Post by Richard Lucas on May 22, 2011 18:44:33 GMT -5
(I don't know where I'm going with this yet, but I wanted to use Richard, and I was afraid no one would answer an open thread...)
Richard had found the place a few weeks back, but he had hesitated going in. There were plenty of reasons for him to hesitate. First of all, there was the mater of fees--which would certainly be an issue for him. He had long since blown the last of his earnings from his year with the Cannons, and between the gambling and his unemployed status, money was often hard to come by. Luckily, a friend had spotted him a few galleons, and one unexpected lucky streak later, he was actually in good shape for once.
Of course, the other reason he was uncertain about this was a lot more complicated. Yes, he had always wondered about his father, but there was a part of him that wondered if he really wanted to find him. Maybe it was better if he was a shadowy figure in his past that he could imagine was better and more interesting than he really was. Maybe he was a soldier, and couldn't stay to be a father to an infant son because he was called away to fight in a war. Or maybe he was a secret agent, and couldn't stay because a child would jeopardize his cover, That had always been Richard's favorite theory, and he liked to picture his father as James Bond.
Of course, the truth was likely to be a lot less glamorous. His grandmother had simply referred to him as a "no-account drifter," but she never really said much else about him. All Richard had was a name.
He nearly turned back about half a dozen times, but finally, he found himself walking through the door at the detective agency and ringing the little bell for service. His knees were shaking as he sank into a comfortable-looking arm chair to wait.
Richard had found the place a few weeks back, but he had hesitated going in. There were plenty of reasons for him to hesitate. First of all, there was the mater of fees--which would certainly be an issue for him. He had long since blown the last of his earnings from his year with the Cannons, and between the gambling and his unemployed status, money was often hard to come by. Luckily, a friend had spotted him a few galleons, and one unexpected lucky streak later, he was actually in good shape for once.
Of course, the other reason he was uncertain about this was a lot more complicated. Yes, he had always wondered about his father, but there was a part of him that wondered if he really wanted to find him. Maybe it was better if he was a shadowy figure in his past that he could imagine was better and more interesting than he really was. Maybe he was a soldier, and couldn't stay to be a father to an infant son because he was called away to fight in a war. Or maybe he was a secret agent, and couldn't stay because a child would jeopardize his cover, That had always been Richard's favorite theory, and he liked to picture his father as James Bond.
Of course, the truth was likely to be a lot less glamorous. His grandmother had simply referred to him as a "no-account drifter," but she never really said much else about him. All Richard had was a name.
He nearly turned back about half a dozen times, but finally, he found himself walking through the door at the detective agency and ringing the little bell for service. His knees were shaking as he sank into a comfortable-looking arm chair to wait.
