Chivalry
An Adventures of Tintin Fanfic by SouthernImagineer/ecto1B
(A Modern Retelling)
Two.
"Blue blistering barnacles, boy, you brought that ridiculous contraption here with you? And they call you cultured…"
The young man seated on the couch was unaffected by his companion's chiding. "I thought a famously erudite individual was permitted to spend their free time any way he chooses, Captain? Weren't you the one who stressed how important it is to unwind after a long period of work?" With one hand, he indicated the nearby desk, where hundreds of papers were strewn about a 27-inch iMac. Pencils, pens, and notebooks also piled themselves across the sizable oak desktop, creating a sort of writer's haven, one that had most certainly been used in the last hour or so. "I finished typing up my article, and it's on its way to the Daily Reporter as we speak. Now, as you recommend constantly, I am relaxing." He returned his gaze to the widescreen TV.
"Well, don't 'cha have anythin' better to do than play video games?" It was Captain Haddock's turn to gesture widely. "That documentary on Ernest Hemingway that you wanted to watch recorded while we were gone. Why don't 'cha watch that?"
Realizing that the older man did not intend to go down so easily, Tintin paused the game and sighed. He dropped the Xbox controller onto his lap. "I may be twenty-three years old, Captain, but the land of video games still provides a unparalleled brand of escape for me. I've been writing all of last night and this morning, so a documentary about a writer wouldn't do me any good." He paused. "And I'd read, but I don't feel like starting anything new."
The captain pursed his lips behind his beard. "You need a vacation, lad."
"But we just got back home."
"I know, but we can't have you lounging around all day, killin' trolls and fightin' dragons. You need to get out. You need to go somewhere you've never been before, so ya aren't tempted to go huntin' for stories." Haddock itched the back of his neck. "Some place in America, perhaps."
Tintin let out a small groan. He rubbed his hand across his face. "The last thing I want to do is get on another plane, Captain."
"So you'd rather stay here, and have the Daily Reporter get on your back about another story, eh?" The captain crossed his arms across his royal blue sweater and narrowed his eyes. "Once they get your story, they're gonna want ya to start another one. They'll make ya go somewhere you don't wanna go. But if you demand a vacation…"
Tintin was already standing, reaching for his cell phone on the leather ottoman. He loved writing, and he surely wouldn't mind another story, but his mind had turned to mush during the past two weeks. Shadowing the leader of a notorious European drug cartel hadn't done much for him creative-wise.
Perhaps the captain was right. Perhaps he did need a vacation.
"I'll call the airport, then? Schedule the quickest flight to America?"
At last, Haddock cracked a smile. "You do that."
A few minutes later, Tintin was on the phone with one of the airport's representatives. He had relocated himself back to his desk; he attempted to organize the chaos while holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder. At first, there was no change, but as he delved deeper into the conversation, inquiring in rapid French about the possible flight destinations, the clutter atop his desk vanished. Papers were neatly—if not haphazardly—stacked in one corner; notebooks filled to the brim of records and entries about his travels found their place in a drawer. Captain Haddock watched this disorderly organization, which was pure irony, in a sense, and listened to his companion's tongue lash out words that he couldn't understand.
"Merci, monsieur." Tintin hung up the phone and spun his chair to face Haddock. "I booked us a flight."
The captain dipped his head. He was now reclined on the couch, petting Snowy, Tintin's white terrier, as the dog slept against the man's leg. "Where are we off to?"
Tintin stood and pushed in his chair. "The places they had direct flights to were cities I've already visited, so I chose one that will take us somewhere new." He brushed at his sweater. "I'm not quite sure where it is, or what there is to do there, but it sounded nice."
"What city?"
"Um… Louisville?"
The captain shrugged lightly, careful not to wake the sleeping canine beside him. "I've never heard of such a place."
"Exactly. I haven't either. It'll be a nice escape for both of us, since we've never even heard of it. Like you said, we need to find a place where I won't become distracted by stories."
"When do we leave?"
Tintin rested his back against the desk and braced himself with his palms. "The flight's in four hours. I'll call the Daily Reporter, tell them about my 'vacation'." He made air-quotes, smiling as he did so. "Captain, I've got to be honest; I'm excited."
"I'm glad ya are, Tintin. You deserve a break."
He does. That lad's been working himself to death. I planned on saying something to him earlier, but it wasn't my place then. It really wasn't my place even now, but I'm glad he's come to his senses.
It took Tintin a good minute to respond. "I know. I do." With a sigh, he headed back to his desk chair. "I'll call them now. Why don't you head upstairs and start packing?"
Haddock was happy to oblige. He gently nudged the sleeping dog away from his lap (he froze at one point, thinking that the dog was waking up by the snuffles he made, but Snowy was only dreaming), got up, and exited the room, leaving Tintin to another whirlwind conversation laden with French.