"Hey, Tyki, want a hit?" Wisely waved a joint more or less in Tyki's direction.
"Nah, I'm good," Tyki said. It wasn't true. Tyki hated hotels in general and rooms he had to share with his cousin in particular, but he didn't want Wisely to know that he was dying to get high
"Your loss," Wisely said, taking an overly-deep draw on his joint.
"You're stinking the place up." And Tyki's nose was behaving like a child with a milkshake, trying to suck in as much as possible.
"It's a hotel. Nobody cares. You know one of the things I love about school?" Wisely didn't wait for Tyki to reply. "I learn things. Not things in books, but things like getting weed through airport security."
"That's nice," Tyki said, trying to pretend he was engrossed in the TV.
"I forgot what a pain in the arse home really is," Wisely said. "Sure, school's got a lot of stupid rules, but we all know how to get around them. Home? Home's like being buried alive. Can't move, can't breathe, and everything's covered in dust."
This was true. Noah's Ark was like a mausoleum. If it weren't for his internet connection, Tyki would have gone crazy.
"And Road. Everything revolves around Road. It's not like they even care about her. All they care about is dance."
This was true as well. The only reason it hadn't gotten completely destructive was because Road liked to dance.
"I don't know how you can stand it," Wisely said.
Mostly, Tyki stood it by knowing that it was temporary. After the Holy War, he'd go back to university.
Wisely took a long hit. "I'm so glad I'm not the best in my age group. All I have to do is disqualify Kanda Yuu. I don't have to win. You, on the other hand." He turned to look at Tyki. "It's your fault I'm here. How could you let one of those worthless mongrels start nipping at your heels?"
"Kanda is Zhu Mei Chan's protege," Tyki said, but he was feeling defensive about it, and guilty. It really was his fault that Wisely was there, but he'd been a little cocky about Kanda. He'd forgotten that Kanda wasn't really an Order child, but a Chan child, who went to the Order without any gaps in his training.
He'd also forgotten that Marian Cross was an Order child. He'd been a fool to underestimate Kanda.
"Shouldn't matter," Wisely said. "I'm holding you responsible for getting me pulled out of school."
Great. So it hadn't been Tyki's imagination that Wisely had been picking at him more than usual. "Sorry."
"Although you know," Wisely said, taking another pull. "I'm glad you reminded me of something. One thing I'm grateful for, I'm not in the direct line. I finish school, and I can do whatever the fuck I want. Maybe I'll talk to Skin, have him hook me up with a job in America. I won't even have to come back for holidays."
"Skin came back," Tyki reminded him.
"That was a choice," Wisely said. "I can choose differently."
He could. He was the only son of a younger son of a younger son. He could draw on the estate with the Earl's approval, but he had no legal obligation to it.
"You, on the other hand." Wisely took another hit and chuckled. "If Sherrill doesn't hurry up and impregnate that pretty wife of his, you're going to be next in line after him. What will you do? You can't sell that white elephant. It's falling down around our ears. Nobody would buy it, and you can't just leave it to rot. It's all historical and shit." Wisely giggled. "That place is like a ball and chain, mate, worse than prison because at least with prison you're there for a reason and you know when you're getting out. That fucking house, man! It can't even be arsed to be haunted. Even the ghosts bail out if they can."
It was something Tyki dealt with by not thinking about it, the fact that although entail wasn't legal anymore, the estate was willed in such a way that it might as well be. It passed, as it always had, in its entirety, to the oldest male in the most direct surviving line.
At the moment, that was the Earl, but the Earl was a dead end. He had no issue, male or female, which meant the inheritance skipped down to his younger brother's children, Sherril and Tyki.
"Maybe you'll get lucky," Wisely said. "Maybe Sherrill will buck custom and will the whole thing to Road. Wouldn't that be a joke, Road as head of the family? She'll change our name to Addams or something, and decorate with vampire bunnies."
Road was as stable as she was because what was being asked of her was no more than she was willing to do. She would probably be less than thrilled with inheriting the estate.
"Or maybe she'll just burn the place down." Wisely giggled. "Burn, baby burn! Wouldn't that be sweet, watching the place burn!"
Tyki had had enough. "I'm going for a walk," he said.
"Enjoy!" Wisely said, waving the remains of the joint.
Tyki fled into the Paris night.
The first order of business was cigarettes, simple enough in a city of chain-smokers, but anything stronger was going to be a problem. When obtaining controlled substances, it was important to have some kind of connection to the source. Random street deals could fill your lungs with glass or worse.
That left the clubs. He didn't need to be drinking. He had a performance the following day, but people who enjoyed one drug often enjoyed another, and those who indulged in what he wanted tended to be generous with it.
He found a place that looked promising and made his way to the bar. What he wanted more than a drink was a girl, a certain kind of girl. She could have friends, that was okay, but she needed to be the rebel of the group, the one who went out wearing that skirt or top everyone else said was too much. Hair color didn't matter, and her eyes only mattered insofar as they might be a little bloodshot.
He found her on the far end holding court with a cluster of friends, and ordered something weak where she could overhear it, making sure to project his voice into her space. She turned, and he caught her eye, toasted her a little.
She laughed at him. "You don't look like a lightweight," she said in French.
"I'm not," he answered in the same language. "I have to be up tomorrow."
"Doing what? Business? You don't look like a businessman, either."
She was mocking him, testing him a little. "I'm not."
"So what are you? Besides English." She wrinkled her nose at the word.
"I'm a dancer," he said.
"You are not!"
"Yes, I am."
"That's really what you do? A dancer?"
"It's what I'm doing tomorrow."
"What kind of dancing do you do?"
"Depends."
She rolled her eyes. "What kind of dancing are you doing tomorrow?"
"Contemporary with a bit of flamenco." He leaned close enough to smell her hair: conditioner and perfume with a hint of hash. Yes. "My own special mix."
"Flamenco? Come on, Englishmen don't dance flamenco!"
"My mother isn't English," Tyki said.
She looked at him, this time with more speculation than scorn, but he was no longer just another horny jerk. Not that he had ever been. She was cute, sure, and he wouldn't say no, but he wasn't interested in her for her body.
"I don't believe you," she said.
Tyki held out his hand. "Try me."
She slid off the barstool and followed him to the dance floor.