A/N: After writing Fortune's Impulse, I suddenly got a bunch of ideas for Enrique and Oliver stories and decided to write 'em up…:P So, here's my second ficcy! Or the start of it anyway… (I may just add it to 'Fortune's Impulse' to make an arch after it's complete, mes amis!)
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Chylder – Chapter One: In Comes the Italian
It was the young Italian's third time in Paris, the grand capital of France. However, the first time had been when he was barely a year old, and the second had been a short stopover in the airport to change planes.
So, the sights and sounds of a city so different from his native Rome still gave eight-year-old Enrique Giancarlo cause to clutch tightly at his mother's hand.
"Mamma, perchè siamo qui?" Huge, eager blue eyes took in the sights from beneath unkempt blond bangs. So very strange, this place is…With its beautiful parks and greenery, and the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower rising in the distance…
"Riunione sociale con un amico dil tuo padre, tesoro." Amelita Giancarlo smiled down at her young son, light brown hair gleaming in the bright sunlight as they strolled through the bustling street, followed closely by a man with an untidy mane of blond hair. (So very like his son's – indeed, Eduardo Giancarlo had passed much of his appearance down to his young male heir, with the exception of stern, hawkish brown eyes.)
Enrique nodded seriously, satisfied with that explanation as much as his inquisitive mind could get, and switched to English. "But Mama, what am I going to do there?" He had watched (from a safe distance,) some of the formal dinners and parties his parents hosted, and, well…there was only one word for them.
Che noia. How bo-ring!
"They have children too, figlio. Or one child, at least – I'm sure the two of you can keep yourselves occupied!"
"A son, about your age," Eduardo interjected, having finally caught up. "His name is...Orville? Owen? No...O-something...ah, yes! Young Oliver Polanski."
This made Enrique even more nervous, if anything. He'd never felt very comfortable around other, unfamiliar people, his age or no.
Eduardo saw the look on his son's face and laughed. "Don't worry, ragazzo mio. I'm sure you two will get along just fine!"
The young boy was not reassured.
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Mamma, perchè siamo qui? – Mother, why are we here?
Riunione sociale con un amico dil tuo padre, tesoro – The social meeting with your father's friend, honey (?)
Che noia – How boring!
Figlio – Son
Ragazzo mio – My boy
Thank you Arya for correcting these! ^______^ *passes cookies to everyone*