Daily life in the Eyrie building always ran on a tight schedule. It was true this was a schedule that was designed around the movements of the gargoyles, secret plans, and other matters of subterfuge, but it was a schedule and Owen was made for schedules. When Alexander was born, all of that went out the window. The gargoyles returning to live in the castle only complicated things, in his opinion, and suddenly he found himself bumping elbows with Broadway and trying to manage business transactions by phone while spooning glop into a squirming baby. He loved Alexander, was devoted to him, possibly even more than the boy's own parents. The cool exterior that fooled everyone else was so much smoke to the child. He knew it was his uncle Puck, no matter what face he wore. There were moments though, when it was almost too much. Owen shook the saucepan to keep the milk from scalding, poured the contents very carefully in the glass bottle, and pinned it against his body with the stone fist wrapped in a towel so he could screw the lid on. Things would have been a lot easier with two hands. In the breast pocket of his suit, his cell phone rang. In the dining room, Alexander screamed for the fifth time. He'd been counting. Mr. Xanatos' voice followed. "Owen? He's just not happy with me! Can you...?" He didn't even bother to finish the sentence. "Coming sir." Owen juggled the cellphone out of his pocket, turned to the door as he answered it, and then realized he'd left the burner on. Over the phone an angry voice speaking half in Japanese insisted that the asking price for the recent technology exchange was ridiculous. Starting to quietly apologize, he reached to nudge the dial on the stove with his elbow. There was a crash of breaking glass.
Owen stared at the shattered milk bottle on the floor while master and son called from the next room, and an angry businessman ranted in the other. Calmly, quietly, he flipped the phone shut, cutting off the call. He set it on the counter. From the dining room, Xanatos heard a second suspicious noise, and carried Alex into the kitchen to investigate. They found Owen neatly sweeping the shards of a cellphone onto the floor with his good hand. There were still a few pieces clinging to the stone of his left fist. "Ah... everything okay in here, Owen? I heard a... well." It wasn't that he couldn't surmise what had happened, it was just that he couldn't quite believe it. "Just cleaning up, sir. I'm afraid I'll have to make up a second bottle." The majordomo calmly adjusted his glasses, and looked at Xanatos with flat blue eyes. "That's... okay Owen, I'll take care of it. Why don't you take the rest of the night off?" "As you wish, sir." He nodded, face an inscrutable blank, and walked calmly out of the kitchen leaving even the wreckage for Xanatos to deal with.
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Congratulations on being the only one to pick Owen!
Date: Feb. 2nd, 2010 08:49 pm (UTC)He loved Alexander, was devoted to him, possibly even more than the boy's own parents. The cool exterior that fooled everyone else was so much smoke to the child. He knew it was his uncle Puck, no matter what face he wore. There were moments though, when it was almost too much.
Owen shook the saucepan to keep the milk from scalding, poured the contents very carefully in the glass bottle, and pinned it against his body with the stone fist wrapped in a towel so he could screw the lid on. Things would have been a lot easier with two hands.
In the breast pocket of his suit, his cell phone rang. In the dining room, Alexander screamed for the fifth time. He'd been counting. Mr. Xanatos' voice followed. "Owen? He's just not happy with me! Can you...?" He didn't even bother to finish the sentence.
"Coming sir." Owen juggled the cellphone out of his pocket, turned to the door as he answered it, and then realized he'd left the burner on. Over the phone an angry voice speaking half in Japanese insisted that the asking price for the recent technology exchange was ridiculous. Starting to quietly apologize, he reached to nudge the dial on the stove with his elbow.
There was a crash of breaking glass.
Owen stared at the shattered milk bottle on the floor while master and son called from the next room, and an angry businessman ranted in the other. Calmly, quietly, he flipped the phone shut, cutting off the call. He set it on the counter.
From the dining room, Xanatos heard a second suspicious noise, and carried Alex into the kitchen to investigate. They found Owen neatly sweeping the shards of a cellphone onto the floor with his good hand. There were still a few pieces clinging to the stone of his left fist.
"Ah... everything okay in here, Owen? I heard a... well." It wasn't that he couldn't surmise what had happened, it was just that he couldn't quite believe it.
"Just cleaning up, sir. I'm afraid I'll have to make up a second bottle." The majordomo calmly adjusted his glasses, and looked at Xanatos with flat blue eyes.
"That's... okay Owen, I'll take care of it. Why don't you take the rest of the night off?"
"As you wish, sir." He nodded, face an inscrutable blank, and walked calmly out of the kitchen leaving even the wreckage for Xanatos to deal with.