บท 42: The Other Numbers
So Alex understood the concept of someone being nice now too. He would definitely be able to get all of this down with time. He simply needed more practice being a person rather than a weapon.
"I'm glad you think so," Claire replied. "For the record, I think you have the potential to be nice too. You just need practice."
Alex nodded vehemently. "I want to be like Claire. I will train hard."
She laughed a little at the concept of training hard to be a nice person but his earnestness was cute. He might be kind of scary looking but that was only because he gave the impression of staring into your soul.
It was the disconnect between how he looked and how he acted sometimes that made her think he was cute even though that word couldn't be used to describe his appearance. He would look a little less intimidating if his hair was longer too.
Claire wondered if his hairstyle was based on personal preference or if it was regulation for the people he called the Numbers. She supposed she would find out over time if they managed to make it out of this mess alive.
Were there any female Numbers? Did they have to shave their heads too or simply wear it short?
She had been sporting a pixie cut since middle school because she didn't like the way her hair got into her face. She could understand needing to keep hair out of the way with how much physical training the organization made them do.
Her curiosity about them flared up occasionally but she had previously been too afraid to ask. Maybe now would be a good time since Claire didn't think he would bite her head off for it.
"Can you tell me about the other Numbers? I'm curious about them."
Alex seemed slightly surprised by the subject change. "I suppose. Three is the oldest one left; I think he's in his early thirties. Four and Five are in their twenties like us but are a few years apart from each other.
"I think Seven, Eight, and Nine are in their late teens…Seven might be twenty now. Ten and Eleven are identical twins and they are barely old enough to take missions with a supervisory agent so they're about fifteen.
"Twelve is almost old enough but not quite. Thirteen and Fourteen are deeply involved in their training. Fifteen and Sixteen are both under ten so they are still in the early stages. Seventeen and Eighteen are too little to do much of anything. I think they are both under the age of five.
"Five, Nine, Thirteen, Sixteen, and Seventeen are female. I believe Two was a girl as well but I heard she died on a mission when I was young. The rest are male. Is that the sort of information you are looking for?"
Claire should have expected he would be this clinical about them. He didn't seem to care about his foster siblings of sorts at all.
"Sort of. What do they look like?"
"Three and Twelve have dark skin, eyes, and hair. Four and Seven are both blonde with blue eyes. Five, Thirteen, and Fifteen are tan with dark eyes. Eight has red hair and blue eyes. Nine has medium brown hair and hazel eyes kind of like yours.
"Ten and Eleven have brown hair and dark blue eyes. Fourteen and Eighteen are blonde with brown eyes. Sixteen has red hair with green eyes and Seventeen is pale with dark hair and eyes," Alex finished listing them off like some sort of inventory.
Claire accepted what she could get but asked the question that inspired this turn in the conversation. "Do they all have haircuts like yours?"
"No. The youngest ones don't; it happens once they start training properly. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious. I was wondering if it was a style choice or a matter of convenience."
"I think it is mostly a matter of convenience. You can't pull hair in a fight if there is no hair to pull," Alex pointed out. "Supposedly that is painful."
Claire could personally testify to that. It made sense but it was still sad that all personal choices were taken away from these people from the time they were babies. She wished that all the Numbers were able to get out and find someone willing to work with them like she was with him.
There was a good chance that the older ones were too far gone to want anything different but what about the little kids? With the right foster families, they could totally turn out normal.
She shouldn't focus on what she had no control over though. She might feel sorry for these people now but there was a very good chance that some of them would come try to kill her in the near future. Her pity was pointless.
"Why do you want to know about them?" Alex asked. "They aren't like me. They would kill you without a second glance."
Geez, was he a mind reader now? Claire sighed and told the truth. "I feel sorry for them. They had to go through the same things you did and don't know what it's like to be able to do anything for themselves. It's sad."
He frowned. "…is this the sort of compassion you mentioned that involves generically caring what happens to people you have never met?"
"Yes."
Alex pondered this for a moment before asking, "But you don't care about them more than you care about me, right?"
Claire blinked at him, dumbfounded. That sort of question should have been beyond him. The words were almost jealous even if the tone wasn't. "Uh, no, because I don't actually know them. I care about what happens to them because you're my friend and they're in a similar situation to the one you were in."
"Oh. Okay."
He returned to watching TV without another word and she was even more confused than before. He accepted it so easily! And to think she had almost dared to believe he was jealous of her caring about his former comrades.
Alex was incredibly hard to read. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever understand him or if she was simply meant to help him along his journey of self-discovery in a constant state of confusion.
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