My Dad Brought Me to Paris for Bad News
Iris Stone sat on a table for two. She looked around her right vision, and she realized she was in an elegantly-decorated restaurant. Sophisticated-looking people chatted with each other on their respective tables as waiters attended them in graceful manners. Figures of chefs flashed through a window of a door leading to the kitchen. When she turned her head to the left, the Eiffel Tower greeted her when she saw it through the glass walls.
But even before she scanned the whole area, she had noticed the man who shared the table with her.
The boy, who looked no older than eighteen, slouched against his seat as he sat cross-legged. He was dressed in a white polo with baggy pants and Iris also had a glimpse of his DC sneakers. He had blonde hair that was whiffed upwards and he had Ray-ban shades covering his eyes. One of his arms rested on the table and his fingers drummed about since he was listening to the music playing in his earphones. A playful smile was plastered on his face. Iris thought he was one of those older guys girls her age would give anything just to be their prom dates.
But she knew who the good-looking boy was, and he isn't that young. She didn't even think if prom existed when this guy was actually eighteen years old.
Even worse, she didn't like the feeling that her father looks no more than two years older than her. But she didn't argue. The chosen form of her godly father, Apollo, suits his exuberant attitude that matches that of a teenager's.
"All right there, Dad?" Iris greeted. Her British accent came out lazily. Her father was fond of disturbing people just for the mere fun of it and almost nothing serious was expected of him.
"Took you long enough, sweetheart!" Apollo exclaimed as he took off his earphones. He leaned forward and squeezed his arms between his thighs in excitement. Iris thought she was in front of a seven-year-old.
"I guess you're ready to talk to me after all that thinking about my age, yeah?"
He also had this talent of reading minds, which Iris wasn't thankful for. "Erm, yeah, I'm ready."
Apollo's lips tensed into a thin line and he removed his shades, revealing two bright eyes that seemed to change colors. He gave her a face opposite to the previous one, much to Iris' surprise, because the god rarely showed a serious expression.
"I'm gonna be quick with you," he took a deep breath.
"I'm gonna get kidnapped."
Iris knew what was going to happen if this was true, in which case she wanted to believe it wasn't. She insisted in her mind that this was one of the many corny and horrid jokes of her father.
But Apollo had beaten her to it. "No, Iris. This isn't a joke."
"And please, my jokes are not corny and horrid."
She wanted to laugh, but somehow she couldn't. Instead, she asserted her father with questions.
"Who's going to be behind it, then? When? Where? Why? If you're going to surprise me with this, Dad, be more specific. Aren't you the god of prophecy?"
Apollo held up his hands. "Easy, sweetie. Don't go surprising me with all those questions. I just came here for a quick croissant. I didn't order a speed test."
"Look, if this was going to be easy I wouldn't have to infiltrate your mind at this time just to talk to you. You know I hate effort..."
Iris gave him a look of disbelief, but he didn't seem to notice.
"This guy, whoever the nerve he is, is messing up my system. I know all. See all. Bit by bit, he's getting close to overpowering me. When he abducts me to finally suck everything that's left of my awesomeness, tell me, Iris, what happens to that big shiny ball?" Apollo pointed at the setting sun behind the Tower.
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