At least the weather gives Timo little cause for distraction as he leans over his paper, lit by the flickering light of his candle. Staring at it in the dark like this hurts his eyes, but he doesn't have much of a choice. Although he can speak English well enough for day to day encounters, and he knows the highly specific language of the research that they've been working on, there's enough gaps between them that makes writing anything up a complete pain. He has his research notes spread out beside him, written in a scribbly mix of English, Finnish, Swedish and Russian, using whatever language came to the surface of his increasingly muddled head at the time.
The knock on the door comes as a surprise, rocking him from his thoughts. He drops his pen, and then scrambles to mop up the ink before it damages anything irreparably. "Ah, a moment, please!" Well, his sleeves are already ink splattered, what will a little more do? He doesn't notice the smudge of damp ink that leaves on his cheek and hair as he tucks his hair behind his ear as he goes to finally open the door and receive his letter.
"He's waiting in the entrance." Timo's told, before the man disappears into the dark, leaving him confused.
"Who is?" He asks, but too late. The letter in his hands seems the only explanation, so he retreats to the light of his candle to see if it holds any clues.
It does. All the information that he needs. 'He' must be the boy that his father has told him he will take on as his son, at risk of losing the healthy income that his father provides for him. There's no explanation of who the boy actually is, but it doesn't take much for Timo to guess. He wasn't invited to the wedding of his older brother, but he was at least informed of it. And the letter isn't entirely stick. In return for taking on the boy, Timo will not only have a rise in his income to cover the boy, but a little extra besides. Timo doesn't need it for his day to day expenses, but he has been trying to put aside some. After all, he can't expect to inherit much, and at some point the income he's receiving will stop.
In fact, the only thing that the letter neglects to include is the boy's name.
Letter still in hand, he picks up the candle in the other and heads out into the cold corridor, quickly wishing he'd put a jumper on before leaving the relative warmth of his room. But the cold doesn't stop him from waiting outside the guardsroom, clutching to the letter like it might offer some form of protection. What should he say? Does the boy know that he's not really his father? Timo assumes not, it's too much to ask of a child to keep something like that a secret. So he can't tell him either. But he can't lie forever. He hates lying.
Finally, he takes a step in. What startles him is how old he is. He must be five or six already. Does his father really intend to claim that he was fifteen when he fathered the boy? Still - stranger things have happened. Timo crouches in front of him so they're eye to eye and then gives him a slightly unsure smile, still hesitant. He's trying to be calm for the boy's sake, but there's too much to take in really.
"Hello." Timo starts in Finnish, and then realises that he doesn't know what language the boy's been brought up in so far. But then his father's family are more Russian than Finnish these days, so he tries that. "I'm Timo. I'm your father." The words felt odd, out of place, but he forced them out, already noticing that he was soaked and his smile turning to more of a frown. He needed to get him warmed up. "Do you have a name?"
no subject
The knock on the door comes as a surprise, rocking him from his thoughts. He drops his pen, and then scrambles to mop up the ink before it damages anything irreparably. "Ah, a moment, please!" Well, his sleeves are already ink splattered, what will a little more do? He doesn't notice the smudge of damp ink that leaves on his cheek and hair as he tucks his hair behind his ear as he goes to finally open the door and receive his letter.
"He's waiting in the entrance." Timo's told, before the man disappears into the dark, leaving him confused.
"Who is?" He asks, but too late. The letter in his hands seems the only explanation, so he retreats to the light of his candle to see if it holds any clues.
It does. All the information that he needs. 'He' must be the boy that his father has told him he will take on as his son, at risk of losing the healthy income that his father provides for him. There's no explanation of who the boy actually is, but it doesn't take much for Timo to guess. He wasn't invited to the wedding of his older brother, but he was at least informed of it. And the letter isn't entirely stick. In return for taking on the boy, Timo will not only have a rise in his income to cover the boy, but a little extra besides. Timo doesn't need it for his day to day expenses, but he has been trying to put aside some. After all, he can't expect to inherit much, and at some point the income he's receiving will stop.
In fact, the only thing that the letter neglects to include is the boy's name.
Letter still in hand, he picks up the candle in the other and heads out into the cold corridor, quickly wishing he'd put a jumper on before leaving the relative warmth of his room. But the cold doesn't stop him from waiting outside the guardsroom, clutching to the letter like it might offer some form of protection. What should he say? Does the boy know that he's not really his father? Timo assumes not, it's too much to ask of a child to keep something like that a secret. So he can't tell him either. But he can't lie forever. He hates lying.
Finally, he takes a step in. What startles him is how old he is. He must be five or six already. Does his father really intend to claim that he was fifteen when he fathered the boy? Still - stranger things have happened. Timo crouches in front of him so they're eye to eye and then gives him a slightly unsure smile, still hesitant. He's trying to be calm for the boy's sake, but there's too much to take in really.
"Hello." Timo starts in Finnish, and then realises that he doesn't know what language the boy's been brought up in so far. But then his father's family are more Russian than Finnish these days, so he tries that. "I'm Timo. I'm your father." The words felt odd, out of place, but he forced them out, already noticing that he was soaked and his smile turning to more of a frown. He needed to get him warmed up. "Do you have a name?"