[Closed] Do You Hold a Heavy Heart

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Evening, 10 Bethas, 2720
The Kaleidoscope, King's Court

Chrysanthe was laughing as they made their way along the wharf. She had never seen anything quite like the Mahogany; what seemed an enormous wave crashed against the pier. Chrysanthe jerked, and Adelaide began to laugh again, and then Chrysanthe was laughing as well.

Adelaide draped her arm through Chrysanthe’s, easily and lightly, smiling. “Oh, it is so good to see you again, Chrysanthe,” she said. “I’m so glad you let me know you were in the Rose.”

“I’m glad too,” Chrysanthe said, smiling. She leaned just a little back against Adelaide. “It’s not quite the same sending letters, is it?”

“No,” Adelaide giggled. “Although it was terribly exciting to get yours from Gior. It was so awful leaving Brunnhold, really; I feel as if I shan’t ever be as free as I was then. Oh! This way,” she lowered her arm, turning towards a beautiful stained glass window which shone out onto the walkway.

Chrysanthe followed Adelaide inside, glancing around. She was not quite sure what she had expected, when Adelaide suggested cocktails in the Rose. Had she been asked, she would have said she’d thought it rather like the Dives, but sandier and cooler. She still wasn’t quite sure she’d been wrong, but there was much more to it than she’d envisioned.

The Kaleidoscope was, perhaps, about as far from the dive bar she’d imagined as possible. It was an elegant little place, all dark wood paneling on the walls, with lantern-shades which matched the front window, different panels of colored glass welded together to create a soft, dazzling tapestry of light across the room. It might well have been unpleasant; it was not.

“Over here,” Adelaide touched her lightly on the arm with a smile.

Chrysanthe followed, conscious of a tingling in her stomach, pleasant and unexpected.

There were small booths set along the wall; it was one of these where Adelaide sat, hanging her coat up on the wall. Chrysanthe hung hers up as well, and sat opposite the other girl, smiling.

Adelaide’s dark, curly red hair was all pinned up; a few had escaped, whether deliberately or accidentally, to frame the smooth pale skin of her face, with so few of the freckles characteristic of most Anaxi. She had, Chrysanthe thought, the loveliest eyes; she had always though so, even back in the days when she hadn’t in the least understood what it mean.

“So,” Chrysanthe said.

“Well,” Adelaide began.

They both stopped; Chrysanthe smiled, and Adelaide smiled too. “Let me get us some drinks,” she said. Before Chrysanthe could protest she was up and making her way across the room, the skirt of her elegant cyan-colored dress swishing softly around her legs.

Chrysanthe took a deep breath, glancing down at herself. She had worn the best suit she’d brought to the Rose, even though she had known how silly it was, really. It was warm brown silk, a trim, well-tailored jacket which didn’t hang about her shoulders but framed them properly, and a long skirt in the same color. The white blouse beneath with a little lace color completed the look, or so she’d hoped, looking in the mirror at the boarding house.

Her hair was up; she’d braided a crown around her head, as Amaryllis had taught her so long ago, and then braided it into all the rest, and woven it up at the back of her head.

“There,” Adelaide said, a little breathless; she settled back across the table, her hands resting lightly on the surface of it. “Gin fizz all right? I ought to have asked, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s perfect,” Chrysanthe said, smiling. She reached out, setting her hand lightly on Adelaide’s.

Adelaide grinned, too; there was just the faintest touch of color in her pale cheeks. She smiled; Chrysanthe smiled too, as breathless as the other woman, and for a moment they simply looked at one another across the table.

[Charlie Ewing]

Bethas 10, 2720 - Evening
The Kaleidoscope, King's Court

Charlie had meant to pay off his tabs, and a few of his other bills besides. Really, he had! He'd thought about it, at least, when he'd walked home from the glass factory with that heavy envelope burning a hole in his pocket. He'd worked out a very sensible budget that even had room for a little bit of excess in it. He would pay off his most pressing tabs, a few lingering bills. All sorts of things he could push back until later, but why would he? He had just been paid rather more handsomely than he expected. He should take advantage of this opportunity to buy himself some breathing room.

Charlie had been in favor of this plan. It was a good plan. He would follow it. He held this idea while he took a bath, slow and luxurious, scrubbing out every little scrap of dirt from in his hair and under his nails and behind his ears, even. The plan was still there when he got out of the tub and watched the filthy water drain away with no small amount of satisfaction.

Then he opened a bottle of something--some colorless, unlabeled spirit he was probably quite lucky hadn't made him go blind, as a little nightcap. Or daycap, as it were. The little night/daycap hadn't quite done the trick, so he'd had another. And then another. And eventually he fell asleep on his couch again, bottle cradled in his arms and his carefully worked-out budget quite forgotten.

He thought about it now as he bought himself a second cocktail. He didn't normally come to places like this. He especially didn't come alone, because the only time he did come was when someone else brought him. The Kaleidoscope was a nice bar, very pretty and upscale. Glass from the windows cast a romantic pattern on the room, catching faces in different places as people moved through the bar. Atmospheric, lovely--et cetera. It was also unfortunately crawling with more of his kind, fields all around him. He'd thought it would be fine, when he made the decision to come. Besides, he deserved something nice, didn't he? He had worked hard on that clocking Fourcault machine. Yes. Yes he absolutely deserved to treat himself. Nevermind that he'd "treated himself" quite a bit the night before, as well. That had been nothing--a warm-up treat.

Sometime after he arrived, Charlie found himself sitting at the bar alone. He had been alone all night, which seemed quite frankly to be some sort of clerical error on the part of the universe. Although it did seem like perhaps the Kaleidoscope was the kind of place you came when you were already on a date, not necessarily if you were looking to find one. Ah well, at least their drinks were good, if far above Charlie's usual pay grade.

He tapped his foot against the stool. This was his last drink. Just this one last drink, and then he'd leave. He'd go crawl back to his flat, alone, and out of range of all of these fields and their constant "polite" caprises and it just made him want to choke. This was not, Charlie thought sourly, the sort of place he belonged in.

Just as he was about to descend into a well of self-pity, he thought he spotted a familiar face coming in through the door. And she was with someone. Like, properly with someone. At least Charlie assumed so, because she looked distinctly more polished up than she had been at the factory. He was as well, for that matter. He always did look good in teal. From his seat at the bar, he had a quite clear view into their booth--the touch of Ms. Palmifer's hand against her companion's confirmed his guess. Maybe, he thought and grinned to himself, he would just stop by. On his way out the door, of course.

So resolved, Charlie hopped off of his bar stool and wandered over to the booth containing Ms. Palmifer and the woman who was almost assuredly her date. Just a quick hello, that was all. It was a perfectly normal thing to do, and not at all something that just seemed like a good idea because he was a little tipsy already.

"Ms. Palmifer! What a surprise to see you here. And now I understand how it is that you are so immune to my considerable charm." He stopped close to their table, an easy arrogance plastered on his face and written into his posture. To Ms. Palmifer's companion, he bowed slightly. His drink was still in one hand, only partially touched.

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Evening, 10 Bethas, 2720
The Kaleidoscope, King's Court

She had admired Adelaide in school, Chrysanthe remembered. Adelaide had been president of the Ladies’ Society of Static Conversation in their final year together; Chrysanthe had been treasurer. They had spent a good deal of time together – with the other ladies of the executive committee, but sometimes just the two of them.

Adelaide had dated other women. Chrysanthe had known that then; it had not, at the time, been anything more to her than just something one knew about a person. Or rather, she thought, if it had been, she had been unwilling to admit it even to herself. She remembered complaining to another friend that Adelaide’s latest girlfriend kept her so busy she was neglecting important club matters; she wondered what that friend had seen in her and had not said.

Adelaide’s hand turned, gently, beneath hers; her fingers twitched against the inside of Chrysanthe’s wrist, just barely. “I wondered,” Adelaide said, softly, “about you. When we were in school together, I mean. But you never any signs, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

There was no mistaking, now, Chrysanthe thought, that Adelaide’s fingers were stroking gently back and forth inside her wrist.

“Ms. Palmifer!”

Chrysanthe breathed in sharply and sat back; Adelaide lifted her eyebrows, glancing from Chrysanthe up to the grinning young man hovering over their table.

Chrysanthe’s face set, evenly; her jaw clenched, and she released it, carefully. She turned her face up to Charlie Ewing; she rather wished there was less in the way of heat in her cheeks, but she supposed one could not have everything; she resolved to brazen through. “Mr. Ewing,” Chrysanthe said, evenly, and she thought it sounded much less as if she spoke through gritted teeth than it might have. “Unexpected indeed.”

Chrysanthe did not bother to dignify the second part of his comment with a response. It was very much in his style; crude even if it was not quite explicit, self-assured, and if it was a joke, in consistently poor taste.

“Adelaide,” Chrysanthe said, breathing in deeply, her hands in her lap now, “this is Charlie Ewing – a mechanic who did some work with me at the Pargeter’s factory. Mr. Ewing, this is Adelaide Thureau-Dangin.”

Adelaide’s well-sculpted eyebrows lifted. She was a staticmancer as well; her field was neat and indectal, if perhaps somewhere shy of a ramscott. It was comfortably entangled with Chrysanthe’s, even now; it did not pull away, although she reached out to Ewing for a polite caprise. “A pleasure, I’m sure,” she said, with a slight quirk of her lips and the faintest hint of a tone somewhere between amused and skeptical.

“Pardon me,” One of the men from the bar came, setting down two highball glasses lightly fizzing, each adorned with a delicate spring of mint and a curl of lemon peel, wound around itself.

“Cheers,” Adelaide said, lightly, glancing between them. She touched the edge of her glass lightly to Chrysanthe’s, and took a sip.

“Cheers,” Chrysanthe said. She raised her eyebrows up at Ewing, using the moment in which Adelaide was distracted to give him the most intent look she could manage, and then returned to her cocktail, taking a small sip. It was, she thought, rather good; she had a sudden absurd urge to down the entire thing.

[Charlie Ewing]

Bethas 10, 2720 - Evening
The Kaleidoscope, King's Court

Ms. Palmifer did not look as pleased to see him as Charlie would have thought. Okay, maybe she did, because he was clearly interrupting a date. He didn't expect to be there long, though--he was, after all, on his way back out.

He couldn't quite stop himself from grinning at the pink in Ms. Palmifer's face. Her hands retreated to her lap, as if Charlie had not just seen them canoodling at the table on his approach. This Ms. Adelaide Thureau-Dangin (and what a mouthful of a name that was) had quite nice eyebrows. Eyebrows were an important quality and often neglected, so Charlie was slightly willing to forgive Ms. Palmifer's obvious blindness to his own high levels of loveliness in that it seemed she was at least not completely blind.

"Oh, it is. Nice to meet you, Ms. Thureau-Dangin." Charlie bowed just a little. It wobbled; they poured their drinks stronger here than in the dive bars he was used to. Nothing watered down in this joint, no sir. Just top shelf stuff all the way. Absolutely worth the constant prickling discomfort he felt being there at all.

Ms. Thureau-Dangin was also a staticmancer, and reached out for a polite caprise that made Charlie just barely restrain himself from grimacing at it. He really, really needed to stop coming to places with a lot of other galdori. He had left Vienda for a very good reason, and this was certainly one of them. He knew it was polite, and he also knew that it did not actually, in the grand scheme of things, matter that he had all the casting ability of a potted begonia now that he had somehow managed to graduate. But it just felt so hideously invasive, even at a polite level, that Charlie had always hated it.

Charlie stepped slightly to the side to allow the man from the bar to pass. The drinks he brought were pretty in their highball glasses, and fizzed lightly. Charlie's own drink was also rather pretty, or had been when he ordered it. Drinking from it and then carrying it around had somewhat spoiled the effect.

Ms. Thureau-Dangin looked away after their toast, and Ms. Palmifer gave him a look that seemed to be trying to communicate something very intently. Charlie was fairly certain he knew what it was. So he reached around and grabbed a chair.

"I hope you ladies don't mind if I join you for a moment. Not long--I don't want to interrupt. I have just had such a long day all by myself, and a friendly face would do me a terrible amount of good. Just until I finish this last drink, and then I'll be out of your hair." Charlie had phrased it like a question, but he was already sitting down in his chair at the end of their table. To make up for it he flashed them both the most spectacular smile he had, designed to show a well-calculated amount of his teeth. Just the most charmingly crooked ones, of course.

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Evening, 10 Bethas, 2720
The Kaleidoscope, King's Court

Chrysanthe understood that she had made a mistake. She had thought Ewing had a scrap of decency to him - he had been rather all right, in the end.

The machine had worked; there were no defects in the glass that anyone had found, and there were measurable improvements in quality and clarity in what they had made so far. Perhaps under other circumstances, she might have mentioned it to him. She had been working desperately, fiercely hard; she had gone in the entirety of the morning to make measurements of the finished products. She thought she might see sheets of glass in her sleep tonight, although of course she hoped otherwise.

But in the moment when Ewing met her eyes, that perpetual little smirk brightening, Chrysanthe felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sure enough, he dragged a chair around and plopped himself down at the table, and announced that he had had a difficult day and could use a friendly face for company. There was no ascribing this to thoughtlessness; it was every inch deliberate.

“Of course,” Adelaide said, smiling. She shot Chrysanthe a rather amused look; it was all in the eyebrows, somehow.

“Of course,” Chrysanthe echoed, fixing something like a smile on her face. She took another sip of her cocktail, smaller than she might have liked. The frothing top of Adelaide’s had lowered already, considerably, more than hers.

“Not the mechanic you mentioned from the other night?” Adelaide asked, curiously. She took another sip of her cocktail, and patted the curve of her lips dry once more.

“One and the same,” Chrysanthe said, her gaze flicking over to Ewing. Let him think what he would like; she had mentioned to Adelaide only that work had kept her all night at the Pargeter factory a few days earlier. She was not so tired as she had thought she would be; there was something invigorating about it. Come what may, Chrysanthe thought, this had been her idea, her innovation, and she had seen it through from the earliest stages to its actual installation. Never mind that it was the Pargeters who would reap the benefit; never mind that Chrysanthe understood the world well enough to doubt she should receive proper credit. It was hers; she knew it. For now, that was sufficient.

Chrysanthe softened a little. “An experience which makes for fellow-feeling, I suppose,” she turned to Ewing and squinted. “At least your charm is somewhat more evident without all the, er, grease.” She let her tone be thoroughly skeptical, with a hint of laughter to it, easier to summon up than she expected. She knew full well he could turn it around on her; she did not mind if he did.

Adelaide laughed. Her gaze swept over Charlie; whatever she saw, she smiled, and settled in comfortably on her side of the booth. “Is that typical for you, Mr. Ewing? Laboring away all night on some enormous machine?”

[Charlie Ewing]

Bethas 10, 2720 - Evening
The Kaleidoscope, King's Court

Charlie couldn't have said what made him grab the chair. At first it just seemed funny, because Ms. Palmifer so clearly wanted him to leave. He had rather thought, oh, I'll grab the chair just to annoy her but I won't sit down. But once he had it in his hand he was dragging it over, and once he'd dragged it over he thought: might as well. In for a for a fort, in for a shill. Right? Sure.

Ms. Palmifer's date was reasonably quick to agree to allow him to linger, which was amusing enough on its own. That Ms. Palmifer herself echoed the sentiment looking a bit like she'd swallowed a bug and didn't want anyone to know was even better. Once again, Charlie had sort of been expecting her to tell him off and was surprised when she didn't. He didn't think she lacked the spine to do it, unless it only appeared after midnight. She was perhaps trying to be decent.

His face lit up when Ms. Thureau-Dangin revealed that Ms. Palmifer had been talking about him. Reasonably, Charlie knew that it was likely only in context of the work from the other day. It was the sort of thing one did mention to dates, or potential dates, he thought. At least that was what he assumed; he really didn't tend to go on the kind of dates that involved a whole lot of talking about one's day-to-day. It just was his general impression from observation of others.

"Why Ms. Palmifer, I'm blushing--you mentioned me?" He was quite obviously doing no such thing, just grinning in his self-satisfied way and taking another sip of his drink. Ms. Palmifer turned to him squinting, and offered what was possibly the flattest compliment he had ever heard directed at his person. A glow came over his face that was positively grotesque in the levels of self-satisfaction it exuded. That she even seemed to be laughing a little mattered not at all. If anything, that made it better--it felt like Ms. Palmifer felt the need to dredge it up from some deep well of sense, like his ego was bruised by her lack of taste.

"I was not at my best the other day, it's true," he said mournfully before turning to look at Ms. Palmifer's date with the nice eyebrows. "Our Ms. Palmifer was similarly greasy, but no less charming." He resisted his impulse to immediately gloat at even that half-hearted compliment to his person. It was very difficult, and a thousand things came to him to say, each one of them more terrible than the last. That he should labor so to hold his tongue spoke very highly of him, he thought.

"You could say that." Charlie took a deliberately small sip of his drink; he was quite suddenly in no hurry to finish it. Something terrible sparkled in his eyes and tilted his smile; he didn't think there was any mystery to it. "Some rather smaller than the long night with Ms. Palmifer. Some for no one's satisfaction but myself. I am something of a night owl."

Charlie settled more comfortably in his seat, making more of a show of it than really necessary. For all that he said he wouldn't stay long, he radiated the air of a man who was in it for the long haul.

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Evening, 10 Bethas, 2720
The Kaleidoscope, King's Court

Ewing had sort of puffed up – rather like the enthusiastic birds Chrysanthe had once read about, which swelled their chests out to twice their usual size during mating season. At least she could be reassured that his intentions were purely platonic; it was merely attention he wanted. That did not, of course, make him any less obnoxious, but it made it all a bit easier to swallow, she supposed.

Chrysanthe did not, in any case, seem to have any choice; Adelaide was laughing, taking another sip of her cocktail.

“I haven’t had nearly enough all-nighters since leaving Brunnhold,” Adelaide said with a smile, turning her gaze back to Chrysanthe. “One begins to romanticize them – to remember them as a strange sort of treasured time. Imagine – caring enough about one’s work to stay up all night!” She made a bit of a face, then; she took another sip of her cocktail. It was nearly half gone now, Chrysanthe noticed, with the faintest prickle of unease. They were strongly made drinks; the few sips she’d had seemed to have gone directly to her head.

“Work isn’t exciting you?” Chrysanthe asked. Adelaide had been quick to ask; less quick, Chrysanthe thought, to volunteer. Most of their letters in the days after Brunnhold had been about Gior and the Rose and reminiscing; she couldn’t entirely remember where Adelaide was working, other than being quite sure she was working.

Adelaide sighed; she laughed, then, tossing her lovely curls back over her shoulder. “Oh, you know how it is. Oh – I’m sorry,” she smiled. “I shouldn’t talk like that to you.”

Chrysanthe lifted her eyebrows, slowly.

“Well,” Adelaide said; the faintest expression of discomfort came over her face. Her gaze twitched briefly towards Charlie, and then settled back on Chrysanthe once more. She smiled, very prettily. “I just mean to say – I’ve been working for my father, these last few years.” Adelaide shrugged her shoulders, lightly, rippling smooth movement through her hair and her lovely dress.

“Of course, I studied static conversation – I should have liked to be an engineer like you, or to study in Gior, but – well. What father wanted was a glorified secretary,” Adelaide pursed her lips. “All the same of course I’m glad to have the old man around. I mean – don’t think that I’m not! Of course.”

“Of course,” Chrysanthe echoed. She glanced down at her drink; she smiled, and picked it up, and took rather a longer sip. She turned towards Mr. Ewing, instead, not entirely sure what was on her face. “How did you become a mechanic, Mr. Ewing? Did you always like…” there was a pause, then, and then the faintest of smiles on her face, “working for your own satisfaction?”

Chrysanthe’s cheeks reddened, slightly; Adelaide was laughing again. She had never, of course, made such jokes in school; she rarely did so now. But the awkward tension was broken, and Chrysanthe, at least – she couldn’t quite have said why she’d done it. She’d wanted Adelaide to laugh, she supposed, and so she had.

[Charlie Ewing]

Bethas 10, 2720 - Evening
The Kaleidoscope, King's Court

Well wasn't this Ms. Thureau-Dangin going through her drink rather rapidly. At a similar pace to the one he had been keeping when he was by himself, really. Except she was most pointedly not by herself. Perhaps she was a steadier drinker than she seemed.

Charlie sat comfortably back in his chair and watched their little exchange. He did not, of course, have the faintest idea why Ms. Palmifer's date had backtracked over her statement so quickly. Whatever it had meant, he did not think Ms. Palmifer appreciated it. When Ms. Thureau-Dangin looked towards him briefly, Charlie smiled as politely as he was capable of doing. As if to say, do go on, don't mind me, I'm just here having a drink and enjoying some company.

There was a roll of his eyes at her statement about working for her father. He tried to stop it, really he did. He failed spectacularly, although she was turned away and looking at Ms. Palmifer again when he did it. So that was fine then. It didn't count if the object of your scorn didn't see you do it. Really, complaining about working for her father--she could always do something else. Charlie regretted many things about his life, but he was at least aware that many of them were of his own choice. Just because those choices had been wrong in the end didn't make them anything else.

Charlie raised his eyebrows when Ms. Palmifer looked at him. This was uncomfortably close to a personal question, which he took great pains to avoid at all times. Not as personal as perhaps it could have been. A reasonable question, in the scheme of things. Polite. Charlie still didn't want to answer it, but he supposed he ought to. He did owe Ms. Palmifer at least that much since she had bothered to ask and he had, in fact, interrupted her date with great glee and deliberate action. At least she'd made her date laugh, which was good, wasn't it?

Charlie grinned himself as he answered. "Well one does what one must as a student--there were many fewer opportunities to work with others then." The smile remained on his face, light and easy, as he continued. "But yes, I have always liked it, since I was a wee tot. I wasn't," he said carefully, breezily, "good for very much else in school. Not like now." His eyes darted from Ms. Palmifer to some point on the table; he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. He wasn't sure why he'd answered the way he had, but there it was. Too late to unsay it.

Charlie almost shook himself, turning to Ms. Palmifer's date with another tilted smile on his face. "I take it you two know each other from school, then? Has she always been so..." Charlie paused, as if searching for the word. "...amiable?"

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Evening, 10 Bethas, 2720
The Kaleidoscope, King's Court

Chrysanthe had caught, from the corner of her eye, the flicker of Ewing’s eyeroll. Don’t be unfair, she wanted to say; it’s different, for a woman. I doubt you care to understand, but you could at least refrain from judging.

The surge of defensiveness, of course, did not make her feel any more appreciative of Adelaide’s tone – of the not-terribly-neat turning aside she had attempted, or of the tone which had crept in when she said study in Gior, however quickly she had turned it aside as she went on.

Chrysanthe remembered those nights spent with Adelaide planning social events, discussing speaker series, organizing workshops for younger girl students. They had, Chrysanthe thought, spoken of their dreams, as girls do. Early in their last year, Mrs. Toussaint had given rather an impassioned lecture regarding the drop off of girls in sciences – how at the beginning of one’s career at Brunnhold, there would be equal men and women in physical and static courses, and how by the end, women would shift to living and perceptive conversations; how these patterns would worsen, Mrs. Touissant had said fiercely, in every academic and professional realm, and at each level. There were fewer female full professors – fewer female magisters – fewer women working in engineering – fewer women managing in engineering – fewer women who ran their own plants.

Women, Mrs. Touissant had argued, let themselves be discouraged. Yes, she had said; you will have to work harder than the men; yes, there will be pressure in your life to step away from it for children, for your husband’s work, for all the other obligations of life. Do not, she had pleaded with them, be discouraged.

It had not been only Chrysanthe and Adelaide who had pledged to one another afterwards; it had been the whole of the executive committee. I won’t be discouraged, Chrysanthe remembered repeating, sitting cross-legged in her uniform skirt, arms rolled up, the plans for the semester spread before them. They had all said it, one after another; she remembered Adelaide’s face, set and intent, her red-painted lips moving through the words.

Chrysanthe hadn’t really expected much of an answer from Ewing, of course. If she’d imagined it, she might’ve thought he’d say, airily, something about how he’d always been a genius, of course, at everything he touched, perhaps. That was not, of course, what he said, and Chrysanthe didn’t quite know what to make of it. Her long fingers – nails cleaned and smoothed, now, though it had been quite a lot of work – curled around the base of her glass.

Adelaide grinned. “If your work held up in Chrysanthe’s estimation, I’m sure you’re quite good indeed,” she took another sip of her drink; there was, perhaps, one left. She patted the last of the foam from her lips, delicately, and set it down once more. She smiled across the table at Chrysanthe.

“Yes, that’s right; we were yearmates in static conversation,” Adelaide sighed. “It seems so long ago, doesn’t it? We were all rather awfully young.” She finished the last of her drink. “Chrysanthe,” Adelaide sad, smiling directly at her now, “was an excellent friend.”

Chrysanthe smiled, now, feeling rather uncharitable. “Perhaps less amiable, then, to those who weren’t friends,” she said, with a faint shrug of her shoulders. “Generally to those who deserved it.”

Adelaide laughed. “Generally. I remember you rather tore poor Mr. Prosperton apart when he suggested women simply weren’t cut out, intellectually, for mathematics.”

“I didn’t even like math,” Chrysanthe admitted, smiling a bit wider.

“Another drink?” Adelaide asked. Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh, you’ve barely touched yours! Go on, finish it, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Chrysanthe’s lips pressed together lightly as Adelaide rose, swishing across the bar once more. She glanced over at Charlie, and raised her eyebrows; she did not, really, fancy another sip of her drink just now. “Enjoying yourself?” Chrysanthe asked, the faintest tinge of acid to her tone.

[Charlie Ewing]

Bethas 10, 2720 - Evening
The Kaleidoscope, King's Court

Charlie preened a little visibly under the compliment. He was a genius, this was true. "Quite good" was not "a genius" but he would settle for it. Certainly it was a soothing balm on his ego after just vomiting out whatever that had been he'd said in response to Chrysanthe's question about being a mechanic. Why he had not just answered in his usual way, he had no clue. Drunk, probably.

"Not nearly long enough, I'm afraid," he said brightly to Ms. Thureau-Dangin's longing sigh. Honestly, Charlie did tend to take a rather dim view of anyone who seemed to think their best days had been in school. Leaving aside his last couple of years at that venerable institution, or how he was fairly certain both of these fair ladies were a bit older than he was, it just seemed awfully dreary to be so convinced one's prime had already passed. No matter how nice one's eyebrows were.

Charlie had been leaning back in the chair when Ms. Thureau-Dangin spoke. At Ms. Palmifer's smile and shrug, Charlie leaned forward again, suddenly more interested. This sort of story was extremely interesting. He was not surprised to hear it involved into tearing into some fellow for having said something that, frankly, sounded atrocious and very women-specific. She rather seemed the type. Equality and so forth. Charlie was not opposed really; he rather thought the many ways in which he was better than other people had nothing to do with sex. He would be, he always insisted, just as beautiful a genius regardless of the configuration of his anatomy.

"Hurry back!" he called after Ms. Thureau-Dangin, as Ms. Palmifer seemed to not have thought to do so. He rocked back so the front legs of the chair lifted off the ground. Alas, his dreams of more details to this story were dashed, considering Ms. Palmifer's rather hard-drinking date got up to get another cocktail and he didn't think she'd keep telling him if he asked.

Charlie glanced at his own drink; it was, if anything, more full than it had been when he sat down, because the ice had started to melt. He swirled it listlessly in a sort of half-hearted attempt to mix the melted ice water in. There was little observable effect.

"Oh, immensely, Ms. Palmifer. This is doing my poor spirit a world of good." His chair came to touch the floor again with a solid thud. He took the smallest of possible sips, grinning at her over the rim of his glass. Very deliberately, he set the drink back down on the edge of the table. It immediately formed a little puddle of condensation at the base. "But are you?" He leveled a blue-eye stare at her, pointed. If she said yes, she was a liar--and he didn't think it was because he was here. Or, at least, not just because of that.