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“You’re telling me to trust a child.” His back arches against his cheap office seat, beloved pigeon nesting atop his bald head with a gentle coo. Smart girl knows this topic’s about her. Feathers soft to the touch as always, he’s sad he’s in this situation to begin with; a conference not allowing him to bring his stalwart companion. It’s only for a few days, but even a couple of hours would feel wrong to him. The large man in a green coat standing before him smiles brightly, and his bushy beard moves along with it. His arms are crossed before his chest, voice full of confidence and pride, raising up a finger as if to accentuate his point.
“I’m telling you to trust my child. Very important difference.”
“Hm.”
The enthusiasm in his voice remained as level as it was a scant moments ago. He trusted Jowd, as far as the jovial man’s subtle eccentricities went, he was still one of the most trustworthy men on the force, in and out of work. And that probably extended to the daughter, who made his aura shine even more than it usually did whenever he gushed on about her. He pretended to ignore it, really, but even with his gruff exterior, having a parent dote for hours on end as if he didn’t have a job was nice. But Jowd seemed good at finding the truth behind one’s actions; and though he won’t say it himself, they mutually know they’re friends. It’s strange. He’s known Jowd since before he got married and had a child. He still had a full head of hair too. He’d come to expect everyone in the workplace was someone he could extend a happy greeting to, and an offer to help. Then he’d happen to overhear of his plight.
And despite himself, he had to admit he would like to meet this Kamila, from her father’s words, a very intelligent, resourceful girl for her age. And a lover of all animals. Briefly, he contemplates how many of them there are in the force, even that new redhead had doted endlessly, as often as she complained, about her Pomeranian. Having a babysitter would traditionally involve someone with more experience. And more height. ... Well, maybe he can’t make that comment, he was hardly the picture of perfect posture himself. But at least he had some semblance of her credentials. Jowd has brought over some of her inventions from time to time, and he had to admit they were impressive, if only inwardly. He does have remarks on how strangely complicated they were, but apparently Kamila enjoyed improving on convoluted prototypes. He’s pretty certain Jowd could have left that ball-activated string-tied self-service coffee service machine at home, but just left it at work to impress everyone. His wife did comment once though, the stains on the floor from overflow absolutely happened before, along with the occasional shattered mug. Such was the pursuit of convenience and science.
“What do you think, Lovey Dove?” Breaking his train of thought, Jowd stretches a finger over to his bird’s feathers, and she accepts the rubbing. Her owner feigns annoyance, more irritated about the closing of personal space than the (appropriate) affection showed to his darling. But he does think of one more, extremely valid excuse, the only party in Jowd’s household who might be welcoming to his bird in the entirely wrong way.
“Don’t you have a cat.” At that Jowd straightens his back in thought, then shrugs with nonchalance without another beat
“Sissel? He won’t touch her. He’s been friendly with rats. Almost like he’s making up for a past life.”
“That doesn’t sound good for your home situation.” Jowd laughs at that, perhaps agreeing. He feels bad for Alma.
“But it does great for this petsitting one.” A massive sigh of exasperation is followed by the rubbing of his temples. Lovey Dove flutters down and curls up to his thin neck. He wishes really, there was a better way to communicate with animals. Tell them directly you were leaving to go to some important conference and leave her alone for the first time in her life.
“First, I’m checking out the house. I need to meet Kamila.”
“I thought you’d never ask!” And Jowd’s grinning again. Inwardly, he calls him out on being a liar, feeling this was somehow an elaborate ploy to meet his kid, with the most clear-cut sarcasm known to man. For his Lovey Dove’s sake, he hopes she’s as impressive as all the praises have laid out. Of course, he could always fall back to relying on Jowd’s wife under the same roof, but it helps to have confidence in every party involved.
Opening the door to their home, Jowd allows him in first. It looks... tame, so far, no very evident traces of an experiment. Frames were aligned, shelves relatively spic and span. Was that disappointing? Maybe a little. But on the plus side, it was absolutely spacious enough to let Lovey Dove flutter about. He can feel her looking around expectantly, cooing.
“... You really did it. You brought him over.” A soft voice comes from around the corner, Alma has her long lavender hair tied up in a ponytail, finishing up cleaning the last of the dishes. Her smile looks slightly exasperated. Jowd hums.
“Well, he asked.”
“He made me ask.” He intercedes within the next second, raising the frame of his glasses. He hears a faint sound of a landing on the nearby couch, and before him stands a small black kitten, a red scarf around its neck. He’s alarmed for a second it’s about to pounce, but it’s not looking above his head at all. The big eyes on the kitten study his own, and he could swear it was somehow amused by his presence. He moves to take his eyes off him, but it doesn’t stir. Its tail curls to the side, like a question mark. He looks at it again, frowning.
“Strange cat.”
“Haha, Sissel’s just saying hello.”
Excited footsteps come from shortly behind Alma, oh, the daughter’s here too. She’s got a big smile of delight as bright as the yellow bow behind her head. She seems to have a small bounce to her step as she turns to her mother.
“Is that him? Oh! Oh it’s Pigeon Man!”
Pigeon Man? Well, that’s just a great nickname. Did she get it from the cat or something?
“You see anyone else with a bird on their head around here?” He’ll take it though. Jowd looked like he was about to interject with his actual name, but stifles a laugh at the reply. Kamila very strongly took after her mother in appearance, but first impressions seem to lay out that she got her dad’s ridiculous amount of enthusiasm. Channeled the right way, it’ll probably only be a good thing for her future.
Of course, only being a little girl, Pigeon Man, as he now apparently is, is a bit worried if extended exposure to her will tire him out. Anyway, this is just a brief job interview. He clears his throat.
“... So I hear you’re volunteering to take care of my Lovey Dove.” This would be a great opportunity to leverage some intimidation points with height but, as it stands, Kamila’s apparently on eye level with him. Oh well. She claps her hands together, slightly surprised, but doing her best to sell herself.
“Yes! I’m really good with all kinds of animals! My friend Amelie travels a lot so sometimes I take care of her rabbit! I’ve got a little room for her for when she next needs to visit!”
“Amelie is the daughter of the Justice Minister.” Alma muses, a hand on her cheek. Okay, even he has to widen his eyes at that kind of social networking. “It’s not like we don’t have enough money, but they’re certainly generous with their payment... You’d be sure they could afford a professional, but they’re best friends after all.”
“Sissy just got all excited and walked up to her when we were out in the park. It’s like he knew we would get along! He’s a really good kitty.” She pets Sissel afterward, and he hears the soft rumble of purring. Pigeon Man’s expression tightens.
“You’re going to have to practice that line for if I come home and my Lovey Dove gets eaten.” He pauses for a bit, squinting at the cat, now realizing how unlikely that is. “Then again... this cat is an absolute shrimp. I’m having a hard time picturing him even opening his mouth wide enough.”
“Oh, he knows that bird’s important to you. Trust him on this. And trust Kamila to trust him, and trust me to trust Kamila...”
“And I don’t trust my husband at all, so please don’t call to me for additional back-up.” Alma chimed in, sing-song.
The man holds his heart,
“Oh Alma, you wound me.”
“Stop flirting with me around.” His eyebrows cannot possibly squint low enough into his eyes. There’s an echo of laughter in the family, and again, he feels that the cat is included in that. He exaggerates his sigh of exasperation, letting Lovey Dove go onto his finger. Kamila’s gasp is soft and excited. Looking at her mom and seeing her nod, Kamila extends her own.
Pigeon Man could swear he saw her eyes sparkle when Lovey Dove hops onto her finger, muted, pitched and utterly sincere glee. It must be weird being young and so optimistic. She looks ready to twirl and dance, like some princess from an animated movie. She did have the aura of one, if not more... scientific.
“I’ll do a good job, I promise!”
“Hmph.”
He turns, to hide the wondering in his own expression. What’s it like, being this open to strangers? So eager to help? And here, he hasn’t even discussed any fee. To do this out of the goodness of one’s heart, a very naive mindset. But he doesn’t hate it.
“Jowd, if this goes awry, you’re to blame.”
“Duly noted.”
“So you went to Jowd’s, doc?” His white coated companion made a show of being fabulously early at the airport, a cup of joe in hand from some stand nearby, legs crossed, the lower one extended far further than necessary for comfort. Show-off.
“Yeah.” Pigeon Man likes to think he’s doing a good job not showing it, but truth be told, he’s pretty worried. If the flight weren’t enough on its own, also the state of Lovey Dove...
“Manipulative bastard, ain’t he? When he wrangled me to be his best man was out of the blue too.” Cabanela laughed, then took a long sip. He really didn’t care for their personal life, so he was about to tune out the elaboration on that. “--And that cat of his is something else, like there’s something just plain weiiird with him.”
Pigeon Man blinks wearily, “I wasn’t expecting your first comment to be about the damn cat.”
“He registers some de ja vu? Even our darling Lynne felt it! They were instant friends. Know how strange that is for cats? I swear it on my badge, sooomething’s up. Not to mention how Kamila told me he never even grew...”
“... You have something against diminutive folk, beanpole?”
The addressee raised his hands good-naturedly in surrender, “I’m just saying, kitty’s a cuuurious character.”
He’s had just about enough of pre-flight stress and it’s only been five minutes since he got here. He leans back against his chair into a slouch. Posture be forever damned since he was 13. “Great, I left my precious bird with some kind of magical or cursed kitten.”
“It’s probably nothing. Alma’s there, after all. And sweet Kamila baby herself.”
“... If you didn’t want me to worry you would’ve kept your mouth shut to begin with.” Cabanela whistles, not really able to argue with that. Pigeon Man grumbles, not sure how he gets this company that he keeps. And now he doesn’t have Lovey Dove’s soothing presence to calm him down. He didn’t even like flying.
Cabanela spins his cup in his hands, undoubtedly more for show or fidgety hands, he could see in the corner of his eye that it was almost empty. He could feel the inevitable continuation of the conversation, but at the least, some peaceful silence lasted for a few moments. He puts the cup to his side, lowering his leg. Pigeon Man appreciates the heads up of when exactly, he’s going to open his mouth. He’s careful, calculative. Even full knowing it probably won’t help much.
“She doesn’t have that many friends, you know.”
Pigeon Man swallows thickly.
“I’m not an idiot. Smart kids tend to just get used by other kids to get ahead. Mechanical brain like hers, she’s just going to talk to her cat who doesn’t understand a thing, but will accept her anyway?”
“Geez, doc, warn a guy before you start spilling your life story.” He’d take more offense to being so easily read, but he shouldn’t have expected anything less from one of their top members on the force.
“Jowd got an excuse for me to talk to her so she could, what, get someone who understands?”
“He probably wanted you to meet her for yourself first. Maybe at least part of all that chatter was to pique your interest. --Y’know, even her amazing Uncle Cabs can’t wrap his head around some of the things she talks about! Consider it, yeah? And between you and me...” Cabanela leans on in to the side, cup carefully balanced.
Pigeon Man doesn’t care for the dramatic pause, and raises a brow.
“Think he’s looking out for you in this, as much as Kamila.”
“Sissel, we’re going to use the top of your tree for Lovey’s room, okay?”
The cat meows contentedly, staying in his spot on the table, keeping an eye on her ever vigilant she stays out of (relative) trouble. Lovey Dove looks around her surroundings, cooing on occasion. She really doesn’t understand what’s going on, but she’s used to that even with her master.
“Kamila, are you sure you’ll have everything under control dear?” Alma knocks at the door, but it’s a little late for that question now. Alma probably knows it, too. Kamila raises her voice.
“I’ve got my blueprints and materials ready! And science isn’t about total control, Mom! That’s why it’s science!” Only from Kamila’s sweet voice can Alma just laugh at that remark. So frank and honest.
“Just be aware, we’re running out of spares for your favorite yellow ribbon!”
Kamila gasps slightly, clapping hand over her bow. “Sissel, Lovey, we have to be careful. I guess... telling her it was your fault didn’t work, Sissel!”
Sissel meows. “What if I ended up wearing your scarf as my ribbon instead? I guess Mom wouldn’t like that...”
The phone loudly rings from the hallway, startling all parties. Sissel instinctively jumps down to the foot of the door, he’s always really liked being close to phones during calls for some reason. Kamila, curious herself, approaches the door.
“Hello?”
When Kamila opens the door, Sissel rushes out, and Kamila doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s at Alma’s feet looking up. Kamila observes her mother’s expression change, and she’s not sure if it’s in a good way. “Oh, there’s no need for that. I couldn’t possibly...”
Oh no.
Kamila felt the confidence she had moments ago draining fast. He didn’t think she could do this, did he? He got last minute doubts. Dad told her she could do this, did Pigeon Man not think so? Kamila bit down on her lip.
“You want to talk to her?”
She doesn’t realize when she does it, but she ends up slamming the door in a panic. She surprises Lovey Dove in the process, and Kamila hurriedly goes to her, almost tripping over herself.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry...”
Taking criticism was hard. Thinking of criticism in itself was hard. Her parents were endlessly supportive, but classmates called it weird, that she spent so much time on things she didn’t have to. That she built things without a clear purpose in mind. Because she found it fun. Even Uncle Cabanela would say it’s a bit beyond him, and Lynne would tilt her head in confusion. Amelie said she liked them but admitted, she didn’t really get it; her rosy mother adding it was “fascinatingly convoluted”, before wondering if volute was a word. Nobody got it. The Pigeon Man was supposed to get it. Dad promised he knew someone who understood. But he also warned that he was rough around the edges.
She wasn’t bullied, but she never really belonged. Her interest in machinery was a large part of her, and try as she might, it was becoming easier to not bring it up at all unless she already knew them. Those TV shows would always say to be yourself, but they never extended to showing you would get lonely when you do that. Maybe she should have seen this coming. Was that her own fault too, for not thinking ahead? Kamila hiccups, continuing to stroke Lovey Dove, feeling the tears well up despite this being all familiar. She knew she was overreacting, she didn’t even know what exactly that call was about yet.
“Dear?”
She sniffles. She’s not sure she wants to know. But she hasn’t locked the door; it creaks slightly, and mother peers in. Alma isn’t at all surprised by the sight.
“... Oh, honey.” She spreads her arms, and Kamila wordlessly enters them. Alma strokes her back comfortingly. After a few minutes standing there, she leads her daughter to her bed, where they both sit down. Sissel watches them from the door frame, before leaving to give them space.
“He changed his mind, right? He doesn’t trust me?”
Alma put fingers over her own lips, in thought.
“Well, he’s upset, but not for the reasons you think.”
“... Yeah?” She’s still not looking at her. Alma smiles faintly.
“He doesn’t think it’s right that the two of you are being forced to become friends.”
“He removed friendship as a certain thing from the equation, but. He won’t be opposed to you making a show. If you don’t do anything that leaves a big impression...” She’s hesitating now, Kamila steels herself beforehand. “He says you might as well not bother, if you can’t do it.”
“... That’s a challenge.” Kamila reaffirms. Alma slowly nods.
“Do you feel like taking it?” Kamila presses her thumbs together. Mother rubs her head some more. When she speaks again, it’s careful and quiet.
“If you ask me, your father’s just thinking about your future too soon. Just be yourself. ... It’ll all work out.” Kamila smiles, and she returns it with another hug. She looks up at Alma, feeling better and more confident.
“I think... I know what I want to do, Mom!”
Over the next few days, he had considered ringing up the household for updates on his bird, but he felt that would be a poor display of trust and general sportsmanship with his challenge. A lot of his words at the airport payphone were on a whim, he didn’t really have a filter, even if it was to a child. He’d spent a considerable amount of time a mix of irritated about... something, especially when Alma had said she couldn’t answer the phone. It only became more aggravated as Cabanela asked about it. Prodders of personal business, the whole lot of them.
Either way, the conference went smoothly; there were some updates to the technology that they would be using in their investigations, which was always better news than being summoned and start darkly discussing some cold case they haven’t resolved. Cabanela was all smiles, but it could be read he was also glad for that. He could spin into the office, kicking up and announcing their marginal improvement in funding. Unfortunately, that did not spare the poor sap who drew the short straw for spare electricity.
Their flight landed, and it was back to the same old routine, after he picked up Lovey Dove. He’s got his guesses on Kamila’s contraption, and if she didn’t blow it out of the water, he was just going to cut the sprout before anything began. He wasn’t offering up mentorship, Jowd can just stuff it with his unsubtle inquiry. ... Or so he said internally, but he still needed that spelled out for him.
“Why don’t we go do some karaoke, doc? Maybe you’ve got some secret skills you’re keeping in those hands constantly stuffed in your pockets!” By this sneaky devil.
“No thanks.”
It comes out so instinctively and naturally, but he really hadn’t thought it through. This was always how he’d been, pushing away. I mean, karaoke, it probably would have been no, regardless. But he’s been more socially conscious since his interaction with that little girl with the bright yellow bow and eager smile. Anyone who was nice enough to greet him, to make the effort to reach out even with all the rejection, he really didn’t understand. It brings him back to school days, to someone persistent enough even up until graduation day, until he never saw him again. Scientific brains are active. He wonders about timelines where he had accepted those offers to hang out.
Pigeon Man sighs.
“Not today.”
Did Inspector Cabanela smirk at the corner of his eye?
“Gotcha.”
“Good morning Lovey Dove... You excited about today?” Kamila cooed at the bird, removing the veil on the cage. She returned a greeting of her own, fluffing up and shaking her feathers. No matter how he responded today, she did make one friend. A friend she might not be able to see again, but that was how animal relations were sometimes, fleeting but memorable. After providing Lovey Dove with her food, Kamila exited the room to wash her hands, and sit at the breakfast table. Dad had left early, but the remains of his king’s feast were still a stack of plates on the sink. It made Kamila smile. She hops onto her seat with a swing of her legs, waving to Sissel, who idly poked up his head from his curled napping position on the chair beside hers.
“My, you’re up early. Are you that excited?” Mother was drinking tea.
“It was really, really hard to do it. But I’m still so nervous!” Hands against chin, Kamila frowns, “I really wonder if I made the right decision.”
“There is some sciencey quote about relativity you can use here, right?”
“Yep, but it’s too early in the morning, Mom!”
Pigeon Man’s flight would have already landed, and it would only take some more hours before he got there. Kamila had cleaned up the previous night, but maybe she could squeeze in some more? She wasn’t sure what else she could do in the uncertain amount of time between now and the decisive moment. In her mind, her explanation for being left to her devices rewound and repeated. Sissel kept her company.
They hear their doorbell ring.
Pigeon Man stands against the sunlight, shadows peering in making him look taller than he actually is. Kamila swallows in a gulp of the last of her fears. Alma extends an arm to let him come in, and he hangs up his coat.
“So... what’ve you done, kid?”
Kamila inhales. She looks at him dead on, fists clenched.
“Nothing! Because you’re not my teacher and you technically wanted to be impressed, but not with something that’s made. If I had a bunch of blueprints for the perfect Lovey Dove caretaking machine, I don’t have to do it alone. Then... you’d be able to work on it with me!”
Hm. “So... did you work on those blueprints?”
“No! I spent it reading about birdcare basics!”
The Pigeon Man stood in stunned silence at her honesty. He exhales, like a cough. And then, he throws his head back, and everyone stares, as he’s laughing, clapping his hands. Also he kind of sounds like an old bird out of breath. Alma looks like she’s trying very hard to not be infected by it, while Kamila’s barely holding onto composure herself. Sissel just looks confused.
“Now that, is a good answer.” Lovey Dove coos in agreement. “You don’t owe me anything. You don’t owe anyone anything to do the thing you like, but I know what it’s like to think big. But ultimately, you decided to keep my darling safe instead of showing an ego when you were responsible for her well-being, admitting you didn’t know enough yet. That’s not just a mark of a good scientist, but... a good kid. Thank you for that.”
Kamila’s smile is so genuine, and he’s sure there’s also some relief under there. She was so... refreshing. He kind of feels like he did wrong by her, toying with her self-perception for all of those few days.
“... I’m sorry I did that, kid. Didn’t make it easy on your heart.”
She shook her head fervently, “No, I get it. We can’t force friendships! It’s supposed to feel natural. We can gang up on Dad later!”
That elicits a whole other chuckle. The day was young, and he’s already felt lighter than he has in years.
“Sounds good to me.” But, he can’t argue with the results. He found a girl to guide. Someone who had every potential to not make the same mistakes he did. And even if she did, perhaps she'd learn their lesson better. “But how about... we work on some early blueprints, for now? My imagination ain’t what it used to be.”
“Even with how long we’ve been doing this, we’re still a baffling sight and I can’t believe I’m taking part.” He grumbles under his breath, Kamila hums blissfully, bopping her head to the tune of the loud music of her headphones. “We’re not even sure if we’ll need this battery for it...”
At Kamila’s request, this became an irregular routine in vacation mornings, walking Sissel on a harness, while Lovey Dove would perch atop whoever she pleased. Behind them was a wagon, a prototype on a portable solar battery. (As portable as carried on wheels allowed, anyway.) Sometimes Lynne was free, but even if she wasn’t, she had trusted them enough with a spare key to her place and free reign to take Missile’s leash. He and Sissel were best friends, after all, she shrugged asking who she was to lessen their bonding time.
Missile always made sure they ended up having a good long walk, as they did today, yipping merrily while feeling vaguely helpful tugging along the shiny box he didn’t really understand, but it seemed important as he was never allowed to touch it. Sissel was practically rolling his eyes, human as that expression was.
“Oh, what a cute dog!” A stranger ahead of them remarked from a short distance away. But Pigeon Man paused, something in his tone felt familiar. Before he can think further on it, the man commented again. “Hey... it’s you! That guy who always fed some birds after class! Pigeon Boy!”
Pigeon Man blinked, looking up to meet his eyes. A dark man in a sweater-vest waved at him, old and gray in his hair, familiar. Even with his wrinkles, he seemed to shine in a warm, friendly aura. There was no way of mistaking him as the man whom he regretted rejecting so often so long ago. And still, even now, he offered the same sincere greeting he did in their boyhood days. His heart tightened, and he didn’t know what to say, for once in his life, his mouth didn’t move faster than his mind.
Kamila removes her headphones at his being addressed, feeling a grin slowly and mischievously widen against her cheeks. It was for his own good, to find closure in a piece of his past he never exactly reconciled.
She touched her old friend’s shoulders, and pushed him forward.