If there's something that Sophie never fails to miss, it's the sight of an impeccable suit.
She made her living conning men in impeccable suits. She's not supposed to be doing it anymore, not unless they're the devil incarnate (and really, there are more of those than you would think) but it doesn't necessarily mean she can turn off her ability to notice when they happen to be in the vicinity.
And really, it's a very nice suit.
Add to the fact that the man in question looks a little lost, she feels that she should go over and have a conversation with the man in the nice suit. It's only fair, after all. He might need some help.
Sophie's very good with helping.
"City turn you around?" she says as she makes her way closer, sliding her hands into her pockets as she walks.
Nikolas will appreciate any help Sophia can give him, as reluctant as he may be at first to accept it.
It isn't as if he has been left with much of a choice.
He's still trying to wrap his brain around the fact he won't see his son again, won't see the birth of his other son. Won't see his family, though that's one stretch of a word to call it, won't see the town he's grown used to.
Nikolas brings himself to his feet, smoothing the front lapel of his suit, giving her a slight smile that's more propriety than anything else. "In a manner of speaking," he allows, cautious to say too much and not enough.
The more people he talks to, the more information he can gather.
"Well, everyone who falls through the Rift tends to develop a certain look about them," she says with a sigh as she moves closer. "It's not exactly something one can prepare themselves for."
Which is the truth, really. Unless you were raised in this universe, it's highly unlikely that your parents taught you the hows and whats of falling through a tear in time and space.
Once she's close enough, she extends a hand. Names are important, after all. "Sophie Devereaux."
Nikolas appreciates, in a way, she just comes right out and says it. There's a small, tightening sensation in his chest that he fully ignores. "There's a very real part of me that's still trying to digest everything I was just told. I'm not sure it will sink in any time soon."
He's not sure if it will sink in today at all. There's that slightly dazed feeling, like he may be walking through a dream.
"Nikolas Cassadine, it's a pleasure to meet you," he says, taking her hand and covering it with both of his.
"It does take a little getting used to," she says as she gives his hand a warm squeeze. "Chicago tends to not make things easy on anyone. But once you get used to it, it makes it easier to go with the flow."
"For both of our sakes," he says with a faint but kind smile, "I do hope that's true. Have you been here long? I was told somewhat firmly there's no way of going back, and I'll admit I would prefer if that wasn't true."
"I'm afraid that that's the case," she says with a sigh. "I've been here a few months, and I have a friend from my own world who's been here longer. People come and go to other worlds, but it never seems to be to their home."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Nikolas says, and he means it, too. She must miss home, they must all miss home--and he already feels a gaping hole inside of him. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact things like these--these Rifts exist, playing with all our lives as it sees fit."
"It is a bit bigger than all of us, yeah?" she sighs. "But it's a different experience for everyone, I suppose. Some people find Chicago a bit of a relief from their home. Helps them escape and find something happier."
There's a sadness cast in Nikolas' gaze, despite the fact he keeps the slight smile curved upwards. There's no mirth to it, but he isn't looking to have a pity party. When he speaks, it's almost matter of fact. "Fatherhood wasn't exactly something I wanted to relieve myself from."
Nikolas nods gratefully at her gesture, bowing his head. "We all have our losses to bear, don't we?" he asks. Everyone leaves someone behind. He just--he will be asked for. His son will need him, and he won't be there.
"I suppose we do." Though Sophie has never lost anything like that. Thieves like Sophie tend to not have anything like that to lose -- that's why they're thieves. "But some are worse than others."
Nikolas finds he cannot argue that. There is no one he will miss more than he will miss his son. He turns to her, a genuine expression on his face despite the sadness. "Thank you."
She nods for a moment, deciding that this is a subject that they best move on from. "Have you found a place to stay yet? The Kashtta isn't far if you haven't."
Nikolas hesitates, guarded as he is, though he realizes he is not left with a great deal of choices. He releases a slow breath and wipes at the side of his jaw with his thumb. "I have not," he allows. "I was told of this Tower, the Kashtta, and how it's a refuge for Wanderers."
Refugees. They are refugees. "I was gathering up enough nerve to at least check it out, I suppose."
She made her living conning men in impeccable suits. She's not supposed to be doing it anymore, not unless they're the devil incarnate (and really, there are more of those than you would think) but it doesn't necessarily mean she can turn off her ability to notice when they happen to be in the vicinity.
And really, it's a very nice suit.
Add to the fact that the man in question looks a little lost, she feels that she should go over and have a conversation with the man in the nice suit. It's only fair, after all. He might need some help.
Sophie's very good with helping.
"City turn you around?" she says as she makes her way closer, sliding her hands into her pockets as she walks.
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It isn't as if he has been left with much of a choice.
He's still trying to wrap his brain around the fact he won't see his son again, won't see the birth of his other son. Won't see his family, though that's one stretch of a word to call it, won't see the town he's grown used to.
Nikolas brings himself to his feet, smoothing the front lapel of his suit, giving her a slight smile that's more propriety than anything else. "In a manner of speaking," he allows, cautious to say too much and not enough.
The more people he talks to, the more information he can gather.
"Am I that transparent?"
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Which is the truth, really. Unless you were raised in this universe, it's highly unlikely that your parents taught you the hows and whats of falling through a tear in time and space.
Once she's close enough, she extends a hand. Names are important, after all. "Sophie Devereaux."
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He's not sure if it will sink in today at all. There's that slightly dazed feeling, like he may be walking through a dream.
"Nikolas Cassadine, it's a pleasure to meet you," he says, taking her hand and covering it with both of his.
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Yet. Part of him knows that it is.
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Now he will never see his son's birth.
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How does he live with that?
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Refugees. They are refugees. "I was gathering up enough nerve to at least check it out, I suppose."
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