March 19, 2004
What are the odds?
Galen strode down the hall and looked about, confirming he was in the right place and knocked- two solid thumps on the door. He removed his jacket, straightened his collar, brushed and smoothed his summer tweed vest and waited. He suddenly remembered his hat and removed it to the crook of his right arm, smoothing his light brown hair back into place. He coughed into his fist and then held his free hand behind his back. Surrounded by the dark, rich wood of the hallway, he looked like a courier for Al Capone who was here to make a drop. There was no immediate response, so he gave the door two more solid knocks and tried the handle, pushing the door ajar enough for only his voice to enter, "Hello? Ms. O'Conner? I'm sorry.. are you free?"
Hope looked up. "Oh, yes, Yes, sorry. Please come in." Straightening her white jacket, she chided herself mentally for letting her thoughts drift so she did not hear knocks on her door.
Galen stepped in, closed the door behind him and hung his coat and hat on the otherwise-empty rack. He checked his pocket watch... 1:42 p.m.... snapping it closed and re-pocketing it in a fluid motion. He stepped forward, motioning to the chair, "May I?"
She nodded toward the chair and he sat down, leaning back slightly. "Good afternoon, Ms. O'Conner.... Galen O'Reilly. I do hope this is not a bad time. I've come here seeking to further my educational studies." He didn't wait for her to ask why he'd come. He didn't appear gifted, or particularly evolved, in fact he looked frozen in a time and place that no longer existed. He could have been a ghost and it would have made more sense. He was flesh however, and somewhat nervous about his request.
"Ms. O'Conner, I've chosen Baker specifically for a multitude of reasons. I may not appear to be like some of your other talented alums, but I assure you, you will not be disappointed, nor would you disagree that 'Haven', I believe the nickname is, to be a genuine match for my dilemna." He pulled a couple of items from his vest as he spoke... a nickel and a pair of tiny, hand-carved wooden dice. "May I show you?" His light brown hair was mussed from his hat and fell loosely about his ears, making him appear a little tired and worn. His eyes were clear however, and although the left eye drooped ever-so-slightly beneath a well-hidden scar, it had a gleam of mischief to it as he made his inquiry.
Hope smiled and nodded. "Of course, go ahead Mr. O'Reilly." She was a little curious as to the nickel and the dice.
He nodded and decided to get straight down to business, "Very well then. Miss O'Conner, I assume you to be a lady of principals. You understand logic and speculation, statistics and the laws of normal mathematical process, correct? And indeed, you are not one to gamble, let's say. Why squander on foolishness, am I right?" He picked up the dice, holding them in his palm for her to inspect. They were normal and exquisetly carved out of a light, but hard wood. "Rosewood.. from Jamaica. They have some of the finest little carvings from their native flora there. It's such a fine place to visit." He winked. "Please, give them a toss or two. They're just dice. Here, I insist." He placed them before her on her writing tablet.
Hope looked at him quizzically, shrugged and humored him. She picked them up and gave them a couple of tosses. Then looked back at him and waited, folding her hands in her lap. They appeared normal enough.
He picked them up in his right hand, making a fist about them. He fanned and shook the fingers of his left hand over the fist, blew into it and opened his palm to reveal.. nothing. "It's a simple trick, but I use it to prove a point. Nothing is what it seems. I know you know the trick... it's obfuscation... drawing attention away from the real point of action." He produced the dice from his left hand and placed them before her again. "Same dice, right?" She shrugged again, looking at them and nodded, waiting for him to get around to his point. She didn't seem to be losing patience quite yet. Ah.. still time.. good, good.. he thought.
"As you tossed them just now, could you tell me what they would roll, Miss O'Conner? I don't believe you could, if I understand your base in the operations here correctly... I'll.. uh.. explain what I mean momentarily. I, however, have a knack, " he picked up the dice and held them for a moment. His eyes gleamed and he looked at the desk and then up at Hope, "A knack for these bad boys. Seven... three... eleven... five... snake-eyes... watch."
He tossed the dice the five times, slowly so she could see his movements and that he did nothing else to the toss, at least visibly. Each roll came up as he noted. "Now, I don't expect that you've found that very impressive, given what you've seen come through your doors, but here's the next part. Take your tablet there and write down ... oh... say... ten combinations for my pals to come up. Don't tell them to me. I want to show you what improbability is all about and then I'll go on with my story." She wrote them down, shielding them from view. He reached over and touched the edge of the writing tablet, but did not move it. He closed his eyes a moment, held the dice in his hand and proceeded... one correct.. two correct... three... six.. seven... all ten. "Are you still with me? Figure this out on your tablet there... what the likelihood is of all ten tosses coming up correctly as they just did and keep that number handy...two dice... six sides a piece... ten tosses.... there's a lot of zeroes there, you'll see."
He stood up and stretched, looking at the nickel on the desk, deciding how he wanted to play the next piece in his presentation. "Miss O'Conner, let me cut to the chase. I could do another handful of magic tricks, but I don't want to waste your time," he returned the coin to his pocket. "Look at the number on the pad there and understand what I'm about to say," he leaned on the edge of the desk and pointed to the notebook. "I have about that chance of you believing the rest of my story. I trust that you are as patient as you appear as well as knowledgable in the ways of your clientele and I feel that although those odds are astronomical, given what little I've just shown you, that I'll hit that longshot."
He sat back down, reached up and smoothed back his hair, then looked at her directly and cut to the chase he did, "Miss O'Conner, the man sitting before you is over 100 years old and trapped within a world of a teenage boy for all practical purposes. I've come here as a refugee from a past and a family secret that may well kill me, and possibly endanger others at this school if I don't take action. I know many things about the school, you and Sebastian, your gate keeper, and many of the skeletons in the closet here. There are seekers who work for you who have kept me in the know for the last several years as this establishment has gained ground. I fully support your efforts to maintain a safe place for the gifted students and I now find myself asking to enroll as one. These tricks I've shown are something of a much larger picture that I wish to share with you and Sebastian if I may conference with you both. If you're doubting my words already, then look in your financials... there will be several payments made to your school from my private business through a stock brokerage in Cambridge, Mass. I've outsourced all of my connections so that the payments to the school do not reveal it's true business nature. I can show you the originals of the copies in your file if necessary. By face at least, I turn twenty-one on my next birthday, but by the curse of my existence, I won't see that for another three years, if I'm to see it at all. I'm being hunted for what and who I know Miss O'Conner, and I need your help."
Hope paused. "I'll go and see if Sebastian is free..."
Galen took his weight off the desk and relaxed as he watched her lean into the back office and say a few quiet words. He blew out the tension that was building in his shoulders and sat back down to wait. He started to wonder if all the years of secrecy had been worth the trouble if no one would believe him anyway. Sebastian should, given his talents, but he may not have the time to listen. It was uncertain whether Hope bought it either. At least there was a second chance.. Lee.
He checked his watch again. 1:53 p.m. Once this was accomplished, he'd need to confer with... what was her name... oh, yes, Rhea. Bloodwork and charts were a very sketchy concern and he didn't know or trust any of the interns as of yet. The crucial few he needed to put on notice would know by the end of the day. The others would be a select few, but ones he felt would further his cause or help him celebrate once his work was done.
As Hope returned, he stowed the watch, and sat wondering whether he'd be permitted his conference with Sebastian today or if he'd have to make a second attempt…
(meeting declined)
Hope looked up. "Oh, yes, Yes, sorry. Please come in." Straightening her white jacket, she chided herself mentally for letting her thoughts drift so she did not hear knocks on her door.
Galen stepped in, closed the door behind him and hung his coat and hat on the otherwise-empty rack. He checked his pocket watch... 1:42 p.m.... snapping it closed and re-pocketing it in a fluid motion. He stepped forward, motioning to the chair, "May I?"
She nodded toward the chair and he sat down, leaning back slightly. "Good afternoon, Ms. O'Conner.... Galen O'Reilly. I do hope this is not a bad time. I've come here seeking to further my educational studies." He didn't wait for her to ask why he'd come. He didn't appear gifted, or particularly evolved, in fact he looked frozen in a time and place that no longer existed. He could have been a ghost and it would have made more sense. He was flesh however, and somewhat nervous about his request.
"Ms. O'Conner, I've chosen Baker specifically for a multitude of reasons. I may not appear to be like some of your other talented alums, but I assure you, you will not be disappointed, nor would you disagree that 'Haven', I believe the nickname is, to be a genuine match for my dilemna." He pulled a couple of items from his vest as he spoke... a nickel and a pair of tiny, hand-carved wooden dice. "May I show you?" His light brown hair was mussed from his hat and fell loosely about his ears, making him appear a little tired and worn. His eyes were clear however, and although the left eye drooped ever-so-slightly beneath a well-hidden scar, it had a gleam of mischief to it as he made his inquiry.
Hope smiled and nodded. "Of course, go ahead Mr. O'Reilly." She was a little curious as to the nickel and the dice.
He nodded and decided to get straight down to business, "Very well then. Miss O'Conner, I assume you to be a lady of principals. You understand logic and speculation, statistics and the laws of normal mathematical process, correct? And indeed, you are not one to gamble, let's say. Why squander on foolishness, am I right?" He picked up the dice, holding them in his palm for her to inspect. They were normal and exquisetly carved out of a light, but hard wood. "Rosewood.. from Jamaica. They have some of the finest little carvings from their native flora there. It's such a fine place to visit." He winked. "Please, give them a toss or two. They're just dice. Here, I insist." He placed them before her on her writing tablet.
Hope looked at him quizzically, shrugged and humored him. She picked them up and gave them a couple of tosses. Then looked back at him and waited, folding her hands in her lap. They appeared normal enough.
He picked them up in his right hand, making a fist about them. He fanned and shook the fingers of his left hand over the fist, blew into it and opened his palm to reveal.. nothing. "It's a simple trick, but I use it to prove a point. Nothing is what it seems. I know you know the trick... it's obfuscation... drawing attention away from the real point of action." He produced the dice from his left hand and placed them before her again. "Same dice, right?" She shrugged again, looking at them and nodded, waiting for him to get around to his point. She didn't seem to be losing patience quite yet. Ah.. still time.. good, good.. he thought.
"As you tossed them just now, could you tell me what they would roll, Miss O'Conner? I don't believe you could, if I understand your base in the operations here correctly... I'll.. uh.. explain what I mean momentarily. I, however, have a knack, " he picked up the dice and held them for a moment. His eyes gleamed and he looked at the desk and then up at Hope, "A knack for these bad boys. Seven... three... eleven... five... snake-eyes... watch."
He tossed the dice the five times, slowly so she could see his movements and that he did nothing else to the toss, at least visibly. Each roll came up as he noted. "Now, I don't expect that you've found that very impressive, given what you've seen come through your doors, but here's the next part. Take your tablet there and write down ... oh... say... ten combinations for my pals to come up. Don't tell them to me. I want to show you what improbability is all about and then I'll go on with my story." She wrote them down, shielding them from view. He reached over and touched the edge of the writing tablet, but did not move it. He closed his eyes a moment, held the dice in his hand and proceeded... one correct.. two correct... three... six.. seven... all ten. "Are you still with me? Figure this out on your tablet there... what the likelihood is of all ten tosses coming up correctly as they just did and keep that number handy...two dice... six sides a piece... ten tosses.... there's a lot of zeroes there, you'll see."
He stood up and stretched, looking at the nickel on the desk, deciding how he wanted to play the next piece in his presentation. "Miss O'Conner, let me cut to the chase. I could do another handful of magic tricks, but I don't want to waste your time," he returned the coin to his pocket. "Look at the number on the pad there and understand what I'm about to say," he leaned on the edge of the desk and pointed to the notebook. "I have about that chance of you believing the rest of my story. I trust that you are as patient as you appear as well as knowledgable in the ways of your clientele and I feel that although those odds are astronomical, given what little I've just shown you, that I'll hit that longshot."
He sat back down, reached up and smoothed back his hair, then looked at her directly and cut to the chase he did, "Miss O'Conner, the man sitting before you is over 100 years old and trapped within a world of a teenage boy for all practical purposes. I've come here as a refugee from a past and a family secret that may well kill me, and possibly endanger others at this school if I don't take action. I know many things about the school, you and Sebastian, your gate keeper, and many of the skeletons in the closet here. There are seekers who work for you who have kept me in the know for the last several years as this establishment has gained ground. I fully support your efforts to maintain a safe place for the gifted students and I now find myself asking to enroll as one. These tricks I've shown are something of a much larger picture that I wish to share with you and Sebastian if I may conference with you both. If you're doubting my words already, then look in your financials... there will be several payments made to your school from my private business through a stock brokerage in Cambridge, Mass. I've outsourced all of my connections so that the payments to the school do not reveal it's true business nature. I can show you the originals of the copies in your file if necessary. By face at least, I turn twenty-one on my next birthday, but by the curse of my existence, I won't see that for another three years, if I'm to see it at all. I'm being hunted for what and who I know Miss O'Conner, and I need your help."
Hope paused. "I'll go and see if Sebastian is free..."
Galen took his weight off the desk and relaxed as he watched her lean into the back office and say a few quiet words. He blew out the tension that was building in his shoulders and sat back down to wait. He started to wonder if all the years of secrecy had been worth the trouble if no one would believe him anyway. Sebastian should, given his talents, but he may not have the time to listen. It was uncertain whether Hope bought it either. At least there was a second chance.. Lee.
He checked his watch again. 1:53 p.m. Once this was accomplished, he'd need to confer with... what was her name... oh, yes, Rhea. Bloodwork and charts were a very sketchy concern and he didn't know or trust any of the interns as of yet. The crucial few he needed to put on notice would know by the end of the day. The others would be a select few, but ones he felt would further his cause or help him celebrate once his work was done.
As Hope returned, he stowed the watch, and sat wondering whether he'd be permitted his conference with Sebastian today or if he'd have to make a second attempt…
(meeting declined)
Galen O'Reilly - Coming of age - (flashback)
It was a winter's day when news of the Queen's death came to the land of milk and honey. He was only a few months old then, but the news still floated about in the fog of his long memory. He also remembered it being the same time that Roosevelt came into office. He was nearly four when the victory flags rode through announcing the war was over, but his mother had died in the flu epidemic and was not there to celebrate. He vaguely remembered his brothers, and knew there were six of them, all older, but learned that they'd perished in the conflict and wouldn't be coming home again either. Only his father and he stayed in the humble home his grandfather'd built amongst the stout cottonwoods of old Denver, but that only lasted a short time. There'd been some rough times for them and his father was away for months at a time, sending money home from the mines... when it was there. Word of an accident after which his father was never found sent the social workers to remove him and his belongings from the only home he'd known. Galen was now an orphan.
It was common to be overlooked at the orphanage due to being older than a toddler. Most people, if they were able to afford another mouth to feed, were looking for an infant to care for and nurture, not a free-thinking and independent young man. There were many boys and too few homes. Soon, the orphanage, like those in other cities, could no longer support the boys and closed, leaving them to the homes they could find on their own. There was no going back. The building that housed his former home burned to the ground some few weeks after the tenants were sent packing. Some went to points on the coast to help with the railroad or any other vocation they could find. Most stayed and haunted the streets. A few more slipped into the shadows at Denver's feet. Such was Galen... and his secret.
He'd never been in a school, but knew more about history and business than anyone his alleged age ever dreamed. He'd already lived a full life, and although outwardly 9 years old, he'd seen 45 years of Americana slip beyond his grasp. He was different and it was important that he hide who he really was. But where could he go? His home was not lost, but it was temporarily lost to him. He'd find a way to go back, but he was at the mercy of time.
At the age of twenty one, by face at least, he would be able to come into his own. If it were only a normal teenager, the next 55 years may well have seemed an eternity, but instead it was opportunity. Galen had a gift that he was able to use and used it well to help him plan. Now that he'd done the time, he was about to come of age and take his rightful place in his world. Someone was out to prevent him from inheriting his due, however, so he would need more than his luck to set things right. A long-time private contributor to the school, Galen now finds it necessary to show his face.. and his incongruous youth... at the gates of Baker Institute... with a plea for help.
It was common to be overlooked at the orphanage due to being older than a toddler. Most people, if they were able to afford another mouth to feed, were looking for an infant to care for and nurture, not a free-thinking and independent young man. There were many boys and too few homes. Soon, the orphanage, like those in other cities, could no longer support the boys and closed, leaving them to the homes they could find on their own. There was no going back. The building that housed his former home burned to the ground some few weeks after the tenants were sent packing. Some went to points on the coast to help with the railroad or any other vocation they could find. Most stayed and haunted the streets. A few more slipped into the shadows at Denver's feet. Such was Galen... and his secret.
He'd never been in a school, but knew more about history and business than anyone his alleged age ever dreamed. He'd already lived a full life, and although outwardly 9 years old, he'd seen 45 years of Americana slip beyond his grasp. He was different and it was important that he hide who he really was. But where could he go? His home was not lost, but it was temporarily lost to him. He'd find a way to go back, but he was at the mercy of time.
At the age of twenty one, by face at least, he would be able to come into his own. If it were only a normal teenager, the next 55 years may well have seemed an eternity, but instead it was opportunity. Galen had a gift that he was able to use and used it well to help him plan. Now that he'd done the time, he was about to come of age and take his rightful place in his world. Someone was out to prevent him from inheriting his due, however, so he would need more than his luck to set things right. A long-time private contributor to the school, Galen now finds it necessary to show his face.. and his incongruous youth... at the gates of Baker Institute... with a plea for help.
Turn of a friendly card...
June 8, 2003 - he arrives at the school for gifted students...
The car resembled something out of an old Bogart flick, but was hardly black and white. The maroon antique hummed along like new and grabbed the road like a cat after a bird, hugging it close and tight. The radio even spewed tunes from an oldies station. The hat that was the only thing visible above the top of the cracked window bobbed about as its owner sang along. The tune changed and the static flipped to a contemporary, hard-rock number, but the hat still bobbed along as the car approached the gate. The car slowed and inched up within a hair's breadth of the wrought-iron wall. The driver, hat and all, popped out and jaunted up to the call box with a lively step. Galen rang and waited, but kept the motor running.
"Good lord a kid with some taste!" Lee landed behind Galen, his large size dominating the view. Not to mention that his car was similar shade to Lee's skin.
He wasn't expecting the voice to come from behind him, nor was he expecting to spew the full-on Irish blue-streak of his grandmother and cross himself when he spotted Lee's full and unusual form for the first time. He hadn't done that since he was a small boy. It was hardly fright or worry, but relief when he realized what Lee resembled.
"Jumpin' jehosephat, man, " he said, breaking into normal english sans accent. "I thought your kind only came out under the deepest of moonlight... can scare a lad to death, you know... er.. no offense... that is, thank goodness you're not one of "those". Nasty creatures and their mischief." He held his fingers a few inches apart to depict the smallish creature he spoke of... be it fairies, brownies or the wee people, he didn't care for them... they had made his life hellish enough already.
"Thank you for the compliment, most certainly. She's a fine navigator of the highways and byways, indeed." He jogged over to tap the gas a little so the car wouldn't stall and came back with a lively hop. "She's had me all her life... or is it I've had her... eh... no matter. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, sir. Pardon the momentary scare there... er... it is ... Lee.. isn't it? My name is Galen O'Reilly," he said, removing his hat and offering his hand for a firm shake in greeting. "You may recognize the family name, not that it's that uncommon. I've .. that is rather WE've been contributors to the school for some time now. Marvelous and wonderous operation you have here." He now replaced his hat and offered Lee a ride back to the gate house if he wished. He motioned an inquiry as to which way the garages were so he could stow the vehicle safely.
Before ducking back into the driver's seat, he made an unusually forthright request compared to most new arrivals, he thought. "I've actually come here to see if I may have a conference directly with Miss O'Conner, or Mr. Waters if they're free. I apologize, but my arrival was not exactly planned. We are in need of their services.. rather.. I need to see if I may be enrolled as a student here... as a matter of rather strange and pressing business under dire circumstance."
Taking Galen's hand he shook it warmly, recognising the accent immediately. "Lee O'Donahue lad, and which part of the fair Green Isle do you herald from?" he asked playing, and relishing in Galen's game. Taking to the air he landed in front of the car and opened up the gate. Once inside, he continued to direct Galen in the right direction, round the "show" road to the garages. A car like that deserved to be put on display.
Galen registered the question and answered as best he could. The lands had changed and the town names with them over time. Lee would understand if he gave him the historicals, however. Galen leaned out the window to speak to his guide, "Ua Ruairc o' Breifne... family line straight down from the Kingdom of O'Rourke and their feuding family branch of O'Reilly from Northwest of the Pale, friend. Family's been down there in County Cavan since before Elizabeth was a sparkle. I was born here in Colorado, however.. so although I'm a full-blood, the accent comes and goes." He swung the car slowly around the cobbled drive and watched Lee float close by. As much as he knew about the place, there was still so much that amazed him. He would have a difficult time convincing Sebastian and Hope, he feared, but at least he and Lee were doing fine for the start.
"That's a fine line that you come from lad, I'm from good ol' County Cork. Nothin' interesting here. Got myself god fearing mutant hating parents though..." he opened up the garage doors for Galen to put the car in.
He rolled the car forward with utmost precision and let it purr a moment longer. He put his fingers to his lips to put a kiss from them to the dashboard, then turned off the motor. "It's okay. I'll be back soon," he said to 'her' as he took out the keys, speaking as if the car was his girlfriend. The old Plymouth gleamed all on her own as if she had the means to know she was obviously well cared for.
"She's a true vintage with stock everything... except the tires. A lady always loves getting a new pair of shoes." He winked as he got out to get his bags and locked her up gently. "Well, friend. Perhaps you and I should set aside some time for a toast to our lineage that's gotten us into this fine mess. If you're up for a little pub chatter later on, I have a single-malt that may impress you. That is, after I take the time to attempt my impressions on the powers-that-be." He pointed a thumb up the path toward the respective Deans' offices. He then snapped out his pocket watch from his pants pocket and attached it correctly to his waistcoat. The boy was in a full three-piece, heather-grey summer tweed and the gold chain helped complete the picture. It didn't appear to be an act, but just something of the oddity that was Galen. He'd stepped not only out of the vintage vehicle, but apparently out of the past altogether. He checked the time, gave the watch two quick winds before depositing it with a second-nature movement and flipped his hat back on his head before gathering his bags. He pulled the handle of the larger, awkwardly modern suitcase and stacked his day bag on top, ready to roll to the next stop. "It's been a pleasure, Mr. O'Donahue... Lee, if I may. I expect that I will be sharing that bottle in order to give 'er the proper send off she deserves?"
Lee looked at the kid, he was definitely impressed by him, and was already trying to find a way of making him part of his forum. "Mr O'Donahue when riled kid. Not before." he walked back towards the office. "But if you think I'm worthy of single malt then meet me up at that tower this evening." Chuckling he shook his head in amusement as he returned to the office.
"Looking quite forward to the opportunity," he winked and smiled, tipping his hat to depart. He turned and pulled his bag behind him up the path to the main building all the while whistling a traditional Irish tune.
The car resembled something out of an old Bogart flick, but was hardly black and white. The maroon antique hummed along like new and grabbed the road like a cat after a bird, hugging it close and tight. The radio even spewed tunes from an oldies station. The hat that was the only thing visible above the top of the cracked window bobbed about as its owner sang along. The tune changed and the static flipped to a contemporary, hard-rock number, but the hat still bobbed along as the car approached the gate. The car slowed and inched up within a hair's breadth of the wrought-iron wall. The driver, hat and all, popped out and jaunted up to the call box with a lively step. Galen rang and waited, but kept the motor running.
"Good lord a kid with some taste!" Lee landed behind Galen, his large size dominating the view. Not to mention that his car was similar shade to Lee's skin.
He wasn't expecting the voice to come from behind him, nor was he expecting to spew the full-on Irish blue-streak of his grandmother and cross himself when he spotted Lee's full and unusual form for the first time. He hadn't done that since he was a small boy. It was hardly fright or worry, but relief when he realized what Lee resembled.
"Jumpin' jehosephat, man, " he said, breaking into normal english sans accent. "I thought your kind only came out under the deepest of moonlight... can scare a lad to death, you know... er.. no offense... that is, thank goodness you're not one of "those". Nasty creatures and their mischief." He held his fingers a few inches apart to depict the smallish creature he spoke of... be it fairies, brownies or the wee people, he didn't care for them... they had made his life hellish enough already.
"Thank you for the compliment, most certainly. She's a fine navigator of the highways and byways, indeed." He jogged over to tap the gas a little so the car wouldn't stall and came back with a lively hop. "She's had me all her life... or is it I've had her... eh... no matter. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, sir. Pardon the momentary scare there... er... it is ... Lee.. isn't it? My name is Galen O'Reilly," he said, removing his hat and offering his hand for a firm shake in greeting. "You may recognize the family name, not that it's that uncommon. I've .. that is rather WE've been contributors to the school for some time now. Marvelous and wonderous operation you have here." He now replaced his hat and offered Lee a ride back to the gate house if he wished. He motioned an inquiry as to which way the garages were so he could stow the vehicle safely.
Before ducking back into the driver's seat, he made an unusually forthright request compared to most new arrivals, he thought. "I've actually come here to see if I may have a conference directly with Miss O'Conner, or Mr. Waters if they're free. I apologize, but my arrival was not exactly planned. We are in need of their services.. rather.. I need to see if I may be enrolled as a student here... as a matter of rather strange and pressing business under dire circumstance."
Taking Galen's hand he shook it warmly, recognising the accent immediately. "Lee O'Donahue lad, and which part of the fair Green Isle do you herald from?" he asked playing, and relishing in Galen's game. Taking to the air he landed in front of the car and opened up the gate. Once inside, he continued to direct Galen in the right direction, round the "show" road to the garages. A car like that deserved to be put on display.
Galen registered the question and answered as best he could. The lands had changed and the town names with them over time. Lee would understand if he gave him the historicals, however. Galen leaned out the window to speak to his guide, "Ua Ruairc o' Breifne... family line straight down from the Kingdom of O'Rourke and their feuding family branch of O'Reilly from Northwest of the Pale, friend. Family's been down there in County Cavan since before Elizabeth was a sparkle. I was born here in Colorado, however.. so although I'm a full-blood, the accent comes and goes." He swung the car slowly around the cobbled drive and watched Lee float close by. As much as he knew about the place, there was still so much that amazed him. He would have a difficult time convincing Sebastian and Hope, he feared, but at least he and Lee were doing fine for the start.
"That's a fine line that you come from lad, I'm from good ol' County Cork. Nothin' interesting here. Got myself god fearing mutant hating parents though..." he opened up the garage doors for Galen to put the car in.
He rolled the car forward with utmost precision and let it purr a moment longer. He put his fingers to his lips to put a kiss from them to the dashboard, then turned off the motor. "It's okay. I'll be back soon," he said to 'her' as he took out the keys, speaking as if the car was his girlfriend. The old Plymouth gleamed all on her own as if she had the means to know she was obviously well cared for.
"She's a true vintage with stock everything... except the tires. A lady always loves getting a new pair of shoes." He winked as he got out to get his bags and locked her up gently. "Well, friend. Perhaps you and I should set aside some time for a toast to our lineage that's gotten us into this fine mess. If you're up for a little pub chatter later on, I have a single-malt that may impress you. That is, after I take the time to attempt my impressions on the powers-that-be." He pointed a thumb up the path toward the respective Deans' offices. He then snapped out his pocket watch from his pants pocket and attached it correctly to his waistcoat. The boy was in a full three-piece, heather-grey summer tweed and the gold chain helped complete the picture. It didn't appear to be an act, but just something of the oddity that was Galen. He'd stepped not only out of the vintage vehicle, but apparently out of the past altogether. He checked the time, gave the watch two quick winds before depositing it with a second-nature movement and flipped his hat back on his head before gathering his bags. He pulled the handle of the larger, awkwardly modern suitcase and stacked his day bag on top, ready to roll to the next stop. "It's been a pleasure, Mr. O'Donahue... Lee, if I may. I expect that I will be sharing that bottle in order to give 'er the proper send off she deserves?"
Lee looked at the kid, he was definitely impressed by him, and was already trying to find a way of making him part of his forum. "Mr O'Donahue when riled kid. Not before." he walked back towards the office. "But if you think I'm worthy of single malt then meet me up at that tower this evening." Chuckling he shook his head in amusement as he returned to the office.
"Looking quite forward to the opportunity," he winked and smiled, tipping his hat to depart. He turned and pulled his bag behind him up the path to the main building all the while whistling a traditional Irish tune.
An irishman with a secret, a past and an adventure awaiting him...
