I LOVE THIS TOO MUCH. OTL
Therefor I want to stick it somewhere where I can find it and maybe expand upon it and do something with it someday. :<
Zaine is (c) Me~! He's such an ass. <3 ------
Several hours before the Librarian's flight, and several thousand miles away, a gondola drifted lazily down one of Venice's many channels, a hand lazily thrown over the side of the little boat, fingers dragging in the murky Mediterranean waters. Occasionally (or rather, when he believed the other man was not looking) the gondolier would throw dirty looks in the direction of his fare, but for the most part, the Italian native said not even so much as a word.
Unlike so many other tourists visiting the City of Water, he was alone. And comfortably so. He appeared to be in his late twenties, and he sprawled spread eagle over his end of the boat, one leg extended to rest on the bottom of the gondola, while the other bent at the knee, his foot resting on the edge of the craft. His eyes were seemingly closed- but it was nearly impossible to tell because of the dark sunglasses that rested over his eyes. His dirty blond hair sat in a short tousled mess, one hand behind his head while the other draped over the side of the boat. His shirt was off- presumably part of the mess of fabric that was wadded up beneath his head. His red silk tie was undone, resting partially around his neck and draping across his bare chest. His blue jeans were slightly worn, but clearly some kind of designer brand; however, they were still a stark contrast to the professional looking powder blue button-down currently scrunched up beneath his head. His jacket was there too; a sleek black tailored number that was out of place in the Mediterranean's temperate climate, but it served for more padding to his makeshift pillow.
All in all, the gondolier thought that the rude American (this was merely an assumption; but probably a correct one given the other man's lack of manners and general attitude. And his refusal to even attempt to speak a lick of Italian, which the gondolier would have put money on the tourist being too stupid to comprehend a single word) was not only strange, but perhaps more trouble than he was worth, and with every dirty look he snuck towards the seemingly sleeping male the more he was tempted to prod the man in the gut and tell him in broken English to get off his boat. He might've done it too...! If not for the fact that the man had offered to pay him almost twice his usual hourly rate, and had shown him the money after his outlandish proposal, too!
It was during one of these sneaky vicious glares that the other finally broke their mutual silence. A low chuckle escaped his throat, and he shifted only slightly in his resting place, before commenting, "What, is your gay little neck-kerchief too tight?"
The gondolier froze, piecing together what English he knew; but even without a solid grasp of the language, he knew the tone of an insult when he heard one. He seemed about to launch a few choice words of his own, but his 'customer' interrupted him once more.
"Ah, the look of confusion on your face tells me you didn't understand me the first time," a smirk crawled across his lips more malicious than any of the looks the gondolier could have thrown at him, and he slid his hand up, removing his sunglasses as he shifted to sit up. He repeated the offensive phrase...
In immaculate Italian.
If the gondolier had been a betting man, he would have most certainly lost.
He turned white, and then red, and opened his mouth once more to begin swearing at the foul young man, when the other promptly stood up. His glasses were resting on the top of his head, and his belongings were gripped loosely in one hand and draped over his shoulder. Zaine ignored the string of curses that began flowing free of the angered gondolier, who at the moment, was so wrapped up in cursing at Zaine that he was neglected to think of his job. This was of little consequence to Zaine, and so he didn't even so much as bother to mention it.
"This is my stop," Zaine said, flashing a roguish grin as the natural current pulled the gondola forward without the older man's pole work. Without warning, the gondolier was knocked from the front of the boat by the low hanging bridge that he otherwise would have noticed had he not been swearing at Zaine, and, taking full advantage of the bridge, Zaine planted his feet evenly against the boat, pushed off into a slight leap, and hooked an arm over the edge, pulling himself easily up onto the stonework as the gondolier came up spitting dirty water.
"You should have paid more attention to your job, signore!" Zaine laughed, smirking as he tipped his glasses back down over his face, ignoring the angry shouts of 'YOU DIDN'T PAY! YOU DIDN'T PAY!' that echoed behind him as he disappeared amongst the crowd, pulling on his shirt and rolling up the cuffs as he walked.
He had taken a pause in a small cafes' bathroom and was just in the process of sliding the knot of his tie to his throat, when his cellphone rang. He paused in his motions, eying his coat almost reproachfully for it's interruption, before reaching to fish through the pocket with a heavy sigh.
There was only one reason for his cell phone to ring, and the very idea caused a shudder of anticipation to run up the length of his spine.
As he flipped open the phone, he didn't offer so much as a hello; only, "Where?"
"Greece,"
There was little more to be discussed. Without so much as a backwards glance, Zaine left the cafe. He needed only to stop at his hotel for his bag and his passport, and then it was off to the Land of the Gods.
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