Sorrel seemed thoughtful now. “Maybe we should just both not apologize for stuff like that, then, because it sounds like we might keep apologizing to each other.”
“Keep?” Was he planning to have this be a long conversation, or a recurring one? I wasn’t aware that we had plans to see each other again.
“Well, you’re new to town, you seem to be a good sort of person, helping kids like that, and we understand each other on that issue a bit, so…yeah, I figure we could be friends.” He gave me a smile, but there was a hint of nervousness to it, like he wasn’t sure if he was going too far.
I poured my own cup of tea, taking a moment to respond. “I don’t usually make connections very easily.”
“So consider me one.” His dark blue eyes were tentative, but open. “I may not be the best company ever, but I can offer access to fairy gardens and animals, if you’re into those.”
I considered for a moment, and then nodded. My earlier assessment of Sorrel Woodson still rang true to me – he wasn’t someone who I thought would be a problem, he seemed like a nice enough person himself, and he did understand somewhat about not being able to express his emotions properly and struggling with getting along with people as a result. As a potential friend went, he actually seemed quite ideal. “All right, I’ll accept you as a friend.”
He seemed pleased and somewhat relieved, offering me his phone number and entering mine into his own phone so that we could keep in contact with each other. He couldn’t stay much later that night, but he promised to arrange a time for us to grab lunch or something soon so we could talk.
After he left, I drank the rest of the tea thoughtfully. I was glad, frankly, that I had met him and he’d wanted to be friends, even if my face would never reflect that happiness. Throughout my entire life, I had struggled to make friends, even casual ones. People thought I was bored, uninterested, sociopathic, even. They couldn’t see my own frustration at how I couldn’t express myself. I’d even tried telling people verbally when I was happy, sad, etc., but they couldn’t see it reflected in my face and always were doubtful about whether I was being honest.
Eventually I’d kind of given up on ever being really understood and just chose a career that worked with my natural inabilities. And natural abilities. As it turned out, becoming an undercover agent/spy had meshed extremely well with my inherent ordinariness and my inexpressive nature. Sure, there were some things I could never be assigned to do – anything that involved making an actual connection with a mark, for example – but I kind of saw that as a plus since I was never put in more compromising situations or had to engage in more ethically gray activities – things where I would intentionally earn someone’s trust just to use them, for example. I was never assigned those types of jobs because interpersonal connections were simply not possible to me.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want connections, though. I did, I just didn’t know how to achieve them. I thought about trying online, but of course after I started my job, anything like that was off the table. I couldn’t even make friends with coworkers, though, due to the nature of my job, and eventually I decided that despite the lucrative salary and my natural talent in my chosen career, it was time to retire.
I hadn’t fully decided what I wanted to do now, though. Obviously something that didn’t depend on interpersonal relationships unless being unemotional was part of the job description. Bouncer, maybe, or bodyguard? I could do those, I had the skills for it, but…neither of those seemed appealing to me. I wasn’t worried about it, though. I had enough money to live comfortable for probably at least a decade without working if I wanted, as long as I was reasonably careful with my money. I could take some time to learn hobbies, try to gain some skills not related to espionage, and then see if I could find a new career I did want to do.
Bottom line, though, was that I was glad I had met the fairy and he was interested in being friends. I hadn’t even been here that long yet, and while the responsibility for offering friendship was squarely on his shoulders, at the end of the day, I still had a new friend that might actually understand me a bit, which was more than I could say for most of the people I’d claimed as friends over the years.
With the excitement of maybe having a real friend for a change, I went to bed a while later still eager with anticipation for the following day and our next encounter.
~~~~~
True to his word, Sorrel texted me the next morning.
Sorrel: Good morning, it’s Sorrel. It looks like I’m not going to be free for lunch today, my first surgery went long and I think we’ll be playing catch up all day.
I felt disappointed, but also kind of happy he was taking time to text me despite being busy.
Me: That is fine. Perhaps another day would work.
I mentally frowned at my phone as if it was its fault I sounded robotic, even in text form. You’d think I could communicate better than in-person, maybe, since people wouldn’t be relying on my facial cues and body language, but no, I still sounded…emotionless.
Sorrel: I don’t have surgeries tomorrow morning so I should be free for lunch then. There’s several places near my clinic we could go to – depends on what you like to eat.
Oh good, he didn’t seem bothered. I mean, I had told him I had trouble expressing myself, and he seemed to get it, so maybe he was fine with it?
Me: Tomorrow is fine.
Then, after a pause, Me: I don’t have any particular schedule right now so I am fairly open as to availability.
Sorrel: Great, tomorrow it is, then. I’m afraid I have to run now, got to do some dental work on a dog. I hope your day is more fun than breathing dog breath up close.
I tilted my head to one side, thinking. I hadn’t realized vets would also be animal dentists, but in retrospect, that made sense.
As I started to make breakfast, I wondered if there was some way to cheer him up. He didn’t sound sad, exactly, just busy and not excited about dog breath, which probably was normal, but…maybe he would still like a good distraction? Well, not distraction, exactly, just something nice. Which I was not an expert in doing, but since he had offered to be my friend, I really wanted to try to put in the effort here to make sure he didn’t regret this and to make sure that I was being a good friend, even if I couldn’t show how happy I was about this.
I pondered over what could make a fairy vet happy while I took my daily jog, pausing in the park when I got an unexpected answer. It was still pretty cold yet, so I was a little surprised to see a bee at all, but there was one, curled up in a flower, sleeping.
Flowers + bees = fairy stuff, I was pretty sure. I had known a couple fairies, this seemed right up their alley. Hopefully Sorrel was stereotypical about this.
I took a few pictures, then settled on one I liked and, after a long moment of second-guessing myself, sent him the picture without a caption. I didn’t even know what to say other than describing it, and he could see what it was for himself.
His response a few minutes later, after I had returned to my jog, was not what I expected.
Sorrel: Please put up tiny “do not disturb” signs so no one wakes it.
Me: What sign store sells tiny “do not disturb” signs?
Sorrel: I doubt one does, I think you’ll have to make one yourself.
Me: I’m afraid I’m not qualified for such an endeavor. My crafting experience ended in the third grade.
After a pause, Sorrel: Overruled. This only involves writing three words on a tiny object and taping it to something that can stick into the ground. A third grader could definitely do that.
Me: I see. Unrelated, do you know any third graders? I need help with something.
Sorrel: I do, actually, but meeting them would involve meeting the entire family, which is loud enough to wake up a city block without even trying. I’m afraid they can’t be trusted to be near the bee.
Me: Who said anything about them being near the bee?
Me: By the way, the bee already woke up and flew off.
Sorrel: Oh, well…I guess you’re excused from sign-making, then.
Me: Your graciousness is appreciated.
Sorrel responded with a laughing emoji, and I found myself pleased with our interaction. I had a sense of humor, but I rarely got the opportunity to express it – people never seemed to realize I was joking and I always ended up feeling awkward when the joke went flat. It was nice that Sorrel wasn’t like that.
At least not having in-person contact at the moment helped with this kind of thing. Maybe it was good we hadn’t meet today, after all, because it gave us both a chance to get to know each other better without having to wade through the complication that was my inability to ever look happy, teasing, or, well, anything. Anything other than nothing at all.
It was frustrating, not being able to express myself and not having people understand me. Even these few minutes talking to Sorrel about silly stuff had been more of a real conversation than I’d had in ages. It felt nice, and left me hopeful that maybe this friendship with Sorrel really would work out.
I carried that confidence through that evening, when Sorrel started texting me asking about what kind of food I liked so he could narrow down our lunch options, and even through the following morning, but when it was time to actually meet him for lunch, I found uncertainly creeping in. Nervousness I hadn’t expected, because I was worried that this lunch would go exactly as my interactions had gone for years – frustration from me, that I couldn’t express myself, and confusion and frustration from Sorrel, for really the same thing. It was almost inevitable he would get confused about my lack of response but…he’d seemed to understand, so it was worth a shot, right?
Even my attempts at optimism couldn’t keep my nerves at bay, though at least I could thank my eternally blank face for hiding those nerves from Sorrel when he spotted me in front of the restaurant and hurried in my direction.
“Hey! Glad you came.”
I blinked at him, surprised, though my face and voice remained neutral. “I said I would.”
“Right, of course.” He held the door open for me and then led the way to a back room. “This place is run by supernaturals, but this back room in here is usually reserved for supernaturals specifically, so no humans – other than protected ones – which means we can talk more freely. He sat down on the opposite side from me at a corner table in front of the window. “I can pretty much recommend anything on the menu except the seafood, I’m not a fan of seafood.”
I made a mental note and tucked that away. Every bit of information I encountered on anyone, I sort of filed away just in case it was useful later. Especially when I was trying to befriend someone, information was valuable.
“Fairies are vegetarian, right?”
He nodded, apparently a little surprised at my knowledge. “We are, but that doesn’t need to affect your dining choices.”
He was right, it didn’t need to, but it felt rude to eat meat in front of him if it would bother him, and I was pretty sure it would. I remembered watching a colleague eat a steak in front of another colleague, a fairy, and my fairy colleague had turned positively green and had to leave the table – much to the first colleague’s amusement. I didn’t see the point in mocking people’s food choices or making them uncomfortable intentionally.
I nodded, but still focused on the meatless options on the menu, eventually selecting some fettuccini and a salad before our menus were taken away and it was time for the hard part.
Talking.
“So,” Sorrel folded his hands on the table and looked at me with interest, “I’ve told you I’m a vet, but what do you do? You said your schedule is pretty open.”
“Nothing, at the moment. I’m not employed.” Seeing his curious expression, I worked to try to make myself continue. My background was nothing to be ashamed of or to hide, and especially with someone like him who would be familiar with the need for discretion, there didn’t seem to be a reason not to tell him. “I used to work in espionage. For the government. It’s not work that can be done forever, it’s physically and emotionally draining, so eventually I decided to retire. I haven’t decided on a second career yet.”
He blinked, clearly taken aback by this. “You – you were a spy?”
I took a quick sip of water before answering calmly. “Yes. Undercover, spy – that’s the simple version.”
“Wow. Did not expect that, although I suppose now the way you handled those hyenas makes more sense – you really did know what you were doing.” He leaned back in his chair, looking impressed.
“We are trained in combat, in assessing enemies quickly, and in using any resources available to us, including magical ones,” I agreed. “I had not dealt with hyenas specifically before, but once you know how to assess an enemy, the finer point of them being human or animals is not always vitally important.” Check for weak spots, like joints, eyes, etc. Check for potential danger zones, like heavy jaws, sharp teeth, horns, or claws – well, for supernaturals. Counter accordingly, playing to your strength and their weaknesses.
“Does that have something to do with why you just knew I was vegetarian?” He seemed genuinely intrigued, unbothered by my calm, matter-of-fact tone as if we were just discussing the weather.
I felt myself more grateful for meeting him, wishing that my face could display even a fraction of the happiness I was feeling, but it was still permanently stuck on neutral.
“It’s always best to know anything about a potential opponent, so I studied all species of supernaturals extensively in training. Understanding things like fairies being vegetarian may not seem particularly useful, but it can actually be used against a potential mark – for instance, you could arrange to have a particular dinner served to either make the fairy unhappy with someone or to draw them in closer, make them feel at ease, all based on what was served at a dinner. It’s not an exact science, but even knowing small details like that can be helpful. Plus,” I added almost as an afterthought, “I did have some fairy colleagues, so some of my fairy information is a little more personal.” Well, as personal as it got to politely nod at them and listen to them talk over lunch but rarely exchange more than polite pleasantries myself.
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