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Sometimes, Haddock forgot that Tintin was still seventeen.
It’d been a good, couple years - nearing three - of their friendship. From their makeshift alliance on the Karaboudjan to the day Haddock rescued Tintin from his untimely execution on the island of Ischia, they had stuck together like glue. Together they’d made new friends, solved a great many mysteries, stopped criminals, and experienced incredible things.
Nothing would ever compare to the first leap Haddock made on the moon, when Tintin had laughed at him for forgetting gravity was six times less there than on Earth.
Haddock had a hard time believing that it had only been almost three years of non-stop adventuring. So, when he would offer Tintin a glass of alcohol and Tintin would gently remind him that he was underage, or when Haddock checked the calendar for Tintin’s birthday, it would always shock him just a bit. Although Tintin had a boyish look about him, his eyes were wise. Haddock didn’t like being tricked like that.
Those same eyes, though, were always full of curiosity and wild energy. Tintin always needed to be doing something - running from thugs, exploring forgotten temples, solving mysteries, the usual. When Haddock passed by Tintin’s door, often he could hear the incessant tapping of a shoe as the boy wrote about his latest escapade. That energy was uncontainable. There truly was no other reporter like him. Finally, hours later, Tintin would emerge from his bedroom with Snowy on his heels, running outside to spin around in the falling snow or sit in the summer flowers. Haddock would always smile through the window at him. It was only in these moments that Haddock remembered on his own of the youthfulness of his best friend.
“Captain!” Tintin called out to Haddock as he made his way over to their car. The boy was perched high in a tree, looking down at him, and his faithful dog was sitting at the tree’s base with an exasperated look on his face. “Where are you going?”
Haddock turned his head to look over his shoulder, their eyes meeting. “To meet with Cuthbert in town. And what are you doing up there?”
With a smile, Tintin responded simply, “It’s a good day for climbing.”
Of course it is. Any day that didn’t have a plan was a good day for climbing, it seemed.
Haddock huffed, opening the drivers’ door. “Well, don’t go and fall while I’m gone, alright? The last thing I want is for you to break your neck because you decided you wanted to see how far a jump you could make.”
Something glimmered in Tintin’s eyes as his smile widened into a mischievous grin.
Thundering typhoons. Haddock shouldn’t have said anything about it.
Tintin shifted slightly on the branch he was sitting on, closer to the edge. “You mean, don’t fall like this?”
And before Haddock could reprimand him, Tintin leapt from the branch and landed heavily on the ground. Snowy jumped to his paws and let out a few excited barks, running over to his boy, who stood up and brushed bits of grass off his brown trousers. Luckily, he was completely unharmed.
Haddock rolled his eyes. “I didn’t know it was a good day for falling, too.”
Without giving a response, Tintin headed over to the passenger side and clambered into the seat, Snowy scrambling onto his lap just before he shut the door. Haddock slid into his own spot, sticking in the keys and turning on the engine. “Do you know what Cuthbert could possibly want? He phoned me and told me there was an emergency - something to do with the Thompsons.”
“I truly have no clue,” Tintin shrugged, his interest perking up, “but if the Thompsons are involved, I’m sure it’s something quite exciting. Let’s go, then!”
As Haddock drove them through the front gates of Marlinspike Hall, he glanced over at the boy. There was a pleasant smile on his face as he looked at the window, his eyes bright and cheerful as he subconsciously stroked Snowy.
This was a boy that Haddock would protect with his life, for the rest of it. This was a boy that would change the world - and already had.
In the end, though, he was still just a boy.