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Post by Seven on Feb 27, 2009 15:59:10 GMT -5
"Oh, you mean literally lost his wife. I thought you just meant that his wife left him once he lost his job."
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Post by Rojo on Feb 27, 2009 16:03:26 GMT -5
"No, she did. That's what I meant."
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Post by Seven on Feb 27, 2009 16:05:28 GMT -5
"Oh." A moment of silence. "So...what was your contribution in that mess?"
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Post by Rojo on Feb 27, 2009 16:13:48 GMT -5
"Well," Quentin says before taking another breath "since I lost him his job he couldn't pay the rent on his apartment and he couldn't get rehired because, well, some of the employers in the city weren't exactly happy with having an ex-military japanese officer in their buildings. After two months his wife could take no more. She left with their unborn child. All because I fired him...I think this is called the butterfly effect. Probably not."
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Post by Seven on Feb 27, 2009 16:15:24 GMT -5
"Still...that's hardly your fault."
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Post by Rojo on Feb 27, 2009 16:20:53 GMT -5
"Yes, but such is the way with villians. They don't accept responsibility for their own problems. Eddie Brock for example was in a very similar position in Spider-man at some point. I don't know the details but my daughter was talking about it at some point..."
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Post by Seven on Feb 27, 2009 16:23:20 GMT -5
He looks over. "You have a daughter?"
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Post by Rojo on Feb 27, 2009 16:29:18 GMT -5
Quentin looks almost suprised.
"Oh yes...she's my little girl. Note I don't call her 'my princess' or anything like that. Although I may have- had, sorry- a lot of money, I try to give her a normal life. She earns- earned, sorry- pocket money of five American Dollars every week if she cleaned her room and went to bed early and a thousand other little jobs...she is a hard little worker and I suspect she'll have a good career some day. She says she doesn't want to takeover from me when she's 18. She wants to go back to England and work in a library." A wistful smile passes his lips "such a good little girl...well, in all honesty she's not my little girl, she's my adopted daughter. She's...different." Another smile, but this one is wry.
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Post by Seven on Feb 27, 2009 17:25:58 GMT -5
"Different?" he smiles. Why was it that parents, whether of adopted children or their own, always thought their children to be different, special, or unique? But then again, considering that he's talking to someone from a comic-book like universe, it might very well be the case. He shakes his head. "What is her name? How old is she?"
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Post by Rojo on Feb 27, 2009 17:28:29 GMT -5
The smile slowly fades and Quentin answer's Thrasymachus's question.
"Her name is Meryl and she is eight years old. It was her birthday four days ago. She picked her own name. She got it out of a computer game I think...I don't remember. She's into those sort of things."
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Post by Seven on Feb 27, 2009 17:31:48 GMT -5
"How did you come to adopt her?"
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Post by Rojo on Feb 27, 2009 17:35:25 GMT -5
"Well, she just sort of...turned up outside my house one day. Out I come to take in the milk bottles and there lies a young mewling girl. There was a note too, but, uh, the contents of that note are for my eyes and mine alone."
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Post by Seven on Feb 27, 2009 17:39:32 GMT -5
Thrasymachus watches him carefully. He wondered if the man was worried about the whereabouts of his daughter. Had she survived? He suddenly rises. "We should probably go look for her, in any case."
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Post by Rojo on Feb 27, 2009 17:41:17 GMT -5
Quentin looks taken aback at this sudden suggestion.
"I thought the enslaving type didn't help find lost girls?" He smiles again and stands up. "I'm sure we'll find her..."
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Post by Seven on Feb 27, 2009 17:44:27 GMT -5
((Enslaving type? Where did you get that from? I do remember a couple pages back saying the enslaved type though....Though Thrasymachus really is both enslaving and enslaved *muses* However, I doubt he'd have admitted to the former.))
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