Bane

February 1, 1964

The Order called it a Safe House. Those in The Order knew it colloquially as a Purgatorium. Purgatorium was a clever witticism adopted from the sharp tongue of a now long dead hunter whose keen observation brought a much needed humor, however grim the humor may be.

Purgatorium was in reality a place where wards under the "protective custody" of The Order often awaited judgment, unwitting to their possible plight.

There were no photos on the walls, no television in their den. The furniture was plain, and cheap. It was cheaper than what the safe house had when they moved in.

Nida followed after Clayton, commenting on his expression, and guessing the correct nature of it's cause. "We are not people of very many material needs. For this, we may enjoy a simple life unhindered by the "joys" of your Western culture."

"Well, you're now part of our "Western culture", as you put it. We're going to have to get you a housewarming gift."

"No need, Clayton. Our house is warm enough."

Clayton glanced over his shoulder at Nida as they walked toward the dining room.

She was smirking at him.

"Clayton Walker." Amir bowed his head once as Clayton entered the dining room. "We are honored to have you as our guest."

"Emily, and I are pleased to be here. How are you enjoying your home?"

Amir shrugged. "It has walls, windows and a door. It will suffice."

Clayton and Emily exchanged looks. Emily took point in the diplomacy. "Well, we hope it suits you well. We hope you'll find it comfortable during your pregnancy... and know that Clayton and I are happy to help you with whatever you may need."

"That is very accommodating." Amir stood at his seat and gestured for Clayton and Emily to take their seats. They exchanged another look, and Emily shrugged. Clayton waited for her to sit, and then took the seat next to her.

It was not the kind of comfortable he was accustomed, but he could pretend.

✟ ☧ ✟

"...and then I fell over, again." Nida was laughing, eyes squeezed tight shut as she finished her tale.

Clayton and Emily were smiling politely, but did not understand the humor in the tale. Clayton cleared his throat. "So, that's where from the term whirling dervish comes?"

Nida nodded emphatically, and snorted trying to restrain her laughter. Amir conversely, was not amused. He sat over his empty plate, hands folded over his paunch of a stomach.

"They are being polite, Nida. They do not understand your humor in this. Look at them, their mulabis fakhira. They may look underwhelming to the dull eye, but one foot of that fabric would cost our entire wardrobe. Many times over, I am sure."

"Amir, killjoy!" Nida's fierce piercing gaze burned into Amir. Amir glared back, but Nida did not back down. "I would think you were drunken but that we do not consume alcohol! You are acting jahil! These are our guests!"

"I am tired, Nida. They have stayed longer than anticipated, watajawazat ziaratuhum!"

Clayton coughed, interrupting the making of an argument. "You understand that I can understand you, right? All you have to do is say something, Amir."

"Have I not said enough for you to understand? I am tired, it is a long day already. I want to be sleeping."

"Amir!"