sadfreezingbrit_archive | one attempt at one-eyed brunch [21/??? artefacts collected]

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one attempt at one-eyed brunch [21/??? artefacts collected]

[ It's been almost a week since ex-mafia!Philip had a very unfortunate event run-in with still-mafia!Dean. The result? His previous Wonderland lives are still intact, but he's down one eye and his arm isn't doing so well either. And that's the understatement of the day.

So. It's been almost a week. Hardly enough time to heal all wounds (or any of them for that matter), but time enough for Philip to get over the worst and out of his room. Or try to, in any case.

Right now (now being 11 in the morning) he's standing in the kitchen, arduously slaving over his attempt at late breakfast. The injury to his right shoulder is difficult to hide, what with his arm in a sling. But at least his left eye (or lack thereof) is cleverly concealed behind a pair of sunglasses.

To reiterate: Kitchen. Breakfast. 11 o'clock. Right arm in sling. ~~Ridiculous~~ Fashionable sunglasses. Shattered glass.

...Shattered glass? ]

Jesus, not again.

[ Stepping aside Philip looks at the mess. After six days improvements are coming along at last, but missteps (or misgrabs, as it were) still happen all too often. Oh depth perception, he never knew how much he loved you until you were gone.

And yet the milk keeps dripping on the floor; cold, cruel and undeterred by his struggles and frustrations.

To continue: Paper towels. Broom. Scoop. New try. Deep sigh. ]

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[In all actuality, the pen-and-paper thing wasn't fancy or anything bad, just a record of observations. First time in the kitchen deserves a note about the cupboards and their remarkable specificity.

She had asked for a very particular type of Turkish coffee ~~and Spam~~, after all.]

Just toast, thank you.

[The tea kettle whistles, and she pours it over the grounds in the press.]

I don't normally eat a large breakfast. Do you, ah... [Evelyn gestures to the coffee steeping in the press.] ...Do you want some?

Some wha-- [ The limited field of vision to his left still catches him off-guard every once in a while, but really, come on now, just turn your head a little more... there we go. ] Oh. Yes. Yes, please.

[ Philip checks on his egg and bacon project before putting two slices of toast into the toaster. ]

So how was your first event anyway? I hope it went better than mine.

[Down goes the plunger in the French press, and oh my word this is just what she needed. Homemade coffee.]

Very little changed for me, actually, but it wasn't bad. I was...

[Precisely the sort of snobbish, upper-crust young woman she would have become had she not been born to her parents, rest their souls. Now, how to put this delicately?]

...I was seeking advice from a private investigator. I wanted him to look into the disappearance of my older brother. It's a little absurd considering that my brother traipses around all the time, but- [She shrugs.] -fairly uneventful overall, I suppose.

I do remember deliberately avoiding the seedy sections, because the sort of "friendliness" being advertised wasn't the kind I like to associate with.

[Evelyn retrieves two coffee mugs, pouring carefully and moving them to the counter, followed by a little pitcher of cream and a bowl of sugar.]

But it all could have been worse, so thank goodness for small mercies.

[She finally breaks and just asks, because it's been getting to her.]

...if you don't mind my asking, is it common in the future to wear sunglasses indoors?

[ Philip listens while putting eggs and bacon neatly on a plate and doing the same for two slices of toast. In two quick trips he sets them down on the table and is about to inform Evelyn how to magically obtain assorted jams and spreads when her question cuts him off. ]

I- no, I-- I shouldn't think so.

[ It's summer and he was hoping to get away with it. If not then being perceived as having a hangover or a bad sense of fashion in passing seemed all right a price to pay. At least when briefly dealing with the general mansion public. ]

It's...

[ As for those he hopes to have more frequent conversations with... well. Dean already knows. Frequent conversations with Daniel are on hold, no matter the number of eyes. He would probably tell Tim or Markus. Not Ivanova if he can avoid it (which he can't help but doubt). But Evelyn--

Seeing somebody once and then never again happens frequently enough in Wonderland. He didn't think about Evelyn. He taps the sunglasses, as if about to take them off, but his hand drops and he stands in front of the table, more than a little slumped. ]

It was... a bad fall.

[ If they ever talk more there will probably be enough lies on his part. No need to start there. Not with the visible part at any rate. ]

[She hadn't anticipated how bad the damage from a simple fall could be, but she isn't going to press him for much more information since the subject is obviously a sore one.

Evelyn doesn't have the heart to do so when he looks so defeated about it.

Whether or not the glasses are hiding a serious injury or a superficial wound is still unknown to her, but Philip doesn't seem the type to be vain. She can infer, then, that the results of his fall were grave indeed.]

...I'm sorry to hear that.

[Sugar into the coffee, stirring, stirring, stirring, stop.]

I didn't mean to pry.

[At any rate, Evelyn prides herself in being able to diffuse rather awkward and embarrassing situations by changing the subject to something more pleasant. In her day and age, it's an important skill. She smiles politely and pours cream into her cup.]

...I did tell you that I met Sherlock Holmes the other day, didn't I?

[ Evelyn is somewhat wrong about Philip's vanity. Everything else is however perfectly and frustratingly accurate. ]

I l--

[ ...ost an eye is what he almost forces himself to say after a long break, but when Evelyn speaks again and offers a change of subject he finds himself far too relieved to clarify immediately.

He'll get back to it. Later. Sooner or later. ]

You did?

[ No, that sounded too much like a passing remark of somebody who is barely listening. Philip sits down. The statement sinks in. Let's try that again: ]

Sherlock Holmes, really? You- you didn't mention that yet.

He's not exactly the Holmes you and I are familiar with.

[She amends, moving to fetch some blackcurrant preserves from the cupboard before sitting down again and spreading some carefully on a slice of toast.]

For one, he says that he's from 2010. He's never heard of Arthur Conan Doyle, but he was postulating about different universes, so I suppose it's possible.

[Evelyn's shoulders rise and fall in another little shrug.]

Regardless, he acts like Holmes. Brusque and to the point. He was asking for information about the mansion residents, for people skilled in research. I volunteered my services.

Huh. Odd.

[ Philip chooses this moment to remember the food he prepared for himself and takes a bite off the bacon while pondering this future Holmes.

Him not having heard of Doyle doesn't seem all that surprising, but the differences? Maybe a remake, a modernised version? Not something he's usually overly fond of... ]

What kind of research? Times, dates, places of origin, that sort of thing?

Edited 2011-07-26 18:36 (UTC)

[Seeing a modernised Holmes was strange. He definitely hadn't looked the way he was described in the books. Fictional characters must show up here often enough for Philip to be so unruffled about it.

A delicate bite of toast and preserves, a sip of coffee, and she continues.]

He wanted data on the residents, when they arrived, where they were from. I didn't have anything of the sort at the time, but gave him an outline of the Sherlock Holmes from Doyle's books because he seemed so interested in it.

[A grin.]

You should have seen his face when I asked him if he was a consulting detective. After all of his pompous talk, he was so affronted.

...I suppose I should have asked what he could infer from just looking at me.

Was he now, really?

[ Philip laughs. ]

I wonder if he'll find anything. I know others have tried, maybe they missed something, but... [ He takes a sip of his coffee. ] Somehow I doubt it, even with him.

[ A pause, long enough for a piece of bacon to disappear and for Philip to think about Evelyn's last statement. ]

You know, much as I enjoyed reading the books... when I think about it I'm not sure I really want to meet him in person.

[The first piece of toast disappears, and she starts spreading blackcurrant on the second slice.

From what Evelyn has gathered so far, dealing with Sherlock Holmes requires the patience of a saint. One must offer equal parts of humouring the man, and calling him out.]

I don't think you'd like him very much. It's nothing short of a miracle he survived so long without the assistance of Watson.

[She smiles crookedly.]

I think he's constructed of pure, unadulterated condescension.

[Evelyn is used to that, though. Working in a male-dominated profession does tend to desensitise one to heaping mounds of bullshit.]

[ HA. ]

I find that incredibly easy to believe.

[ Cleaning the last bits of egg off the plate with toast and... ]

Say, um...

[ ...flushing the last crumbs toast down with coffee. ]

Did you- did you find a room yet? Is it working? I assume they all are, but with Wonderland you never know.

I did, actually!

[Although it was quite an adventure getting there. She's never felt particularly comfortable on the ground floor for some reason, and anything higher than three felt like far too much effort to walk. Besides, the library is attached. What more could she possibly want?]

Room ten on the second floor. Right down the hall from Mister Condescension, as a matter of fact.

[She has yet to meet all her neighbours, but isn't particularly worried about it. There's no telling how long she'll be stuck here - plenty of time to introduce herself later.]

I had to get away from frequenting the Dining Hall. It's far too convenient, and I missed using a little elbow grease to enjoy a meal.

[No matter how good the Mansion's coffee is, she'd much rather stick to something that takes time. Instant gratification makes her uneasy. Swirling her beverage, Evie stares down into the cup and thinks for a moment before glancing back up.]

Is the world you come from like this? Supernatural? Or is it- I hate to resort to the word "normal", but...magic and science don't exactly agree, and Physics has to fit in there somewhere.

Edited 2011-07-29 01:46 (UTC)

[ The answer to that would have been so simple if she'd asked the Philip teaching at his university, the Philip sitting in a normal café with normal people or even the Philip about to board a plane to Greenland.

But this Philip, the one tapping the table with his finger now, has no idea how to answer that question, especially not without giving away what he'd rather keep to himself. ]

It's certainly nothing like this.

[ At least that much he can reassure, if only for the sake of stalling for time. ]

Although... in a way magic and science are closer linked than we'd sometimes like to believe, at least-- What I mean is that mankind has... always had a tendency to label things we can't comprehend as magic, meaning- [ He clears his throat. ] -meaning the magic of today might very well be the science of tomorrow.

[ Disregarding how that answer answers about 0% of Evelyn's question it has actually been part of a line of thought Philip used to lessen the stress in his distressing situation. Perhaps not enough to help him sleep soundly at night, but hey, that's what the Ambien is for. ]

...We do have excellent departments for research in Physics however, whereas you'll have trouble finding any magical faculties without opening a book in the fiction section.

[None of that really did anything to answer her question as to what Philip's world is like, and whether they're from the same one. He poses interesting philosophical questions, but none that Evelyn hasn't already asked herself.

For Heaven's sake, people in the ancient Egypt believed that sapphires protected one from scorpion bites, and that the gods controlled the flooding of the river. There was still some manner of give and take.

Here, everything is just take. The closets, the kitchen, the library, the dining hall. Even the Mansion itself, if what other people have said about stolen memories is true.]

I see.

[Evelyn drums her fingers against her coffee mug. The worlds are similar enough. Jules Verne and Arthur Conan Doyle. More than one worldwide war, apparently. That sort of thing is discouraging about the coming years.

She prefers looking back. The past wasn't simpler, but it was more predictable. Asking a generalized "what's the future like" question might be too much, and there's no telling all the things that have happened in the past (almost) century.

And as exciting as all of this is, Mansion and everything, Evelyn isn't meant to stay indoors and read all of the time.]

Do you miss it?

[Wait, back up, rewind, addendum:]

I mean...home. Teaching Physics. [A weak smile.] The pervading dampness of London.

[ Philip knows how he's supposed to answer. The yes or no doesn't even matter. Just a little something, a friendly wave to the city, combined with the reassurance that there's been enough time to get used to Wonderland.

It's not even a big lie, in fact it's not even a lie at all. Some omission perhaps, but that hardly means the issue isn't relevant, certainly doesn't speak against answering, just because... just because he knows he won't get back.

After an all too persistent moment of silence he finally nods without a word. ]

Edited 2011-07-29 22:33 (UTC)

[Evelyn can't see his eyes, but she can see the shifting in his seat, the subtle tilt of the shoulders inwards, and the tension in his jaw. As soon as the body language tightens, so does she.

She said the wrong thing.

Whatever it is, it appears to be a subject that Philip would rather not touch at all - even with a thirty-nine and a half-foot pole.]

I'm sorry, I-

[Ohhh, guilt. When was the last time she felt guilty about something? Aside from telling Mr. O'Connell what a ruffian he is; she feels a little bad about that.

But he's still a complete scoundrel.]

-I shouldn't have said anything.

[ Damn it, why did he mess that one up? He's been in Wonderland long enough to come to terms with it, he was fairly sure he had come to terms with it, it's just- it's just...

It's just that it's been so long since he's met somebody he could talk to who also seemed normal and... and most importantly thought he was normal... or as close as it gets to that in Wonderland.

And he just doesn't want to mess up that last part. ]

No, it's... don't worry about it. I've been here long enough, I really shouldn't-- I do miss England, it's just... sometimes I even doubt I'll ever see it again.

[ Cue as much of a smile as he can manage. ]

...I'm sorry, I killed the mood again.

{ Hey, as long as it's just the mood. }

No, not at all, it's completely understandable given your recent injuries.

[If she was hurting that badly, it would be just as difficult to stay positive. Venturing out into the public would be the furthest from her mind.]

You should rest, [Evelyn suggests, because saying the obvious is totally a good idea.] If you want help, I'd be more than happy to assist. Not-

[Her hand goes up to silence him. Men have that pride thing, don't they?]

-That you'll need it, but if you do then I can say that I've become quite proficient at using the video transmitting device, and it would be no trouble at all.

[ Philip nods reluctantly. ]

I should... probably do that.

[ It is indeed said in the near-chocked voice of somebody needing to swallow his pride before replying.

But it's not accepting help that gives Philip trouble, it's knowing that he's manoeuvred himself into a situation where he needs it... again. He's starting to believe that there are clichéd damsels who are less likely to attract and more likely to evade distress than him.

...That and the fact that Philip was hoping that he'd managed to make himself look better than he feels. Perhaps that holds true still, but apparently he must seem worse for wear after all. ]

And I... really appreciate the offer.

[ He stands up. ]

Thank you.

Edited 2011-07-30 20:39 (UTC)

It's the least I could do.

[No, really. Philip has gone above and beyond the call of duty concerning damsels in distress, simply by assisting her and showing her what's what.

Evelyn doesn't get up, but she does look after him pointedly.]

With all of the others here, losing touch seems like it could happen often. Don't be a stranger?

[She smiles hopefully.]

I won't.

[ Philip smiles-- Well, he smiles. Any keen observer of his usual facial expressions will find that extraordinary enough. ]

I'll see you around.

[ And then he turns to- almost walk into the doorframe, because it managed to be closer than he thought.

But after that he simply turns to leave. ]

[Evelyn watches him go, tapping on her coffee mug, still unconvinced concerning his physical state and everything that goes along with it.

She really needs to learn how to keep her curiosity in check.]

Edited 2011-07-30 22:47 (UTC)

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