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Toshua Green was not an extremely patient boy. His small amount of tolerance seemed to be withering faster and faster by the second now; there was a stranger in his house, and he did not like strangers in the least. The man was a respectable looking gentleman, bordering on older age and sporting an unsightly wart on his left ear. Toshua almost snickered at the large bump before remembering his manners and standing up straighter. There was a queer smile on the man's face that, quite frankly, made him feel like he was smaller, and Tosh stared at the man rudely. There was still a problem to be solved. Who was this man? Who did he think he was, sitting in the Green living room like he belonged there? Toshua most certainly did not tolerate strangers who barged into his home, but the fact that his own death glares of fire weren't enough for the man to flee puzzled him. Not in a good way, of course.

Tilting his head to the side, the mysterious gentleman stood up slowly, stretching his arms and dusting imaginary particles off his shirt. He was short, Tosh realized with a little childish amusement. "Ah, and you must be Toshua." The man finally spoke, lilting tones (a strange accent, too, Tosh couldn't quite place it), and a much more deeper voice than Tosh had expected.

"Yes, I am." The younger boy said uneasily. His parents were out, as always, presumably at the lab or with one of their 'friends'. Tosh wouldn't know. They never told him. "And who are you, mister?" If this man was a guest of his parents, he was probably going to be in deep trouble for not offering him a seat (though he'd already taken one, as it was) and a drink. But Tosh certainly did not like strange old men with a warts on one side of their faces; the butler might have let him in, but that didn't mean he was trustworthy – no, not in the least.

The old man chuckled at Toshua's stiffness. "Why, they didn't tell you about me?" The boy cocked his head to the side, as if urging the older man to go on. "Well, all the more fun, I suppose," and held out his hand to Toshua – asking him to shake it. Tosh suddenly felt a surge of gratitude towards the mystery man. He was hardly ever offered handshakes. In his world; his parents world, as it was, children were considered ornaments. They were dressed prettily and flung aside. Whilst the adults shook hands and introduced each other and talked, he tended to sit at the side, smiling congenially. It was, quite frankly, ridiculously boring and almost insulting to himself as a person. Still, over the years, while Tosh still felt it terribly demeaning, he'd gleaned quite a bit from the conversations his parents had while he was in the room. Secrets he shouldn't know about it, plagues, gossip... Shaking his head, he turned back his thoughts to the old man at hand, who was now smiling almost... fondly at him. "Así, Toshua Green, my name is José Echeverría Olano, and I am here to be your friend. I know it's a bit of a mouthful," The man winked at this, "When your dear parents aren't around, you can just call me Pepe."

Tosh finally recognized the accent, his eyes widening as he full-on grinned at the man, almost immediately forgetting his past suspicions about him and feeling much more awake. "Cor, you're not Panymesian, you're - you're, uh –" the boy wrinkled his nose, trying to find the word. Pepe just looked at him expectantly, amused. "Ecaran! That's it! Your name's Spanish, right? That is Spanish, your name, right?"

"Smart boy," Pepe smiled. He proceeded to tell Toshua about his travels – he'd been born and raised within Ecara, learning languages of all sorts. Russian, Italian, German. There was a certain tone that Pepe spoke with, and it was truly enchanting, the way that he told his stories and adventures to Tosh. Pepe had traveled to Daelae when he was younger, and told Tosh stories of strong tribe leaders and the beautiful architecture within the region – he'd traveled to Panymium after more excursions into parts of Yirui and Uque, and even though Toshua realized all the stories could be fiction and lies that Pepe had woven up, he was all too eager to believe it. Oh, if he could travel to those places, he would – the boy sighed, digging his fingers into the couch and knew that it wasn't possible. It was one of the few subjects that he knew without doubt; his parents would never let him leave Panymium, away from their stifling embraces and "safety". The day, though, passed rather fast with Pepe's enthusiastic descriptions and stories, and before long it had become night. Toshua yawned.

His mother and father entered the room suddenly rather loudly, his father clattering up the stairs without a word to Tosh or his tutor – they were quite obviously drunk. Mrs. Green stopped, however. Pepe stood and gave a slight half-bow, almost condescending. "Well, Toshua, I see you've met Mr. Echeverría, your new tutor." She smiled graciously, pronouncing the name completely wrong, but her eyes weren't focused on her son, dilated because of the alcohol in her system. Tosh rolled his eyes. "Behave for the good sir, alright, darling?" He waved mockingly at her as she ascended the steps up to her bedroom, teetering on her heels all the while.

"You lied to me," the boy pointed out at the old man, who was chuckling behind his fingers – but it wasn't really that accusing. He'd changed his mind. Pepe was different from the other adults he'd gotten used to. Almost a child himself. "Ah, not really, Toshua. I'd prefer not to have those boring tutor-student relationships. It's much more easier, in my opinion, to be friends. What do you say?"

"Okay," Tosh shrugged, but a tiny smile played on the edges of his lips. Perhaps he'd have someone to actually talk to, someone who wasn't the irritating butler, his constricting parents, or the other stupid children around his neighborhood.

The scene took place on a bright early morning, and Toshua Green hummed to himself absently (something he would never do in the presence of another person) as he scampered about the house with his pumpkin in tow. There was a reason that he was able to do this so publicly – after all, Anne-Marie Green was a terror and she would never have let such an abomination into her house. Okay, and yes, the pumpkin was rather strange, smelled terrible, seemed to scare everyone away, but Tosh liked it. When he'd seen the poor thing in the grove, he knew it was his. There'd been no other pumpkins for meters around; only that one, sitting there. They were alike in that aspect. Outcasts. Besides, Toshua felt a strange connection to the thing, like he'd regret it terribly if he let it go. So he hadn't. Tosh had observed the pumpkin very closely, instead, and found the information inconclusive. It was a pumpkin – an huge one, to be sure, almost as big as his own torso. It reeked of a stench that Tosh couldn't quite place (he would later learn it as death), and the face it had was strange – he supposed to himself that it was magick of some sort, and kept it at that.

Either way, he'd done a right good job of keeping Mr. Pumpkin away from his very nosy parents, but it hadn't been only his skill. Fortunately enough for him, Mr. and Mrs. Green had been occupied day and night for the past fortnight with some secret project that they hadn't seen fit to tell him about. They hardly came back home before the early hours and when they did, they were very, very drunk. Toshua was extremely glad for this – for example, a few nights ago he'd been snipping stray leaves off the pumpkin and his mother had walked in. All she'd said though, was a very incoherent, "Ooh. Heh, heh, combustible...delagnepolitan..." Well. That's what Tosh had heard. Lord knew if it mean anything.

Toshua continued his journey down the stairs, holding the pumpkin carefully though he could barely see his feet (was this what it felt like to be extraordinarily fat?). He was so focused that he didn't see his mother, who entered the room in a dramatic fashion, as always – and when he did, he just assumed she was drunk and continued on his merry way.

And then she opened her mouth and everything went awry. "What is that?" Mrs. Green said in that very sharp, incredibly crisp, very sober tone of hers. Well, that meant she'd made a breakthrough in her research with Dr. Amory, then. His mother had been absent for the past few weeks, stuck in a neverending slump; Toshua had gotten used to it. He cringed now at the tone of her voice. Mrs. Green had a way of talking that made most others shut up and listen – it was attention-grabbing when she was giving a report or presenting something, but it was utterly frightening and movement-inhibiting when she was angry. Mr. Green was her counterpart, quiet and unassuming, but incredibly intelligent – Mr. Green, however, was not here at the moment and for that Toshua despaired. He assumed she was angry now and pondered as to whether or not he should run for his life or tremble on the staircase. "Toshua Green, I thought I told you to throw that ridiculously ugly abomination away, why would you want such a thing, sweetheart?"

Tosh stuttered. He never stuttered unless he was in front of his mother, which was understandable, okay, because when she was angry she was a flurry of terrifying horror and crushed children with her right pinky. "I-I um, I really liked the pumpkin, mother, and it hasn't rotted yet––" To be completely truthful, Toshua himself wasn't quite sure why he was so attached to the rotting squash. It wasn't sentimentality, no. It was more of a feeling like he owed the pumpkin this (which was ridiculous, of course), like he would be letting someone down if he threw it away. So, simple as that, he hadn't.

"No more talking, darling, remember what I told you about your stuttering?" Toshua took a deep breath. She wasn't mad yet and it looked like she was in too good of a mood to get mad either, thank the lord. Mrs. Green already looked bored, a hand on the staircase and tossing a last piercing glance at her son as almost an afterthought. "Go throw it out now, Toshua. If I see it again I won't be happy, not in the least."

Toshua had no choice in the matter. The butler, Arnold, threw a very stern glance at him and watched him as he trudged out the door silently, clinging to the pumpkin almost as if it was a lifeline. Briefly he thought of solutions – dropping it at a friend's house? Who was he kidding, he didn't have friends. He'd spent the past few days talking to a pumpkin, for god's sake. And so it was that the boy started his walk to the trash pile a while away from his house, and so it was that he would meet Hopkin and Wickwright Finch for the first time.