Pl Raymond - Blog Posts

Chapter 6 : Chocolate and bitter thoughts

–Dad... Is this it ?

Leon frowned a bit turned to look at his son. After Raymond has gone to pick up his mother, they had decided to take something to eat while waiting for the Scottish man to return and the archaeologist decided that it would be fair to let Desmond –the young boy still wanted to be called like this, to him Hershel was now his little brother and he was safe, somewhere out of Targent's reach– choose what he wanted to eat before dinner. The boy had looked around and there was nothing but a little cafe right in front of the park, where Ray had left them. This was a logical and pragmatic choice and, as a matter of fact, the boy was having a very rational mind, seeking pragmatism most of the time, especially not to make his father's life more complicated than it already was. They had sat outside and ordered while waiting for Raymond, and so Desmond had asked for some pancakes and hot chocolate while Leon had only taken a coffee. Black, no sugar. Better to stay awake since he hadn't slept the previous night and almost not the night before either. But he forced himself to smile and keep a rather positive mindset for his son's sake. However, the question got him perplexed.

–What do you mean, my boy ?

Desmond looked down at his chocolate and sighed.

–Are we going to stay here ? I mean... longer ? I... You know, I just wish that we could settle down a bit... maybe a year at least, and do what... what a family do...

Leon's expression grew sadder in the instant and he gulped while trying to restrain a few tears to the corner of his eyes. Of everything, that was what he regretted the most, not being able to protect his family. In fact, he had not been able to do so. And it was because of him, because ofthe Azran– no, because of HIS enthousiasm regarding this ancient civilisation and how much ambition he had put into it, neglecting the danger such a discovery had brought upon him and upon his family. It was HIS fault if these guys showed up one day at his door and tried to have him in a sort of a cult. It was his fault if they had put their threat into act and had taken him and his wife away. Desmond had told him what had happened after this. For two months, both brothers had been living alone in their house while trying to think of a way to stay together but in the end they ended up getting separated and Desmond too was about to get adopted if Leon hadn't come back to pick him up and flee from Targent. And it was all his fault, because if he hadn't tried to escape, Rachel would still be alive at least and Theodore –now Hershel Layton– and Desmond wouldn't have been targeted by a terrorist organisation.

–Dad ?... I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry !

The english man jolted and opened wide eyes before getting dragged out of his thoughts, realising that in fact he was indeed crying, just a few tears but crying anyway. Damn, his father would've called him a crybaby for sure, especially now that he was himself a father. But in this instant he couldn't help but to let out a shy sob. He tried to smile and wipped his tears quickly before shaking his hand.

–No, no, it's fine my boy, it's fine ! I... I'm just a bit tired, that's all... But, to answer your question... I truly don't know... this whole story seems kind of crazy and I don't know if Raymond's mother is going to accept such a proposition.

He wasn't the best when it came to catch the hints Desmond was putting into the conversation, usually Rachel was better at this and she always had the good words, the right words, to comfort their children. But he thought that maybe it would be a good idea to dig it up a bit. If Desmond was asking him about settling down, it probably wasn't coming from nowhere.

–You'd like to have friends I guess ?

Desmond shook his head and looked away, a bit embarrassed. He had tried to hint it when he had said his father he would like to have other sources of knowledge but maybe even that was too subtle for him.

–Not really... That would be nice, indeed, but I... I'd like to go back to school, you know... To learn new things and... maybe go to high school later ? I'd like to learn more, to know more, there is so much I'd like to see, so many places I'd like to go, and–

He stopped and looked at his father, almost desperate by his own words. In his mouth, it sounded incredibly pretentious, petty, ungrateful, but he didn't want to live like a runaway for the rest of his life. But then, with all these questions came the means and the way to achieve such schools. Especially financially.

–I-I can work too, to help you with everything, and–

But his father only chuckled a little and messed with his hair before offering him a bright smile.

–These are grown-ups anxious thoughts, my boy. But I'll tell you. If you want to settle down, then I'll do anything so you can settle down. If you want to go to school, then I'll make sure you'll be able to. If you want to study, I'll make sure you can. So don't worry about anything else but what you truly want, and let me worry about these things. Whatever you want, wherever you go, I'll always support you. Always.

This was enough to make the boy cry, and for a moment Leon thought he had said or done something wrong but his son jumped off his chair and then hopped on his knees to hug him tight and let out all this pressure that had been put on his shoulders for months by now.

–––

In the park, near the gate in front of which the cafe was, Ray was sitting with his mother on a bench, looking at the boy and at the English man, puzzled but certain of something : these guys had been on their toes for far too long, they needed a place to land, a place they could rest knowing there was no enemy outside or inside. His mother was knitting something, her work was done mechanically as if she didn't even had to look at it, and she indeed hadn't taken her eyes off these two people.

–So... Ye truly like this sassenach and his beag, don't ye ?

–They are good people. And ye could come more of'en at yer cottage, mà. We would take good care of it. And the boy could be safe too, loek at him.

–Alright then. Let's not wait any longer, the ballach beag is cryin' !

She put her knitting work, whool and needles in her purse and stood up, already coming to see the boys with a very quick pace. Ray smiled and shook his head, almost having troubles to follow her. If anything, she had never been able to resist a child crying, she always wanted to see happy faces and hear laughters instead of sobs and tears.

When Leon saw them approaching, he seemed a bit confused and anxious, not knowing exactly what to do. He couldn't stand to greet her since his boy was still on his laps, and he couldn't even shake her hand or Desmond would've fallen down.

–O-Oh, hum... Good evening madame !

–Oh, call me Maighread an' quit the salutations, sassenach ! So, who may ye be, lads ?

Leon and Desmond looked at each other and opened wide eyes when they heard her accent. Ray chuckled and shrugged while taking a sit.

–Don't act surprised, A know she's got a helluvan accent, A'm just an amateur, pale. Now, mà, let me introduce to ye... hum...

Leon thought it could be a good way to break the ice a bit and to try to apologise for his rudeness regarding how surprised he had been by her speaking manners, and so he made sure to put Desmond down, stood up carefully and gulped before offering Maighread a hand to shake.

–P-Please to meet you madame... My name is Nikolaï, Nikolaï Sycamore, and this is my son, Desmond.

–Greetings madame, it is... it is a pleasure !

Desmond added before smiling a bit, not knowing how to behave either. The old lady smiled like the happiest person in the world and she seemed to love the idea of having her son bringing people home.

–That's so cute, ye truly are a very distinguish li''le boy, right balach beag ?

She then looked up at Leon and chuckled a bit, which was enough for the archaeologist to relax a bit. Maybe he wasn't making such a bad impression after all. The lady was quite common looking, her hair was like Ray's, her hazel eyes were clearer though and she was older, maybe around 60 probably, but her smile would've make her noticeable anywhere at anytime. Her clothes were common too : heels, a beige skirt with merely a embrodery on it, a rose maybe, and a blue cardigan, and of course a hat, the most sophisticated part of her outfit, carefully pinned on her hair.

–That's delightful to have people comin' here ! Ray barely comes to see me, but can A blame him ? He's a free spirit, as they say these days !

She took the time to stare at the English man and was quick to notice that he seemed to have eat nothing but air for the last past months. She grasped his face and frowned, rather with concern and a bit of reprobation.

–Gracious Lord, look at these cheekbones ! Ye needa eat something boy ! Good thin' Mà Bannag is there ! Now... Ray, ye can go with yer motorbike, A'll take the bus with Nikolaï and his son. This way ye can clean up a bit, it's probably dusty and needs some fresh air, me boy.

–Màààààà... A'm no handyman...

Raymond blushed a bit while scratching the back of his neck. Ah, ntohers, they always know how to embarrass their children, don't they ? However he couldn't say no to her, she was always very comprehensive, never angry, or at least he couldn't think of one single day during which she would've shown anger, and she was never asking him anything anyway. She deserved a lot more than just some help with the cleaning.

Finally, he gave up.

–Fine, I'll do it. Don't be late, OK ?

But before he could go to his bike, Desmond grabbed the edge of his jacket and his eyes were shimmering with excitement.

–Please, can I come ?!

Maighread was having the fondest smile ever hanging on her lips while Ray was surprised enough to open his eyes wide, but not enough to really be cought off guards. Seeing how the child loved mechanics already, he could tell how fascinating a motorbike could be.

Leon, as for himself, was livid. It was as if every trace of colour had left his face and his hand was trembling a little while he was gulping nervously. Let his son go by himself with a total stranger ? Sure, Ray had saved their life once, but Leon was always having his son near him, not too far, and if he had to leave him alone to go to London for example, he would do it knowing there were people ready to take care of him, like in their previous village, or when he was absolutely certain there was no danger. And yet he would never leave for more than an hour, two at best. But right now, leaving his son going by himself with Ray, in a foreign country, alone, on a motorbike, in the countryside, that was too much for his little heart.

And what if they had an accident? What if Targent was there, looking for him and his son even here in Dingwall ? What if Ray was not a good person in the end ? What if he had given his trust to someone dangerous ? What if he was putting his son's life on the line again, just like he did with Rachel and Theodore ? His breath got shorter and his heart seemed to want to jump out of his chest, so much that he was wondering if he wasn't having a stroke.

–Hey, sassenach... !

A firm hand on his shoulders brought him back to reality and he looked at Ray who was trying to understand what was going on here, his hands on his shoulders and a worried frown carving his forehead. Desmond was not saying anything but he bit his lower lip whike clenching his fists and looking away. He was young, right, but he knew his father wasn't fine and in fact he knew that his father was having these kind of struggles rather often. Most of them late at night.

–Y-yeah... I'm fine... I'm fine, I just- I...

–Dad, you're not...

Leon could feel his heart beat painfully in his chest, because he was now again feeling guilty for his behaviour, for his choices and for what he was showing to his boy. No no no, he had to be better, to show him that he was there, even if times were hard, he had to show him that he could protect him. It was his goddamn role, as a father ! He forced himself to smile but his face was still pale, and he bags under his eyes were contrasting so much with his carnation that he seemed to almost be sick.

–I'm just a bit tired, t-that's all.

–No, it's not...

–Sassenach...

Raymond sighed, knowing perfectly well how the English man's brain was reacting and thinking about the boy's wish. He trusted no one. He trusted his son and that was all, and deep down Ray couldn't blame him, that was a way to survive, a very good strategy when you had very few allies. But it was a vicious circle, because you couldn't have allies if you were not able to put some trust in people.

–A doubt ye'll trust me on ev'rythin', but... A swear A wanna help ye... ye both... So, if ye don't feel like lettin' your boy comin' with me, A won't try to convince ye otherwise. Yer son's lucky to have ye as a father...

He looked at his mother who just smiled sadly, as if both were understanding each other without a word, and he shrugged before messing with the boy's hair.

–Don't worry, maybe later balach beag.

–W-Wait...

Everyone looked back at Leon who was trying to take a decision. His face was still showing how uneasy he was, how internally he struggled to give an answer, and how much he wanted the best for his son, even if he was crazily worried for him. He began to fidget a bit, playing with the edges of his coat, and he gulped nervously before taking a deep breath.

–I... I am trying... really... it's just...

Suddenly, and before he could say more, Raymond seemed to have an idea and he clapped his hands together, making Leon jolt again.

–A know ! What if we get on me bike and A drive in front of yer bus ? This way, ye can see us, and the boy's getting a ride !

Desmond opened wide sparkling eyes and a large smile flew across his face before he looked back at his father, with bug puppy eyes pleading for it. Leon seemed to ponder the idea and, after a sigh, he bit his lip and nodded, even if his smile was a very poor mask to hide his worry.

–...I... Yes, why not ? But... you'll be careful, right ?

Raymond smiled. But this time it wasn't a cynical grin or anything, it was a true smile, a kind one, showing how touched he was, to be entrusted with the child. He patted his shoulders a few times and winked.

–No worry, sassenach, we'll be just right ahead.

Desmond almost jumped in his father's arms and hugged him as much as he could, knowing perfectly fine how much this decision was costing him.

–You're the best, dad... thank you.

Leon couldn't help but offer him a smile in return and caressed his hair before kissing his forehead and letting him go with the Scottish man. In fact, seeing them getting on the motorbike, he had almost forgotten that they were four and not three. When Maighread pinched his cheek, his winced a bit but blushed, embarrassed, and stared at her whole she was staring at him, calmly and happily.

–Ye're a good boy, fer sure. Ray's right, yer son's lucky ! Now... come, son, A think we need a li''le chat here.

Ahe looked to her left, Leon followed his eyes. A few meters away, there was a bus stop and, away again, a bus coming right to it.

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Chapter 5 : O Flower of Scotland !

When they arrived to Dingwall, Desmond hopped from the train and looked around, yawning a bit. This train trip had been rather long considering how far they now were from London and from England. They had taken a small train to go to Victoria Station before taking another very long one to go to Edinburgh, and he had been taking some time to sleep since his night had been pretty rough until now. It was also during that time that his father and Raymond had been discussing the idea of renting a house together and find a job to ease their expenditures. Desmond vaguely remembered something about Ray's mother and how he had explained the whole story to them.

His mother owned a small cottage near Cullicudden, a quarter of hour long trip in car was necessary to go there from Dingwall but it was always closer than anything considering trains couldn't go where there was no railroads. Also, there was another reason Ray wanted to stop to Dingwall. His mother was being employed as a domestic by a very rich family living in Dingwall and her cottage was not inhabited most of the time, that was why she had asked his son to come back to Scotland someday, to help her with the house since she was living in the same mansion as her masters. "The cottage is away from any big city, very few neighbours and good air indeed", that was how Raymond had described it and, somehow, after a good hour of thinking about it, Leon was rather opened to such an idea. And he knew that life could be expansive when you were raising a little boy as a father, and alone. Just thinking about Rachel and how she would've wanted her boys safe and sound, living a normal life, had been enough to convince him to give it a try.

Once in Edinburgh, they had to take another train to Iverness, but before doing so they stopped to buy some coats considering the weather was being less clement than in London, and Leon and Desmond hadn't brought one since they had to leave in a hurry. It wasn't winter yet, so they had some time to buy everything they needed. Only Raymond seemed unbothered by the very wet air coming from his homeland, and in fact he was almost happy to come back home. Desmond had been very interested in the landscape and even though it wasn't his first time traveling somewhere –his parents once travelled to Nazca, in Peru, when he and Theodore were younger– he was a bit nervous since this time they had some evil guys trying to look for them in order to take them away to a very bad place. Scotland was very much different from what he thought it would be, and hearing everyone's accent was enough to trouble him a bit at first. But he had been more than excited when they saw the Loch Ness when changing train again in Iverness. He even had the time to see the castle a bit and eat an ice cream !

Finally, after a whole travelling day, they were finally done and getting out of the station. The evening was near and they had not eaten much, merely two sadnwiches and an ice cream for the boy. But with a smile Raymond told them not to worry, that his mother would be more than happy to take them to diner tonight.

–Still, Leon had said, I don't want to impose my presence and Desmond's to her... and if she's kind enough to allow us to stay in her cottage, I might at least be the one offering her a diner.

–Oh, trust me, sassenach, try to offer to pay and ye'll be facin' a beast ! She'll never accept it. Trust me, A've tried twice. And she scolded me in the middle of the restaurant as if A was still a toddler !

Desmond chuckled a bit and was already picturing a little woman scolding that biker as if he was but a child. Leon smiled when he saw him being a bit more joyful than usual. This was enough to make his heart lighter for a few moment. Ray let them for a short moment, going to take back his motorbike which had traveled with them, in a wagon dedicated to these heavy things. Leon rolled his eyes when he saw that Scottish lad being almost in live this his engine.

–Come on, it's just a vehicle ! It's not some kind of wonder.

Raymond gasped and exaggerated his reaction just to make the boy smile again, boy who was really intrigued by such a mechanical prowess.

–It's not "just a vehicle" sassenach ! It's a Norton Model 40 International 350cc 1 cylinder from 1938 ! A've restored it ! T'was me dad's.

–How does it work ?

Desmond had sparkles in his eyes and he was hopping around the vehicle trying to figure out how it was possible for such a thing to be driven by someone on the road. Leon sighed, not knowing how to react to Desmond's enthusiasm since he didn't like mechanical stuff much. He was a more... traditional man regarding technology and mechanics. And he was barely capable to use a television so he wasn't an expert regarding the topic.

–Well, maybe he can explain it to you once we've seen his mother. How do we do that ? We wait for the end of her service or what ?

Raymond took a peek at his watch and thought about it for a minute.

–OK, well... I'll take her at her job, it's almost October's holidays for her, they always give her Samhain.

–Sowhat ?

The Scottish man sighed again and rolled his eyes, pulling his motorbike to follow as they were walking together.

-It's pronounced "Soween", and it's... well, 31st of October. The All Hallows eve, if ye prefer. Go on, have some nice walk time or go to the park, A'll join ye here with me mom. Sounds good ? There's also a few shops. To get yerself a Scots dictionary. Because ye'll need it.

He chuckled and winked to Desmond, promising him a nice ride later, and he made the motor roar before flying away to a very big mansion, away from the city center, and the more he was getting closer and the more his smile was fading. What he hadn't said Leon about all this was that he wasn't exactly in good touch with his mother and he wanted to go there forst to try to talk to her. Last time he had seen her, it was another glorious argument they had, about family mostly, and he has had very harsh words to her, before leaving like a thief, without even saying goodbye. By now he has had enough time to think about it and he regretted a good portion of what he said six years ago. That large amount of time was also the reason he hasn't told Leon about his relationship with his mother. Because at this point he didn't even know if she was willing to talk to him anymore.

He had written him letters 2 years ago, if you can call that writing a letter considering he's done nothing but traces a few line on the paper, for Christmas, All Hallows Eve, New Year's Eve, Easter, her birthday, etc. Just a few lines, and she had never responded to any of them for the simple reason he's been avoiding to leave any address to reply. His life wasn't the most glorious one and by now he was really regretting it, trying to make up for things he's been too stubborn to apologise for.

Without him realising it, his motorbike had almost ridden itself alone, bringing him right to main gates of the big mansion where his mom was working. He sighed and entered the property, leaving his engine near the portal gates, and proceeded to go up the alley to reach for the doors and knock on them, disdainful enough not to ring the bell. He wasn't used to ring bells anyway, he preferred the simple knocking, bells were some fancy way to summon someone and he didn't like it.

A young woman came soon after, looking at him with red cheeks and a shy smile across her face.

–Good evening sir... Who may I announce ?

–Hi, huh... well, A'm not here to see Lord McGregor, A'm lookin' fer me mother, Maighread, is she workin' or does she have... ye know, a few minutes ?

The young lady though seemed a bit troubled by his accent, for sure she was probably not used to Scots and Scottish accent either since the master of this old creaky mansion was trying to speak as "normally" as possible.

–I deeply apologise but... May-who ?

–Maighread, me mom. Ye know her surely, a li''le woman, heavy brown hair, she's the one in charge of the whole domestics here A think.

This time the lady figured it out and her eyes seemed to lighten up.

–Oh, I see ! You're looking for Mà Bannag ! Everyone calls her like that, she always bakes the most wonderful pies !

Ray sighed, a bit nostalgic, and thought that this nickname was truly fitting his mother. He nodded and offered the maid his most charming smile.

–Would ye be kind enough to allow me to see her ? The day's almost done, and A need to talk to her...

Being put in front of such a charming man, the woman blushed again and chuckled like an adorable chick before allowing him to enter and asking him to wait in the hall while she was going to bring Maighread in.

Ray looked around, not that impressed by such a decorum displayed through this hall. Big wooden interior, sculptures, old architecture, dark wooden stairs and ceilings, some tapestries which colours were slowly being less and less shiny considering they were older than everyone in this mansion, some carpets, everything making this house wealthy was only the furniture while the house itself was creaking each time there was a windy day. The man had lived there, with his mother and father, in the domestic aisle, most of his life, before leaving when he was a teen. He knew this corridors like no one else and he also remembered some nice little pranks he did to his parents when he was hidden in the library secret passage. A bit cliche but always worked. The thought was enough to bring a smile on his face but it quickly vanished when he heard the voice of an old man coming from up the stairs.

–It's been a while since last time you came here...

Raymond barely looked up, he wasn't much impressed by the old lord and his grey hair, grey moustache, grey tuxedo and severe figure. In fact, all that was filling his eyes right now was animosity.

–A'm not here to talk to ye. A'm here for me mà.

The old lord seemed to feel some heavy pressure on his shoulder and he looked away. Even his voice seemed less full of assurance.

–She should be here soon, I saw Maggie, the maid who introduced you in, rushed to the domestic aisle... ... you know, if I can do something, I-

But Raymond shook hisbhead and interrupted him right away.

–A want nothin' comin' from ye. And don't ye dare bring Maighread into this. Ye've done enough already, don't ye think ?

The old man sighed but replied nothing. Instead, he only nodded and went away, coming back to his room, just a moment before a shaky voice came to Ray's ears. He turned with a small smile hanging on his lips and waited anxiously for the little woman to come closer, uncertain how to react.

In front of his, his mother was looking at him, her hazel eyes wide opened. Her dark wair was tied into a severe bun but her cheeks and wrinkles at the corner of her eyes were indicating a very joyful woman. She was a bit skinnier than last time Ray had seen her and she had aged indeed. Her hands were shaking because of how unreal the moment seemed to be to her and her uniform, her apron indeed, was covered in flour. The man sighed and messed with his own hair, embarrassed and not knowing what to say. Suddenly his mind had gone blank.

–Hey.... huh... well... hi mà...

The old woman didn't let him say anything else and rushed to hug him tight, happy like she had rarely been. Since she was littler, he had to lean a bit but he didn't complain and hugged her back.

–Mo mac ! Balach beag, A've been so worried, me boy !

If anyone wondered where that young man got his accent from, then the answer was his mother, because she was the one always using this soft voice and little words to speak with her son. Even Ray's father had less of an accent than her !

–Ye are insufferable, young man ! Do ye know how very few informations ye put in yer letters ? A didn't even know if ye were doin' fine or not !

–A'm fine, mà... A just... well... A just had... rough days back then... A'm sorry...

A mother would always be a mother and this one knew her som very well. She backed away a bit, softly put her hands on both his cheeks and look him in the eyes with a worried frowned wrinkling her forehead.

–Yer eyes tell a lot, mo mac... Ye'll explain to me later ?

Raymond sighed and looked away. Maighread sighed too and kissed his forehead before smiling.

–I know ye're not here without a reason... do ye mind helping me grab me things ? Then ye'll tell me all about it, sounds fair ?

For how much Raymond wanted to be serious and for how much guilty he was feeling for the past few years, he cracked a smile and followed his mother. This little reunion had been going rather well but the main topic wasn't even brought on the table yet, they would need a long conversation, preferably with a cherry or a good whiskey.

–Yeah... let's go... Care fer a ride on me motorbike ?

–A thought ye'd never ask !

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Chapter 4 : Train trip

The compartment of the wagon was oddly silent. Well, in fact, neither Ray, nor Leon nor Hershel had anything to say. Or rather they wanted to say a lot of things but they didn't dare to, mostly because they didn't know where to begin.

Hershel was still wondering how Ray had managed to got them a compartment without any reservation, but deep down he already had the beginning of an answer, and it was not all about being legal. For now, and because he hadn't slept very well during the previous night, he was sleeping on the bench seat, with his father's own coat to keep him warm and cosy, after having watched the landscape running outside for quite some time.

Leon was staring at the Scottish man, sitting next to his son and making sure his plushy wasn't going to fall from his son's embrace. His eyes were more tired than before and he had crossed his arms, not ready to let any emotion pierce again through his face. He was thankful indeed, because without him they would be taken to the Nest already, but he was also very distant and worried, because it wasn't common to know Targent, and less common was Ray's abilities. Leon had been trapped in this bloody tower for weeks with his wife and, even if he hated to admit it, Targent's soldiers were good. Very good. And from what he had understood when they quickly got a few explanations while waiting for the train, Ray put four of them to sleep with no apparent difficulties, which was... almost impossible. And the man who was aiming at him seemed to know him well, and to be afraid of him too.

–Are ye goin' to stare at me like this for long, sassenach ?

Leon jolted. Ray didn't even looked at him, he was still looking at the fields, behind the window, and he knew perfectly well what Bronev was thinking in this instant. And in fact, the English archaeologist sighed and looked away.

–Stop calling me that.

Ray smiled a bit.

–Calling ye what ?

–That thing, "sasnar". What does it even mean ?

The man in the leather jacket chuckled and rolled his eyes before looking at the English man. His eyes were tired indeed but he refused to sleep, to have an eye on his son and to have an eye on him too.

–"Sassenach", it means "stranger". Or "English". To Scots, it's the same. Also, A think this name suits ye well since A'm sure ye're English at least. "Nikolaï" huh ?

Leon's face grew more serious and his eyes were almost as cold as a statue in the middle of a winter storm. This was a very sensitive topic indeed but they had to talk about it, or else their alliance was meant to end quickly. Judging by the man's willingness to protect Hershel, and how he looked at him, he had principles and a moral code, and he seemed reliable regarding Targent and his hatred toward this terrorist organisation.

–You heard him, huh...

–Leon Bronev, the famous Azran expert. Ye disappeared from a li'le village near Stansbury with yer wife, 2 years ago. And ye are one of the very few people to have escaped Targent.

Ray paused and stared at Leon who was livid and pulling his son closer from his side, as to protect him from an invisible menace. The Scottish man sighed and looked back through the window.

–Sorey...

–To anyone else, I'm Nikolaï Sycamore and he's my son Desmond. As for you, I'm still concerned about my son's safety since tonight you were clearly out of these agents' league. "Ray", seriously ? That's merely a nickname.

He smiled a bit, bitter, and sighed. This situation was really awkward and making them both uncomfortable but they had to adress the issue because it was the key to build a mere sense of confidence. However, the other man seemed to brush off the idea of talking about his name and focused back on a more important topic.

–Ye're not bad either. Nice hook, by the way.

–Thanks but... you're avoiding the topic. Why are you helping us ? You could've let us go on our own and then go on your own as well.

That question wasn't surprising, and somehow Ray was waiting for it. But even if he was prepared to hear it, he had no answer which would be satisfying enough to give to the archaeologist. This was his sensitive topic, the one he wasn't comfortable with, because the answer was also very unsatisfying for him as well.

–I... made some very questionable choices in the past... and...

He paused for a few seconds and stared at Hershel, or rather Desmond, who was sleeping under the coat and close to his father, before looking away again. In his eyes, Leon was certain to have spotted some guilt.

–Let's just say that I seek redemption... for the people I hurt. And I hope I'll achieve it someday...

Another long and heavy silence. Leon observed the man sitting in front of him with curiosity and yet with the clear impression that he was trying to hide the elephant in the room. And it was working rather well indeed since he had no idea what it could be. But the voice and the eyes of that strange Scottish biker were everything but full of lies. Deep inside, the English archaeologist knew his newly found ally was truly trying to make amend for something that happened in his life.

Ray sighed again but his dark eyes stared at Leon for some time before he finally decided to keep going.

–The past, A don't care. Ye want to be called Nikolaï, A'll call ye Nikolaï, same for yer boy, A'll call him Desmond. But for now... we need to head to somewhere safe. And nowhere will be, unless we put as much distance as possible between us and them.

Leon sighed again and kept his son close while looking outside. The sky was slowly starting to be covered with grey clouds and the air seemed to get colder. Judging by the direction the train took, and by the fact that they needed to head far away from London, they were probably heading north.

To break a bit with the heavy topic, Leon focused back on a lighter matter.

–You're wrong though. I'm not entirely English.

Ray raised an eyebrow. Leon rolled his eyes a bit playfully.

–My father was from Saint Petersburg.

Both men looked at each other before chuckling a bit, to ease a bit that pression that had been concentrated for a few hours now. Ray couldn't believe it.

–Ye're English AND Russian, fer God's sake !

–Da ! Now hush, you'll wake my son up...!

But the more he was thinking about it and the more they both wanted to laugh because that sounded like something absolutely uninteresting and yet oddly funny in this particular context. Ray shook his head and kept going.

–Well, as fer me, A owe ye the truth... Me real name's Raymond and I hate it.

–Oh... it explains a few things.

–Is that so ?

–...In fact no, it's just so... so not Scottish-sounding. Sounds like a French waiter at the Ritz.

They both began to laugh again after a glare from the Scottish man. This sounded rather strange to Leon, to hear himself laugh, because it had been weeks since the last time he truly was able to release all that stress. However, they had to come back to focusing on serious matters.

–I see... But it will still be rather risky and probably hard since being a single father with a young son is rather tough these days.

–We could... be roomates ? Flatmates ? A dunno, what do ye call two people livin' together and both paying the rent ?

If there was any kind of idea that was supposed to be crossing Leon's mind right now, it was certainly not this one ! In fact, this sounded so uncommon and unpredictable that he lost an instant to stare, his mouth wide opened and his eyes round and more round even.

–I beg your pardon ?

Ray raised and eyebrow and his shoulders.

–What ? Can't we somehow make it work ? A'm broke, A can't afford to live in a house by meself. And ye can't take good care of yer boy without an ally. It doesn't sound so crazy to me.

Leon stared at the man, his face, his eyes, his leather jacket, his position on the bench -quite relaxed, occupying the space he had- and his attitude until now and suddenly he began to laugh a bit, and the more he was thinking of the man as a "normal man doing normal things in a normal house", he couldn't help but to laugh a bit louder. This was enough for Desmond to yawn a little and open one eye, then the other, and looking at both adults who seemed to have been discussing important matter during his little nap.

–Hmm ?... Dad, why are you laughing ?

–F-For nothing, ahaha ! No, truly, don't worry, don't worry my boy... ahaha !... it's just that, oh god, Ray here just-

–What ? Is it so insane ?!

Desmond looked at both the men with a confused frown, waiting for an answer to his interrogation, and also rather surprised to hear his father laughing. Raymond sighed and shook his head while explaining a bit more what they were talking about a few minutes ago.

–We were talking about livin' together.

–Wait-what ?!

The little high-pitched voice of the boy was enough to make Leo laugh again, even though Desmond was, after this moment of blunt surprise, was seriously pondering the idea. It was risky, for sure, but at least they were together in this awful situation and they could possibly make it work. His little mind was way too serious sometimes and it was now one of these times.

–Well, it all depends on where we are going to move in... also, I doubt I can still be doing homeschooling. I love you dad but... you always tell me it's better to find knowledge everywhere rather than taking it always from the same source.

His father stopped laughing, opened his mouth with the intention to say something, but in the end he just closed it and mumbled something before sighing.

–That's... true, but... you know we have to be discrete.

Raymond thought it was his time to intervene.

–Neh, don't worry sassenach, ye're not goin' to be spotted where we're headin' !

–Oh, that's true... Where is this train going ?

–To Dingwall. It's a li'le town near Iverness, north Scotland. Targent is never goin' to come here, they wont suspect ye're hidin' with me.

Leon looked at the weather. Yup, typical Scottish weather coming ahead.

–I should've guessed. It's raining, in Dingwall, I guess ?

Raymond stared at Leon for a good minte long anf took a deep breath, trying to stop his tongue from being bitchy, but he couldn't help it.

–Of course it's raining ! Where do ye think Scotland is ? The freaking Pyrenees ?

–Language !

The archaeologist snapped before rolling his eyes and sighed once again.

–Why Dingwall ?

–Because A know where to find a house fer us three.

–A house ? Whose house ?

That was surprisingly... quick. There's no way he had been able to look for a house so soon so here it was, the elephant in the room. At this one too, Ray seemed a bit awkward and he muttered something no one heard correctly. Leon frowned.

–I beg your pardon ?

–... me mom's...

He muttered while blushing and looking away. Desmond and Leon looked at each other and then stared back at the Scottish man.

–.... what ?!

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Chapter 3 : Run, you clever boy...

Leon wasn't sleeping. He couldn't. All that happened this day was running wild inside his mind and he couldn't help but to feel guilty for having to make his son move out so quickly again. They have been living there for a few months now, it was the longest they've been staying somewhere and he thought he had been careful enough not to get spotted by anyone in London, but he hadn't. And this only simple thing every parent should be able to provide their child –a safe place to live, somewhere to establish– was a mess for him to give to a boy who asked for nothing, and certainly not for a life as a runaway at such a young age. And if it wasn't enough, Leon was also living with the fact that his children would grow up separated, and without their mother. Rachel's face imposed itself to his mind and he sighed again, defeated, while folding a few clothes inside a big bag.

Hershel was sleeping, Leon wanted to make sure he was taking some rest before beginning to pack their stuff, to be ready to leave for tomorrow. The poor boy was still shaken by the way he came back home panicking, and alaso on a motorbike with a total stranger who seemed to know about Targent too. Now that he was thinking about it, this was quite surprising considering that the Scottish man was everything but looking like an archaeologist, or a linguist, or an historian. In fact, he looked rather more like a grave-digger himself, or a treasor hunter. Why would he ever be involved with an organisation like this ? He seemed to be a free spirit, not the kind to be bound to some terrorist company.

Another sigh. God, the day had been tough enough, and the night was barely beginning yet. He wouldn't sleep much, that was certain, even more when he knew he would only have nightmares if he miraculously could grab some minutes of sleep. No, truly, he would be better awake tonight.

The floor creaked. Leon sighed and didn't want to turn so soon. Hershel was having a nightmare again probably, or else he was awake again, but the adult one needed a few seconds to compose himself an expression that wasn't screaming guilt.

–Go back to sleep dear, I'll finish the packing don't worry.

But no one answered back. In fact, the only answer he got was something cold being put between his shoulders, and for having known this sensation for weeks, he suddenly tensed and stopped his movements, paler than a ghost and his throat turning as dried up as the Mojave desert.

–You're up late, Bronev, said a mocking voice behind Leon's back. I'm not surprised though, you always used to work late at night.

No answer from the archaeologist who gritted his teeth while clenching his fists and trembling a bit. His eyes were staring at the wall in front of him with pure terror. Even his voice was trembling a bit because he was already anticipating the following part.

–H-How did... how did you... ?

–Find you ? interrupted the voice of the agent holding him at gunpoint. Quite easy, really. And we know you're quite a competent man when it comes to disappear, so we've made it quick. You have not been very discrete today, have you ? I guess there's still people ready to help a traitor like you.

There was a little moment of silence and then the man came closer to Leon's ear to whisper.

–Also... The Condor sends his regards to you and your son.

Bronev quickly turned around but his eyes were betraying two emotions. First, the anger, and then the horror. He was behaving like a trapped animal, ready to bite to get out of this alive, but also knowing he could possibly die so ready to do anything in a last attempt to live. That was the kind of feelings mixing up in his chest while he was facing the smug agent in blueshish-grey uniform, with his hat and sunglasses, holding the gun. Two other agents were by his side, silent and waiting for an order. That was all they were going to do anyway.

–Don't you dare involve my son into this, he's just a child !

–We'll need that brat to keep you at the Nest, since your wife can't be taking that role anymore.

–You bloody-

But before he could finish his sentence, he heard a scream not so far, in the corridor in fact, and he could have recognised that voice anywhere and anytime. His blood ran cold and he was about to rush out of the room, regardless of the gun, when the other two agents grabbed him firmly enough to stop him from doing so.

–Hershel !

———

Back in his room, the boy had been awake for a few minutes now, really worried and sad to have to leave so soon such a wonderful house and a wonderful town, and wonderful people. And he knew his dad was packing in his room, at the other end of the corridor, because he was doing this every time they had to move on. That was a thing he was doing to ease a bit the guilt and the sadness of the moment but it was still hurting a lot. Deep down, Hershel knew he shouldn't hold a grudge against his father, who was doing absolutely everything he could to keep them safe, but deep down he was conflicted and his little child's heart and mind couldn't bear all this everytime.

At some point, staying alone in this room was too hard to bear too, so he stood up, get out of bed, took his plushy in his arms and was about to join his father to help folding the clothes when someone grabbed him by the waist and dragged him off the floor. He was about to scream, surprised and sure it wasn't his dad, but that somebody stopped him from doing so with a firm hand on his mouth. He was struggling like crazy but a little boy against an adult was not strong enough.

His eyes were beginning to get teary while he was clearly feeling defenseless, and he thought he would be taken away by some shadow but all of the sudden rhe grip of the stranger loosened and he fell on the floor with a grunt. He looked up quickly and saw a vague silhouette falling too, probably unconscious. But what scared him most was the other silhouette behind the first one, black and massive, holding something in his hands. Without thinking about it more than that, the boy screamed.

–Hershel !

He heard his father call for him and was about to call back but the other person kneeled and stopped him from screaming again.

–Shh... ! Be quiet, balach beag...!

As soon as he recognised the words and accent, Hershel opened wide eyes and stopped, trying to distinguish the Scottish man's face thanks to the pale light of the moon piercing through the window. The man in the leather jacket winked a bit and smiled before whispering.

–Now, be quiet... there's a few more people in this house that aren't supposed to be here... A've knocked out three of 'em a'ready... but there's still three of 'em with yer dad...

Ray was seeing through the night as if it was as clear as the day, so he could clearly see Desmond's teary eyes. He wiped his tears and gave him a bag before making sure no one was coming that way.

–OK... now pack yer things... what's necessary, nothin' else. A'll go get yer father, until now, ye hide behind the sofa, in the livin'. OK boy ?

Too stunned to speak, the boy nodded vigorously and grabbed only the necessary things, like his plushy, his books, and a few clothes indeed.

Back in the corridor, Ray was slowly heading to the sassenach's room, as silent as a shadow, while spying on their conversation. The three agents remaining were all in the same room, as he thought, and one of them seemed to be the leader, holding the English archaeologist at gunpoint probably, that was their way to do after all.

–Once we're back at the Nest, you'll be able to focus on your work again. But trust me when I say you should begin to beg for the Condor's mercy.

Ray winced. That bloody Condor was still looking for archaeologists and historians, as it seemed, and it was everything but good news since he was a very stubborn bird. The sassenach didn't seem to be ready to give up on his freedom so easily.

–Well, tell him to go to hell and to say hi to his old cousin Satan.

–Careful, Bronev. Don't forget your son's life is at stake.

The Scottish man opened wide eyes. Bronev ? Like in "Leon Bronev" ? Oh, that explained a lot of things. Beginning with the reason why he was so encline to escape Targent's radars and surveillance for so long. But for now there was no time for questions, nor for a proper introduction. He sighed and took a deep breath before doing something.

He quickly switched off the lights in the room before bolting in and grabbing the leader's arm, the one holding the gun. By chance he knew that most agents were right handed, so he got it right even in a dark room. He brought the arm down and made him let go of the gun, while he was trying to defend himself. The two men holding Bronev were surprised to see nothing anymore in a matter of seconds and his instant of surprise was enough for the archaeologist to step on one's foot and give a punch in the stomach of the second with his elbow. They grip loosened and Leon took the arm of the first one, punched the second one right in the face and sent him to say hi to Morpheus quite quickly. The first one was trying to reply with a right hook but Bronev was quicker. He bent down and stood straight after the punch went over his head, grabbed the man by his jacket and punched him in the stomach before hitting his head against the wall. This one too went to say hi to the king of dreams. And as quickly, he switched on the lights.

During that time, Ray had taken the gun from the leader and was now the one holding him at gunpoint. But this one knew who he was and he looked at him with frightened eyes, since his sunglasses had fallen on the floor and the light was emphasising his fear.

–I knew someone was accompanying Bronev but I didn't know it was you...

–Thank God A swore ne'er to go back to that life aga'n, or else A would've ended yer pathetic life right now.

But instead of shooting, he took the gun by the canon and hit him with the cross to make him fall unconscious again. Before Brinev could understand anything, Ray was already grabbing the bag with the clothes in it, took everything that seemed to be researches and put it in the bag too, before running down the stairs, followed by a very worried English archaeologist.

–Don't look at me like that, sassenach, we're in a hurry. Others will come, there's a train in the next town leavin' tomorrow mornin'. A know a place we'll be safe.

–We ?!

Ray didn't even bother to answer Bronev's interrogation since there was no time and he smiled when he saw Desmond being hidden behind the couch.

–Right, balach beag, ye've ever got on a motorbike ? Because A'll drive ye to have a nice trip in train.

Desmond was even more confused than before and he looked at his father who was completely losing it.

–Why ? Why helping us and coming with us ? I thank you for the... erm... rescue... but-

–We'll speak later, sassenach. For now let's get ye both to safety, OK ?

Leon knew thus was a big risk. Bigger than any risk he had already taken, but they didn't have a choice anyway. He patted his son's shoulder and nodded.

–Alright... Let's do this then.

With a common sign of the head, they rushed out of the house, all three, and went on the motorbike. When the men in the house woke up, no one else was there.

———

Sitting at his desk, the silhouette of a man was answering a phone call. It was very rare to have someone call him, and more rare was he answering it. But this time it was different. This was an important phone call.

–... I see...

A slight smile appeared on his lips but no one could see it. He hanged down the phone and chuckled a bit. This was absolutely perfect.

–Well well well... isn't it interesting...

He looked down at his desk. On it, there was a record, filled with notes, reports, and observations. He took a photo among them and stared at it for a few seconds.

–Run, you clever boy... and remember...

His smile on this instant would've frozen a corpse.

–Big Brother is watching you~

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Chapter 2 : The man on the motorbike

Desmond was upstairs, in his room, reading a book he had borrowed to his father about archaeology and Azran stuff. Donald Rutledge was the only well-known expert as it seemed that had written a book so detailed and so complete about this civilisation, and it was incredibly thin regarding how advanced such people must have been. However, every information about them was good to take, and when he would grow up, he would be helpful to his father, he would find back his brother and his mother, and he would make sure his family would be complete again. So, while his father was out for groceries, he could borrow his books and look at his research a bit without worrying him too much.

However, the more the time was passing by and the more Desmond was beginning to worry since his father hadn’t come home yet. Each time he would go to London, the boy was always worried he would be caught by some undercover agents, or spotted, or lost, or worst, and since his father was the only family he had left, he was more than worried in fact, he was terrified that someone could take him away from him one more time.

Just when he thought he would go to the shop down the street, too afraid to stay alone again, he heard the sound of a motorbike running outside and then stop near the house, while two people seemed to be bickering about something.

–For God’s sake, you truly are insane when you ride that… that… that machine !

It was his father’s voice ! Without thinking twice, he quickly put the book back on the shelf in his father’s working room and he quickly came down the stairs to go to the hall, hearing things more clearly and suddenly pausing in front of the door. Wait, if his father was speaking to someone… then who would it be ? And why were they so angry at each other ?

–Oh, shet up, sassenach, A’m perfec’ly able to drive that beauty anywhere, with or without yer commentary !

Without waiting much longer, Leon sighed, got down the motorbike and quickly entered the house to look for his son… almost falling on him when he saw the youngest behind the door, anxiously looking at it.

–Hershel- !

He kneeled and took his son in his arms before hugging him tight, relieved to see that he was doing fine. Since Targent first came to their house, he has had some sleepless nights making sure they were never around their location, and the whole event left him almost paranoid about it. Losing his son would be the last strike of a dagger inside his poor broken heart.

–I’m sorry, I was so worried… Everything is alright my boy ?

Desmond was getting more worried himself since his father’s behaviour was everything but normal.

–Dad ?… What happened ?

But, as soon as he saw the other man getting down the motorbike, he took a few steps back and looked less of a child all of the sudden, completely analysing the manners of this new face. The same age his father, approximatively, not so tall, not a friend, a perfect stranger, strong Scottish accent, not really serious right now, and too much at ease. How could he be so relaxed and how on earth could his father be coming home with such an individual ?

–Who is he, dad ?

The Scottish man looked at the young boy, with a puzzled expression engraved on his face. He didn’t know exactly why but he had been driving this strange English man to his home because he heard him called his son. He had done it because of the light tremolo in his voice, because of the worry of this man for his child, because Targent was everything but merciful with children, and because somehow this man seemed truly pathetic. Of course.

–Hey, balach beag, how’s yer day ?

–Who are you ?

Desmond snapped before getting in front of his father, between both men, not ready to let anyone enter their home to take anyone away. His little hands were trembling like crazy but he stood his ground and was trying to look as intimidating as possible.

–I-If you’re there to hurt my dad, t-then you’ll have to go… to go through me f-first !

–Hershel…

Leon sighed and his expression grew more guilty. It was because of him if Hershel was behaving like this, trying to put all that pressure on his shoulder rather than just letting his father bear it. It was because he hadn’t been able to protect either Rachel nor Theodore. Because of Targent, they were forced to live like outcasts, always hiding, never trusting anyone but themselves, and moving from place to place to make sure never to be caught since that bloody organisation knew he was the archaeologist with the most extended comprehension of this bloody Azran civilisation. All of this, it was because of him.

Slowly, he took Hershel’s arm and stood up to ask him silently to do or say nothing too harsh.

–It’s fine, my boy, he helped me coming home.

–Aye, and we met at-

–We met at the grocery shop, interrupted Leon before the lad could finish his sentence.

It was not necessary to worry Hershel more than he already was. But the boy looked at his father, then stared at the man and at his motorbike. Then she shook his head with a very sad expression.

–Dad, you brought no groceries… And you were way too shaken when you hugged me. Please, tell me the truth… Do we have to move out again ?

This was also a subtle way to ask, in front of that stranger, if Targent had found them again. Leon sighed again, deeply ashamed of himself and how bad of a father he was.

–I… I think so… But it would just be a precaution, to be sure-

The Scottish man, however, was still there and he was a bit embarrassed, because it was somehow a very good delusion if the English man would hope to stay near London while having been spotted so close to his location.

–Hum, A don’t mean to int’rupt ye but… Ye better go far from London. In the deep countryside, mate. Because they’ve found ye around, and they won’t give up. It's as braid as it's lang, ye can’t stay here.

Leon stared at the man and his dark red eyes seemed even darker.

–I think we had an agreement. I thank you for the help but as you remember, you have to go back to your place already.

The man in leather jacket raised an eyebrow, then sighed and rolled his eyes.

–A've no jist come up the Clyde on a bike, ye know ? Targent never gives up, do they ?

Desmond opened wide eyes.

–Wait- you know about them ? Dad, what’s going on here ?

–Nothing Hershel, our friend was on the departure anyway, right, « mate » ?

The man sighed again. They were off their heid, no doubt, but anyway he couldn’t get involved with them. For how much he would hate a child to get into troubles, he couldn’t allow himself to be close to people. He almost paid it too highly years ago. But for now he had at least to spend the night in this little town since it was beginning to be late and his motorbike had run out of gas.

–Ok, ok… A’ll leave, but… at least, do ye know where A can take some rest ? A didna get a blink o sleep last nicht. Is there an inn ? a hotel ? something ? where A can spend the nicht ?

Despite not being very fund of the idea to help a total stranger, Leon gave him an address down the street of a very good inn ready to find him a room for the night. However, the salutations were short and quick. Once alone in their house, Hershel and his father were staring at each other with guilty frowns, knowing perfectly well that tomorrow they would have to move out again, as soon as possible. Even if Leon didn’t know nor like that Ray guy, he was right at some point. They couldn’t stay here and certainly not so close to London if some agents have had spotted them. Without another word, they went to the kitchen to prepare something to eat, but the silence filling up the air was way heavier than a lead ceiling.

———

In town, “Ray” had found the address of the inn the “legal grave-digger” had told him about, and once he was certain his motorbike was already full of gas, he parked it somewhere in the street -just below the window of the room he had been given for the night- and finally sit in front of a desk on which there were a bottle of single malt whiskey, a pen and a blank sheet of paper. He looked at it for a few minutes while taking a pipe out of his jacket inner pocket, filling it with tobacco before lighting it up and taking a few puffs. After some other long minutes during which he wasn't certain to agree wih his own mind, he finally decided to take the pen to write something down but, as soon as he wrote the name of a person on the top of it, he stopped and let go of the pen with an upset little snappy move of the wrist.

–Feck...

He dropped his head back and closed his eyes, reflecting on the past few years and on his choices. Things were hardly nice these days. First, he had thought he could win over a bunch of idiots a few amount of money by cheating at card games and drinking a bit in a town he wasn't supposed to be. But then that man came here in a Scottish pub to get wasted even though he was supposed to... go get some groceries ? for his little boy ? How was it even possible that such coincidence and such ill omen were disposed to be put like this on his way ? And now Targent was back. And they have noticed someone, and now no matter whoever it was, him or the sassenach, now they were both involved because they had fled together. This was suspect enough, and when these assholes would look into their archives, they would remember those faces. His, and the sassenach's.

He sighed and took another puff from his pipe before folding the paper and make it come closer to a lighten match before looking at the paper burn to ashes into the ashtray. When the name on it disappeared, he stood up, went to his window and opened it to lean on the threshold and look at the starsky while smoking. The night wouldn't be long...

....

Or maybe not.

What were these shadows running behind the houses and in the streets ?

The Scottish man frowned. A few years ago he would never have noticed this kind of details but now he was more than aware this was everything but a nice thing and even more... it was a very worrying thing. He looked at them crawling in the shadows and then opened wide eyes.

-Oh feck !

He grabbed his jacket, turned off his pipe in a hurry and rushed out of the Inn. These people were heading to the sassenach's house.

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Again because insomnia kicks hard sometimes XD

And also because that was a big stupid thing I wanted to make after a silly thought we had with @mortallychaotickingdom

The audio is from "The Nanny", a sitcom I love more than any good thriller XD if Desmond had to declare to his wife, this would be it !

Because we all need some old Scottish butler !

Never wondered how would a young hotting Raymond would look like ?

@mortallychaotickingdom did a design of him younger and it is perfect, GO CHECK HER MARVELLOUS WORK ! ♡♡♡☆☆☆

And so I tried something X3 he was a goddamn fox in his twenties, change my mind !

HIIIIIIIII I LOVE EVERYTHING YOU DRAW MARTY, THIS IS PURE GOLD >~< THANK YOU A LOOOOOOOT ! ❤️❤️❤️💫💫💫😍😍😍

I’m firmly convinced that everyone needs a Raymond in their lives 💕

However this is my part for the art trade with the incredible ✨@mirza-majoris✨

She’s such a talented artist and lovely person so please if you’re into pl stuff and gorgeous art check her out! >:3 

And this was my reaction XD I just love when Marty draws him and there he has me, really XD

Now that I think about it, Raymond and Bronev are really opposites X3 the first one is sexier when he is younger and the second one had to pass over 50 to be really handsome XD

Poor Rachel being like "ExCuSe Me ?! Why did I have to die before he became that hot !?"

I realized I reached the peak of my insanity when instead of resting I decided to sketch a young hottie Raymond…

alright Marty, enough internet for today.  

a little bit of context on how everything begun :

I’m not alone tho- @narumitsu-lawlu​ and @mirza-majoris​ are my accomplices in this madness eheh