Flowered Storm | a Strom and Silence Fanfiction

Like a Married Couple

'Bom dia senhores, sejam bem-vindos a Lisboa.'

My self-taught portuguese allowed me to understand the man was welcoming us. He looked kind and honest. I answered with a low ''Thank you'', I was almost too embarrassed - or afraid - for not speaking their native language. But Mr. Ambrose, the guru of languages, didn't graced the man with an answer, which was such a surprise!

'Karim, bring the luggage.' Mr. Ambrose ordered him, and he promptly obeyed, but was interrupted by the portuguese man.

'Não precisam de se preocupar com a bagagem, eu trato de a transportar, só preciso que me diga para onde, senhor.' (There's no need to worry about luggage, I'll take care of it, I just need you to tell me to where, Sir.)

Mr. Ambrose eyes narrowed infinitesimally and he stared questioningly at the man.

What was going through his mind, probably: You can take it if you want, but I'm not paying you a penny.

'All right, Hotel Central.'

'I'm sorry, what did you just say?' I couldn't hold my tongue, once I realised I had spoke it was already too late. But I couldn't believe it. It was just too good to be true.

Mr. Rikkard Ambrose, the man who owns a 15 year old tailcoat in "perfectly good condition" is going to use his money for us to stay at a hotel instead of a degraded, old and rotten cabinet like I imagined.

Unbelievable!

I must find a painter because this moment must be eternalised for posteriority.

He probably didn't find it that hilarious, though. Judging by the look he was giving me.

'Is there a problem Mr. Linton?'

Truth be told, I haven't seen that hotel yet, so it might as well be just a deteriorated house with a fancy name. 

We started our walk down the street, Mr. Ambrose ahead, followed by yours truly, and Karim guarding the way.

People eyed us - or rather, Karim - with no shame and lots of curiosity, probably because it's not every day you see a huge Mohammedan armed at the teeth in Lisbon, I suppose. He didn't seem much troubled, though.

And neither was Mr. Ambrose, a victim of the stares of some who were passing, especially a group of young girls, who stood in the other side of the street, holding their parasols and giggling like chicken, but that didn't surprise me much either, God knows why!

'Can you tell me what business of yours we are here for already, Sir?'

'What for, Mr. Linton?'

Because I want to bloody hell know!

'I'm your secretary Sir, I must maintain your agenda in order.'

'And if I don't tell you?'

Having fun, isn't he? It seemed like the portuguese wind spiced his mood. But not his facial muscles. Those were still very still.

'Just quit the games and tell me already.'

'Or what?'

I was thinking of something I could threaten to do that would leave him angry, but I didn't have enough time to find an answer. From the left side down the street, we heard shouts and heavy footsteps of a crowd.

Mr. Ambrose pushed me against the building next to us and, with his back to me, shielded me, Karim was right in front of him, rifle in hand.

But with both men in front of me, I couldn't see a thing!