In His Name

Chapter 22 - Girls

The boy groans, allowing himself to be pulled along, "Why am I like this?" he whines dramatically, "Wait, Hayden," perking up, "you're like, my maker aren't you? tell me why I'm like this."

Hayden snorts a laugh and then quiets seeing the look on Rosco's face, "Uh," avoiding the boy's judgmental gaze as he maneuvers them out of the street and up against the side of a building, pressing Rosco's back against the cooling bricks, "No, it doesn't really-," he sighs. "I'm not."

"Really?" Rosco pouts, forced to look up due to the height difference, "Than I have Gia to blame for this." Dropping his eyes and raising a hand to his chin, already planning out his imagined confrontation.

Chuckling, Hayden shakes his head, "No, not her either."

Frowning, the boy counts off deities on his fingers, "If not you, or your sister, then who?" color draining from his face, "Oh gods I'm some sort of horrible mistake aren't I?!" Hands knotting in his hair, "That explains so much! I'm an abomination! A blight against natu-" end of the word muffled by Hayden pressing his palm over his mouth.

"Would you please stop demonizing yourself and allow me to explain?" The pair locks eyes, the god's irritation clear in the darkened shade of his gaze. Both silent for a moment before the boy's shoulders fall, nodding against Hayden's hand. Hayden slowly pulls his hand away, carefully like he expects the boy to start rambling again any second now. Biting his lips to keep himself quiet, Rosco waits patiently, wide eyed with anticipation.

"You," Hayden begins, "Are-" Eyebrows pulling together, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" comes the boy's instant response. He clamps his own hand over his mouth for forgetting he wasn't supposed to talk. With a breathy laugh, Hayden drops his head to rest on Rosco's shoulder. The boy tenses, every nerve in his body on fire, drowning in an unfamiliar kind of heat. His breath catching in his throat at the sensation of Hayden's breath splashing against his collar bone. Hayden is so easily close to him, so unafraid of contact, so quick to touch. Normally Rosco would shy away, but the god's confidence gives Rosco the comfort to relax into the simple embrace. Hayden takes his time there, thinking over something or trying to stifle his remaining laughter. So much time, Rosco gets a little lost in his own head, very nearly moving to wrap the god in his arms. Thankfully, Hayden finally lifts his head before that disaster takes place. His wide genuine smile almost as distracting as his closeness had been.

"You, Rosco," meeting the boy's eyes again, "are the product of my mother's handiwork." Tenderly removing Rosco's hand from his mouth, "While it's true humans are my creation, my mother crafted a few herself. You are the farthest thing from a mistake," Hayden keeping their fingers locked together as their hands fell to their sides, "In fact, only a handful of people in all of time, have ever been, or ever will be as intentional as you are." A shaky breath could be heard between them, but Rosco couldn't even begin to tell who'd taken it, "My mother very purposefully arranged all the strands of fate that lead to you, just as you are. Please don't question your design again."

"Ah," swallowing uneasily, "well, no pressure." Strange nervous sort of laugh falling from his lips.

Guffawing, Hayden moves to lean against the wall beside him, breaking their connection. "Here I was, reluctant to tell you because most people get a big head if you go around telling them they are destined, but not you," Shaking his head, "No, you feel pressured."

"Well," the boy shrugged, rubbing his arm, "It's kinda a lot to live up to."

"No, it isn't!" Hayden protests.

"Easy for you to say."

Hayden snorts another laugh, "Rosco, I'm a god. You can't even begin to imagine the kinds of expectations I face." Rolling his eyes, Rosco flicks his wrist, dismissing Hayden's statement as nonsense. "Though," Hayden ponders, rubbing his chin, "Maybe I should thank the spirits after all this is over," Glancing down at the boy, "The bar has been way lowered, I could do a half decent job and still far outshine them."

"Oh, wow," Rosco's tone steeped in sarcasm, pushing himself off the wall, "Way to be humble, mister god,"

Hayden smiles, playfully and full of his own over inflated ego, "who said gods are humble?"

Rosco nibbles at the meat pie he'd been given for dinner, listening to the others gossiping about the wealthy businessman currently staying at the inn. Mr. Rosewood would regularly shush the girls, reminding them not to speak ill of the customers and then covertly leaning in whenever they started up again.

"You don't say much do ya?" The girl he'd spoken to on the first day comments after catching him watching them.

"Me?" Rosco blinks, pointing to himself with his fork.

The two serving girls share a giggle and a look, "No, the other kid behind you, huddling in the corner." Rosco twists around, glancing at the wall behind him, sending the girls into a fit of giggles. "Come on over," the other girl orders, patting the bench beside her, "We don't bite. I'm Dana," pointing to herself, "And this is ," motioning to the girl he'd seen before.

"I was just surprised," Rosco defends with a pout, picking up his plate to wander over, "Most people say I talk too much. But I'm Rosco, by the way." Introducing himself. The two serving girls are obviously a bit older than him, but not by much. From their gossiping he'd gathered neither girl is married, though Dana had a fella she was after, with what sounded like a good deal of success. They were objectively pretty, Rosco imagined if Yewin was here he'd have felt the need to talk about them in ways that made Rosco uncomfortable. That was a large part of the reason Rosco avoided talking to girls, the other boys always wanted to make comments and jokes afterwards that made him instinctively grossed out and angry, but she'd told him to come over and he wasn't going to upset her. He sits where she'd told him, and the girls share another look Rosco can't read.

"Is that so, Rosco?" Dana mused, giggling some more, "You've hardly said a word every time you've been in here."

"Oh, well it's actually pretty fun just listening to y'all." he says genuinely. Something about the atmosphere of Mr. Rosewoods kitchen was just very nice.

Mr. Rosewood scoffed from his place by the stove, "Best watch yourself boy, those girls will fill your ears with a bundle of nonsense if you're not careful!"

"Oh, don't start," Elene protests, "You're no better than we are!" the two girls giggling over themselves while Mr. Rosewood put his hand to chest dramatically,

"Me? Never." Strengthening his neck, "You just ask my lovely wife about it," Sparkle lighting in his eyes just mentioning her, "I'm no gossip." The denial only making the girls laugh harder.

Finished with his dinner, Rosco climbs the latter up into the loft, his three bunk mates winding down but not yet asleep.

"Finally escape Dana's clutches, have you?" the valet chuckles. The man had a name, but everyone just called him 'Valet' and Rosco found that stuck better in his head than the man's name had. Rosco's nose wrinkled in response to the question, letting out the longest sigh of his life in leu of an answer, not willing to be rude but also not able to disagree. He had been stuck sitting at that table for what felt like hours, roped into conversations he could hardly follow and jokes that always seemed to be at his expense. Mr. Rosewood tried to save him numerous times but there was no winning against them. The end to his torment only came by way of work needing to be done, and even then, they'd been reluctant to let him go. The other men laughed at his response,

"Sorry lad," the porter, who's name Rosco couldn't remember for the life of him, apologized, "It was already far too late by the time I saw ya."

"Those girls are something else, that's for sure," the valet laughs with a shake of his head. Twisting his ring, Rosco waits for the crass jokes to start, already thinking of ways he might apologize to the girls later. Even if he would never take part, he still felt guilty for having sparked the conversation about to ensue.

"We were just about to put the light out," the other gentlemen, Greggory begins. Rosco only remembers his name because he's still trying to figure out what his actual job is. "But we can wait a bit longer if you need it?" Rosco looks up, eyes scanning over the other men going about their nighttime routines. Not one of them has a slimy smile or the wicked light in their eyes suggesting a rude joke in the works.

Rosco's shoulders relax, "No need to wait for me," he assures them, biting at his lip to keep the excessive brightness out of his voice, "I'm used to the dark, I'll be fine."