"Oh, I guess you never heard that story, huh?" Adam ran a hand through his hair. "When I was born, I was supposed to be brought here to Tadfield Manor and switched with the baby of the American Ambassador so that I'd be raised by him. But there was a mistake and I got switched with mum and dad's baby instead. So their real son got called Warlock and was raised by the Americans and the American's son is, well, Greasy Johnson, act'lly. He got adopted 'cause there was an extra baby. Anyway, it was Crowley's job to bring me here and I got to ride in his car. Apart from Aziraphale and John, I'm the only one who's been allowed." He grinned fondly. "I believe that. I think Crowley likes games."
Another thing Adam was worried about, but not telling Pepper because she might already be affected, was his influence. When he wanted something, it tended to happen regardless of his intentions. So if he wanted someone, he had a feeling that that person would like him back. But then he'd never be sure if it was really because they liked him or because he was unconsicously controlling them. It was too much to worry about for the moment.
"Sure! I'd like to see your mum again. But you'd better pick out what I should wear, unless you think she'd like this shirt with the holes in." He pointed at one pile of clothing on the floor that looked no different from the other piles. "Those are the clean ones."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-09-28 05:35 pm (UTC)Another thing Adam was worried about, but not telling Pepper because she might already be affected, was his influence. When he wanted something, it tended to happen regardless of his intentions. So if he wanted someone, he had a feeling that that person would like him back. But then he'd never be sure if it was really because they liked him or because he was unconsicously controlling them. It was too much to worry about for the moment.
"Sure! I'd like to see your mum again. But you'd better pick out what I should wear, unless you think she'd like this shirt with the holes in." He pointed at one pile of clothing on the floor that looked no different from the other piles. "Those are the clean ones."