Robert mulled over the proposition. Just...humor him for a bit. He's clearly trying to do something nice— regardless of the shitty attitude.

"Alright," he said after a solid minute of the kid staring at him with that placid smile, his hand outstretched in frustrated patience. "I'll take the room and meal— but I'm not going in on any contract until I get a better idea of what your asking."

Pierre's smile switched from placid to genuine then dropped entirely as Robert took his hand. "Agreed— it's sensible to be cautious. I admire your intelligence."

Before Robert could comment on the backhanded insult, the boy pulled him effortlessly from the ground, forcing him to stand and stagger from the show of unnatural strength.

"Wait— you don't mean now, do you? It's eight in the morning! Don't you have school?" Robert scooped up his tin and cardboard sign, already running behind as the kid carried on with his umbrella.

"I own the school I attend, and it's not pertinent for me to be there today." Pierre waved, not even taking a moment to look back. "Don't dally, it's a long walk back."

Pierre roamed the streets, silent as Robert tried to keep up with his steady pace from the skyscrapers toward an incredibly wealthy and old part of town. Storefronts morphed from decrepit and undermaintained to glistening, until they finally shifted into the Victorian estates planted near the center of the city.

Vast properties with plaid mowed lawns and brick and mortar buildings that didn't look nearly as old as they were. Robert marveled at the beauty of it, the magnificence that so easily juxtaposed the slums he spent weeks in begging for money and thrifting food and clothes out the dumpsters in the alleys.

The boy finally came to a stop at a stately manor, one that sat squarely on a hill, lead to by a paved and gated road lined with hundred year old oak trees that had withered with the winter air.

Pierre pressed a button on the side of the gate, speaking through the intercom. "Callum, I'm back...and I've brought a guest. Would you kindly open the gate?"

After a couple moments of silence, the grand Iron gate rolled back, allowing passage onto the property. The whole place a gorgeous. Emmaculately kept and gardened. It left Robert speechless and dwarfed in comparison with his meager pack of coats and blankets, and his tin of grubby pocket change.

"Please pick your mouth up off the pavement, mister Dupont." How does he—

"I had Callum sniff you out after our encounter." The boy clarified before Robert could even ask the question. "I know you're a licensed insurance broker who's failed marriage and forced resignation led you onto Fairtherbarny streets. You also have several unpaid pay day loans— you ought to take care of those."

"You background checked me?" He reiterated, baffled by how much information he had retained without so much as asking his name. "How?"

"I have my ways." Pierre stopped at the door, an ornate, solid mahogany piece with filigree and shiny brass knockers. Something heavy that someone his size should not have been able to easily swing open. Yet he did, and politely beckoned Robert inside.

The entrance hall was vast and dark, every single curtain was thick and closed, blocking out any semblance of light that could have entered. Robert was still lost in his stupor of the magnitude of the place.
Solid marble tiles, checkered in pretty patterns on the floor, with deep green or perhaps blue wallpapers covered by oak wainscoting and gorgeous paintings of landscapes. China sat displayed on pedestals like a museum and at the center of the ballroom was a gleaming case with jeweled chains and crosses, items that looked liked they cost more money than it took to live.

"Thought you said you was an orphan?" Robert breathed, already dizzy from how much he spun just to drink in every detail of the beautiful home.

Pierre opened his mouth to reply, bit before any words left his lips he was tackled by another kid roughly the same age as him.

"Pyr! Did you bring treats?!" The boy whimpered, his big brown eyes searching his face. "You promised this time you would bring something back for me if I watched the—"

"Shh!" Pierre promptly shoved what was most definitely a dog treat into the boy's mouth to shut him up. "Callum, this is Mister Dupont. Robert, this is Callum."

There's two of them??

"You didn't say anything about the other kid. I didn't agree to—"

"Callum is not part of the contract. He will not be requiring any of your services." Services? I still haven't signed anything. I'm not providing anything until I know what's going on here. Why two kids are staying in the huge house without any supervision.

Pierre blatantly ignored the man's trite glare and continued on a small tour of the home. "Make yourself at home. The kitchen is on the lower floor, left wing, drawing room on the right. Bedrooms are all upstairs— do not enter the attic. Under any circumstances."

"What's in the attic?" Robert inched curiously toward the ornamental case, eyeing the expensive items inside for a moment.

"Nothing you need to know about as of current." Pierre answered casually, "there are lunch meats in the kitchen, and a recently stocked pantry. You are free to help yourself. You may stay for one day and one night and we will discuss the contract the eve of your dismissal." What is with this kid? What's really going on here? This isn't adding up. I definitely walked into a trap.

"Oh! You like red meat?" Callum piped up, still slobbering all over his treat. He circled around Robert, making small noises as he looked him up and down. "You smell awful, do you not take baths? I hate them too— my mom always makes me take one every night with all my sisters and it's such a pain! Can you cook? Pyr doesn't cook much so when I come over to help he never has anything I wanna eat."

"I— uh, yeah? Used to cook for my—"

"Oh, oh! You had chilli six months ago? I love chilli! It's one of my favorites— did Pyr show you the armory yet? It's so  cool! There are suits and everything! I accidentally put a dent in the wall while I was messing around with the swords but Pyr said it was fine." Did this kid ever stop talking?

Callum bounced around Robert, tugging on his coat tail in effort to drag him toward the armory he spoke of and show off the notch he apparently made in the wood. In the meantime, the increasingly less than average Pierre splintered off toward the kitchen.

Callum was the more uh, regular kid. In comparison to Pierre. He had a mouth that ran on for miles about anything and everything. He changed topics faster than Robert could keep up. Nina would like this kid.

Robert smiled softly, letting his nerves ease as Callum took over the conversation, flitting from the interesting history of Roman weaponry to how old homes like this one used to have arsenic and lead in the walls.

He was a hyper boy, with bleached Carmel dreadlocks styles in a Mohawk on his head and bright amber eyes that glinted in the stray beams of sunlight. He looked far less gangly than Pierre and reminded Robert of his daughter in the way he talked.

"And you know, they had these really cool swords— can't remember what they're called but they were bent all funky on the side and the soldiers used them to poke and stab people around their shields and stuff! Pyr told me it was a 'rudimentary use of steel work for the time' but I still think they're pretty cool." Callum haphazardly swung around the sica, attempting to replicate his creative interpretation of ancient battle with an armored statue in the corner.

Robert watched him with mild interest, every now and again the excitement vibrating off the kid made him chuckle in amusement to hide how deeply his thoughts had gone into the past. Nina would have loved this boy. She would scoop him up in heartbeat and tell him he was officially her best friend without a second thought.

"Callum," Pierre interrupted from the doorway, drawing both the boy and Robert's attention. "I'm sure Mister Dupont is thoroughly impressed with your riveting intellectual exploits."

"You think?" Callum gave a big grin, completely obtuse to Pierre's sarcasm. "I was showing off your cool bendy sword!"

Pierre nodded, his eyes flickering toward the mutilated knight in the corner as he pressed a straw to his mouth and took a sip of his juice pack.

"You could join us you know?" Robert gestured toward the rack of swords. "Don't seem like you give yourself time for fun."

"I have plenty of fun." Pierre remarked coldly, seeing straight through the effort to make acquaintance. "It's getting late. Your room has been made— in the right wing upstairs."

No room for idle conversation huh?

Robert let out a soft sigh and got to hit feet, providing a short nod and allowing the far too proper child to lead him to his room.

"There is a bath and shower, and you still have the opportunity to make dinner in the kitchen. There are no servants or maids, so you will have to make your own bed if you see fit to it." The boy stopped at the doorway but didn't enter the room. Instead he turned his gaze up at Robert as if he were trying to read something in his face.

Whatever it was, he didn't find it and make a small noise in disappointment.

"Thank you...really" Robert hesitated, and reached his hand out in effort to provide a small pat on the back. Pierre took a quick step back though and a terrible look of quick hatred flickered across his face in the small moments he lost his composure and snarled at the man.

"Don't touch me." He growled, straightening up and twisting around to leave before Robert could provide any sort of apology.

It was surreal, all of this. The room was lovely, of course. But how Robert found himself whisked away from the streets and placed in an increasingly odd home, with an increasingly odd child treating him more like a business partner than homeless man was...unreal.

Robert mulled around, first taking a much deserved shower before bundling up under the duvet and pouring out the contents of his pockets. A wallet, not one that had much more than a social security card and a license. A couple of extra shirts, a nice one for when he went in for interview— didn't do its job well.
Robert paused on the small photo album that flopped out last. It was one of the only things remaining after he lost everything. A compilation of memories that hurt far more than they made him happy.

The man pulled it into his lap to look at, flipping through the pages in order to avoid family photos. He stopped though on one.

Picture day. He remembered it well because he spent all morning trying to tame Nina's hair, they made a compromise with space buns that looked like little bear ears on the top of her head. She had lost a tooth a couple days previous and it showed on her bright, crooked smile.

"I miss you baby...met some kids I think you'd like." Robert smiled, tracing along the old picture of his daughter. "Boys about your age, one's a hoot— told me all about Roman fighting. The other....well, he's a bit strange. You'd pull him right out of his shell for sure though."

He drew in a fragile breath, pushing down the grief that rose in his chest and made his heart ache.

"I don't know what to do...Nina," Robert whispered, the words breaking down into a shuddered, sorry noise when he said them. "I don't— don't know if I can keep doing this."