[PM to Join] Natural Disasters

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Bethas 18, 2720

Somewhere Cheap, evening.

BBaz gave a snort of laughter as Charlie launched into interrogating Chrysanthe about his sister. He did not have the heart to tell him that the two of them had only really tangentially been friends, by virtue of the fact that Baz was her friend and Georgianna was his sister. Georgie’s social circles never really intersected with Baz’s, nor Chrysanthe’s. Her area of study was vastly different, and she had her own friends. Though the twins were always close, they were very distinctly their own people. It seemed that whether or not he told Charlie this himself, the disappointment was inevitable. Chrysanthe was quick to Still, Baz knew a few things she didn’t that might keep the conversation off him for a bit longer.

“You might actually like her, Charlie,” he said, “she’s got a similar knack for mischief. When we were fifteen, she turned in a still-life painting of two tomatoes and a courgette arranged very deliberately because she was unhappy with her art teacher.”

He took a sip of his beer. “I told her it wasn’t a good idea, but she’s very headstrong and did it anyways. One of the few times she actually got in trouble for something.”

He looked to Chrysanthe, and smiled. There was a hint of wickedness in it, and he turned his attention back to Charlie again. “On the subject of her and Chrys here, though,” he began, “she did once say that she thought Chrysanthe was ‘very cute’. I also remember Georgie being somewhat envious of how smooth and pretty her hair was.”

Sorry, Chrys, he thought to himself, toying with a corner of the label on his beer that was beginning to peel up slightly.

[Charlie Ewing]

Bethas 18, 2720 - Evening
Somewhere Cheap

If Chrysanthe had expected Charlie's enthusiasm to be dimmed in the slightest by her insistence that her interest in her erstwhile school friend was purely platonic, she was going to be disappointed. Even in the dim light of the pub Charlie could see her face color, not entirely dissimilar to when he had teased her about Gita.

"Details, details. I was close enough." Charlie waved off her correction. She made, he allowed, a very good show of it, reminding him that his original theory had been some drivel about tragically mis-aligned interests. Not good enough--it would have been very difficult to put him off of this topic, now that he'd found it. He didn't, in fact, care if he was right or wrong, only that it flustered his new friend to discuss it.

"That is extremely brilliant." Charlie found he was sincere in his compliment; he almost wished he could meet her. Almost. He snorted an ugly kind of laugh, flashing his (charmingly) crooked teeth. Then he turned back to Chrysanthe, who was desperately trying to ignore the look on his face.

"Lovely and troublesome? She sounds much more interesting than your other school friend, the one with the eyebrows." Charlie took exception to the word "mischief", but he decided to let it pass in service of the greater good. Namely, his own entertainment. Baz had not, Charlie acknowledged, heard most of his better stories, and thus could not be held accountable for thinking that what he did all day was on the level of schoolchild pranks. Although, if he thought about how the end of his school career had been, it wasn't wildly off, either. They had likely had very different educational experiences, Charlie and the two people seated at the table with him.

Good for them.

Their surly waitress came back with his gin sling, and none of the food. In all fairness to her, the bar was only a few steps away and the kitchen on the opposite side of it from their table. In all fairness to the rest of the universe, they could be standing outside the kitchen door and he didn't think she would have done any differently. Charlie offered her an overly-flamboyant sort of thanks, and she frowned before stalking off again. This was also proving to be very entertaining. Charlie had been doubtful about this dinner for a moment there, but things were really looking up.

What Baz offered then was, in fact, bait. Charlie knew it for what it was, and he didn't care. He would take that happily. There was time in this evening for all things, most likely. He could get back to seeing if he could get Baz to catch fire later. Or he wouldn't, and either way this was more satisfying. Charlie gasped in a mockery of delight, taking a rather deep sip of his gin.

"So there is hope for your tragic, ostensibly one-sided pining after all? How wonderful for you. Tell me, Baz, what would she make of our Chrysanthe's new look, do you think? I have been polling all relevant parties."

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Evening, Bethas 18, 2720
Somewhere Cheap

Baz did not take Chrysanthe up on the look of pleading in her eyes, and her rather obvious conversational hints. Perhaps she should have known he wouldn’t be the way he laughed as Charlie teased her.

Perhaps, Chrysanthe thought, desperately, he was trying to steer the conversation towards an actual discussion of Georgie. Yes, that would be wonderful. Whatever thin hopes she had built up were punctured when Baz turned to her and smirked.

Chrysanthe busied herself with a sip of her beer, so that she should be doing something other than listening intently if Charlie looked over at her. She was making quick progress on it, although not nearly as quick as Charlie.

Chrysanthe did remember the incident in question; she half-remembered a discussion of the painting, the first time she’d met Georgie. Fourteen, Chrysanthe suspected, would have been a difficult year for her no matter what - puberty had hit rather hard, in retrospect - but everything that had happened had made it one of the worst of her life, though perhaps not the most consequential. Funny, to think of the death of one’s parents as not terribly consequential. It depended, she supposed, on how one thought of consequences, and how long one traced them down the line.

Baz, despite her best efforts to scare him off, had been one of the brightest points of the year; their friendship was perhaps the only thing she could look back on with pleasure.

Right now, of course, he was busily proving why he did not deserve to be recalled in such glowing terms. Chrysanthe nearly choked on her mouthful of beer as he went on, gleefully discussing Georgie’s opinion of her directly in front of Charlie. Chrysanthe shot him a furious look, her eyes watering, and coughed as delicately as she could into her hand, her throat stinging with the beer she’d only just managed to swallow.

She took another swig, naturally, to wash it down. She shot a glare at Charlie over the edge of the beer bottle. “Charlie happened to meet Adelaide Thureau-Danton last week,” Chrysanthe said, as casually as she could, to Baz, hoping for a subject change. “Do you remember her? From the Ladies’ Society of Static Conversation?”

Charlie went on, his spirits bolstered by a second gin sling - Chrysanthe thought rather sourly that she had promised him a drink, not two. Then again, she was rather grateful for the haircut. So long as he did not think she owed him dinner as well, Chrysanthe thought. Then again, he had let her sleep on his couch; however filthy, he hadn’t made her sleep on the bed, which she had learned today would have been definitively worse. She decided, loftily, not to make a fuss about it.

“I’ve not - there’s been no pining,” Chrysanthe objected, voice trailing off as Charlie found a rather more interesting question. She betrayed herself rather awfully by reaching up to touch the ends of her short hair, glancing at Baz and then down at the remains of her beer. She took another sip; she oughtn’t to finish it, at least, until the food came, Chrysanthe decided. Or get a second one.

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Bethas 18, 2720

Somewhere Cheap, evening.

Baz could feel the glare Chrysanthe was giving him, but he paid it no mind. Charlie had snapped up the bait like a hungry cat. Baz had a feeling he would, and he was still pleased to not be the focus of teasing any longer.

"She'd be glad someone thinks so," Baz remarked as Charlie called Georgie's painting stunt brilliant.

He took a drink and raised his eyebrows at the mention of Adelaide Thureau-Danton. He scratched his jaw, thinking for a moment. The one with the eyebrows, Charlie had described her. He remembered a few girls from the Ladies' Society. He had seen them often with Chrysanthe, though by the virtue of it being the Ladies' Society, he hadn't been overly familiar.

"It's hard to say," he admitted, "I'd need something more than a name and 'the one with the eyebrows', I think. It’s been a while since I’ve seen any of your Society friends.”

It wasn't long before Charlie launched back into needling Chrys about Georgianna. Chrys insisted there was no pining, and Charlie was clearly not having it. There probably hadn't been, if he had been honest. They hadn't known each other all that well, it was unlikely. He grinned as Charlie asked him what he thought Georgie would make of Chrys' new haircut.

"I think she'd like it," he admitted. "It's a bit daring, Georgie does like daring."

[Charlie Ewing]

Bethas 18, 2720 - Evening
Somewhere Cheap

Charlie could think of quite a few words more to use for Ms. Thureau-Dangin, beyond describing her eyebrows. He chose in that moment to refrain from adding them, out of his great generosity of spirit. Chrysanthe would likely be displeased to hear him rehash all of her erstwhile date's many flaws. Besides, that was less interesting than the continued teasing.

"They are quite distinctive eyebrows," was all he offered by way of identification. Nothing he had to say, admittedly, was likely to help Baz recall her anyway. "Insufferable" and "not very interesting" were not the sorts of descriptors that helped; neither was "spends too much time on her hair". That last one was just a guess, anyway.

"There's no need to be shy about it," he continued in the face of her denial of pining. It truly seemed like there wasn't any, but it wouldn't be very much fun if he let this go now, would it? No. No it would not. Charlie took another sip of his gin, a small one. He would pace himself. The food had yet to arrive, and as delightful as his story about mixing substances had been earlier, he had no wish to repeat certain key events from it at this current juncture in time. Maybe later, and maybe different details than what he'd shared on the walk over.

For all her protests, when he put the question of her new haircut to Baz, Chrysanthe had reached up to touch the newly-short ends of her hair. Ha! He knew it, he knew she would want to know. Charlie's grin was positively triumphant, growing brighter at the confirmation that this mysterious twin sister would in fact like it.

"Ah, a woman of taste and distinction then. See, that is another point in your favor. It's always so terribly tragic when the object of your affections is less than fond of some personal aesthetic decision. I remember, once I--well. Nevermind that, that's not a very interesting story." Charlie waved his hand and had more of his gin, dismissing that partial thought. "But not so, here! Are you very relieved? I imagine so."

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Evening, Bethas 18, 2720
Somewhere Cheap

She was President of the society, in our last year,” Chrysanthe offered, when Baz wasn’t sure he remembered Adelaide. She found she was not in the least bit interested in attempting to describe the other woman to an audience which included Charlie; she could see no way at all in which that would go well, and quite many in which it would go poorly. She had made a variety of conversational errors already today, and thought she could at least manage to avoid this rather glaring and obvious one.

Charlie grinned at her, looking about as smug as it was possible for a face to look. Chrysanthe felt if she could have gotten a spec of that smile, the viewer would feel faintly embarrassed the sight, and promptly check themselves for any sort of minor disarray; one might count on a viewer to blush. She’d want to take the spec head on, with him looking directly into the camera, as if at the viewer, Chrysanthe decided, and felt faintly embarrassed by her own enthusiasm. Hadn’t she been reckless enough for the night? Here she was contemplating a new hobby, and an expensive one at that.

It was only that – if she were completely honest with herself, really, truly honest – she’d been bored. Chrysanthe frowned, very faintly, at the realization. She’d been working quite a lot, in Vienda; she’d let some of her social connections lapse, because she simply hadn’t had time. It had, she thought ruefully, been a long time since she’d gone on a date she’d actually enjoyed with a socially appropriate party. It had been a long time, the week before excepted, since she’d had – well – fun.

Charlie’s smugness was partially – and only partially – offset by Baz saying that he thought Georige would like her haircut. Not, Chrysanthe thought, rather firmly, that it mattered what anyone thought of it, and not that she had any interest in Georgie as anything more than a rather pretty – and more importantly, interesting – friend that she hadn’t seen in too many years.

Despite her existent embarrassment and the undeniable possibility for more, Chrysanthe glanced over at Baz as he looked at her hair, grinning. Her fingertips combed through the tips again, and then Chrysanthe lowered her hand, rather firmly. A terrible habit, she told herself, and one which needed to be nipped in the bud.

“Oh, come now,” Chrysanthe said, grinning at Charlie, eager to seize on any potential new topic of conversation. “You mustn’t leave us hanging like that! Go on, do share.” She reached for her beer and took another sip; she was, it had to be admitted, rapidly depleting it, but at least she was determined not to order another until the food came. Afterwards – once she’d eaten something – surely her constitution was such that two beers would not be an issue. It was liquor that had been her problem the other night, Chrysanthe was sure.

The question of her own relief at Georgie’s likely fondness of her hair was entirely ignored. Chrysanthe did smile at Baz, at least, determining to forgive him, and rather hoping he’d join in on her Charlie-focused conversational campaign.

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Bethas 18, 2720

Somewhere Cheap, evening.

Baz wracked his brain for a moment, but found he was still unable to remember anything about this Thureau-Dangin woman. Even Charlie’s stunningly helpful comment about her eyebrows being very distinctive didn’t spark anything. It didn’t really matter, though, as the conversation quickly shifted back to his sister. He wondered, idly, if Georgie’s ears were burning, wherever she was at this moment. So far she had been the subject of most of the conversation this evening. It made Baz miss her quite fiercely. She would have enjoyed this greatly, from Charlie’s petulant prodding to the bar itself to getting to see Chrysanthe again. He resolved to write her when he got home. He thought he might also send a letter to his parents and his other sister as well.

He couldn’t help but chuckle as Charlie grinned ever wider at his confirmation that Georgianna would probably quite like Chrysanthe’s hair the way it was now. She reached up to play with it again, which he had noticed her do several times so far. Getting used to the feel of it, he imagined. His own hair had never been much longer than it was now, and he didn’t think anything longer would suit him. He did briefly imagine Georgie with short hair, but he knew that she would never do such a thing, as her hair’s propensity to growing frizzier and frizzier as the humidity increased would end in her looking more like a ginger dandelion than anything.

He took a drink of his beer as Charlie went on about something that he’d done, but stopped short of the story. He caught the look Chrysanthe gave him, and was on the same page instantly. As fun as it had been to see Charlie’s teasing redirected from him to her, he realized it would be even more rewarding for the two of them if they found something to needle Charlie about.

“Oh absolutely!” he said, “You have to tell us now.”

Turnabout was, after all, fair play.

[Charlie Ewing]

Bethas 18, 2720 - Evening
Somewhere Cheap

What had made him say that? There was a tactical error, there, in having spit out that partial thought in the middle of all his teasing. Charlie had hoped nobody heard, or at the very least that nobody cared--as was proper. This wasn't an interesting story, not like all of his others. The ones he told voluntarily were much better, which is why he told them. They were funnier, and more interesting, and--most importantly--more recent.

It was all this talking about the good old alma mater, that's what made him start to say it. See? This was the problem with school friends. They wanted to talk about school years, and then he was thinking about them, and then he said things he shouldn't. Left little openings for absolute absurdity like this.

Charlie took a deep sip of his gin sling--a very, very deep one. Downed about half of it in one go, honestly. Chrysanthe had only said one drink, of course, and he had every intention of paying for whatever else he got himself. Not that he would volunteer this information, in case she was feeling overly-generous. He was, after all, on a budget. Sort of. He glared at Chrysanthe first, and then at Baz for joining in with her.

"No." Charlie's tone was flat, peevish, and mildly affronted. He had stopped glaring at them both, and instead frowned resolutely at the ring of condensation on the table from Chrysanthe's pint glass. He dragged his thumb through it, drawing a sort of leaf pattern with the water.

Teasing was only fun when it happened to other people. He was not a great believer in fairness. It wasn't even, he thought to himself, the most scandalous story he'd ever told. He knew he'd told Chrysanthe at least three much more fascinating ones just on the walk to the Duckling the other week. He couldn't remember which ones he'd told Baz at all; not too many, he thought, as his interests were distinctly different in that particularly interaction.

His eyes flicked up from the tabletop, and he smiled again, like he'd never been frowning. "It's just a boring school story. You don't want to hear it. I could tell you instead about the night I almost fell in the canals? That's a much better one." Charlie raised his eyebrows, looking between the both of them. Beneath the table, his foot started to tap.

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Evening, Bethas 18, 2720
Somewhere Cheap

She had, Chrysanthe thought rather delightedly, hit a sore spot. Baz picked up her cue with enthusiasm, leaning in and not letting the pressure off.

Charlie flat out refused, a scowl on his face; he didn’t make a joke or spin it off, just refused. Chrysanthe had never thought to see him decline to be the center of attention; of course she had only known him a short while, but she fancied that one you had spent the night repairing a machine with a man, gotten utterly drunk together, and let him cut off well more than a foot of your hair, you had rather a sense of him.

It wasn’t, Chrysanthe thought, a petulant, charming sort of sulk. Actually, he really looked quite upset, or he had for a moment anyway.

Then he looked back up and smiled as if he had never stopped. Chrysanthe forgot the majority of her pledge to stop drinking so fast, and took her beer and had another sip of it, although not nearly as much as Charlie had downed of his gin sling. His second, mind.

Chrysanthe wanted to press on, cheerfully merciless, and demand whatever it was he had started in on. Didn’t he deserve it? Except, of course - it wasn’t as if Baz should have any room to be strange about knowing she liked women. In a very roundabout sort of way, Charlie had done her something which vaguely resembled a favor, though he certainly hadn’t asked. And she really hadn’t had a crush on Georgie, so the teasing there hadn’t had much bite. Even with Baz - well - for all it was a bit embarrassing, Chrysanthe was the one finding herself calling Charlie something like a friend, and so she didn’t have much room either.

And, of course, he had let her sleep on his couch, when, looking back from a (more) sober state Chrysanthe was aware he surely hadn’t wanted to. And, in truth, she had known even at the time he hadn’t ruined her date with Adelaide; that had been the fault of the gap that time had driven between memories and reality.

Shit, Chrysanthe thought. She actually rather liked him; she found the thought of deliberately making him unhappy distasteful. Not of poking fun, of course, but - he had seemed unhappy. That rather spoiled any enjoyment she had felt. She actually felt a bit sorry for him.

“The canals?” Chrysanthe laughed. “I suppose Baz and I’ve offered up enough nostalgia for the night. How was it you only nearly fell in? Not drunk enough, I expect?” She drained the last of her beer - not more than a mouthful, really - and set the bottle down with the deliberate carefulness of someone who has found herself unaccountably tipsy. She wasn’t quite so obvious as to look over at Baz, but she did find herself glancing around, and she wasn’t entirely sure whether it was the food or another beer which she really wanted.

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Bethas 18, 2720

Somewhere Cheap, evening.

Baz’s smile faltered as Charlie’s demeanor shifted. It seemed they had struck a nerve by insisting he tell the story he had mentioned. He remembered the night they had met, and an off-hand joke that had also seemed to strike Charlie’s nerves. He picked at the label on his beer as Charlie downed most of his gin sling. He regretted the decision a bit, as he had that night as well. It hadn’t been his intention either time, of course. He figured Charlie likely knew that, though, and so didn’t apologize. The teasing had been in good fun, but not of it meant upsetting the other man. Baz might not have known him very well, but he'd enjoyed his company. In more ways than one.

The sulking didn’t last long, though. Charlie seemed to spring back rather quickly. Baz couldn’t help but think that there was something a bit less genuine in the smile he was flashing now. It could have just been his imagination. Just a school story, Charlie said. Boring. He offered up another that he deemed much more interesting and entertaining. Chrysanthe seemed to come to the same conclusion Baz had, that it really wouldn’t have been nice to keep prodding and probing for the story that he’d started on originally.

He chuckled at Chrysanthe’s comment about not being drunk enough. “Whatever the reason, I’m sure it’s more interesting than slipping on a wet boardwalk,” he supplied.

He finished off his beer, finally, setting the empty bottle on the table. He looked around for their waitress, and couldn’t find her. They had ordered quite some time ago, and he was beginning to wonder if they’d ever get their food. The coworker who had told him to come here had said something about the service being slow and somewhat terrible, but he wasn’t sure exactly what level of that he was to expect. He hadn’t been hungry earlier, but he was starting to feel it now. He supposed Charlie’s canal story would serve as a decent distraction until the young girl deigned to appear again.