“It’s impolite not to look someone in the eye when apologizing. Didn’t your parents ever teach you that—off worlder?” The man said leaning into his doorway as he smoked.
“Are you the devil?” Christine asked looking up. She covered her mouth almost immediately after having realized she’d thought aloud. He choked on the smoke he’d inhaled and coughed grasping at his knees.
Christine panicked and ran for the pitcher of water by the vanity back in her room and raced it back to him. He took it from her and drank some water and kept coughing so he drank some more until he regained some composure and looked up at Christine laughing.
“Is this your idea of making friends off-worlder?” He said flashing a crooked smile before drinking some more water. “That’s better off—worlder.” He handed the pitcher back to Christine and nodded as though to say thank you. “I am Allain, musician, songwriter, poet, and moreover the nightly entertainment here in Maya’s Domain.” He put out his hand palm up as though waiting for something. Christine was so mesmerized by his enchanting voice that was in complete contrast with the rest of his being. “This is the part where you tell me your name and list your talents dear.” He added picking her hand up from her side and waiting patiently.
“I’m Christine...” She said as Allain lowered his head towards her hand that sit on his gently. “I’m the child of the prophecy.” She said as he smiled before kissing her hand. “Very nice to meet you.” She said feeling the reverb of his sweet soft kiss on her hand find its way to her knees quickly as she tried not to let go of the pitcher she held in the other one.
“I assure you the pleasure is all mine.” Said Allain looking down at her with what could only be described as a devilish grin given his demonic appearance. His tail swung over and took the pitcher from Christine placing it inside his room on what must have been a trunk or chest. “I’m sure the help will sort out where everything belongs later on. Have you had breakfast yet?” He asked her with his hand extended towards a desk by an open balcony with what appeared to be jam spreads, buns, and cups. As she peeked into the rest of the room her eyes were filled with the vast collection of musical instruments which lined the walls and most of the floor. There was a small single cot in the corner where he must have slept. It was the dream room of every musician with everything a musician would need to be happy. “The morning brew won’t kill you and the milk is fresh I’m almost certain of it.” He coaxed.
Christine followed Allain inside his room admiring his vast collection of instruments which included: guitars, violins, harps, mandolins, and many string instruments she did not recognize. There were twenty different sizes of flutes she could count quickly as she walked over to the desk with him. He took the chair at the desk and pulled it out for her to sit on before dusting off a stool for himself. He poured the brew into a cup and handed it to her.
“Oh, it’s coffee.” Christine said recognizing the smell as she held the cup up to her nose.
“I beg your pardon?” Allain asked somewhat confused.
“This is coffee.” She reiterated. “We have something like this where I come from and we call it coffee.”
“Fascinating.” He stated pushing two small containers towards her rather unimpressed. “Help yourself to milk and sweet sap if you like.” He offered while sipping his black. He pushed the buns for her to choose one first and then took one for himself and spread a dark black jam on his and bit into it revealing his long fang like teeth which didn’t bother Christine as much as they did in the beginning. “One thing to be said about Pixies is that they are quite good in the kitchen—wouldn’t you agree?”
“Do they do all the cooking?” She asked dipping her bun into the brew before biting into it.