sadfreezingbrit_archive | Philip LaFresque and Jack Daniel's depressing day in the kitchen [29/??? artefacts collected]

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Philip LaFresque and Jack Daniel's depressing day in the kitchen [29/??? artefacts collected]

[ And then this happened and Philip was back in his body. Just like that. Just... like that.

Not that the time off was a breeze, oh no. The things he said to some people, the things Clarence did, but... there are the things he didn't do. The things he could've done so easily and yet--

And yet Philip is back in his body and nobody is hurt. Nobody is dead.

But the conclusions he's supposed to draw from this...

He takes a sip of whiskey. His first empty bottle now and quite likely not his last. That's how everyone will find him during the day: Sitting in the kitchen. Sipping on glass after glass, trying to make sense of what the hell happened in those past five days.

...Only later in the afternoon has he finally made his mind up about some things, leading to the following three audio transmissions: ]

[PRIVATE AND LOCKED TO DEAN]

Hey, I just... wanted to say that I'm- I'm back. I...

[ And then he hangs up, because everything else he wants to say is just so far out of his mental reach now, it's not even funny. ]

[PRIVATE AND LOCKED TO SANTANA]

Er, about... about the last time we talked, I think... there's something I think- I think I ought to tell you. Can we- Could we meet up someplace if you've got a moment? Please? Thanks.

[PRIVATE AND LOCKED TO BEISTE]

...Um, Shan-- Coach? I just... I just wanted to apologise for everything I-- for the last time we talked. That was after-- I wasn't... exactly myself then. I'm really sorry.

[[OOC: Slightly pre-dated to early afternoon on the 10th]]

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[ Reckless is putting it mildly, but Philip is not about to elaborate on why he still thinks her choice could be a huge mistake, not when it's one of the best mistakes that could possibly happen to him here.

Philip is not noble. When it looks like his only choice is letting go or being abandoned then he would rather be the first to decide and take his dignity home as the consolation prize.

But when the only other offer on the table is self-sacrifice without reward then... well, then the choice suddenly seems a whole lot easier, doesn't it?

Philip nods. ]

I...

[ Mature relationships are not perfect love stories. They are two people appreciating each other for their best and accepting each other despite their worst.

In his old life Philip came to understand that soon. In this world he has yet to grasp why anyone would be willing to work with a worse that is very evidently so much bigger and graver than theirs.

...But until he finds the answers to that he thinks he can choose to just run with it. ]

I will.

[ His other hand reaches for hers. There's been too great a lack of determination and maybe it's about time he makes up for it. ]

Good.

[Will is greater than can, and whether Philip used the stronger word intentionally or not, the fact that he used it at all is a small comfort. Should something go wrong she stands to lose quite a lot, but it doesn't seem as daunting as it ought to.

There's so much time in Wonderland, and people still come and go. Perhaps she just doesn't want to miss the opportunity to tell those people how much they mean to her.

Evie steps in closer and cranes up on her tip-toes, using Philip's hands as leverage to kiss his cheek. Easing herself back down, she smiles.]

That was only a little hard, wasn't it?

[ Granted, Philip's gone longer without smiling than that, but it's still a nice surprise he didn't expect for today. ]

You're--

[...worth the effort, what the hell?! ]

[ Meanwhile, on the kitchen's metallic fridge... ]

[ WHY YOU LITTLE-- ]

[ ...never mind. Never mind that now. Deeps breaths. Deeeeep breaths. ]

Um, maybe we-- Do you want to go somewhere else?

[ Somewhere without reflective surfaces, maybe? B| ]

[She follows his gaze to the refrigerator, processes the information, refuses to let the blood rush to her cheeks, and rolls her eyes.

She has had just about enough of the pervert.]

Yes. Please. Any place away from the voyeur, thank you.

[Evelyn frowns at the refrigerator.]

...Do they really have nothing better to do?

[ Philip cringes, because he can just imagine how his beloved mirror would answer that question. ]

Apparently not.

[ He turns away before he can, determinedly making his way out of the kitchen. ]

...Too bad the events are only local.

[Turning with him, she bumps against Philip's side affectionately, hands in her pockets.]

You can always hope.

[Mood lightened considerably, Evelyn pushes the door open and steps into the hallway.]

...where did you...um...want to go? Some place without mirrors, I take it?

I've got an awful film to make up for,

[ he begins, though while contemplating the suggestion he inevitably realises that repeating the Clarence course of "their" last date may not be the best idea.

Leaving the thought standing for later he adds: ]

...And if we skirt around the fountain there's a lot of space without mirrors outside.

It was a terrible film. And I still don't know what mixed tapes are.

[she agrees, stifling a laugh.

Outside sounds good, and the fresh air could do wonders. As long as they stay away from the hedge maze, Evelyn will be happy enough. She went out for a walk in it a few days ago and spent three hours getting lost.

It was not fun.]

The apples are still ripe in the orchard, if you'd like to try there.

[For some reason that completely eludes her and all the laws of logic, the apple trees have had harvest-ready fruit for a full two-month stint and they're still going strong.]

Sounds good.

[ He is very enthusiastic about this. Now he can use all his orchard icons of happiness. Hooray! \o/ ]

And, um, mixed tapes...

[ Philip will fill her in on that as they're walking, an explanation in all its handwaved glory. ]

[By the end of Philip's explanation, Evelyn has a vague idea of what mixed tapes are, finds them intriguing, and very politely requests that he make her one.]

So what-

[Standing at the base of a ladder, Evie takes a few steps up to reach out for an apple. Yanking it from the branch, she leans off the side to hand it to Philip.]

-sort of music do you like?

[ Philip agrees as enthusiastically as he can without paying attention to the non-Clarence voice in his head which politely points out that his passion for music is a little past its expiration date.

He takes the apple while holding on to the ladder with his other hand. ]

Huh. I actually haven't...

[ Song lyrics have faded from memory. Track listings and discographies he knew by heart are sketchy knowledge at best. The passionate engagement with music of his younger days is gone.

These days the Philip who has yet to leave for Greenland often buys soundtracks. In the background they lend a certain flair to the otherwise quiet and drab evenings spent correcting his students' work.

But he hasn't made much of a conscious effort to revel in a particular artist's work for quite some time.

And then there's the Philip in Wonderland who wonders if the preferences of his youth are even worth listing when the genre might not even--

He lets go of the ladder for a second to snap his fingers. ]

Bessie Smith. I actually just started listening to her a few weeks ago, but...

[ Her voice is rich. Full. Forceful. Just the kind of voice, the kind of music one might start looking for if it was meant to erase any whispers in the background, to drive other voices out.

A marvelous discovery indeed. ]

...Bessie Smith?

[She pauses mid-reach, looking down at him in surprise. It isn't often she finds that someone else is familiar with the music she knows, especially given that Miss Smith (according to Evelyn's research) dies in the 1930s.

Her own tastes range from the traditionally Classical and Romantic composers to opera, early blues and burlesque to jazz. Having spent a good many days in the mansion's music room, Evie has been able to file her preferences into genres and categories.]

The first record I ever bought for myself was her Downhearted Blues. [Evelyn grins, then makes a quick correction,] ...well, with some of Claude Debussy's works, but the American jazz scene has always been particularly fascinating to me.

[Stretching further on the ladder, she pulls another apple from the branch and takes the careful steps down until she reaches solid ground. She's never had much luck with ladders, okay?

Evie polishes the fruit on her sleeve and gives Philip another interested expression-]

Favorite song?

[-before taking a bite.]

Bessie Smith,

[ Philip confirms with a laugh and examines his apple closely. Not something he'd have thought himself to enjoy either, but the practical applications are incredible. ]

I admit it's not my genre normally, but if you're an expert you might be able to pass me a few more recommendations.

[ He looks down at the apple, contemplating whether he'd be able to make himself enjoy the snack. He feels better now, but he's failed at soup earlier and if nothing else then the nausea is still lingering in the back of his mind. ]

Ah right, the song. Um...

[ What was it called again? Something Something Blues, but that doesn't narrow it down much. ]

...Blue Spirit Blues.

You don't have to eat that, you know.

[Evelyn points out, noticing his hesitation. Not that she can blame him for having a lack of appetite, given everything he's been through recently. She does raise an eyebrow at the selected tune, though. Blue Spirit Blues? Unless she's very much mistaken, that's the one about demons with their eyelids dripping blood, dragging sinners to their brimstone flood.]

That...

[For an instant, Evie considers this. There are several things she could say.

...that's an incredibly depressing song choice, Philip.

Please tell me you're not just relating to this on a personal level.

and her personal favorite:

Do you believe in all that? Hell, I mean.

The last one would open up an entirely new can of worms about religious beliefs, and she'd much rather not get into that. Not today. So instead Evelyn half-smiles, half-grimaces, and suppresses a quiet laugh.]

Perhaps I could recommend a few things that don't involve fairies and dragons spitting out blue flames. [She adds hastily,] If you were amenable to the idea, of course.

[ Philip laughs, a little startled that his hesitation was so much more obvious than the thought. All right then, since he has official permission now he will just pocket the apple for another time.

He'd much rather spend the walk talking anyway, which brings him to--

...He isn't quite sure why she looks startled. Not until he tries to remember whether the song holds any particular implications he missed and stops as soon as he actually remembers the lyrics.

Had a dream last night that I was dead. Had a dream last night that I was dead. Evil spirits all around my--

You have to wonder why none of that jumped right out of him. A very good sign. Or a very bad one.

Philip smiles sheepishly before catching himself and holding on to her request. ]

I'd love that.

[ "This is hell", I cried. Cried with all my might. "This is hell", I cried. Cried with--

Jesus, never mind. ]

...What about yours? Your, er, favourite song, I mean?

Since I've come here, I think it's...Do Your Duty.

[Evelyn picks at the skin of her apple for a moment. There are so many songs she never would have known about had she not raided the music room. Admittedly, the main reason is time and date of recording and how most of them have yet to exist in her year, but...it's nice. To see how an artist progresses.]

One of the more upbeat ones, though it's probably tied with Careless Love Blues.

[Twisting the stem off the fruit, she flicks it to one side and leans against the ladder. How long has it been since she actually tried to remember the things she used to do?]

I've been listening to a lot of Glenn Miller and...um...Benny Goodman? I think that's his name. I used to play Gershwin on the loudest possible volume in our house back in Oxfordshire.

[A sheepish grin.]

That was when all the "in-vogue" dances came out. It's a bit strange to think that the foxtrot is so...archaic in your time. It was the height of fashion, once. [She looks down at her feet and lifts a shoe.] Then again, so were these.

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