I decided to call him Mr. No-name and his little orange and white Corgi would be Creampuff until I learned their names. Something was neatly written on Creampuff's collar, but I decided to call him Creampuff anyways. I hoped maybe I wouldn't have to learn Mr. No-name's identity, and I could just live with Creampuff forever. Wasn't sure about the huge black Danes he called Lionel and Kingsley yet. They seemed intimidating so far, but there was still a chance that they just wanted a belly scratch and a dog biscuit.
As soon as I gained Creampuff's trust enough to let me pick him up, I explored the posh and gaudy apartment Mr. No-name lived in. The wooden floors were a darkly stained chestnut, with a finely woven rug and heating furnace in each of the three bedrooms I had found. There was a lounge area (where I had met the furry angel in my arms), a study filled with leather bound books and a writing desk, and a very small dining area that contained a table with three intricately carved chairs. I traced the carving of a tree, eventually losing track of the trunk after I had gotten into the branches and thick foliage.
"Done wandering around aimlessly yet?" Mr.No-name asked from behind me.
"I wish I wasn't, but yes. Why do you have all of these nice things?" I asked, turning to face the only person I had ever disliked.
"I have nice things because I can afford them. Why are you carrying my dog? He has four legs, I'm sure he could keep up with you."
"Because Creampuff loves me and I love him."
Mr. No-name stared (I assume at me) with a look of utter annoyance and disbelief. Perhaps it was the new name.
"Creampuff." He stated, his voice heavy with blandness.
"Yes. You didn't tell me either of your names so I've dubbed him Creampuff."
"Brixton." Mr No-name said, pinching the top of his nose between his eyes. "His name is Brixton. It clearly says so on the collar you decided to ignore."
"Is that what that says?" I asked, looking back at the letters on the collar.
"I don't see how you couldn't have read it, I even had someone else write it so I couldn't mess up the lettering. But no, you had to go ahead and ignore it and try to steal my dog." Mr.No-name nagged.
"I'm not stealing him, I'm holding him."
"Which leads to walking with him, which leads to you getting closer to the door every time, and eventually I'll have to get Lionel and Kingsley to hunt you down and bring back Brixton."
"Where are those two anyways?" I asked, noticing they had left their master's side.
"Planning on trying to steal them too? They aren't easy to carry."
"No, I just noticed they weren't trailing behind you like ducks."
"They're off with Aletha. She's taking them out to walk them and feed them."
"Aletha?" I asked, sitting down in one of the chairs.
"Yes, she's basically my maid. Get up out of that chair, that isn't your seat."
I remained seated. Brixton laid contentedly in my lap, remaining a warm ball of happiness and purity.
"I don't see your name on it."
"Get up and look again. Other side of the back." He sighed.
I checked, and sure enough, two words were inscribed into the dark wood. The first was longer than the other, and all of the chairs seemed to have the same last word. This was his name. Gentle swirls and curves of a breeze in a C and an S. An O serving as a ring of mahogany. A wave of letters that I knew forming a word that I couldn't read.
"This is your name?" I asked, knowing the answer.
"Yes, it is."
I paused to think about what to say next, and hoped he wouldn't catch on that I still had no idea what his name was.
"What about you?" he eventually asked, "What's your name?"
"Genevieve. Genevieve Cortez." I answered.
"So you're somewhat hispanic, I assume." he stated, waiting for confirmation.
"On my Mom's side, yes."
"I don't think I've ever heard of anyone named Genevieve."
"Well I don't think I've heard of anyone with your name either."
"I'd hope not, Cornelius is an awfully gaudy name," he scoffed. "And Minister is just blasphemy."
Cornelius Minister. Now that I had gotten the time to think about it, he did look like a Cornelius. Extremely proper and prim, with almost a noble's lifestyle. Cornelius Minister, the man with the money. The man with no eyes. The man who likes dogs. The man who lived alone. Cornelius Minister, the man who might not have been as evil as I thought him to be.
