Chapter Text
It had taken you two weeks to notice. Not the man himself but his consistency. His dark hair was tied back behind his head, the rest hidden beneath a faded ball-cap. He barely stood out in his unadorned cargo jacket. But his hands did. The April weather had fluctuated between sunny, rainy, and unbearably winterish. Regardless, the man always wore gloves.
Outlandish fantasies of a cartoonish art thief took hold but you quickly shrugged them away. He didn’t really bother with the art.
He had come again, walking purposefully through the front doors. Not so many people visited the museum daily. Perhaps that was why he was peculiar. He kept his head low but you smiled at him in greeting. It was your job after all, even if he had yet to notice you.
You were surprised then, when he did look at you. His blue eyes met yours; so haunting and deep that they told a story as elaborate as the history hung upon the walls. He glanced away quickly, no twitch or glimmer of emotion and carried on towards the history wing; your department.
As the assistant curator of the history department, you planned and detailed every exhibit within. Unlike Holly, the curator, you enjoyed tending to those who came to patronize your work. Holly, was almost always in her office or away at a conference and you were left to take the reins. You didn’t mind so much anyhow.
The lobby of the museum led to three different wings; art, science, and history. Unfortunately, the last was the least popular. Thus it was that you had come to observe your recurring visitor.
You took the folder you had forgotten about in your thoughts about the stranger and bid farewell to Drew, the front desk assistant. You followed in the footsteps of the mysterious man, entering the history wing silently as to not disturb the few other patrons within. No tours had been booked for the day and those within had refused your offer of help. All but that one man whom you had failed to ask.
When you had asked on other days, he had merely shook his head silently and kept his eyes on the map of European battlefields of World War Two. That was where he always went. He must have had some deep fascination with the conflict for how he stood there, examining each display and object. Maybe, today he would accept your help.
“Pardon me, did you need any help or–?” He was already shaking his head and you kept yourself from sighing. It wouldn’t be so awkward if he wasn’t as standoffish as a wooden board. You followed his eyeline to the case where handwritten letters from the war were preserved and illuminated for reading.
“You must know them each by heart for how much you read them.”
His jaw clenched and he slowly turned his head towards you, though his lips remained inert. He looked down at you unwavering and you felt as if you had committed a heinous crime against him. You swallowed and tried not to cringe.
“I didn’t mean anything by it, I just thought you’d like to see something new,” You shrugged, trying to free yourself of the tension.
He stared for a moment before tilting his head but you couldn’t decipher whether it was intrigue or irritation.
“A moment,” You stepped back and quickly skirted away.
You fled behind the information desk and into your office, exhaling shakily as you glanced at the mess of boxes and display items you had been sorting through. You took the third box from the bottom of the second row and opened it, searching as you berated yourself. What if you only bothered him further? He looked like he could be dangerous, but he could as easily just be shy.
You took the leather bound portfolio and blew the dust off. You had bought the old scrapbook at an auction and had been delighted at the state of the photos within. It was the property of a veteran who had passed away and provided a vivid visual narrative of a soldier’s life. You had been waiting to have it laminated and rebound before you would display it but one viewing could not hurt.
You came out of your office and nearly tripped over the threshold as the stranger stood on the other side of the desk. He waited patiently and watched you approach, assuring you of his interest. You set down the portfolio, turning it so that it was right side up and waved your hand over it, “Tada!”
His brow creased as he glanced up at you and you bared your teeth in a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I–It’s an old album I got from a veteran. I thought maybe you’d be interested. You seem liked you really like war history and…I’ll be quiet and let you browse. As always, if you have any questions…”
You stepped away and returned to your office, replacing the box in the stack. You’d take the album sooner to have it prepared. As it was, you had much work to do for new displays. You wondered how the man did not tire of the same unchanging section. While it was one of the more popular eras in history, it could surely do with some upgrades.
You could hear the man turning the pages through your open door as you tried to tidy up the mania in your office. The silence wasn’t so empty as before. You had only just sat down at your desk and booted your computer when you noticed the sudden dearth of noise. You looked through the slit of the blinds along the window between your office and the museum and realized the man had gone.
As the museum technology was poorly outdated, you’d have to wait for your computer to load as it was. You went to retrieve the album only to find it still open but abandoned. You looked towards the World War Two section but it was desolate as well. The stranger must have left.
Looking to the portfolio, you found it open to what you expected would be one of the more popular photos of the bunch. The veteran whose campaign it recounted had managed a photo with the one and only Captain America; an honour even for a non-American veteran. There were still a dozen pages left to see and you wondered what had driven the man away so suddenly.
With more pressing matters awaiting you, you closed the album and sighed. The visitor would be back, though perhaps next time you should just let him be.