Crash Landing

2: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

TWO: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

"Ask the young. They know everything."
― Joseph Joubert

✦

        CHAR HAS GIVEN ORDERS via computer coding. This was what she always did.  

                        SEC ; ALERT 
                        STV # 38 ; SBUFF ADR - 3A
                        INY
                        STA ; IF ADR OF NEXT TAB
                        PHA ; WHICH GOES INTO 
                        TXA ; LINK P93

      </G> I NEED THEM BY MONDAY NIGHT. YOU HAVE LESS THAN SEVENTY TWO HOURS.
</B> - CHAR                    

        They are simple orders, at least at first glance. Aaron looks outside at the window and watches the rain hit the window pane with sheer force. He knows better. 

✦

        The lights flickered as she walked past each corridor. She didn't consider it to be strange. Although, she did make a mental note to remind any of the servants that were bustling about. Right now, though, she had to get to the one place she didn't want to be. Turning around to glance at Link, she told him to wait where he was as she walked in to his room.

        Her uncle smelled like sex, cigarettes, and cheap beer. He always smelled like that. His room was the only room in the house that the servants were not allowed to venture through, which to her made some sense to some extent. What didn't make sense were the dirty clothes were strewn across the gray carpeted floor and furniture. Ironically, only the bed was spotless. In the middle of the glory that was his room, he sat there, his feet propped up on the big recliner chair that Falice used to jump on when she was younger. He was watching Falice with a curious eye. Falice stood in front of him, her head held high and glanced at him the same way. 

        "I'm surprised that we didn't have to get Link to drag you in here, cariño," he said, drawing out each syllable in a surly tone. Falice winced a little at the last word. She refused to warm up to his term of endearment. 

        She raised a hesitant eyebrow and forced a polite smile on her face. "And what, dear tito, is that supposed to be referring to?"

        "I think you know."

        She shrugged. Falice took note of the cigarette dangling from the tips of his fingers. She attempted to drown out her uncle's mutters about money as she watched the ashes begin to fall to the floor. 

        "Is there a point to this conversation?" Falice asked not amused. "Or was I called here to entertain you for ten minutes?"

        "Can't a man just try to catch up with her niece?" he rasped, and grinned, revealing tainted teeth. Falice looked away when she noticed bits of food in it.  

        She remained emotionless and glued her eyes to him. Not because she wanted to look into his eyes (she didn't want to find out that they were similar to her own in any way) but because if she looked down and saw that, indeed, her feet were touching his underwear, her brunch would end up on the floor.

        "No," she insisted. She knew her uncle. He was always one step ahead of everybody else. Always planning ahead. He didn't truly want Falice here. He wanted her to do something for him.  

        Instantly his faux and polite demeanor vanished, and replacing it was something she thought would have went away with rehab. He didn't go. Her uncle was grinning wider now, and it was minuscule the similarities between the two. She understood now the occasional conspiracy theory that she was most likely adopted.