sadfreezingbrit_archive | One increasingly restless physicist in three settings [22/??? artefacts collected]

[ Philip's been in Wonderland for almost a year now. He's dedicated some time to the idea of meeting a romantic partner here, but that time was extremely limited to say the least. Fleeting thoughts that don't compare...

Fleeting thoughts that don't compare to this nagging feeling, that increasing restlessness he's been trying to ignore since yesterday. Talking to Dean and remembering what a good friend he's found in him somehow made things better, if only temporarily. Very temporarily. There is still-- ]

Christ, I look like a shoddy James Bond villain knock-off.

[ There is still so much missing, which is why this accidental video has been showing him trying on various outfits and muttering to himself for well over an hour now. Granted, having one arm still in a sling slows the process down considerably, but there's also the fact that he really isn't too sure which occasion he's so frantically trying to find an appropriate outfit for.

He tentatively holds two ties up to his (currently) white shirt. ]

That's not... not really saying hate me, more ignore me or bad Christmas present.

[ He groans and disappears from view, reappearing in outfit #491 some time later. ]

Okay. [ Adjusting dark blue trousers. ] Right. [ Straightening dark blue shirt. ] Good, that's-- [ Checking light blue tie. ] That's... [ Deep sigh. ] That's nonsense.

[ Ripping light blue tie off and tossing it away before plonking down on the bed. ]

It's complete and utter nonsense.

{ Don't beat yourself up, it's only marginally more ridiculous than the other human mating rituals I remember.

But um, if you wanna kick back and let old Clarence show you how it's done, I've got someone in mind already. Best plan too, trust me here, 'cause you ain't gonna score and we both know it... }

Look, just this once don't--

[ Whatever passionate statement Philip was about to make to "himself" is lost on his audience as the video feed cuts off at last. ]

- - - -

[ Philip's voice is heard again soon after that, though his final decision on what to wear will remain a mystery, at least during this brief (yet deliberate) audio transmission. ]

Um, is there-- We haven't got... someone like a barber here by any chance, do we?

[ Click! And that's it! ]

- - - -

[ ...Until later that day when Philip takes his troubling thoughts out for a walk on the beach for accidental and deliberate action encounters alike. ]

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{Special, huh? Guess that's one way of describin' it. }

Especially not pink clothing, [ Philip adds with a weak smile, because romance, especially in words, is not exactly one of his strong points and he is admittedly a little stumped on the subject of his reply. ]

Wonderland... gets bored when things only progress naturally. It often seems that way, at least.

[ It's becoming increasingly obvious that Evelyn is not quite as practiced a drinker as Philip's usual companions. He pours another spiked tea for himself, but it will be a lot more of those before he is anywhere near ready to share his own sentiments so willingly. ]

Edited 2011-08-25 20:47 (UTC)

[By now Evelyn has slumped on the table, face pressed into the crook of her elbow, eyes shut. She still manages to gesticulate appropriately with her free arm, though, the words a little muffled.]

S'a very bothersome habit for a place to have. There aren't many- [Yaaaaaawn.] -stories about places like this, either.

[Evie opens her eyes slowly and fiddles with the handle on her teacup.]

For the...for the...the first week, that whole first week, I thought I was dreaming, and that'd I'd wake up, but it never happened. And there's so many of you - men, I mean - that I was...was worried in the beginning, but you and Mark Meltzer and, um...Daniel LaRouge...have been so wonderful that this place isn't nearly as daunting anymore, so...so thank you.

[Squinting at the china in her hand, she tilts it towards her and stares at the dregs of her drink.]

...I suddenly feel very tired.

You're... you're welcome.

[ Philip smiles. Making Wonderland less rather than more horrifying is really all he could ever wish for. At this particular moment anyway.

But Mark Meltzer? And Daniel LaRouge? Really now, who comes up with names like that?

Ah, but that's not the point. Not many stories, huh? Philip isn't so sure about that. He could probably remember a horror movie with a similar theme if he tried.

...Which does in fact bring a good subject to mind, as there are decades worth of films Evelyn still needs to be introduced t-- Oh.

Addendum: She is really nowhere near as practiced a drinker as Philip's usual companions. ]

How about you just-

[ He pushes back his chair and moves to stand up. Clearly the polite thing is to excuse himself now. ]

-go ahead and lie down for a bit then? And, um...

[ Standing. Taking a step away from the table. ]

I could-- I mean, if you're worried about your stalker I could, er, stay next door until the event's calmed down, if... if you like.

[Goodness me, have you not met Mr. Daniel LaRouge? A sweet man, to be certain, though the poor thing is about a century behind the times.]

Mmhm.

[She agrees with the suggestion airily, waving one hand around in a circle. Lying down sounds lovely. Sleep sounds lovely, even if her sense of balance is a little off-kilter - that should straighten up if she rests, right? It's a rather floaty sensation.]

That's...mmn...

[Evelyn trails off into giggles again before remembering that she was supposed to be saying something.]

That won't...be necess'ry, I'll just lock the door, I'm a ferpectly-

[Wait.]

...perfectly capable young lady, but thank you for the offer.

[ He knows a Daniel, but that one would have told him if he'd finally remembered his last name... unless he was ashamed because it sounded just plain silly. ]

Um... sure.

[ Philip eyes Evelyn a little warily as he tentatively makes his way towards the door. Perfectly capable as she may be, she's also perfectly drunk. ]

Give me a ring tomorrow?

[Stop judging her just because she doesn't have an alien virus' tolerance for alcohol.

Evelyn pushes her teacup away, elbows on the table, hands clasped together and chin resting on top of them. She smiles blithely and nods.]

Certainly. I'll be...fine.

[She would get up and move to the bed as proof, but Evelyn has the feeling she might fall over on her way there. To be helpfully reassuring with the statement that she can take care of herself, Evie stands and wobbles, holding onto the table.

...maybe not so fine after all.

And good Lord, this is all rather hilarious, isn't it?]

[ Oh please, even without the virus Philip could probably drink that sort of tolerance under a warehouse full of tables and walk away in a perfectly straight line.

On that note, being the almost perfectly sober guy amongst anything but sober company can have its perks. Everyone has to play designated driver every once in a while. Then you get to watch all the fun and remember it too, stock up on good-natured blackmailing material and fondly recall the days in your youth when permanent marker was involved as well.

But sometimes the situation is just as likely to swing the other way, when you just can't bring your overall mood to a carefree level without liquid assistance and the drunk humour completely escapes a sober mind that is all too busy worrying about scenarios which the rest of your partying party no longer really grasps.

In case of a perfectly normal and perfectly innocent woman in a perfectly insane and perfectly perilous place Philip can't help but gravitate strongly towards the latter.

And speaking of gravity and peril... ]

Hang on, I'll...

[ ...walk back over to the table and lend Evelyn his healthy shoulder in support, making an attempt at guiding her towards the bed in a slightly less wobbly manner. ]

[If Philip really is that good of a drinker, this narration worries for his liver more than it worries for Dean Winchester’s.]

Oh, all right.

[She was slowly making her way around her chair, but since Philip is gracious enough to offer his assistance, there’s no sense in refusing it even if she’s certain she can make it on her own. Protests that she is entirely fine can wait for tomorrow when she’s nursing a killer headache.

That’s enough Sailor’s Tea for one day, thank you.

With help, Evelyn fumbles over to her bed – the journey punctuated by giggling and more than a few clumsy missteps – and sits on the edge, swaying for a moment before remaining upright. She then looks up at Philip, opening her mouth to say something and then shutting it when she forgets what it is. Evie smiles instead, reaching up to pat Philip’s cheek-]

...You’re a very nice man, Philip.

[-before pulling a pillow towards her and her feet up onto the bed. Hugging the cushion to her chest, half her face pressed against it, she waves in the direction of the door and mumbles.]

I’ll b‘fine. No need t’worry.

[ Hey, this is the guy who thinks a sip of medicinal alcohol is a good idea when cold beer isn't available. ]

I...

[ CUE SOUNDTRACK-- SHUT UP, DAMN IT, EVENT! ]

I'll... lock the door on my way out, [ he mumbles mostly to himself while retreating as quickly and quietly as possible. ]

Edited 2011-08-27 20:01 (UTC)

[ Too quickly, alas, as it turns out the message left for him on the mirror will not make it in time.

And it was so important too. ]

Thank you~

[Evelyn hums, eyes fluttering shut.

When she wakes up with a throbbing headache, she's really going to love the graffiti left on her mirror. :3 ]

One increasingly restless physicist in three settings [22/??? artefacts collected]

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