Fledged

Chapter Four: Thinking and Talking Far Too Much

            He’d mixed in a touch of cream and a lot of sugar, and the combined effort of the caffeine and sugar were waking him up at last.

            He set down his coffee—rather reluctantly, actually—to take in a forkful of eggs and bacon. They were seasoned almost to perfection, and the two tastes blended together on Max’s tongue. He relished the feeling. He’d learned a long time ago to appreciate whatever food he could come by. And that small gratefulness had never completely gone away, even after he’d a steady apprenticeship and the same bed to sleep in every night.

            Going hungry on the streets had taught him that thankfulness was a privilege, and he would participate in it whenever he could. His brother had taught that well.

            Max sat back after finishing his food and slowly downed the rest of his coffee, savoring every drop that landed on his tongue.

            Coffee is the drink of the gods. He thought languidly, and then wondered privately if that was sacrilegious.

            Deciding it probably was, he changed his thought process. Coffee would be the drink of the angels, if they had bodies.

            He nodded appreciatively to himself, pleased with his new phrase.

            Suddenly, a few words uttered by the hostess caught his attention.

            “Joining the Air Service, are you?”

            There was a quiet murmur of affirmation, and the woman then said, “You know, I could have sworn there was another young man who came in here last night, saying he was off to the Air Navy this morning as well! You wouldn’t happen to have any pals in the area, would you?”

            There was a brief mumble from across the room, and Max swept his green eyes around, looking for the source of the conversation.

            “Well, let’s just go see if we can find him. Maybe you two can become friends. Who knows, you could both even be assigned to the same ship! And wouldn’t that be funny, the pair of you having met first in my inn!”

            With that, the hostess—whom Maxwell had located by then—released a girlish giggle, and enthusiastically ushered a young man up from his table. He had interesting gray-blue eyes, curly chestnut hair, and a decidedly scrawny build. He looked a little shorter than Max, maybe five-ten, but he walked with a determined sort of swagger, as if he was confident in everything he did.

            Max pretended not to have heard the conversation, instead digging through his suitcase for nothing in particular.

            “Mr. Bouvier, was it?”

            Max looked up, feigning surprise. “Yes, ma’am? Have you come for last night’s payment? I was just looking for my wallet.”

            “Oh, no, no, no,” She let out that girlish giggle once more. “You gave me the money last night. Don’t you remember?” She gave him a sly wink.

            “Did I?” Max snapped his suitcase shut and set it back on the floor. “Ah, yes. I guess I forgot. I was far too distracted by your… unique beauty to remember, I suppose.”

            He thought he heard the fellow behind her let out a soft snort, but decided it must have been his imagination.

            The hostess pouted and quite deliberately puffed out her chest and twirled a plain brown lock of hair around her finger. “Now, don’t you try to butter me up, Mr. Bouvier. You know it just will not work on a clever woman like me.”

            “Never, madam, would I do such a thing as that.” He said in a solemn tone. “Now, you’ve not come for payment, what brings you into my humble presence?”

            “I bring a friend!” she said, gesturing excitedly at the man behind her. “He’s going to join the Navy today, too! Isn’t that a coincidence?”

            “Sure is.” Max stood, sizing the man up. Now that he was closer, Max could see a proud twinkle in his eye, and a cleverness lurking there, quietly, as if it was always used but rarely ever detected. He held out his hand for a shake. “Maxwell Bouvier, at your service.”

            “Emmet Pyne,” the man replied, and Max could have sworn he heard his voice crack a little. “Pleasure to meet you.”

            “Likewise.” Maxwell said, offering him a friendly quirk of a smile. He gave the man’s hand a firm shake, and was a less than surprised when his squeeze wasn’t firm at all.

            The hostess giggled with joy, and then cried, “I’ll just leave you two to get sociable, then!” and bustled off to clean pots or wipe tables or flirt with costumers. Business as usual, Max figured.

            Maxwell gestured at the table, and the second chair that accompanied his own. “Won’t you sit down?”

            The man looked a little uncomfortable, but pulled the chair out and sat himself down anyway.

            A little shy. Max observed. Wonder what he’s so nervous about. Does he think he won’t get accepted, either?

            Without voicing his wonderings, Max asked, “So why did you decide to join the Air Navy?”

            Emmet cleared his throat, “Well, just to see the world, really. Get a few tales of adventure under my belt before settling down, I guess.”

            Max nodded appreciatively. “That sounds perfect. Wish that’s what I was joining for.” He let out a laugh.

            To his disappointment, Emmet didn’t join in. He just shifted in his chair, seeming discontent.

            Both Max and Emmet cleared their throats at the same time.

            “So…what are you joining for, then?” Emmet asked finally. “Just to fight? Are you one of the lads who’s just itching for war?”

            “No, nothing like that.” Max shook his head, scratching the nape of his neck. Emmet’s eyes flicked towards the movement, and then just as quickly moved away.

            “I figure the Navy’s a good way to keep the same bed every night and have steady meals. I’m looking for a bit of…reliability, you could say.”

            “Oh.” Emmet nodded slowly. “Have you had a very bouncy time lately?”

            “Just all of my life.” Maxwell said with a chuckle. “But it’s all right. I’ve learned a lot. And it’s served me well. I’m hoping to be an engineer in the Navy.”

            “Good with machinery, huh?”

            “I can fix or build pretty much anything, given the right parts, tools, and enough time.”

            “Lots of people can say that.”

            “Maybe. But it’s actually true for me.”

            Emmet shrugged noncommittally, deciding not to argue, Max guessed. But that was all right with him. The less conflict they had between them, the better. Maxwell only fought if he had to.

            “So what about you?” Max asked, trying to resurrect the conversation. “What are you hoping to do in the Navy? Job-wise, I mean.”

            “To tell you the truth, I hadn’t really thought that much about it.” Emmet admitted. “I know a lot about aeronautics and the workings of airships, but…come to think of it, I’m not really…an expert at anything.”

            Max nodded slowly, trying to think of another avenue of conversation to take them down. With a sudden burst of thought, he found it. “Do you believe in destiny?”