He let the little booklet turn over and over and over again in his fingers. The man across from him in the round-backed, tastefully expensive, comfortably yet completely understated chair said absolutely nothing while he did so. To him the sound of his skin against the dark navy blue cover of said booklet carried louder than anything. The fact that he picked it up and turned it over in his hands itself, a tell that he wouldn't show anyone else.
He was considering it, you see.
Markus watched the gold leaf pressed on the passports cover shaped into an eagle with wings wide, circle of stars above its head and symbols grasped in claws. Every time Julian turned it over on the beast of his desk in his office, the United States of America caught the light and winked. Almost mockingly. Finally, Julian set it flat on the desktop and put both of his hands on either side of it.
"And you are sure they have done everything as I have asked?" Julian asked for what Markus thinks is the fiftieth time. Had Markus still been a younger man, this might have annoyed him. But he wasn't and, he'd had many years to adjust to Julian's oddities.
"Absolutely sure, sir. Your belongings are so well guarded the guards don't know what they're guarding, other than they're to guard it. If you'll open the passport, you'll also note that things have been arranged there, as well.
"All your paperwork is in order, all the way back to the sparkle you were in your great, great, great, great, great, great, great grand daddy's eye. After a few months of careful snooping?"
Julian made a sound in his throat. He greatly disliked that word, snooping.
?" data gathering and observation," Markus continued dryly. A small depression that might lead to a dimple appeared in Julian's right cheek. "We've discovered that no one there's ever even heard of you. In fact, you'll pretty much be the only one there who knows who you were."
Julian's almost smile died into the often too serious mien Markus was more familiar with. Smiles were rare with Julian. His mind was forever scattered toward his people, his business, and the intricate schemes of the business world Markus believed his employer was deep within. So his client wanted to up and move everything to a place he'd never heard of. So long as he kept paying him and continued to be the good person Markus was sure he was, all was well.
Julian worked his jaw momentarily. He could see the muscle jump, creating a shadow along the side of his face that flickered in and out as Julian clenched his teeth. Markus waited patiently for his boss to fill the silence again at his own pace.
"I am sorry, Markus," he said softly.
"What' ?" Startled, Markus sat up straight in his chair and directed a hard look toward Julian, whose two-toned eyes flashed like dark cloaks turning darker corners.
***
Markus shut the oaken door to Julian's study quietly after apologizing profusely for his misstep. Had no idea what made him do that' Charge in Julian's office and tell him he had something important to say, and not remember a god damned word? Jesus. He was getting old. He reached up to scratch at a mop full of silvering hair, nodding to one of Julian's bodyguards. One of the twins that followed the man everywhere they went.
They watched the old man, puzzlement clearly written on his face; shake his head to himself all the way toward the end of the hallway.
***
Julian couldn't bring himself to do anymore than that. After long moments of further wrestling with himself over what he had allowed himself to do' he looked down at the passport finally and flipped it open.
The image of him stared coolly back. But the name was half-new. Julian Marx the passport said.
"So be it," quietly said into the nothing of his office. Soon to be left behind, too, like Markus. Like everything. Like it always was.
"I will be Julian Marx," with as much of an air of finality as there was to his closing of the passport, tucking it into his suit and standing from the chair.
Today, San Francisco. Tomorrow, Rhy'din.
He was considering it, you see.
Markus watched the gold leaf pressed on the passports cover shaped into an eagle with wings wide, circle of stars above its head and symbols grasped in claws. Every time Julian turned it over on the beast of his desk in his office, the United States of America caught the light and winked. Almost mockingly. Finally, Julian set it flat on the desktop and put both of his hands on either side of it.
"And you are sure they have done everything as I have asked?" Julian asked for what Markus thinks is the fiftieth time. Had Markus still been a younger man, this might have annoyed him. But he wasn't and, he'd had many years to adjust to Julian's oddities.
"Absolutely sure, sir. Your belongings are so well guarded the guards don't know what they're guarding, other than they're to guard it. If you'll open the passport, you'll also note that things have been arranged there, as well.
"All your paperwork is in order, all the way back to the sparkle you were in your great, great, great, great, great, great, great grand daddy's eye. After a few months of careful snooping?"
Julian made a sound in his throat. He greatly disliked that word, snooping.
?" data gathering and observation," Markus continued dryly. A small depression that might lead to a dimple appeared in Julian's right cheek. "We've discovered that no one there's ever even heard of you. In fact, you'll pretty much be the only one there who knows who you were."
Julian's almost smile died into the often too serious mien Markus was more familiar with. Smiles were rare with Julian. His mind was forever scattered toward his people, his business, and the intricate schemes of the business world Markus believed his employer was deep within. So his client wanted to up and move everything to a place he'd never heard of. So long as he kept paying him and continued to be the good person Markus was sure he was, all was well.
Julian worked his jaw momentarily. He could see the muscle jump, creating a shadow along the side of his face that flickered in and out as Julian clenched his teeth. Markus waited patiently for his boss to fill the silence again at his own pace.
"I am sorry, Markus," he said softly.
"What' ?" Startled, Markus sat up straight in his chair and directed a hard look toward Julian, whose two-toned eyes flashed like dark cloaks turning darker corners.
***
Markus shut the oaken door to Julian's study quietly after apologizing profusely for his misstep. Had no idea what made him do that' Charge in Julian's office and tell him he had something important to say, and not remember a god damned word? Jesus. He was getting old. He reached up to scratch at a mop full of silvering hair, nodding to one of Julian's bodyguards. One of the twins that followed the man everywhere they went.
They watched the old man, puzzlement clearly written on his face; shake his head to himself all the way toward the end of the hallway.
***
Julian couldn't bring himself to do anymore than that. After long moments of further wrestling with himself over what he had allowed himself to do' he looked down at the passport finally and flipped it open.
The image of him stared coolly back. But the name was half-new. Julian Marx the passport said.
"So be it," quietly said into the nothing of his office. Soon to be left behind, too, like Markus. Like everything. Like it always was.
"I will be Julian Marx," with as much of an air of finality as there was to his closing of the passport, tucking it into his suit and standing from the chair.
Today, San Francisco. Tomorrow, Rhy'din.