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[Charlie Ewing]

Bethas 18, 2720 - Later and Later
Between Cantile and Sharkswell

Charlie snorted at Chrysanthe's declaration of this as "dissolution", but he was smiling. This was nothing at all. They were barely drunk and hardly high at all—this was less than he was willing to get up to on a work night. When he had those, which he didn't at present. The two things, he had to admit, were not disconnected. Still.

"You don't say," he drawled. Upright—yes, he had gathered that impression. What did that make him then? Lying on the ground somewhere, maybe. Yeah, that sounded just about right. A ditch or a gutter. Appropriate. A glorious gutter, though. No—one made so, by his being there.

"Gior does sound more exciting than Brunnhold at least," Charlie allowed when she had finished. Most things sounded more exciting than Brunnhold. Charlie had managed to pass the time well enough. For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder if he would have enjoyed Gior. Or any study abroad, really. Then he squashed the thought down as irrelevant; his grades didn't exactly allow it. Besides, he had his work already, and he was happy with it. When he had any.

Chrysanthe reached out, passing the rolled-up bit of paper and whatever was inside of it to Baz. To Charlie's surprise Baz took it without any hesitation at all, and this time he didn't cough. Surprise, and a little bit of disappointment. It had been funny. But that boded well for the evening, at least. Maybe they could be tricked into having fun after all.

Charlie took the joint back, with a deliberate brush of his fingers, just to see what would happen. He wasn't really interested, although wasn't not interested. Just seemed fun to test out, see how Baz's opinion may or may not have shifted. He cackled on his next exhale, holding it lazily back out to Chrysanthe. Eyebrows raised; if she didn't take it, and if Baz didn't, well. That was fine. He hadn't gotten it to share to begin with.

"You can ask," Charlie said, turning to look at Baz where he leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, "but I'm afraid I simply shan't tell you. It would spoil the surprise, you see." He watched the smoke curl up into the damp Bethas air and catch the light from a dirty streetlamp, dingy blue phosphor. In a moment they'd start off again, deeper into Sharkswell proper. Not too much longer now and they'd be there.

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Late Evening, Bethas 18, 2720
Between Cantile and Sharkswell

Baz hadn’t said anything, really, just smiled a little. Chrysanthe had glanced down when he did, aware of the soft and somewhat uneven edges of her haircut at the edges of her gaze. Anyone else, anyone she hadn’t known so well so long, and she might have worried at what he thought of it.

It wasn’t that she had said anything to him which had necessitated a response, naturally; perhaps there had just been nothing for him to add. She didn’t know, Chrysanthe thought, really, much of how these last four years had been. Certainly not everything she had done had been in her letters, though of course they had been warned - quietly - to be circumspect, when sending anything out of Gior. Nothing more had ever quite been said on the subject, though she didn’t think more had been necessary.

Charlie’s bright, sardonic voice filled the silence. Chrysanthe laughed when he called Gior more exciting than Brunnhold, her eyebrows lifting. “Shame it’s hard to get in these days,” she said, ruefully.

Charlie offered her the joint again. Chrysanthe glanced down at it a moment, aware of the fuzzy lightness in her head and the thick taste on her tongue. It was not, she thought ruefully, her favorite of the joints she had smoked, and she knew nothing near enough of it to even approximate at what her tolerance might be.

“My last, I think,” Chrysanthe said aloud this time. Saying pledges aloud - no, really, I’ve given up smoking - I shan’t work any more nines, or at least tens - had always seemed to her to make them really, even if they weren’t quite the same as a guarantee of following through.

Chrysanthe settled the joint to her lips and breathed in once more; she held the smoke in her mouth, only a little cooling out into the dark alleyway as she extended it to Baz. If he didn’t take it, she’d hand it back to Charlie herself.

Chrysanthe exhaled in time, soft coils of white drifting up into the air, shaded blue by the lamplight. “Incomplete combustion,” Chrysanthe said, a little dreamily, studying the remnants of the mouthful; a little ash had trickled from the edge of the cigarette. “Coarse mode, and carbon, mostly,” she added, “I‘d expect.”

Chrysanthe turned and raised her eyebrows at Baz, grinning a little. “Water vapor for the color though; from the lungs and mouth, do you think?” Her field, caprising his and sort of casual towards Charlie, pulsed a little, warm and friendly and amused. There was a faint hint of gold shift, mingling in the blue light, fragmented against the smoke of their breath.

Yes, Chrysanthe thought cheerfully, perhaps the third had been too much. Well, at least she had pledged not to take a fourth.

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Bethas 18, 2720

Somewhere near Sharkswell, evening.

There had been a brush of those long fingers as Charlie took the joint back, before Baz had tucked his hands away back in his pockets. Whatever effect Charlie was hoping that would have on the other man, there really didn't seem to be much of a reaction at all. It was hard to tell if it had been deliberate or accidental. Baz saw no point in dwelling on it. He did like those fingers, all fine, sharp bones like the rest of the man, but it would take more than a casual brush of contact to get to him. He couldn't help but snicker as Charlie gave him exactly the response he had expected.

Chrysanthe opted for a third pull, and then she started talking about combustion. He smiled, amused as she carried on. He was reminded of the girl he’d known in school. Straight back, perfect braids, perfectly organized notebooks. Sitting in class with Rogerford bloody Grangerton jamming a pencil into her spine. He’d made sure that never happened again, saving her a spot in front of him in every class they’d shared. He’d never told her that was the reason he’d done that. He probably never would, honestly. It didn’t matter much now.

“I should think it would be incomplete,” he mused, looking to her, “complete combustion would be rather hard to achieve without a highly controlled environment. The air here is far from pure, there’s too much soot from the factories. You’d need a laboratory.”

[Charlie Ewing]

Bethas 18, 2720 - Later and Later
Between Cantile and Sharkswell

Hmm, dull. No reaction at all, not even a negative one. Oh well; he'd tried. Perhaps he'd think of something better, but for now he just felt faintly bored, and a little disappointed. His loss, Charlie supposed. Even if there was nothing to gain, either.

For a moment he forgot what they were talking about when Chrysanthe mentioned something about it being a shame—oh, right. Gior. Charlie wasn't going to the mountains anytime soon, so his opinion on whether it was or was not a shame seemed moot.

Chrysanthe had laughed at least, and then declared this the last hit she was going to take. Charlie snorted in disbelief, mouth pulled into a smile. He was very certain it was—and she'd quit smoking, too, and was only going to have the one beer. Chrysanthe Palmifer seemed to him the sort of person who spent rather a lot of time saying out loud what she thought she should be doing, and then not doing it. Normally he found it an aggravating quality, but she redeemed herself somehow, overall.

That is, until she started going on about incomplete combustion.

Charlie wasn't, despite all appearances, completely stupid. He'd gone to the same school the both of them had; he had, he thought somewhat grimly, probably taken many of the same classes. He had just never been very good with the parts of it he couldn't hold in his hands. Work was different—if something didn't go right on a job, he had to sit in front of it until it did. There was a pleasure in that, not that Charlie liked talking about work with anyone. School had not been so much, a fact of which he was suddenly and rather strongly reminded.

Baz hadn't taken the joint again, and Chrysanthe was, in her own words, done with it. So Charlie jammed the thing back in his own mouth, and he tried to focus on his not-focus. You can take the student out of Brunnhold, or something like that. The touch of Chrysanthe's field was all warm and casual, not even a caprise; Charlie's face twitched a little anyway. Fuck.

"Fascinating. Utterly." The lazy drawl of his voice leaned, rather hard, to the Vienda then; he tried to muster up every ballroom and smoking lounge he'd ever been trapped in. "Come on then, you fine, upstanding citizens. To even less pure air."

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Late Evening, Bethas 18, 2720
Heading Towards Sharkswell

Chrsyanthe actually giggled, when Baz answered her. She hadn’t really meant to ask him about the combustion; she meant to say so, and it got lost in another burst of laughter at his solemnity; there was the tiniest hint of a snort in the midst of it, mercifully brief.

“I wonder,” Chrysanthe managed to eke out, “if one could smoke a - a joint - in a purified air environment, how it should be different,” she was grinning, now, wiping a little at the corner of her eyes. It was the sort of thing she would never have dreamed of doing in school, sneaking in to some professor’s laboratory to smoke; it wouldn’t even have occurred to her then. Now, though she had thought of it, she couldn’t imagine ever really doing it.

Charlie looked utterly unamused, the joint sticking out of the corner of his mouth and leaking curls of smoke into the air. Chrysanthe could quite well have laughed again at the sight of it.

She felt, Chrysanthe thought happily, quite nice now. Clearly three had not been too much after all. There was a wonderful sort of lightness to her head; everything seemed rather nice and funny, and she felt relaxed, relaxed in a way she couldn’t remember feeling in a long time.

It was just, Chrysanthe thought, that she had been too serious lately, too focused on work. Work! Just now it seemed the worst, most boring thing in all the world. Not science, of course, and not glass, actually. Glass was fascinating, and lovely; the heating was amazing, and incredibly dangerous. The drawing up of it, the long thin sheets which the machines pressed together and slid out for cutting were like a blessing from the Circle, except better because they were made of science.

All these windows, Chrysanthe wanted to say, glancing around - actually there weren’t as many windows as there had been - are marvels of science and engineering. She nearly giggled again.

“Onward,” Chrysanthe said instead; she tucked her arm through Baz’s, firmly, without thinking. “I missed you, Baz,” she said, smiling a little up at him, and trailing after Charlie down unceasingly dilapidated streets.

She had missed him, Chrysanthe thought, and she didn’t see anything wrong in saying so, or in putting her arm through his. Actually it made it a bit harder to walk - just the tiniest bit - because she wasn’t really used to walking shoulder by shoulder with someone else; that was definitely the only reason why. But, he was warm at least; the cold didn’t bother her just now, but she was aware of it, anyway.

Her breath left tiny trails of vapor in the air. Water droplets from the lungs and mouth, Chrysanthe thought to say, but she lost her train of thought of the subject, and let it go, content to walk on.

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Bethas 18, 2720

Sharkswell(?), evening.

Baz laughed as Chrysanthe did. He hadn’t meant to sound quite so serious, but her reaction coupled with Charlie’s very clear annoyance was very amusing. He wasn’t sure if Charlie was annoyed because they were talking nonsense, or if it was because his little brush of fingers failed to provoke any sort of response. Either way, it was quite funny to see him so peevish.

“It would burn faster, for one thing,” Baz said, “especially if the oxygen concentration was higher. As for the other effects, it’s impossible to know without further study. Too bad we don’t have a lab. Or another joint. If only we weren’t so terribly upright in school.”

He fought back a grin as he said that last bit. Charlie was clearly growing tired of their talking, jamming what remained of the joint between his lips and leading them off to “less pure air”, as he said. Baz snickered as he called them upstanding citizens. He was thrown off balance ever so slightly as Chrysanthe looped her arm through his, but he corrected himself quickly. She’d missed him, she said. Baz smiled warmly, walking arm in arm with her. It did make walking ever so slightly more awkward, but he was happy to do it anyways, resting his hand on her’s and patting it lightly.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he replied, “more than I think I realized.”

He really had, now that he was thinking about it. She had been his best friend, aside from his twin. Being apart from the both of them had been trying. In the time they were in school, he had come to think of her as almost a third sister, another member of his family. He hadn’t ever told her as much, though. He’d worried she might find it ridiculous. He didn’t think she’d really ever considered him family, at least. She did have an actual family. Amaryllis, and her brother-in-law, and he seemed to remember mention of a nephew as well. He wondered if, perhaps, he would ever tell her.

His mind wandered as they walked, trailing after Charlie, who still seemed to be quite heavily sulking. He narrowed his eyes as he considered the smaller figure in front of them, and then he tugged Chrysanthe along, closing the distance between them and linking his free arm with one of Charlie’s. It was even more awkward than walking arm in arm with Chrysanthe alone, considering the substantial height disparity. The three of them surely looked daft, walking along as such, but he found he didn't really care all that much

“Will you tell us where we’re going, yet?” he asked as the three of them marched along.

[Charlie Ewing]

Bethas 18, 2720 - Later and Later
Sharkswell Proper

How sweet, this little school reunion. Precious, with the arm-looping and the "I missed you"s and all that rot. Charlie could feel his teeth hurting from here. He wasn't sure he would have pegged Chrysanthe as the type to be prone to physical displays of affection; he wasn't sure that he would ever have found out.

He wasn't really the type himself, of course. Not like that anyway. Charlie tried to picture it, flicking his eyes up skyward for a moment. First with Chrysanthe, which was entirely too strange—Cherry pushed her way into his mind after, and that was even worse. He almost shuddered. His sister maybe, but even then the picture was... No, he just wasn't the type.

Charlie was walking in front, as he knew where they were going and these two schoolyard chums hadn't the slightest idea. This was delightful on multiple fronts, chief among them suddenly the fact that he wouldn't have to look at any of this nonsense the whole way over. At least they seemed to be in a good mood; Charlie was in a good mood, too. He would be soon enough, anyway, and the irritation was hard to hold on to with smoke soaking up into his head before he let it go back out into the night air.

"Hey!" The whole not-looking-at-Baz-and-Chrysanthe thing proved almost immediately to be a curse as much of a blessing. Not looking at them meant he couldn't see what they were doing; it also meant he couldn't see what they were doing. Baz, then, managed to sneak up behind him and grab his arm. Charlie's protest was lodged mostly in the form of an indignant sort of squawking noise, not terribly unlike Tippy if he stumbled against her cage while she was sleeping.

"Patience is a virtue, or so I'm told," Charlie managed, smoothing his face over as best as he could. Fuck, this was ridiculous. The three of them abreast took up the whole of the crooked, uneven sidewalk; just as well that nobody was about at this hour. The few people they did pass crossed the street as they saw their merry band approach. Charlie couldn't blame him; Chrysanthe and Baz would have been quite the sight by themselves. They were both a decent amount taller than him, too, so he had to raise up his arm a bit more than was strictly comfortable.

Although. Charlie's face split into a pleased kind of grin. This had advantages, too. They approached a corner and Charlie turned rather abruptly down it, pulling their terrible little configuration off-balance. "This way!" he offered cheerfully, too pleased with his extremely petty kind of revenge to mind that the effort made him stumble.

The neighborhood they had passed out of the "debatable" and firmly into the "dodgy". It wasn't, in Charlie's experience, terribly dangerous. Of course he didn't tend to attract as much attention as they were attracting right now when he was on his own. Eh. It would be fine. Probably. He was fairly certain. Charlie attempted to move them around a street person, shoving himself against Baz to do so.

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Late Evening, Bethas 18, 2720
Somewhere Unsavory

Baz patted her hand a little, and said he’d missed her too. Chrysanthe beamed up at him, thoroughly pleased, for about as long as she could before she had to put her focus back on walking. It really was rather hard to walk arm in arm with someone else. She supposed she had never done it before except at a sort of sedate and stately pace, the way one walked into a ballroom in Vienda, for example, or else with someone where she had really not minded leaning in; she certainly had never made a habit of it.

They both, Chrysanthe thought, nearly giggling again, smelled rather strongly of smoke from Charlie’s strange little joint. Or perhaps that was the smoke still trailing from Charlie, who was sulking on before them.

Baz sped up and Chrysanthe half-shrieked, a little unexpected noise rather higher than the sort she usually made. “Oh!” She gasped, stumbling a few steps behind her slightly taller friend, catching herself on his arm as he came to a stop, and slipped his arm through Charlie’s.

Chrysanthe laughed, then, hanging onto Baz a bit, leaning over for a few breaths until she could straighten up again and keep on. She giggled, trying not to picture the look on Charlie’s face. A little glance over at him was every bit as funny as she had feared.

They turned rather sharply; Chrysanthe shrieked, stumbling again, and caught herself rather sharply against Baz. She caught her feet after a few moments, skirts and coat sort of tangled between her legs, grateful at least for her sturdy shoes; having come straight from work, she really hadn’t thought to change from her factory clothes. She had, Chrysanthe thought ruefully, worried she should lose her nerve.

With a sudden smile, she reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the short soft ends of it no longer than her shoulder. A few little scraps fluttered loose, landing on her coat.

The distraction did very little for her efforts to keep apace with Baz and Charlie; she hurried again, taking a few large steps, and tucked herself against Baz’s side. It was at the same moment that Charlie sort of lurched against him, and Chrysanthe glanced up to see a rather large human coming towards them, chin tucked in a threadbare coat, head shadowed by a cap and a large sort of beard, rather scraggly.

Baz was rather too large to move just from a shove of Charlie’s, of course. In the end, the human did; he shifted and crossed to the other side of the street, never quite looking up.

“Good lady,” Chrysanthe said, glancing around for the first time, and a little startled by the sight. She glanced back over at Charlie. “Charlie,” Chrysanthe said, with the uneasy feeling that perhaps she ought to have asked earlier, or maybe when she’d first met him, “is this quite safe?”

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Bethas 18, 2720

Sharkswell(?), getting later.

Baz gained immense satisfaction from Charlie’s indignant squawk as he linked their arms. It made almost pulling Chrysanthe over worth it, and served him right for sulking off alone ahead of them. The looks on his face was perfect, and he couldn’t help but laugh. They surely did look ridiculous as they walked, three wide and taking up the entire sidewalk. His satisfaction was short-lived, however, when Charlie used his newfound leverage on the two of them to pull them sharply around a corner. Chrysanthe made a noise of alarm and stumbled into him, sending him even more off balance than Charlie had initially. He caught himself before he fully lost his balance and pulled their little train down to the ground with him, laughing again as he stumbled for a few steps. He held on to the two of them the whole time, not relinquishing Charlie’s arm.

They still had no idea where they were going. Patience is a virtue, Charlie had said. More than once this evening, Baz felt. He almost wanted to ask what Charlie Ewing knew of virtues, but that seemed a little mean, and so he kept it to himself.

“We’ve been patient enough, I think,” he protested.

Charlie shoved himself against Baz as someone came towards them, though his skinny frame didn’t do much to dislodge the larger man. He watched as the human who had been coming towards them crossed the street, then looked around as Chrys asked if it was safe where they were. It seemed like the environment had gotten rather a bit more run-down and dodgy in the short time they’d been fooling around. He frowned slightly, looking back down at Charlie, before looking to Chrysanthe.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Chrys,” he said, “I should hope our illustrious Mr. Ewing wouldn’t intentionally drag us into peril.”

Still, he tried to be a bit more alert now. The three of them did stick out, even if they weren’t walking three across down the side of the street. If something was to happen, he was determined to at least see it coming.