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Sometimes Hob sits in the New Inn and thinks of how much has changed in his very long life. He's watched London change and evolve and somehow it's still the same place he'll always come back to, no matter how far he strays. Sometimes he sits and thinks of all the people he's met, known and loved. Elenor, Robyn and their unborn child. He's watched from afar as others have grown old and died or died too young. He thinks about how all of them have helped shape him into who he is today. The good, the bad and the truly ugly. Sometimes he thinks of the one true constant in his life- his stranger. Like he is now. He thinks of how you can know someone for as long as he has known his stranger and still know next to nothing about them. He really should be marking his students' work but instead is watching the condensation drip down his glass like rain on a window. It reminds him of the last time Hob saw him. The rain that poured down on them as his stranger leaves the White Horse dramatically and Hob running out after him promising to be there waiting for him. And wait he did. Waited as rain trickled down the windows of the White Horse once again. Maybe it should have a sign. But life moves on, things change. Hob fell in love again, met new people and visited new places like he always has. He's loved every moment of his life, even his not so great moments. He shakes himself from his thoughts, wills himself to remove those piercing blue eyes from his mind so he can get some work done. He picks his glass up and sees the damp ring it has left on the table, he thinks of the glasses that remained undrunk once every century as he told his stranger of the things that had changed since their last meeting. Hob has to once again tell his brain to be quiet so he can work.
His unmarked pile gets smaller and he feels his hand starting to cramp. He's really enjoying teaching. He thinks that maybe he'll do it again at some point. It feels so rewarding, watching students thrive and understand what he's talking about. It reminds him of the early years of printing while they were still working out the kinks. He loves seeing the end product of whatever he's doing, whether it was seeing an entire book printed and bound, or reading his students' final piece of work in his class. The satisfaction of a job well done.
He hasn't got many more papers left to mark, but he knows he's not going to get them done when he looks up and sees who's entering the pub. A smile breaks out on his face as the man walks towards him, a small smile on his own face. It's a feeling he's felt before, once a century he gets the giddy feeling.
“You’re late.”
“It seems I owe you an apology. I have always heard it's impolite to keep friends waiting.”
Friend. His stranger called him a friend. The rest of the world simply melts away, the lives he's lived, the people he's known. In this moment it's just them. Hob looks at the man standing in front of him. His stranger looks well, still as pale as ever and maybe a little tired (if whatever his stranger is can even get tired), but he looks well.
“Come on, sit down, I won't bite.” to which his stranger lifts an eyebrow and hob laughs “its a saying.”
“Very well. I hope I am not interrupting you.”
“Nonsence. These can wait one more evening to be done.” They can't really but Hob doesn't want his stranger to feel bad. He’ll just have to stay up and do them.
“How are you faring Hob Gadling?” the way he says his name, one that is seldom used these days, makes a shiver run down his spine.
“Oh you know. Life never stops. I started teaching history at the local university. Spent some time in the states. Saw the rise in technology, that's been crazy. I remember the excitement of a household having a phone and now practically everyone has one in their pocket. Lived through another global pandemic, that was not as fun.” but it does earn him a small smile “what of you, Hell been keeping you busy?” he jokes
“You know very well that I am not the devil Hob Gadling.” (well sure thats what he says) “I am well.”
“Is that all I get? Come on, we've known each other for centuries and all I get is ‘I am well’.”
“What would you like to know?” his stranger’s jaw clenches slightly
“ I guess your name is a good place to start.”
“ Very well I am Dream of the Endless, Lord of dreams, Prince of stories, the shaper of form. I rule over the Dreaming, the realm that you enter every night after falling asleep”
“That's a lot.” Where does hob even start with that information? Is he the sandman?
“Yes, but you may call me dream or morpheus as all my friends do.”
“Well it's nice to finally to know your name Dream the Endless. Can I get you anything to eat or drink? I know it's not the White Horse but the food is pretty good here.”
“I am fine but thank you for asking.”
“You know I don't think I've actually ever seen you eat or drink. Do you?
“I can if I wish to.” Dream says like it is the most normal thing ever. It probably is to him. Hob cannot imagine not having to eat, it certainly would have helped a lot during the 1600’s. But then again who had been there to offer it to him at their meeting. His knight in black armor. They sit there in silence for a while, Hob is too scared that this meeting will end like the last even if Dream had called him his friend. Dream looks like he is deep in thought.
“Sorry for prying and do tell me if i am but may i ask why you missed our last meeting?” hob asks breaking the silence
“ I was detained for quite some time and have only recently been released.”
“Detained like captured?” Hob asks raising an eyebrow
“Yes, accidentally by a man who was trying to capture my sister for her gift.”
“Wow. I'm sorry that happened to you.”
“Why? You had no part in it.”
“Because it was a shitty thing that happened to you and because we are friends.” Hob replies with a small shrug. For someone who hob guessed was probably older than himself, Dream was a bit stupid in the friendship department it seemed.
“Then thank you, but it is in the past and I do not wish to dwell on it.”
“Thats fine, but if you do want to talk about it I’m always happy to listen.” Hob gives him a half smile and finishes the end of his now room temperature pint. Dream mirrors his smile, sharp blue eyes crinkling at the corners. It takes Hob’s breath away, it's undeniable that Dream is beautiful. Ethereal really. Hob has known that since the start but now in what his students call the golden hour the man opposite him looks other worldly, glowing.
“I must be going but thank you for a very pleasant afternoon Hob Gadling.” Dream says standing quickly. Hob follows, standing.
“It was very pleasant for me too. And seriously Dream, if you ever want to talk I’m here. Even if you just want to hang out, you know like friends do.”
“I believe I might take you up on that offer. Good bye for now Hob.”
“Goodbye Dream, don't be a stranger.”