"Some writing, some writing utensil. A pen, or, or pencil." Nathaniel stammered, wondering how the vigilante had gotten in. Then again, being a vigilante meant you had to know stuff like that. espionage was part of the job description.
The vigilante laughed, "4th drawer to your left."
Nathaniel opened the indicated drawer, smiling as he saw the pencils. He grabbed it, flipping it around in habit. He felt better with the pencil in his hand, like a part of him that had been missing.
"Do you write much?" The vigilante asked, walking towards Nathaniel.
Nathaniel shrugged, "I used to. Life got in the way. No paper." He tapped the pencil on the note, chewing his lip as he thought of what to write. "Thanks for the food. It was delicious. The chef is quite the talent." He paused, tapping his pencil on the paper while wondering if that was enough. He looked at the vigilante.
"Why'd you send me here?" Nathaniel straightened, watching the vigilante do the same. He was tall and broad, probably shorter than Cole, but Nathaniel couldn't be sure. He wore a hoodie and mask that covered his face. Nathaniel thought he could see some hair, but the kitchen was too dark to see the color.
The vigilante smiled, "It's the only place that can keep you safe." He stood back a bit, "You helped me, so I wanted to return the favor." Nathaniel flipped the pencil over and over, unsure what to think or say.
The vigilante tilted his head like he was hearing something, "I've got to head out." He said, moving past Nathaniel, "I'll see you again little detective." He moved to leave.
Nathaniel spun, "Wait!" He said, remembering it was the first Thursday of the month, "Look at Tyler's tire shop, he should have a shipment of goods for Manticore tonight. Manticore comes for them tomorrow."
The Vigilante nodded, "Thanks for the tip." He then turned and left the kitchen. Nathaniel heard the front door open, then close. Nathaniel left the kitchen and walked to the front door. He frowned as he saw it was unlocked. The vigilante must've grown up in a good neighborhood. Nathaniel went to the door and locked it, sliding the deadbolt into place. He then went back to the kitchen. Grabbing his note, he grinned as he wrote, "Our friendly vigilante says hi. When you see him next you should remind him to lock the door behind him when he leaves."
Nathaniel woke up to thumping. He rolled over, letting out a small shriek as he fell off the couch. He landed with a thud, groaning as he laid on the ground, he listened for the thumping again. He heard a new thumping, it sounded like someone running, towards his door. Nathaniel sat up, forcing his greasy hair behind his ears as one of the small girls threw open his door, her braids flew in the air as she skidded to a stop.
Gene was behind her, "You good?" He asked, offering his hand to him. Nathaniel took it, standing up.
"Yeah, I fell off, fell off the couch, guess I thought, thought it was the floor." He looked at his dirty, baggy clothes, feeling a blush come to his cheeks as he saw the other's clean, well fitting clothes.
Gene waved his hand, "I do that too, half the time I have to sleep on the floor." The girl by his side crouched down, holding her hand out for Rocky to smell. Rocky head bumped her, then walked out of the room. Nathaniel smiled, that cat would enjoy the attention.
Nathaniel nodded, "Is there somewhere, somewhere to rinse off?"
Gene nodded, starting out of the room, "I'll show you." He looked back, grinning, "I'm Connor by the way," He said as he led Nathaniel upstairs. "You met my twin, Gene yesterday."
"Oh." Nathaniel blushed again, he hadn't noticed the difference. He narrowed his eyes, he would have to be more observant from here on out. Like the vigilante had said last night, he was at war. He would need all his wits about him.
Nathaniel glanced into the rooms they passed, trying to make a map. The mansion was two stories, each with high ceilings. Downstairs had everything the family needed to host others, their kitchen, dining room, living room, and guest rooms. The rooms that Nathaniel passed upstairs looked like personal rooms, beds pushed up in corners. Nathaniel's eyes were drawn to closets, he wondered if he would find a black hoodie and mask in one. Last night the vigilante had seemed awfully familiar with the house. He hadn't missed a beat when Nathaniel was looking for a pencil. Plus, he was confident he would be safe here, which probably meant he was close enough to help if he needed to. Nathaniel looked at Connor, he seemed too short and slight, the vigilante would be older. The only person he'd met that matched was Cole, but he'd have to see if their builds were the same, Cole seemed taller and skinnier.
Connor led Nathaniel past 4 bedrooms before stopping at a closed door. He knocked, waiting a few moments before opening the door. He bowed to Nathaniel, grinning, before he turned to walk away.
Connor turned back, "Take all the time you need, Cole is making breakfast today." He then turned and jumped over the railing, his hand caught the chandelier and he swung before letting go and falling. Nathaniel looked at the chandelier, smiling as he saw the cord that would usually be metal was a thick rope, like one used in construction. Nathaniel couldn't help but wonder how the master of the house had discovered that was something he needed.
Nathaniel turned back to the bathroom, moving inside and closing it behind him. He looked at the shower, surprised by the excitement he felt. The last time he had been able to shower was payment for fixing Mr. Richard's computer. Urchins that signed to work for Manticore would go to a shower house once every two weeks, but Nathaniel hadn't ever gotten that desperate. He would have small jobs to keep some money and food. Nathaniel sighed, wishing he could be sure that he could stay here, but he couldn't count on that. This was a short break, something to be savored before life returned to its harsh ways. Nathaniel started the shower, determined to enjoy every moment he got in the mansion.
Nathaniel stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry off. He looked at his reflection, staring at his long hair. He had forgotten that it wasn't dark brown, he had forgotten how it matched his mother's perfectly. It was flattened and the tips touched his shoulders, he would have to see if he could cut it. That would help him fit in when he went back to the streets.
Nathaniel looked at his dirty clothes on the floor, not wanting to put them on, but not having anything else.
Someone rapped on the door, "Hey Nate, I have some clothes for you." A voice said. Nathan closed his eyes, that sounded like Connor, but they had a softer tone than him. Maybe it was Gene, he hadn't heard Gene talk yet.
Nathaniel moved to the door, opening it. One of the twins stood there, he smiled at Nathaniel, the smile was softer than Connor's too. He watched Nathaniel, his eyes more cautious than Connor's.
"Thanks Gene." Nathaniel said, grabbing the stack of clothes from him, satisfaction growing as the twin didn't correct him. Nathaniel held the clothes in front of his chest, not wanting Gene to see his protruding ribs.
Gene smiled, "Breakfast is ready when you are." He said, turning to walk away. Nathaniel watched Gene walk down the stairs, so he was the only normal one here. Then he thought back to yesterday when he had jumped up the stairs, not normal, but closer. Nathaniel closed the door and started putting on the clothes. He felt his pants sliding down. He went to his old clothes and grabbed his leather belt. He had gotten this when he had fixed Professor Shultz's projector.
Nathaniel tucked his hair behind his ears then left the bathroom. He met eyes with the young boy from yesterday, Cole had called him Ollie, the boy was sitting on the chandelier again, reading the same book.
Nathaniel walked to the railing. He'd like to meet everyone, something about the boy looking at him drew Nathaniel to him, like an understanding or connection. The boy was quiet, just swinging as he held his book. In this family he seemed like a rock in a loud sea.
"Comfy?" Nathaniel asked, wondering what Ollie was reading. The boy bit his lip, considering. Then he shrugged, closing the book and starting to swing the chandelier. In a few seconds he let himself slip off, grabbing the railing as he fell and hoisting himself over it.
Ollie then walked to Nathaniel, grabbing his hand, "Breakfast." The boy's voice was low and scratchy like a goblin's. Nathaniel nodded with a smile, wondering if his hand felt bony to Ollie, it didn't look like he was grossed out as he led Nathaniel down the stairs.
When they got downstairs Ollie paused, then shook his head. Nathaniel forced himself to blink. Here came the confusion again.