Allhan glanced over his shoulder in surprise and took out one of his earbuds. “Nothing of value yet.”
V lowered his voice. “You eat tonight, son?”
As a blank look softened those dark brows, V was pretty sure it was a “no.” Besides, that long, lean face was longer and leaner, and paler, too.
“I think so?”
Crooking his finger, V shook his head. “Come with me.”
Allhan glanced with panic at his screens. “But I haven’t found George. Or Gheorge. Or Georghe. Or Georghes—”
“Now.”
Like he’d been called to attention in a military school, Allhan ditched the keyboard and scrambled to his feet, his gray SUNYCaldwell t-shirt waving like a flag from his bony shoulders, his loose jeans flapping around his stickpin legs. His shoes were black Crocs that had more scuffs on them than a dance floor, and his socks were mismatched. Dark green and light blue.
“Yes, sir.” The kid took his other earbud out and started forward with an earnestness that was heartbreaking. “What did I do?”
Vishous took a drag on his hand-rolled and wished he’d never met the young male. “Nothing. You’re good. I just want you to come with me.”
One of the two stairwells down to the lower level was next to the back side of V’s office, and as he opened things and stood aside, Allhan jangled by him and hit the steps like his arms and legs were only loosely attached to his torso. As V followed, he had no fucking clue how he’d gone from a hard-ass Dom to a… dad.
Was that what he was, though? Except goddamn it, what else would someone call it. He was constantly worried about whether some pretrans had put a fork in their mouth. Whether Allhan had slept. If he was feeling okay, was he sick, did he need more clothes, or less time in front of those monitors…
Oh, and that was just the little shit. The big one was stark terror over a biological process that was as unstoppable and untreatable as time itself.
Or death, for that matter.
FFS, whether Allhan made it through the transition was totally out of V’s control—and he knew this terrible reality was keeping Jane up during the day, too.
As Allhan bottomed out in the break area, the kid seemed lost, like he’d never seen the tables and the buffet line before.
“I’ll go with you,” V said.
Walking around the kid, he went over to the food that was on offer. Tonight it was pizza, sandwiches, salad—
“Good evening, sires,” thedoggencook said as he came out from the kitchen. “How may I serve you? Any special requests?”
“I think we’re going to see what appeals,” V replied. “Thanks.”
As the cook waited patiently, Allhan wandered by the platters that were under the warmers. Official lunch break time for the B team was coming up in about eight minutes, so everything was fresh and fully stocked—but it was like the kid was looking at roadkill.
“Do you happen to have any white rice and gingerroot?” V said softly to the cook.
Thedoggenbowed low. “Yes, sire. Right away.”
“Yo, Al, let’s sit down over here.” V pointed to one of the tables that was away from the others. “They’re going to bring you something.”
“Yes, sir.”
The kid went right away and sat down, facing the wall. Putting his hands together, he placed them in his lap, and lowered his head like he was in some kind of church.
As V sat down across the way, he scrambled his brain for what the hell to say. Sixteen fucking languages, and he had no clue how to make small talk.
No interest, except when he was around Allhan.
As the silence between them stretched out, he pinched his hand-rolled out and reflected on how he’d always had some latent masochistic tendencies. Maybe that explained why he was putting himself in this position with the kid.
“Don’t stress if you can’t find that name,” he said.
