am i making something worthwhile // general action

[adamantined]

Comments

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolution

[treadingdawn]

Every late morning, at the hour nearest noon, Caspian X visits his favorite patisserie belonging to one Claire Bennet. After several weeks in this city, weeks of trying everything each bakery, sweet shop, and coffee place, has to offer he's concluded Claire's falls within the top tier. It isn't about how rich her ingredients are or how every recipe may or may not be a family-kept secret, nor is it about a feeling of elite exclusivity (because there is none), the success of her pastries stems from a clear dedication to her craft regardless of promotion or profit. Caspian admires that quality, it's just an excellent perk how everything she makes tastes exquisite too. On top of that, she's friendly, and it's her friendliness that brings him to the patisserie a little earlier than usual. Yes, cinnamon twists may be involved too but really, the Telmarine has something to say to her ever since he revealed it to another blond not long ago. Next to him, Claire is another person whom he feels he owes the truth. So when Caspian slips through the entrance he does so in a mildly secretive manner, not wanting to disturb her from her work until she has a free moment.

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolutio

[backbefore]

She always has a moment. Though Claire takes care to make what Caspian likes herself, it's her mother who runs most of the kitchen, Noah Bennet sitting back on his heels to take up the financial helm and whatever else it is that businessmen do. Claire pretends not to notice, keeps her head down, and makes cinnamon twists, resolutely not licking the excess off of her fingers each time she feels the temptation. It's become something of a custom, to come in just before noon, roll back her sleeves, tie back her hair, and get to work. Even if she doesn't stay for long after, relatively bored with the kind of inheritance that she's been expecting all her life, it's nice to at least sit down with Caspian and talk to him for a few minutes, proud that she's made something that tastes good, proud that she can put something to her name, even if it's actually her father's name in the long run.

Claire looks up now, hair falling in her face, and her mother is there in a moment to brush it back with a doughy hand and a plate that Claire can put the twists on. She grabs a cup of sweetened coffee on her way over to where he's standing, then sets what she's brought down on a nearby table so that she can reach up to give him a hug, saying in his ear, "I was starting to think you weren't coming. I'd have to send out a search party if you didn't keep the normal time."

She pulls back and gestures to him to sit down, taking the seat opposite herself.

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolutio

[treadingdawn]

His posture tenses for the briefest second when he sees her coming his way but it's hardly over her mere presence. Rather, it's the smile she wears and how over the past month he's been lying to it. Technically the phrase ought to be withholding information but that doesn't make it anymore excusable. Caspian can't help laughing over her remark as he returns the hug. It's a friendly gesture, nothing to worry about, nothing to hide, even though she is an unmarried lady and he an unbetrothed gentleman.

"I think a search party would be the least of your problems," he says jokingly.

Try an entire military regiment. Little does Caspian know how much his indefinite disappearance would please his uncle. He takes a seat at the table after releasing Claire, giving a nod of thanks for the intuitive order of twists and coffee because they are beyond any need for daily vocal pleasantries. A fair morning to such an elegant lady. May I bother you for a plate of sweets and a cup of coffee? Oh sir, it would be my pleasure. Please take your seat here. The very thought would make Caspian's nose twitch.

"How are you, Claire," asks the Telmarine, much more casual.

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolution

[backbefore]

The store is empty, so Claire doesn't pay as much attention to her posture as she normally might, letting her spine bend just a little bit, though she does keep her hands folded in her lap rather than spread out on the table. The smell of cinnamon is heavy, and it will only be a few more moments before she's reaching across the table to pull off a little corner of the twist she's made and stealing a quick sip of his coffee. It's true that some of the social stipulations in this place seem a little less intense than they might in places like Paris, but for the most part everyone keeps to his or her assigned role, and for the time being Claire keeps her hands to herself.

"I'm alright," she replies with a shrug, just at ease as he is. Too hot, she thinks. Obligated and bored, run close seconds. There are places that she would be more honest with him, but in such a small shop, it's difficult to be completely forthright without attracting some kind of interest in their conversation, so Claire keeps it simple. It's the truth, anyway. She's not great, she's not awful, but she's alright: a running constant for as long as she can remember.

Over her shoulder, Claire hears the door that leads into the kitchen swing open and closed, Sandra's tucked and coiffed hair disappearing beyond the circular window. The shop is quiet save for the sound of them moving in their respective chairs and the occasional passer-by out on the street. Claire brings her hands out of her lap and stretches them across the table, elbows up where they shouldn't be. "Bored," she admits, quirking an eyebrow. "How are you?"

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolution

[treadingdawn]

Noticing the change in Claire's posture Caspian leans forward to bring his ear closer to her. The unintentional(?) cue isn't hard for him to read, not after getting to know her so casually. Only in the presence of what he would call friends can anyone be so candid, especially between a girl and a boy.

"Oh? Is there any way I can entertain you," Caspian asks. It's an innocent, perfectly harmless, offer as he takes a twist for himself and bites off the tip with a smile. "Well. That is, well enough," he nods. His gaze averts briefly for this because the answer he gives is not the full one he wishes too, and Caspian X can be transparent with those who put him at ease.

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolution

[backbefore]

It's easier to put her own issues aside in favor of someone else's, especially when hers aren't necessarily worth delving into. Spoiled little rich girl, unhappy with her situation in life. There are other people who have bigger problems to deal with, and she understands that, so it's easier to focus on Caspian's blatant lie than it is to put anything of her own on the table.

Claire reaches across to take her own bite of the twist, pushing her hair back out of her face and smearing cinnamon across her forehead as she does so. "I don't believe you," she says, matter-of-fact, biting down on her little piece of the twist and drawing his cup of coffee further into the middle of the small table so that she can take a drink of it herself. It's not her favorite, not at all, but she drinks it to get the heavy taste out of her mouth and to give Caspian a moment to process what he wants to say. She's patient, but only so long as she thinks she's going to get something out of him. Then she might actually get a little forceful.

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolution

[treadingdawn]

Forceful is something he'd like to avoid, thank you very much. He pays no mind to the way she helps herself to the coffee too, everything on the table shared as far as Caspian is concerned. This of course ought to extend towards honesty, and he is working on it. Ahem. Another bite later has him clearing his throat--'buying time' they call it--before he nudges both plate and cup aside as a gesture. There should be nothing between them if he wishes to forge a stronger friendship. What they already have are steps towards that, an ascent so to speak with this in his way. What might stand in her way he doesn't begin to presume, that would be rude of him.

"I have been coming here for a month now, it sounds silly to say but it feels like forever," Caspian laughs; it sounds shy. "You know what I like to eat," he nods to the plate of twists, "how I like to spend my time," with music and dance. "But...I'm sorry, I have not been as forthcoming as I should be." Caspian is aware everyone has some kind of conflict in their lives, Claire included, but only recently has he acknowledged the story of a penniless immigrant has shrouded his own true conflict with falsehood. The easiest way to say it is that he has been dishonest and no matter what it's about, how light hearted or severe, dishonesty isn't a nice thing. "I have not been struggling over lack of work because I can't work, I don't really need the money," he echoes words he'd spoken to another blond.

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolutio

[backbefore]

Her face changes in various degrees and manners, moving from immediate concern to suspicion and then blatant curiosity before she can actually stop herself, changing pictures on a transparent screen. She stretches both of her hands across the table to curve them over his, bumping the plate and cup a little bit as she does so, dark brown liquid sloshing over the edge to soak into the fabric that she's rolled back to her elbows. Claire pays it no mind, all attention focused on the young man across from her as she rests her elbows on the table.

This concern only lasts a moment, though, even if she doesn't let go of his hands as she straightens up and pinches her eyebrows together. "What?" is the only word that somehow manages to come out, and Claire doesn't know if she should laugh or just continue staring in some sort of suspended disbelief. It wouldn't change her opinions of him, except, maybe, it might lend her to drilling him for information on how to disappear as he obviously has. In spite of herself, Claire finds laughter bubbling out of her, small and unoffensive, just amused at the predicament and really lacking in any appropriate emotion, defaulting back on what feels most natural in the face of all of this. "What, are you secretly a prince trying to see what it's like to live without restrictions?"

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolutio

[treadingdawn]

His own fingers curl to take hers in hand. He's about to voice a concern over the staining of her sleeve too but then she has to go and laugh, causing his own brows to knit.

". . . . ."

Well then.

No really, she's free to laugh and it actually brings a smile to his face afterward because Claire's laughter is harmless, lacking ill intention. What she asks in good humor is fortunately something Caspian can answer in the simplest plainest absolutely one-word term.

"Yes."

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolution

[backbefore]

Claire doesn't say anything for a long time. A very long time. The amount of time that passes seems almost comical, and she couldn't even begin to guess at the expression on her face, since she can't even begin accounting for where all her facial features actually are. She feels her mouth form a lopsided O and her eyebrows scrunch together again, and then out of nowhere she's laughing again.

Because, really, laughing is the only logical solution.

And then she stops and studies the look on his face and quirks an eyebrow and says, "You're serious."

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolution

[treadingdawn]

He lets the time pass as slowly as she needs it to. After all, his crown isn't exactly breaking news to Caspian X. In the interim he helps himself to a sip of coffee, even as she begins laughing again because her previous expression had said it all; there are no words for this revelation. He puts the cup down without missing a beat. "I am Prince Caspian, the tenth of that name, and heir to the Telmarine throne. When I leave this place I will be going back to my kingship because I am of age," he nods once with royal carriage. Saying he is the prince is very different from proving he is the prince and because he's withheld his true identity so far, who's to say Claire won't think Caspian is lying even now? He isn't, but he wouldn't hold it against her if she thought he was. It would only be a shame to return home without at least telling her.

It doesn't occur to him that his return trip may be the last voyage he'll ever take. Although treachery is no stranger to a Telmarine Caspian really just has no reason to believe his life may be in danger if he lives this city at all.

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolution

[backbefore]

She doesn't think that he's lying. Why would he lie? Moreover, why would he lie to her? Claire has expressed no interest in him outside of friendship, just as he hasn't, and so he stands to gain nothing from telling her this outside of a deeper sense of understanding between the two of them. She believes him undoubtedly, even admires him a bit, both for telling her any of this at all and for having the wherewithal to disappear as he has, convince an entire populace that he's not necessarily what he's been pretending to be.

Her hands curl a little tighter over his, like she's rubbing them hard to grip something tightly, and her face is a mixture of amazement and shock, like a girl finding a real prince amidst all the needles and all the haystacks. "I don't even... know what to say to that," she finally tells him, the shock on her face melting back into that same uncontainable amusement, the amazement still there in the way her eyes brighten and the corners of her mouth pull. "Why didn't you say anything all this time? Why - I - "

She breaks off, shaking her head, still unable to believe any of this at all. Claire thinks about pinching herself, but keeps her fingers tight around his until she's satisfied with the answers that she gets. It's likely she'll never know enough to be satisfied.

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolution

[treadingdawn]

Caspian has managed to convince most of the populace, though one blond in particular comes to mind, a very persistent one whose name he keeps out of this conversation only because right now is about Claire Bennet. The grip she exerts on his hands doesn't faze him and his own remains firm. "You don't have to say anything, I am still Caspian."

Just Caspian with about nine centuries of history behind his name. Practically speaking this makes his number even more important to give, to distinguish one Caspian from the other, but when all are dead how much does it really matter? Besides, who wants to be known as a number, not him.

"I didn't say anything because I--" he falters, "because I didn't want to be treated differently. I didn't want anyone to think poorly of me like I am taking my good fortune for granted by being here." It may as well be true, after having met so many others who struggle just to make ends meet, but Caspian doesn't regret the experience, he doesn't regret it at all. "It isn't gold and glory all the time," he shakes his head.

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolution

[backbefore]

"I wouldn't have thought poorly of you," she assures him, finally letting go of his hands to pull them back across the table, lay them flat against the surface. Her expressions are mostly under control by now, and all that she's left with is the quirk of her mouth, pulled up sharply at one corner, eyes bright in the winter sun that filters through the big glass windows at the front of the shop. She is awed by him, in a way, and for a moment Caspian seems to represent all the things that she wants and wants to do but cannot have and cannot do. For whatever reason. She's headstrong enough that her father's grip shouldn't be holding her back, and yet she has a distinct and instilled urge to please him, to follow his prompts and his commands even if she goes grumbling the entire way.

Caspian has thrown off more than just some societal obligation, has made himself invisible, as far as she can tell, which is a thought that occurs to her now when it should have occurred to her before. "No one knows you're here? Or did you just request some sort of privacy and end up with an armed manservant following you, sticking to the shadows?" After she lets it out, she wants it back, for reasons she can't even really discern. Maybe asking questions about it is rude, and though she doesn't feel any different sitting in front of her friend now, she realizes that things are somewhat different now, only to kick herself at the notion a minute later.

"I'm not going to treat you differently, Caspian," she assures him, leaning forward a bit so that she is essentially looking up at him, trying to appeal in some way, to make sure that he knows what he's told her hasn't been a mistake. In a way, she empathizes: lately Claire has been realizing that it really isn't all glory and gold all the time.

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolution

[treadingdawn]

"I appreciate that, Claire."

But what?

What?

Now it's Caspian's turn to laugh, really, genuinely, humorously laugh. The idea of a manservant following him places is that laughable only because it wasn't too long ago he had finally convinced his elders he no longer needed one in his shadow. Attendants on call are another story but that story doesn't apply in this situation because he has none of those here either. The only one fully aware of his purpose is his tutor and he knows Cornelius will not betray his trust.

"Someone knows I am here and why I am here. I have no need for attendants during my time of leisure. Everyone else probably thinks I am enthusiastically seeking a bride," he waves one of his released hands. "Thank you," Caspian nods, brown meeting blue in a sincere manner.

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolution

[backbefore]

Claire isn't entirely sure what they're laughing at, but she knows it's something hilarious by the time she's chimed in. It releases a lot of tension that she hadn't realized she'd been holding, somewhere deep behind her ribs and in the pit of her stomach. She lets it all out, lets go of his hands completely, and pushes her hair back from her face once more, feeling refreshed.

"Don't thank me." And she means that, wanting nothing of the sort from him, not least of all because she feels as if she's the one owing him thanks. They've known each other long enough to come to him as a confidant, for her to consider him one of her closest friends - and one of her most valuable, given the way that he's been perceived for so long - but to learn something like this touches her on a level that she hadn't expected, and a swell of gratitude hitches where all the tension had been a moment before.

"You're lucky," she eventually goes on, and she means that, too, and it's evident on her face. "Being able to pick up and leave, do whatever you want. That's a luxury that most people don't get to have." And she's not implying that he seems ungrateful for it, not in the slightest, but again she has a slightly reverent tone, like she's living vicariously just for the moment.