Dante: Dining with Ladies

Dante found himself looking over Marcie, trying to figure out what -exactly- was meant. It didn't take long. "Yeah... bending over is probably a very important skill." He was trying to be polite, even nice. He ate a slice of melon.

Marcie frowned. "More to it than that. If it were just bending over, he'd be with that witch of of a wife he has stowed in Begma. He likes a fair tongue, too, and some witty banter. Not like you have that, you thick cow." She stuck her tongue out at the dark haired smoker, who only laughted out a cloud of smoke.

A few moments later, Keenan returned to the room and tugged on Dante's sleeve. "Let's go," he said. "We should get back..." His normally cheerful face was pinched and worried looking.

"Well, okay." Dante made a quick smile to the ladies present, focusing on Marcie, "but I'll come back should my busy schedule allow, and if it pleases the company." He moved as if to leave, but kept his eyes on the women in the room, and swiping a handful of grapes.

Keenan dragged him out of the building and back out onto the street. As soon as they were away from it, his lower lip began to tremble, and within a few steps, he was crying.

The street was now fully papered and peopled, with crowds surging in paper-mache costumes and harlequin outfits. None seemed to note the two young boys coming out of the House... Even the builders were long gone.

Dante watched his friend, horrified. "Look, hey, what's wrong? C'mon! It can't be that bad. Tell you what... let's get back to the ship, hunh? Get you out on the water and you can add your tears to that." He tried to steer Keenan through the less conspicuous streets and neighborhoods, towards the docks. "and we can visit that place you were talking about."

Keenan sniffled and nodded miserably, wiping his cheeks and nose with the back of his hand. "I..." he hiccupped, "I think I'd r-rather just go home," he said. "We can visit an-another day." He followed docilely behind Dante back to the ship, and was very quiet for the trip back.

Dante did most of the work, letting Keenan take it easy on the way back. The ship had settled into the dock before he considered saying anything. "Look, I know your upset about something, and you're a nice guy. If you need to talk or anything, I'm here." He seemed embarrassed, but sincere.

Keenan looked at him in surprise, then managed a weak, lopsided smile. "It's just... well, that girl they were teasing me about? She's my friend. I haven't seen her in a long time. And... she took me out of the room to tell me I needed to go, because the ladies there hate my dad. She didn't tell me why. But then this other lady came in... Annie called her Mistress, so I guess she's in charge, and I think I got her in trouble. So... now I'm worried, because I couldn't do anything for her, 'cause I might get her in more trouble, but... but the lady didn't seem very nice at all. And I don't want anything bad to happen to Annie!" He chewed on his lower lip. "So I don't know what to do, and that makes me upset. I'm sorry I cried," he finished lamely.

"You've got a friend in trouble? This may take a little thinking, but I'm sure there's a way around it. All I need from you is to find out if she put herself there. If that's some sort of punishment..." Dante slowly grinned, "we'll get her out anyway. But seriously, she may want to be there. If she doesn't, I'm sure there's something we can do about it. And don't worry about the crying... I won't tell anyone. Just try not to do it in public, 'kay?"

Keenan nodded again. "I wanted to ask her," he said, "but she was too busy trying to get me to leave. I told her to come here when she can, so I can talk to her. But... what if she doesn't come?" He helps Dante tie up the ship at the docks and stares broodingly out at the ocean. "I can't go back... I'll only get her in more trouble."

Dante smiled, "Yeah, but I'm itching to go back. One of the girls knew my dad, and I want to know more. It'd be a cinch to talk to your friend while I'm at it. Next weekend we go to the festival as planned, and I'll pop in... sound alright to you?"

Keenan brightened. "Really? You'd do that?"

Dante thought for a few moments, "sure. I don't see why not."

Keenan grinned and threw his arms around his friend. "Thank you thank you thank you!" he said, squeezing Dante tightly.

"Easy, guy, let me breathe!" Dante smoothed his clothes when Keenan released.

"Sorry," Keenan said, blushing. "Let's go back to my mum's. I'm hungry."

"Sounds great." Dante walked casually back.

Back at Martha's the thick smells of dinner were on the air, as well as the first sounds of men wandering in for drinks, companionship, and a hot meal. The bar was only half-full, by Keenan's reckoning, making it easy for he and Dante to dart past the girl manning the bar (Mansy) and into the kitchens.

Martha was standing over a huge pot, laughing over her shoulder at a joke someone was telling... Dante stopped as he realized who that someone was. Leaning against the breakfast counter was Caine, fresh off the sea in leathers and rough cotton. A mug was in his hand, foamy and dark, and it splashed as he gestured.

"--And there she is, garters for anklets, hair done up like Medusa on a bad day, and that draft Dad was letting in was doing no good---"

Martha glanced over her shoulder when the door opened. Her eyes widened as she spotted the boys, and she threw Caine a hurried 'Shush!' She turned from the pot.

"Well, boy, you finally decide to make it home! You have fun out on the boat?"

Dante beamed for a moment, before straightening. "Yes, sir. There is nothing like the sea for broadening horizons."

Keenan went over to Martha and tugged on her sleeve. "Is Dad coming tonight?" he asked. "I need to talk to him about something."

"He's upstairs now." She nodded up to the ceiling. "I told him to get the salts out of his shirt before he sat down for dinner… And the same applies to the two of you." She narrowed her eyes at Keenan and Dante, but the barely repressed smile on her face belied her tone. "And the other Prince…"

Caine shrugged, holding up his stout and taking another sip. "I'm not done with my story, am I?"

Martha sighed, turning back to her pot and stirring. "Incorrigible. No wonder we keep you out at sea. Boys, go wash up."

"Yes ma'am," Keenan said, and obediently went up the stairs to wash his hands and face and change into clean clothes. "I'll be right back," he told Dante, and then went to go find his father, hesitating at the door and peering in through the crack between the door and the frame. "Dad?" he called. "I need to talk to you."

Gerard turned from his washbin, razor poised at his jaw. There was a few days of growth on his chin, mostly covered with lather. "Sure. Come on in." He turned back to the mirror. "What's on your mind?"

Keenan sat down on the edge of the bed and swung his legs. "Dad... why would anyone hate you?"

Gerard stopped mid-swipe, then shrugged.

"I've been around a long time. I've been a prince all that time, and when you're a prince, you have to do some things people don't like. Why?"

Keenan's eyes widened at his father's easy acceptance of the fact that anyone at all might dislike him. "Well, Dante and I went down to the festival, down the coast a ways... and we went to this green house where a bunch of pretty ladies live... 'cause some workers told us to go there and get some candles they ordered, but they hadn't really, they were playing a joke on us, and my friend Annie was there – she's the one who taught me how to play tin kick – and she said that I had to go, because they hated you there. The lady, the one who was in charge, I guess, Annie calls her the Mistress... she says that the Mistress's got a picture of you up in her room, all full of holes from throwing darts at it!"

Gerard's blade lowered, and through the foam, a line of red began to streak where he had cut himself. He turned, and his voice was low... very low.

"You went... where... today?"

"To a green house down by where the festival is being held," Keenan said. "Dad, you're bleeding."

Gerard didn't move to take care of it. Instead, he set down his razor, then knelt before Keenan. Though he looked fairly calm, when he took a hold of Keenan's arm, his grip was painfully strong.

"Keenan. You are not to go back there. Ever. Do you understand me?"

Keenan nodded, looking scared. "Yes sir." He swallowed hard. "Daddy... you're hurting me..." he whispered.

Gerard took a breath, and slowly eased his grip on Keenan. When his hand drew away, it was shaking.

"This... is going to be our secret. You're not to tell your mother, understand?"

"Yes sir," Keenan said again. "But... why? And what about Annie?"

"Don't worry about why." Gerard rose again, and tried to finish shaving... but another cut from his unsteady hands had him setting down the razor again.

"Annie-- I don't know."

"What's wrong, Daddy?" Keenan asked. He didn't often call his father 'Daddy,' only when he was particularly worried, or wanted something. He got up and went to wrap his arms around Gerard's waist. "Please tell me..."

"Keenan..." Gerard's hand fell atop Keenan's head, and Keenan heard and felt his father gather a breath, then sigh it out. "I think you should get cleaned up. Dinner's soon." He gently pushed Keenan off of him. "And I have to get finished shaving. I'll think of something for your Annie. You just have to keep this quiet. Very, very quiet."

"Did I do something bad?" Keenan asked, near tears now.

Gerard looked at his son's face, contorted in angst, and Keenan found himself snapped up into a feirce hug. Foam rubbed off onto Keenan's hair, making it wet. "No, it wasn't anything you did. You're not bad." Gerard held on a moment longer, then released Keenan, sighing as his son's hair stuck up at odd angles.

"Go get cleaned up, alright? I'll figure out a way to make this better."

"'M sorry, Dad," Keenan said softly. "I promise I'll be good from now on." He retreated from the room in far darker spirits than when he had entered. He went back to his own room and rinsed the foam from his hair, and made sure he clothing was in order. Finally he trudged back down the stairs to the kitchen for dinner.