THE SAND MAN COMES

he smiles, nodding thoughtfully. a boyish grin curls his lips, “i suppose i should warn you, i’m absolutely awful about colour.” despite his more homely appearances, hassan’s own place was a very modern apartment in cairo, with plenty of space and an open floor plan. “but it sounds lovely, i’m sure your sister has excellent tastes.”

“mellow is relative.” he finishes cheerfully. he ducks his head politely, “i’m always interested in my friends’ lives. heavens know the only people that ever seem to visit me are the mediterraneans.”

he sometimes, when he has a break from nation duties, likes to guest lecture at the local university. specifically in ancient history.

he can tell the other is less than truthful, but hassan doesn’t push, “it’s ... mellow. as mellow as things ever get in my life.” he chuckled, a soft, warm sound.

hassan shakes his head, “we -- i -- am old enough to notice when others are out of place. as alfred might say, there is a disturbance in the force.”  he says, before pausing, “i am not human.”  he gives a thin smile, but does not elaborate. 

@paperworkanddogs

@soanlut

“believe me, you’d know arthur if you’d ever met him.” hassan chuckled, dryly. “your accent betrays your origin. but ... you are older than you look. you aren’t human. don’t worry. your secret is safe with me.” a small smile. “hassan al-masri” he introduces, politely,