The younger Zahir had pieced together the puzzle now – Ishmael had been waiting for this moment, and had wondered what might happened when it sank in. The whispered tone worried him; he was ready to flit towards the dressing room door to prevent the boy fleeing or calling for help, if need be. But the boy didn’t.
Maybe the possible family ties had a stronger hold on both of them than Ishmael had expected. His stance relaxed a little as Tariq elaborated on his own story. Great grandfather. Well, that could be... no, but it didn’t do to dwell on siblings long gone. (Ishmael could not pretend not to be interested in what had become of them, though. He made a mental note to investigate that.)
His mouth quirked up at a corner. “Who knew?” he marvelled lightly, shaking his head. “I was in America once, myself,” he admitted – without elaboration, but a dash of camaraderie. “Is it your first time in this country?” Were he and his theatrical friends staying, or just passing through?
Maybe the possible family ties had a stronger hold on both of them than Ishmael had expected. His stance relaxed a little as Tariq elaborated on his own story. Great grandfather. Well, that could be... no, but it didn’t do to dwell on siblings long gone. (Ishmael could not pretend not to be interested in what had become of them, though. He made a mental note to investigate that.)
His mouth quirked up at a corner. “Who knew?” he marvelled lightly, shaking his head. “I was in America once, myself,” he admitted – without elaboration, but a dash of camaraderie. “Is it your first time in this country?” Were he and his theatrical friends staying, or just passing through?
