ArchivedLogs:A Favor to Ask

A Favor to Ask
Dramatis Personae Aloke, Dorian Siccavil
In Absentia	2013-12-23 The letter to home finally gets on its way.
Location Aloke's office
Aloke is in his downstairs office again, apparently wrapping up the last of his mid-term grading for the holiday. However, his last stack of grading sits untouched for the moment, as the man is leaned back in his chair, feet up on the desk, and drawing in a sketchbook with a pencil. His skin glow is relatively bright today, especially in the somewhat dim lighting of his tiny office. He hasn't even turned on the fluorescents in the little room. His office door is open letting in the hall light, and he's providing the rest of the light in here, bright enough to read (or draw) by. He's barefoot, wearing tan cargo pants, and black sweater that looks like it's seen better days, but is well-loved. Dorian approaches the office on quiet, bare feet, almost tiptoeing down the hallway towards his advisors office. Given the slightly warmer than average weather today, he’s back in his worn, rainbow swirled tank top with the marching teddy bears, paired with baggy jeans that let his tale dangle freely behind him. His hair is a rumpled mess of dark brown curls, hiding is ears pretty solidly, regardless of where they sit on his head. He paces back and forth silently a few times, before finally poking his head into the office nervously. “Um, um, Mr. Suresh?” Dorian says quietly, nervous that he might be interrupting, “Is, um, do you have time to talk for a minute? I kinda had a question, and sorta a favor to ask, maybe?” Dorian sidles into the office, leaning against the door and looking at Aloke curiously, apparently somewhat surprised by the glow. He has a letter sized envelope clutched to his chest, carefully, as though he were afraid he’d damage it or crinkle it, though one corner looks a bit dogeared, as though he’s been carrying it with him for a few days. "Oh hey Dorian!" Aloke says cheerfully. " C'mon in! Please. I need a distraction from my distraction." Aloke takes his feet down from the desk and sets his sketchbook aside on top of his to-do pile of grading. It looks like an intricate, stylized drawing of a big leafless tree of some kind. He looks at the drawing again, and chuckles, sticking it on the bottom of his to-do pile. "There. Now I can only start drawing again when all my grading is done." He grins up Dorian and stands. "How're you doing Dorian? Come in and sit down. What can I do for you?" Dorian shuffles into the room anxiously, “S… {sorry},” he finishes in French, “Didn’t mean to interrupt or anything, if you’re in the middle of something, I can come back later?” When Aloke puts away the drawing, Dorian frowns slightly, and sits down, “Oh, okay. Well, um, the other day, we’d kinda talked about me contacting my parents and all?” He carefully, reverently sets the letter down on Aloke’s desk, staring at it as though it might vanish - the envelope is addressed, and stamped, but not sealed yet. “I wrote it. I finally did. It… took a lot. But I wrote it,” the young mutant says, a touch of exhausted pride in his voice. “Could you, um, take a look at it? I mean, if it isn’t too much trouble, I’d really appreciate it. Just to make sure I didn’t screw up or say too much, or say something wrong?” He takes a very deep breath and ruffles his hair, keeping his gaze on the letter between them, too embarassed at the admission to look away from it. Aloke raises his eyebrows, and leans forward, elbows on his desk. "Oh Dorian, that is great. /Really/, I'm happy for you. That must have been really hard." He reaches out to squeeze the boy's hand reassuringly when he sets the letter down, and carefully picks up the envelope, taking the moment seriously. "Of course, I'd be happy to look at it, but you know, if it's from the heart it can't be 'wrong', ok?" He offers the boy a warm smile and asks, "I can look it over now, if you want? Or if it's too weird to sit here while I read it, I can get back to you tonight when I'm done." “I practiced. A lot. And wrote a bunch of things first, but they all sounded… wrong? And not right. So I wrote more,” Dorian says, looking down at his hands, wiggling his fingers stiffly, “My handwriting isn’t that good, but I tried. Never been that good. Still kinda hard to hold a pencil, even now.” He looks up, faintly nervous when Aloke picks up the letter, as though he might just give up and run away after all. “If… you want to read it now, you can. I mean, I’ve kinda read it a hundred times, trying to figure out what it needed still. And if you read it now, you can tell me what needs to be fixed. ‘Cause I kinda wanted to try and get it in the mail by Christmas? Even if it won’t get there in time, I just want to know it’s on the way…” Dorian offers, a sheepish shrug raising his dark furred shoulders. Aloke smiles and nods, gently opening the envelope and sliding the letter out. "It's ok, Dorian. I'm impressed when anyone still writes by hand. It's a lost art form in itself, and worthy of practice." Aloke unfolds and pages and leans back in his chair, the light from his hands and face illuminating the paper. He squints at the shaky hand-writing, but does his best to maintain positive body language while he reads. "Oh, this is particularly good here, Dorian." Aloke gets up and comes around the desk to sit in his other visitor's chair, next to Dorian, and points out the section he liked. After another moment he's read through the entire letter, and nods, reaching out to set the letter down and then squeeze the boy's shoulder. "I bet that was hard to write. Do you want to talk about the decision? You seem really nervous. I can't imagine how hard this must be." “Computers confuse me,” Dorian says with a grumpy frown, “I… I tried to make it neat. But, well, my last handwriting class was, um, second grade? And I had the attention span of a gnat at that point. And so did everyone else around me, which made actually /learning/ to write kinda impossible.” He hangs his head, frowning a bit, “It doesn’t sound too, um, contrived? I think that’s the word. Maybe.” Fidgeting with his hands, nails tracing along the scars that criss-cross the flesh there, “I’m kinda scared, still. That this isn’t gonna work, that they won’t love me, or want me. That something’s gonna go wrong. That the people who took me the last time will find me again? Not that I’m any use anymore, but still.” He takes a deep breath, shivering and looking up at Aloke, “I needed to write it. I know I needed to write it. I… just kinda… wish I’d done it earlier. But… now I just gotta sit and wait, I guess. I’m kinda good at that. Waiting.” A pause, his nose crinkling up, “Ok, I’m /terrible/ at waiting, I just know sometimes I have to.” "What? No," Aloke says, surprised. He turns his chair to tuck one leg underneath himself. "It doesn't sound contrived at all. Dorian… you have to think of it this way: you were /kidnapped/. Nobody decent will hold that against you. And if your parents do turn out to be… awful. You still have a home here with us. No one is going to take you away from here, I promise." Aloke sighs and looks at the letter briefly and back at Dorian. "I know this is hard, and I won't pretend otherwise. But even if letter doesn't have the result you want, you'll have this school, no matter what, ok?" Dorian nods slowly, listening to Aloke talk again, pulling his knees up to his chest to get more comfortable on his chair. “Pretty sure a lotta people’d hold it against me, with the news and all. S’my fault, being born all funny, making things hard for my family,” he grumbles, leaning his chin on his knees, “But I don’t think my parents are like that. They can’t be like that. I hope.” He lets out a long sigh, and looks at Aloke skeptically, ears twitching and rustling his hair up around them, “For now. I can’t stay here forever, and in time, I’m gonna have to move on, I guess.” A snort and a look at the letter as he speaks, “But this is at least a starting point. I… I just have to wait now. If the letter goes in the mail soon, it should get to them before the end of the year, right? I mean…” he frowns slightly, looking at the letter. “Long as it don’t get lost in post, I guess.” Aloke nods and squeezes Dorian's shoulder again. "Yeah well, you don't have to worry about what everyone else thinks, ok? You did what was right for you, and in the end, that's all you can be responsible for." Aloke smiles at the idea of the letter getting lost. "Hey, /that/ I can help with at least. We'll xerox it first so you can keep a copy, and then we'll send it registered mail so it has a tracking number, and you'll know when they signed for it. At least you won't be totally in the dark. How's that sound?" "S'kinda hard not to sometimes, though? The worrying about what other people think?" Dorian responds with a shrug; he relaxes, though, at the shoulder squeeze, nodding. He brightens up, though, at the idea of registered mail, then looks confused, disbelief coloring his voice, "You can do that? Really?" The young man still looks a touch skeptical, but looks down at the letter, and then back at Aloke, "I'd like that, though, sir, if you could? That way I know they get it, for sure. 'Cause letters would get lost back home. Plenty lots - the post office was kinda tiny." Dorian nods, and gestures emphatically with his hands as though indicating a very small mailbox, likely exaggerating. "Thank you, Mr. Suresh, again. I really do appreciate all this," Dorian offers with a happy, sincere smile. "Not to worry, Dorian," Aloke says with a warm smile. "I'll send the xerox and the tracking number up to your dorm room tonight. Now go find something fun to do! Take your mind off things. It's winter break. Have fun for a bit." Aloke grins and stands, patting Dorian on the shoulder, before circling back around to his side of the table. “Thank you!” Dorian exclaims again, bouncing in his seat for a moment excitedly. “I… I can’t actually believe it’s gonna happen. I’m gonna make contact with them.” He shakes his head, rising from his chair, “D’you know how many times I dreamt that this was happening, and then it didn’t? But now, it actually will.” He tilts his head curiously, listening to the suggestion to go have fun, a lopsided grin blossoming on his features, “I think I will now… now that this is off my chest. Thank you.” Without too much warning, although he isn’t exactly stealthy, Dorian darts forward and hugs Aloke in a friendly, grateful hug, “Thank you.” And with that, he’s out, bouncing out of the little office with a good deal more spring in his step than he had coming in.