fingers wrapped around the warmth, and looked Nox in the eye. “You said dancing reminded you of your mother. Performing here isn’t the same as cutting moves in a club, but if you want the shot it’s yours.”