Join me: in spam land19centconstableJune 2 2011, 23:21:10 UTC
[George's rooms are very Victorian. Not quite as opulent as Holmes' or Dr. Doolittle's, but everything is very tidy and smells just a tiny bit flowery. There's a small table set with not just tea, but tea and biscuits.]
[When Eddie arrives, he's definitely cleaned up. Having had his stash of NZT replenished this very morning, he's back on the pill and back on top of the world. He arrives at George's with his hair looking perfect, a charismatic smile on his lips, and dressed in slacks and a button-down.
He knocks enthusiastically.] "George Crabtree. It's your inmate, Eddie."
[George is dressed in his constable's uniform, although his helmet remains hung off the back of a chair. It had seemed more appropriate than a suit: he is here to do a job after all. He greets Eddie with a warm, earnest grin that makes him look a good deal younger than his thirty years, and a little bit like he might not know how to find his own ass with both hands. George just has one of those faces.]
Ah, Mr. Spinola. Do come in. I'm very pleased to finally meet you face to face.
[Eddie, in his present state, knows better than to judge George for his age -- or his uniform. The warden appears reasonable, if a bit naive, and the inmate is immediately glad the other man is wearing a seemingly sincere smile. It's easier, dealing with pleasant people.
He takes George's hand in a firm shake that endures just a hint longer than the average. It's all psychological signs of competence and trust, though Eddie doesn't even realize that's what he's doing.]
"You too. You seem like a decent guy. I think I'm going to be glad that we got assigned to work together."
[George takes a seat and gestures for Eddie to do the same, before pouring two cups of tea. Just tea today, no whiskey. Sorry. Not unless someone goes into hysterics or has a swoon.]
Well. I suppose we should start things off by my asking if there's anything you feel you need, or would like to know about me?
[Eddie takes a seat as suggested. He leans back a little, posturing suggesting all the confidence in the world, watching as his new warden pours their drinks and such. At the question, he shifts to lean forward instead, planting his forearms on his knees and smiling anew
( ... )
It's Constable Crabtree, but you can call me George if you'd like. I'm from Toronto, Canada, 1897. I did move around a bit as a lad, with different family members, hence the-
[George waves a hand at his own throat. He means his accent.]
But I was born in Toronto, and that's where I live and work now. I joined the Constabulary some years back, and before that I did day labor: mostly farm work, some factory.
I have read your file, but I'd certainly be interested to hear the facts from you, personally. More interested, really. And I'm glad you've brought business up, too. There seems to be a bit of a divide between wardens and inmates, particularly of late, and I'm not sure about everybody else, but the way I see things, as your warden: I do work for you.
Spam Land - I apologize for being slow with this.acertifieduserJune 5 2011, 20:05:41 UTC
"Why did you join the Constabulary, if you don't mind my asking? And, I know this is kind of rude, but realize that I'm trying to understand here and not just being an asshole: Do you ever feel ignorant or behind because you're from such an earlier time than a lot of the people here? I don't mean myself, although I'm included in that by coming from such a later year, but the Barge itself seems to operate on a slightly more advance time frame. -- And do you ever resent not having made it to the turn of the century before coming here? I guess if you made a deal, you'll probably be back to experience it later, but if you died.. It would be a Greek tragedy
( ... )
Spam Land - No prob! I'm always fine with slowtime & backtagging.19centconstableJune 6 2011, 04:54:28 UTC
The Constabulary? I just liked the sound of it. It paid well, and it seemed exciting. I'm a bit of an adventure seeker.
[George takes the question of his ignorance as good-naturedly as he takes most everything. Although the word 'asshole' makes him smirk a little.]
It's no trouble. My detective back home is very clever, and always coming up with new ways of doing things, so I'm quite used to feeling ignorant. And I certainly don't plan to die any time soon.
I do understand why one might see one's warden as the boss of them, but think of a close protection officer: they do work for the individual they're guarding, but they aren't obligated to do as they say if they think it might lead their charge to being in harm's way. And that does mean both physical harm to their person, and harm to their good name.
[George doesn't dismiss Eddie's autobiography at all.]
And congratulations to you. But why do you think you're here?
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[Well now George is concerned.]
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He knocks enthusiastically.] "George Crabtree. It's your inmate, Eddie."
Reply
Ah, Mr. Spinola. Do come in. I'm very pleased to finally meet you face to face.
[George ushers him in and offers his hand.]
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He takes George's hand in a firm shake that endures just a hint longer than the average. It's all psychological signs of competence and trust, though Eddie doesn't even realize that's what he's doing.]
"You too. You seem like a decent guy. I think I'm going to be glad that we got assigned to work together."
Reply
[George takes a seat and gestures for Eddie to do the same, before pouring two cups of tea. Just tea today, no whiskey. Sorry. Not unless someone goes into hysterics or has a swoon.]
Well. I suppose we should start things off by my asking if there's anything you feel you need, or would like to know about me?
Reply
Reply
It's Constable Crabtree, but you can call me George if you'd like. I'm from Toronto, Canada, 1897. I did move around a bit as a lad, with different family members, hence the-
[George waves a hand at his own throat. He means his accent.]
But I was born in Toronto, and that's where I live and work now. I joined the Constabulary some years back, and before that I did day labor: mostly farm work, some factory.
I have read your file, but I'd certainly be interested to hear the facts from you, personally. More interested, really. And I'm glad you've brought business up, too. There seems to be a bit of a divide between wardens and inmates, particularly of late, and I'm not sure about everybody else, but the way I see things, as your warden: I do work for you.
Reply
Reply
[George takes the question of his ignorance as good-naturedly as he takes most everything. Although the word 'asshole' makes him smirk a little.]
It's no trouble. My detective back home is very clever, and always coming up with new ways of doing things, so I'm quite used to feeling ignorant. And I certainly don't plan to die any time soon.
I do understand why one might see one's warden as the boss of them, but think of a close protection officer: they do work for the individual they're guarding, but they aren't obligated to do as they say if they think it might lead their charge to being in harm's way. And that does mean both physical harm to their person, and harm to their good name.
[George doesn't dismiss Eddie's autobiography at all.]
And congratulations to you. But why do you think you're here?
Reply
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