(LIBERNA)
Damian wasn’t sure if it was lucky or unlucky that the strange, threatening man knew Spanish. Damian had stopped speaking it when he was young and his mother disappeared and only started speaking it again a few years ago when he and Desmond met their half-brothers Diego and Damario. His ability to hold a conversation with a non-native in a... possibly deadly situation was not one he had a whole lot of confidence in. “Uhhhh.... Si?”
The man started speaking a steady string of words, mostly in Spanish, though some in that strange other language. Damian struggled to keep up but got the general gist of “who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing here?” Two exceedingly tricky questions. Damian was currently dressed as the Claw. This guy didn’t seem to know who that was. So he could say his name, but with his hood down and half his face revealed already he still didn’t want to make himself any more vulnerable by giving away his name. And he didn’t even know where he was let alone why the Claws dropped him in this place.
And the man’s eyes were narrowing.
“Fuck.” was Damian’s answer as he moved just slightly and pain radiated in his shoulder.
The man looked at his bleeding wound, one thin, red eyebrow quirked up as if he was seeing it for the first time. He suddenly reached out and grabbed Damian’s shoulder. When Damian, understandably, screamed, the man slapped a hand over his mouth, “silencio.” He yanked open Damian’s jacket and pulled aside his sleeveless undershirt to look at the bullet wound in his shoulder. Through the fresh wave of pain at being manhandled, Damian heard the man say, “te ayudare.” Annoyingly, the man seemed more comfortable speaking Spanish than Damian was. At least Damian’s accent was better... hopefully.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The man stood up, bed creaking as his weight was removed, “no te muevas.”
Between the pain in his shoulder and in his throat from being stepped on, Damian was more than happy to not move.
The man left the room, door opening and shutting. Damian knew he should just cut a new portal and go to Piper, where he should have gone in the first place. But the Claws had never made a mistake before and he was quite curious about the identity of that man that looked like a younger Desmond. So Damian laid back and waited for the red-headed man to return, while trying to formulate some actual sentences in Spanish in his head.
*
All of them had been in the Lore home only once or twice before but where Page and Wren saw a maze of similar halls of opulent artwork, Dexter saw a clear path to Jardin’s bedroom. So the smaller man led his two friends through the twisting halls, a rare serious expression on his face. There was someone outside of Jardin’s door and Dexter slowed down, allowing Page and Wren to catch up.
There was a Guardian, Lynx rank, pacing and nervously wringing his hands. He was sweaty and scrawny with glasses and thick, shoulder length black hair. When he saw the three of them approaching he froze, then straightened up and demanded with a slight tremble in his voice, “who are you?”
Dexter showed his badge, knowing Wren and Page were likely showing theirs behind him, “we’re friends... squadmates of Jardin... Cat Lore.”
“That doesn’t mean-!” he squeaked out, only to get interrupted by a voice down the hall.
“Let them through, Midi... I’d like to talk to them anyway.”