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

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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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[Evelyn stifles a laugh - because it's funny, really, but he seems a bit embarrassed so she'll pretend she didn't see anything - and adjusts her communicator on the table in front of her.]

No idea?

[That sounds a bit far-fetched, if you ask the young lady who's eventually going to raise a man from the dead.]

...can I be honest with you, Philip? You look as though you're nervous about taking someone out for a night on the town.

There's no town here. And that's just one problem.

[ La la la avoidance~ ]

...what's the other problem? Or...problems.

[Because uh she's had some of her own.]

You mean the other four problems? [ Tentative question of somebody hoping he's not alone in reverting to some kind of teenager abomination. ]

Ah.

[Right. Those problems.]

I spent yesterday evening trying on at least seven different dresses. It's a little out of the ordinary, since I usually don't care.

About dresses or about meeting new people?

[HA.]

Dresses, thank you very much. Whatever's in vogue tends not to be my primary concern.

[In case you hadn't noticed from the much more sensible clothing she wears.]

And making new acquaintances - or seeing older ones - wouldn't be so problematic if they weren't practically stalking me.

Older ones? You- you met somebody from your world here?

[ ...And somebody who is stalking her? ~~With sandpapery lips?~~ That would be terrible. ]

[She wishes someone from her own world were here.]

Oh, no, nothing like that. Just someone I met the first time I came here.

[Would you like an uncomfortable silence? It's very brief, we promise.]

...he won't...leave me alone.

[ Oh. Oh, that's how she meant that. ]

I'm- sorry, I had no idea. He--

[ Philip mentally goes over the list of more unpleasant people he knows in Wonderland, but at that point there's no telling which one (or indeed if anyone of them) is troubling Evelyn. ]

He isn't threatening you, is he?

Does a marriage proposal constitute threatening?

[She sighs heavily and throws her hands up.]

Whoever he was, he's been nothing but positively rude to me in the past. He's...he's entitled, self-centered, and has a very high opinion of himself, and kept-

[ > Insert flustered, upset gesturing here < ]

-kept trying to kiss me. I hit him...and I'm not proud of that, mind you, but he just laughed. Said that he could take whatever he wanted, so I...I ran away.

Jesus, that's--

{ Great advice! Pick 'em while you can! Shows you should've called dibs on that when you had her all wrapped up in your towel. }

[ ...awful and most uncivilised indeed was actually closer to what Philip meant to express and his facial expression should hopefully fill in the blanks. ]

Are you-- You're okay, right? Do you... want to meet up? Just-- I mean, if--

[ Sensing that the event probably pulled more than a few screws loose in his appropriate-behaviour-o-meter Philip stops himself from saying "if you'd rather not be alone right now". ]

...If you need anything?

[ A cringing thought goes back to the Christmas event and he bites back the urge to rephrase again, lest it came out more If you need anything~ than he intended. ]

[She shifts uneasily, glancing over one shoulder. This entire affair has put her quite on-edge, and it's not a sensation she's accustomed to. The fast-paced lifestyle isn't Evelyn's cup of tea.]

It's kind of you to offer, and if...if it's not too much trouble, I would appreciate the company.

[Why is it always tall, megalomaniacal, power-hungry arses that want to make the moves on her- Oh, wait, no. She hasn't met Mr. Sandpaper Kisses yet. Maybe later.]

To be honest, I'm a bit worried he'll come back, and I don't think a slap will deter him.

[ Philip nods. ]

No trouble at all, Evelyn. [ He looks around in preparation of fishing for his shoes. ] Where should I go?

[ Once on his way he will take some time to be morose about the fact that he makes for an even worse bodyguard than usual. No two working hands, no matter how skinny and untrained, and not much luck with left-handed gunmanship either - or so he suspects.

Luckily those sentiments are obscured, at least while Philip is busy thriving on his equivalent of chivalry; the thought that in a place of magical horrors nobody should fall victim to something as ordinary as an entitled pervert. ]

The second floor, room-

[The real question: room number, or defaulting to one of the many parlours? Philip has by no means given her any reason to doubt his sincerity or kindness so far, and the private rooms have deadbolts to prevent entry by presumptuous emperors with grabby hands...]

...Ah, room ten. I'll leave the door unlocked.

[Evelyn would like nothing better than to confront the man who cornered her in the library, give him a firm telling-off and carry on with life, but this isn't her world anymore. No matter how many staircases and rooms there are, it's still small, and people can be found.

People like her.

Regardless, she tidies up her room and waits, anxiously.]

I'll be there in a minute.

[ A brief pause for any potential last words. Then the feed turns off and Philip goes about putting on his aforementioned shoes. Whatever outfit he had on last will simply have to do for the moment.

The only accessory he adds is a loaded revolver, concealed as best as he can. It takes civilised company like Evelyn to bring back the tension he felt when he first started carrying the thing around. It just doesn't come naturally to him, no matter how much he tries to argue for its practical usage.

...Which has been very limited so far. The worst things he had to face here were painfully unaffected by bullets, though at least today he hopes that the threat of firepower could be of use to him.

If it actually has to come to that, which Philip sincerely hopes is not the case. Catching up with a dear acquaintance has a much better ring to it than standing guard.

He knocks on Evelyn's door, one and a few additional minutes later. ]

{ Kill the rival and grab the girl, huh? Always figured you had it in for the classic moves. }

Evelyn? It's Philip.

[Evelyn highly doubts that "the Emperor" will have followed her back to her bedroom, but there's no sense in taking the risk given the nature of this event.

She isn't nearly as tense as she was before, having settled down after putting the kettle on to boil. Tea always helps, and if it doesn't, then the ritual act of putting it all together feels calming enough. Having pulled a couple of chairs around the table in her room, Evelyn tries - and fails - to distract herself with reading. She can almost hear Handel's Hallelujah chorus when someone knocks on the door.]

Coming.

[Book down, stand up, a stroll over to the door to open it juuuust enough to- Thank Heavens, somebody sane. Stepping back, it swings wide and she gestures that Philip enter. The only thing she wasn't able to clean up entirely happens to be the small pile of dresses draped over the ottoman at the foot of her bed, ranging from the abominably opulent to the much more flattering.

We are pretending that these don't exist because the closet won't take them back.]

Thank you for coming, it's...well, as you can imagine, it's been a rather strange weekend so far.

[He implied earlier that he too had been having some trouble with "quadrants." Assuming the worst is difficult when she doesn't know his other acquaintances, but the whole ordeal probably hasn't been easy.]

Thank you.

[ Philip steps inside and takes an appreciative look around the room. Settling in seems to have gone all right for her and the vintage design is almost starting to grow on him. ]

After some of the past events I should be glad this one is almost tame in comparison, but--

[ It's unsettling because it's tame, because it's not entirely unlike ideas that went through his own mind. Ideas didn't want anything to do with, trains of thought that started out as innocent musings and led further and further into dark and gloomy realisations like so many of the things he contemplates for too long.

Philip shakes his head and dismisses the thought. ]

I suppose if I can keep it down to wasting my morning trying on clothes then it really could be worse.

[ A knowing glance at the pile of Evie's dresses. Nice to recognise some of the symptoms at least. ]

Yes, well.

[She shuts the door behind him, moving over to the table and drumming her fingers on the edges. All this has put her in something of a mood, but she doesn't want to come off as paranoid or overly frustrated.

That's impolite for a hostess.]

I...I have tea, but honestly I wouldn't blame you if you wanted something stronger, all things considered.

[Evelyn grimaces at the heap of evening-wear. How dare it delude her into thinking she wanted to impress somebody! She hardly knows anyone aside from a few particular individuals; The entire notion of this event is cruel.

She puts on a rather sporting, amused smile and gestures loosely at Philip's clothing.]

And it's not bad...I mean, my opinion can't count for altogether too much since I don't know what sorts of things you wear seventy-odd years in the future, but it doesn't look terrible.

[...is that encouraging?]

[ Light blue dress shirt. White pants. All the swag. All of it.

Alas, for somebody who takes time to adjust his hair while running from alien zombies Evelyn's assessment does not encourage and sounds almost too consoling to reassure.

Philip bites down his disappointment, reminding himself firmly that he did not actually come here to wow anyone with his appearance.

...And that he can always change into something else later. He forces a smile. ]

If you hadn't called I'd probably still be changing. I almost did before coming down, but... it's a bit [ He tilts his head to glance at the sling accessorising his look involuntarily. ] tricky these days.

[ Somewhere during this observation he allows himself to take a seat, vowing to stay strong and respectable in the face of booze offerings. ]

I'll just have the tea, thanks. [ He clears his throat. ] With a little rum, if you have it.

[ ...Well. So much for that. ]

[There is so much swagger here that the narration can hardly stand it.

In Evelyn's defence, she wasn't trying to be consoling so much as reassuring, seeing as her disclaimer can be attributed to a rather limited view of the future aside from the fact that there's going to be another world war and that young women are wearing fewer and fewer garments.

She refused to put on any of those garish dresses to parade about the mansion, so she can't be a reliable judge of what's "in."]

Of course.

[She nods at his arm, expression apologetic. Evelyn broke her arm as a child and understands the frustration of having a useless limb for any amount of time. It just. Really bites.]

...tea and rum?

[That's a new one. With a little laugh, she fetches it from the closet and settles at the table across from him, leaning in on folded arms.]

Are you going to mix them or have them separately?

What, you've never tried that?

[ Low alcoholic beverage proficiency is not something Philip is used to being met with, especially not in Wonderland. Here's to looking at you two, Mister Booze Hunter and Laudanum Boy.

He reaches for a slice of lemon and a bit of sugar (both of which an excellent hostess such as Evelyn undoubtedly prepared) and mixes them with a little rum before pouring tea into the cup and sliding the mixture across the table as an offering to Evelyn.

Clearly nobody should have to endure Wonderland sober for longer than absolutely necessary. ]

No, I haven't.

[Honestly? Evelyn's knowledge of alcohol is fairly limited. Men drink Scotch Whisky and Bourbon and rum. Sometimes beer. Women drink Brandy and wine. Occasionally, these stereotypes cross over to the other side. She is also fully aware that she has a tolerance of spirits very close to zero. At least, she did the last time she checked. Which was some party back in university. A while ago. Things might have changed between now and then.

She watches him fix the drink curiously. It seems a strange brew, but gin and tonic has created a pleasant mix before, and at the turn of the century everyone was drinking distillation of wormwood. What harm could sweetened tea and rum possibly be? It seems rather like a Hot Toddy.

Tentatively picking up the cup, she takes a wary sip and is pleasantly surprised.]

...this is quite good, actually. Where did you learn how to make it?

[Such alcoholic prowess! Mister Booze Hunter would be so proud.]

[ Philip leans on his elbow and ponders the origin of that particular piece of knowledge. ]

That was, erm...

[ He reaches for a second cup, hoping a repeat of the mixture will jog his memory. That and his own serving might just include a little more than the recommended quantity of rum.

Philip's own tolerance started off as a good average and has now - after steady and habitual increase combined with a certain sentient disease - reached levels that are quite bordering the inhuman.

He stirs the beverage and takes a sip, the taste bringing back a few memories. ]

A small pub near Canterbury. I think they called it Sailor's Tea and, um... a friend persuaded them to hand over the recipe.

[ It seems so simple a fix now, but back then the discovery was quite awe-inspiring. ]

[Somehow, Evelyn isn't surprised that the drink was concocted by sailors. It seems appropriate. It's also quite calming, which is what she needed, and her posture relaxes a little - she leans back in the chair and just thinks in the comfortable silence.

She doesn't make a habit of imbibing copious amounts of alcohol, because she'd rather not be one of those people, and maintaining a sterling reputation is hard enough without letting liquor and parties hold her back (See Fig. A, Jonathan Carnahan). But perhaps the occasional indulgence wouldn't be so bad, in good company.

After a couple of minutes simply enjoying the drink, Evelyn speaks.]

So.

[Ooh, half the cup gone. She feels quite content now. Always rather gregarious and interested in what others have to say, Evelyn presses gently for information.]

Tell me about yourself. Or...your hobbies, or anything you like. If you bring up my field of study, I'll never be still, so it's best you choose a subject of conversation lest I monopolize everything.

[Evie knows full well that she can get a bit...obnoxious...when it comes to Egyptology, because she has to be to get by. Continuous self-reminders to keep rambling in check: Get.

...did we mention that this drink is fantastic?]

[Video]

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