A long time coming... (Intro)

[only_paul]

He must have fallen asleep, somewhere along the travel back to Istanbul.  His hand was wrapped around his fiancée's, hidden under his jacket.  It wasn't much, but it was enough, and he was hoping soon, soon they would be able to go home, to Boston. Before that, they would see Turgut again, and that would be the end of their sinister adventures.  He

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[kotoba_tadashii]

Gen is walking through the room toward the kitchen; all these years later, and he still feels more comfortable at night. This could explain his limited set of acquaintances here at the Mansion, however.

He looks sympathetic, however, when he runs across Paul, and starts with English, as that's what most people seem to speak here. "Are you alright?"

[only_paul]

Paul is still clutching desperately the suitcase, and looks at the Japanese, or at least, asian man talking to him. His mind reels, and he decides this one must be Chinese, because that's the only logical way one can suppose an Asian would be in the Communist Baltic states. But why does he speak English so flawlessly?

“I’m fine,” he replies, on automatic pilot, before he can process the correct answer to the question. “Where am I? Who are you?”

He wants to know how the hell this happened. He must have been drugged, somehow. It was too good to suppose that Geza and Ranov would let them off the hook so easily.

Heee, Gen! <3

[kotoba_tadashii]

"My name is Gen Watanabe. Your first question is a bit more difficult to answer - you are in a very large house where you are unlikely to be attacked, however."

[only_paul]

"As far as I know, I last was being escorted out of Sophia and on a plane to Istanbul," Paul replies. "So my question is, what country is this, Wanatabe-san?"

[therightworde]

William clears his throat and cleans off his glasses, trying not to stare too openly at the man with the suitcase. There is a bizarre resemblance -- but William tries to shake that off.

He smiles, politely, and steps forward, making a note to research on doppelgangers in the library, later. Maybe Sacharissa knows something more than he does.

"Hello, sir. Did you just get here?"

[only_paul]

Paul has much less composure than William, and he double-takes several times. To our knowledge and his, he has no siblings or cousins, and definitely no twin.

---

"Yes, I did. Whereever here is." He sounds American, though, which is reassuring, if not particularly helpful with the bewilderment at staring at himself with glasses.

His arms tighten around the suitcase. Not a vampire. Not a vampire. Not a vampire.

[themercyful]

Here's a young woman straightening from examining - something electric, we're not sure what, probably a clock. She gets bored without things to fix and has been reduced to taking them apart. She smiles, though, and waves, easily friendly. "Hello! Don't look so nervous, I don't bite." Not in this shape, anyway, but.

[only_paul]

Please don't, Paul wants to say. But here's an American, which is always a helpful start. Maybe. That creepy librarian was also American, he reminds himself.

"Hi. Would you mind telling me where the nearest train station is?"

[themercyful]

Oh, that. Mercy makes an unfortunate and highly attractive face. "Ah - sorry about that, I don't...there isn't one. No roads, no cars...and trust me, I looked."

[only_paul]

Sounds like Wallachia, which is never helpful. "And what do they call it?"

[eyrienprince]

Lucivar, lounging on a couch, looking...as unthreatening as he ever does, anyway. Which isn't saying much. And raises an eyebrow slightly, in some curiosity, just watching for now, not speaking.

His wings take up about the same amount of space as the rest of him.

[only_paul]

This is when Paul jumps about a meter high, figuratively speaking, and before he even thinks of it, the crucifix is fetched out, ready to be brandished.

Then, he proceeds to backing away, slowly and as quietly as possible.

Maybe whatever this thing is hasn't noticed him.

[eyrienprince]

Lucivar straightens, standing easily, eyes flattening a little. "Good evening," he says, smoothly, a little too quietly. The fear scraping at his nerves.

[only_paul]

Oh, fudge, as one would say in the fifties. Paul clears his throat.

"Good evening," he offers, as steadily as he can.

[fitzroyal]

Hiiii Paul. Speaking of vampires.

Henry doesn't look that vampiric, though, other than the pale; though that might be enough to make you nervous. In the dark, though - and we're assuming it is - that's not obvious. And his smile shows no fangs.

"Good evening," in his cultured, slightly accented voice. He's let himself slip back into the English accent, without the need to hide it.

[only_paul]

As a matter of fact, Paul had his back turned, and the English accent makes him hesitate, a moment.

"Hugh? Is that you?" He wheels around, half-way in his sentence. "Weren't you supposed to be in Buda -- "

Oh.

"My apologies, sir."

[fitzroyal]

Henry looks slightly amused. "No harm done, sir, an easy mistake, I think." He tilts his head, slightly. "And welcome, though it appears that may be the wrong word."

[only_paul]

Something in the way Henry moves makes Paul uncomfortable - he clutches his suitcase more tightly. "Is it?"

He's suddenly very uncomfortably wary.