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The Strays were being particular pains when an unexpected knock came on his door. Tarquin straightened slowly while the cats scattered at the unusual noise. No one he knew knocked on his door. Ashur came in the window, and the couple of shadows that he knew well enough to invite over were under orders to just come in if the door was unlocked, holler a hello, and make themselves comfortable.
There was a pause, not too long, but long enough to be polite, before the knock came again, a fraction louder, but not demanding, just like someone would clear a throat when repeating themselves if unheard. Tarquin narrowed his eyes at the door. Not many in Docktown with those manners. He considered not opening the door, but his lamps were lit and it wouldn't be hard to suss out that he was at home if someone had the presence of mind to look around.
The cats were still scarce, and Tarquin was hearing low voices outside the door now. More then one person, but they weren't being sneaky quiet. He frowned and picked up his sword, his regular tunic and pants would have to be serviceable enough. The sun was low, a few hours from setting, which meant when he opened his door the light would be in his face and put him at a disadvantage immediately.
Nothing to be done about it now.
A few stride took him from the nook of his kitchen to the door, he stepped lightly, hoping to surprise whoever was out there with an abrupt appearance to even the playing fields. The door flicked open, his hand already on the hilt of his sword as both of the women at his door jumped.
Tarquin stood blinking in the light, shocked, sword forgotten, "Mom? Asinea?"
The older woman blinked at him, her mouth hanging open in something like shock, it wasn't his sword that she was staring at, but his face.
The younger woman broke into a smile. "It's good to see you again. You look so much like dad in that portrait of him in uniform."
Tarquin opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say, despite the bloom of warmth in his chest at Asinea's comment. Instead he offered her an attempt at a smile and managed a strangled, "Good to see you too."
One of the cats made a discontented yowl, making their protest at the interruption known, and that, somehow, centered Tarquin enough to orient himself in time and space. "I'm— glad to see you, both, but what are you doing here?" He asked warily.
His mother frowned and seemed as uncertain as he was with the situation. Tarquin could only imagine what was going through her head. He'd only barely started his transition when he'd left home to join the legion. "We… well, there's a new Divine, and a new Archon, and you're here, so we thought… well, I wanted to- see you again." His mother had never been the most confident speaker, but she was genuine and Tarquin found himself softening, somewhat reluctantly. He glanced over his shoulder, some half remember impulses surfacing of the housekeeping he'd buried as deep as he could managed.
His home wasn't spotless, he was in the middle of dinner, there was cat hair everywhere, and his templar uniform was spread out on the couch airing out. "I wasn't expecting guest…" he started, only belatedly remembering that was one of the first ways his mother had taught him to turn away uninvited and unwanted guests. She was already wilting, her shoulders slumping. Then he stepped back, opening the door wider, "-but, come in, I was just making dinner." His mother's eyes widened and she smiled for the first time, tentative but honest. And Tarquin thought maybe he could do this, for her sake, and for his sister who was beaming at him over her shoulder, and maybe for himself a little, too, he hadn't seen any of his family since he'd turned sixteen.
—
An hour later, the cats had relaxed, one prissy longhaired white was purring in his sister's lap, his mother had relaxed enough to ask when he'd decided to keep so many and laughed as he cussed fondly about the little buggers refusing to take no for an answer when they'd decided to move in. They weren't his cats, he insisted.
He'd started a second pot of rice for the stir fry, he only ever cooked enough for him and one extra, just in case Ashur stopped by. But he'd forgotten about the window being open wide to air the place out from the smell of cooking fish before his mom and sister arrived, making it too easy for Ashur to swing in without pausing to open the window further.
The familiar sound of boots landing too light for Ashur's seemingly bulky form and his sister's startled gasp as his mother yelped, had Tarquin whirling away from the kitchen again to run face first into the fact that Ashur had, in fact, just dropped into his home through the window, smack dab between his mother and sister—who both looked abruptly terrified.
The cats, at least, didn't react to the wild tension as Ashur stood, frozen, eyes darting from Tarquin to the women to each side. He coughed, dipping his head to hide his face further, the hat and mask already obscuring most of it.
Tarquin once more opened his mouth. He couldn't think how to start. Well, most of the cats didn't react. Verixsus, a shy, pale gray tabby—the only one with a name, thanks to Ashur— came trotting out of the bedroom, where he'd likely been hidden in the bottom of the closet, and jumped immediately on the nearby table to cry for pets. Well, shy for everyone but Ashur. That silly creature thought Ashur hung the moon.
Ashur distractedly gave the little fur ball the attention he only ever wanted from Ashur and the picture was so incongruous that Tarquin had to laugh. Abruptly every eye was on him instead of Ashur. He shrugged, waved the spoon that had begun to drip at the cat. "Juels, my mom, Rina, and my sister, Asinea, dropped by. Go change, you'll have heatstroke in here if you keep that coat on." Tarquin used the code name he and Ashur had developed ages ago without missing a beat, and turned back to the stove and stirred the peppers and onions vigorously, they'd almost burnt, again.
To his relief, Ashur slipped obediently out of the middle of the room and beat a hasty retreat to the bedroom, Verixsus padding along behind him happily. His mother stood from her seat at the small table and Tarquin could feel her stare, but he was feeding too many people to let dinner burn by getting upset.
"It won't take him long to change." He noted casually.