Waters of Oblivion

Chapter 9.2: The Breakfast

After Reine pulled on her last remaining set of clean clothes, they walked downstairs to the dining room together. Several of the mansion's residents were already seated for breakfast.

"You've met Kenzi Sato and Morgan Pendle," Max confirmed, pointing to the two young women sitting next to each other on the near end of the table. "They're our resident social workers, if you will. Whether you need a shoulder to cry on or someone to help you get some perspective, they're your girls."

They exchanged quick smiles before he continued, "That's Mikey Vega, our tech wiz."    

The boy sitting across from them was sporting dreadlocks, but Reine had been mistaken about the covering on his face. What she thought was a mask last night turned out to be a port-wine stain birthmark shading the left side of his whole head.

"What's up," Mikey mumbled, too distracted by whatever he was doing on his smartphone to really pay attention.

"Hey," she replied in a similarly curt manner.

Not wasting time, Max continued the introductions. Walking past the two girls, he stopped behind the next chair. "This is Dodger. He's not good for much, but he sure as hell is entertaining."

Dodger was the same man Morgan pointed out the night before as being dressed in a Venetian Carnevale costume. His clothing this morning also didn't disappoint. Reine recognized the fur-lined, red velvet cloak of the Gonfaloniere of Justice, the standard bearer in Florence's government during the Renaissance. However, the heavy apparel looked oddly out of place on Dodger's short, thin frame. The colors also clashed with his tanned, leathery skin and slicked-back, hay toned hair.

He rose from his seat and took her hand in his. "Benvenuta, Signora. Come sta?" He greeted her formally in her native tongue.

"Bene, grazie. Piacere! Is today a special day?" She referred to his outfit.

"Every day we're alive is special." He bowed theatrically, making everyone in the room laugh except for Max.

"Oh for God's sakes, can you give it a rest?" He slapped the middle-aged man on the back. "You know as well as I do why you really play dress-up. Go on, tell her."

When Dodger hesitated, Max continued, "You see, darling, Dodger has been around for so long, that no one – including himself – remembers who he is or where he comes from. So he puts on these get-ups with the hopes of one perhaps jogging his memory."

"Laugh all you want Captain, but I know it'll work," Dodger said with a pout.

"Maybe so, but you might as well take this one off since you're much too uncouth to be a Florentine. Perhaps a Gaul or a Celt." Max joined in the laughter and took the seat at the head of the table.

Looking at Reine, he gestured toward the chair on his left. "Very well then. This is your spot now, my dear."

"And where am I to sit?" The low, silky voice came from the doorway.

Reine didn't need to see its source to recognize it. She did turn her head, only to quickly regret it. The woman by the door – dressed head to toe again in black – made her just as uncomfortable as she did the night before.

Sylvana moved gracefully into the room, all the while looking at Reine with unhidden contempt. Max, however, addressed her seemed like he either ignored it or didn't care. "The one next to Mikey is free, Syl."

"I'll move over," Reine offered, pointing to another empty chair between her and Sylvana. Although that would mean sitting directly next to the vile woman, she'd rather make the concession than be on her bad side. "There's no need to make her give up her place for me."