Reggie -- Part One
(This is part one in a series that is considered strictly OOC information. None of it is in play, either, so good luck trying to convince me otherwise.)
30 YEARS IN THE FUTURE
Reginald Brooks awoke, unexpectedly, to the sound of percolation. The large features of the house meant that the sound could be coming from anywhere, and Reggie wasn't used to being awoken by anything. Long it had been that he had found the will to awaken immediately after the sun had made its exit from the sky, but somehow, someone had beaten him to the punch. This was different, and demanded investigation.
Reggie delicately moved the arm of the woman next to him off to the side and pulled his robe around himself, striding out of the bedroom and into the hall. Timothy was waiting there, as usual.
"Good evening sir," Timothy offered with a curt nod of the head and the offering of a large folder. Reggie held up a hand to shoo it away.
"We can do the briefing later, Tim. I'm wondering if you could answer--"
"--the noise, sir?"
"Yeah. What is that?"
"The coffee maker, sir."
Reggie stopped and raised an eyebrow.
"I have a coffee maker?"
"You do now, sir. Your guest brought it with her." Reggie sighed and held out a hand for the briefing folder, which Tim handed over, smiling knowingly.
"I guess I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."
"I've been waiting a long time to hear you say that one, sir."
"Can it, Tim. There's a bit of fluff on your lapel."
"Of course, sir." Tim looked down to brush away the imaginary imperfection from his suit while Reggie made his getaway for the kitchen.
#####
The kitchen, interestingly enough, had been something Reggie had hoped not to have as a part of his new home. He didn't use it, didn't need it, and saw no purpose for taking up a large part of his haven with such a waste. But everyone surrounding him demanded it be there. Designing a home without one would cause a lot of suspicion. Hosting parties demanded food preparation, as did having help living on the grounds. Plus, there were plenty of kindred, especially clanmates, that still held onto old traditions as another connection to their previous life, something Reggie had no need for. Reggie didn't even want to host guests, at least not inside his home. Who the hell tells other outsiders where they can be found unconscious every day? Reggie simply wanted a bar, nothing more. He still got one, but the kitchen came with it.
It was understandable that he then displayed a slight unfamiliarity when Reggie poked his head into the restaurant-sized galley, where the sound of dripping coffee had been emanating from only a moment ago. Sitting on a stool, newspaper in hand, was a young woman reading the day's events and grasping a large white mug. Her baggy overshirt, customized with a few well-placed cuts into the collar, revealed an open neckline with a collection of tattoos to match her selection of rings and jet black dyed hair, cut short and hanging just over her eyes.
"Mattie, Does that stuff actually help you wake up, or are you just a fan of the taste?" Reggie grumbled, smiling as the girl sat up straight, surprised by the interaction.
"Reggie!" the girl exclaimed, sitting up from the stool and running to give him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "I didn't get a chance to see you last night, where were you?" Reggie sighed as he released his embrace of the girl, his joy at finally seeing his grandchilde giving way to the dread of the previous night's events.
"You don't want to know. The Primogen Council can be a demanding lot."
“Yeah, but you get to tell them what to do, right? Being all Princely and shit?”
“I wish it was that simple. It's one thing to say something, it's another to follow it when you're not looking.”
“Yeah, well you're the new guy that's come to kick some more ass, they'll do it.”
“Riiight.” Reggie moved to attempt to smell the contents of the large mug in front of Mattie, failing and backing away again.
“What, they don't like you?”
“They're not used to a prince trying to give orders without killing half the people in the room. They don't know what to make of me.”
“You should have brought me with, I would have told them you're cool. People listen to me.”
“People listen to you when you're on stage shrieking over backing vocals and a 5-piece rock band, and I don't think they'd be allowed along, let alone you.”
“Oh fine, keep the stick up your bum... and gimme back my coffee.” Mattie slid the mug back in front of her to meekly pull it to her face for another sip. “What's the agenda for today, oh important one?”
“I dunno. Timothy hasn't briefed me yet. I think tonight is Cricket's big concert.”
“Yep, but you're not going.”
Reggie froze and looked at his grandchilde, not used to being given a direct order, even a casual one as this. “Uh, last time I checked, Princes don't take orders from lowly kindred under the Accounting.”
“Yes you do, 'cause I'm cute and I already talked to Uncle Cricket, and he said okay.”
“You what? TIMOTHY!!!” Reggie yelled as he rolled his eyes in annoyance. Timothy appeared a second later from the same entrance Reggie had come through a moment earlier.
“Yes sir?”
“What's the schedule of events for tonight?”
“The schedule is in your folder, as usual, sir.” Reggie looked down at the dark binder and opened it, revealing a single blank page.
“What's this?”
“Your schedule, sir, it's clear. Save one appointment not on the ledger, which I believe Miss Matilda has reserved for the entire night.” Reggie cast a squinty glare at Matilda, who laughed at her successful machinations.
“I see. Thank you, Timothy.”
“You're most welcome, sir.” Timothy left the room and Mattie's head danced as her chuckle took on a haughty tone at her new prisoner for the evening.
“I'm hoping buying Timothy off wasn't cheap.”
“Nah, I just told him it would be good for you to take a night off. Besides, consider it your present to me for my acknowledgement next week.”
“The lavish party, diamond necklace and Zilthai are your present for next week.”
“This is better. C'mon, I wanna hear stories from Grandpa.”
“Call me Grandpa one more time, and you'll hear stories from the inside of a wooden box.”
“Alright, fine. C'mon, let's go hang.”
“Can I at least get dressed first?” Mattie didn't respond as she took Reggie by the hand and dragged him out of the kitchen into the living room, while Reggie smiled at the apparent eagerness of his grandchilde's demand of attention.
#####
It wasn't easy, but Reggie managed to escape his ward's clutches long enough to get dressed, chat with his departing bedmate before she left for the night, and have Timothy bring out some cookies for Mattie, who still held an affinity for them. Mattie squeed at the sight, greedily grabbing at one before looking inquisitively at the box in Timothy's other hand.
“What's in the box?” Mattie said, mouth full of food.
“Tonight's activity.”
“I thought we were gonna hang out and talk.”
“We are, but we're gonna do this too.” Reggie unlatched the side of the box placed on the table between them, revealing an ornate chessboard, with alabaster and marble pieces.
“Awww, chess? I thought we made it abundantly clear I'm horrible at this game.”
“Yes, and you're going to get better. Chess is your price of admission for storytelling. Your great-grandsire wouldn't have it any other way, which is appropriate.”
“Fine, but I'm white. Ladies first.” Reggie smirked and turned the box so Mattie could pull out her set of pieces.
“So, my great grandsire.”
“Alstair.”
“He was into chess?”
“He was a fanatic.” Reggie pulled back the box and removed his own pieces, quickly setting them up.
“Mattie, your king and queen are reversed.”
“I like them this way.”
“Tough cookies.”
“Can I play the queen as a king, and be all girl power?”
“No.”
“Fine.” She moved them back with a final whine of defiance, and moved out her king's knight for her opening move before Reggie had even finished setting up the last of his pawns.
“Aha, I see how it's going to be.” Reggie moved his knight in response and watched his pupil's nose scrunch up as she thought.
“So... we got all night, so start at the beginning.”
“Right. You want the full deal?”
“Everything that mom always leaves out.”
“Fine... then we start in Chicago.”
###
(To be continued...)
30 YEARS IN THE FUTURE
Reginald Brooks awoke, unexpectedly, to the sound of percolation. The large features of the house meant that the sound could be coming from anywhere, and Reggie wasn't used to being awoken by anything. Long it had been that he had found the will to awaken immediately after the sun had made its exit from the sky, but somehow, someone had beaten him to the punch. This was different, and demanded investigation.
Reggie delicately moved the arm of the woman next to him off to the side and pulled his robe around himself, striding out of the bedroom and into the hall. Timothy was waiting there, as usual.
"Good evening sir," Timothy offered with a curt nod of the head and the offering of a large folder. Reggie held up a hand to shoo it away.
"We can do the briefing later, Tim. I'm wondering if you could answer--"
"--the noise, sir?"
"Yeah. What is that?"
"The coffee maker, sir."
Reggie stopped and raised an eyebrow.
"I have a coffee maker?"
"You do now, sir. Your guest brought it with her." Reggie sighed and held out a hand for the briefing folder, which Tim handed over, smiling knowingly.
"I guess I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."
"I've been waiting a long time to hear you say that one, sir."
"Can it, Tim. There's a bit of fluff on your lapel."
"Of course, sir." Tim looked down to brush away the imaginary imperfection from his suit while Reggie made his getaway for the kitchen.
#####
The kitchen, interestingly enough, had been something Reggie had hoped not to have as a part of his new home. He didn't use it, didn't need it, and saw no purpose for taking up a large part of his haven with such a waste. But everyone surrounding him demanded it be there. Designing a home without one would cause a lot of suspicion. Hosting parties demanded food preparation, as did having help living on the grounds. Plus, there were plenty of kindred, especially clanmates, that still held onto old traditions as another connection to their previous life, something Reggie had no need for. Reggie didn't even want to host guests, at least not inside his home. Who the hell tells other outsiders where they can be found unconscious every day? Reggie simply wanted a bar, nothing more. He still got one, but the kitchen came with it.
It was understandable that he then displayed a slight unfamiliarity when Reggie poked his head into the restaurant-sized galley, where the sound of dripping coffee had been emanating from only a moment ago. Sitting on a stool, newspaper in hand, was a young woman reading the day's events and grasping a large white mug. Her baggy overshirt, customized with a few well-placed cuts into the collar, revealed an open neckline with a collection of tattoos to match her selection of rings and jet black dyed hair, cut short and hanging just over her eyes.
"Mattie, Does that stuff actually help you wake up, or are you just a fan of the taste?" Reggie grumbled, smiling as the girl sat up straight, surprised by the interaction.
"Reggie!" the girl exclaimed, sitting up from the stool and running to give him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "I didn't get a chance to see you last night, where were you?" Reggie sighed as he released his embrace of the girl, his joy at finally seeing his grandchilde giving way to the dread of the previous night's events.
"You don't want to know. The Primogen Council can be a demanding lot."
“Yeah, but you get to tell them what to do, right? Being all Princely and shit?”
“I wish it was that simple. It's one thing to say something, it's another to follow it when you're not looking.”
“Yeah, well you're the new guy that's come to kick some more ass, they'll do it.”
“Riiight.” Reggie moved to attempt to smell the contents of the large mug in front of Mattie, failing and backing away again.
“What, they don't like you?”
“They're not used to a prince trying to give orders without killing half the people in the room. They don't know what to make of me.”
“You should have brought me with, I would have told them you're cool. People listen to me.”
“People listen to you when you're on stage shrieking over backing vocals and a 5-piece rock band, and I don't think they'd be allowed along, let alone you.”
“Oh fine, keep the stick up your bum... and gimme back my coffee.” Mattie slid the mug back in front of her to meekly pull it to her face for another sip. “What's the agenda for today, oh important one?”
“I dunno. Timothy hasn't briefed me yet. I think tonight is Cricket's big concert.”
“Yep, but you're not going.”
Reggie froze and looked at his grandchilde, not used to being given a direct order, even a casual one as this. “Uh, last time I checked, Princes don't take orders from lowly kindred under the Accounting.”
“Yes you do, 'cause I'm cute and I already talked to Uncle Cricket, and he said okay.”
“You what? TIMOTHY!!!” Reggie yelled as he rolled his eyes in annoyance. Timothy appeared a second later from the same entrance Reggie had come through a moment earlier.
“Yes sir?”
“What's the schedule of events for tonight?”
“The schedule is in your folder, as usual, sir.” Reggie looked down at the dark binder and opened it, revealing a single blank page.
“What's this?”
“Your schedule, sir, it's clear. Save one appointment not on the ledger, which I believe Miss Matilda has reserved for the entire night.” Reggie cast a squinty glare at Matilda, who laughed at her successful machinations.
“I see. Thank you, Timothy.”
“You're most welcome, sir.” Timothy left the room and Mattie's head danced as her chuckle took on a haughty tone at her new prisoner for the evening.
“I'm hoping buying Timothy off wasn't cheap.”
“Nah, I just told him it would be good for you to take a night off. Besides, consider it your present to me for my acknowledgement next week.”
“The lavish party, diamond necklace and Zilthai are your present for next week.”
“This is better. C'mon, I wanna hear stories from Grandpa.”
“Call me Grandpa one more time, and you'll hear stories from the inside of a wooden box.”
“Alright, fine. C'mon, let's go hang.”
“Can I at least get dressed first?” Mattie didn't respond as she took Reggie by the hand and dragged him out of the kitchen into the living room, while Reggie smiled at the apparent eagerness of his grandchilde's demand of attention.
#####
It wasn't easy, but Reggie managed to escape his ward's clutches long enough to get dressed, chat with his departing bedmate before she left for the night, and have Timothy bring out some cookies for Mattie, who still held an affinity for them. Mattie squeed at the sight, greedily grabbing at one before looking inquisitively at the box in Timothy's other hand.
“What's in the box?” Mattie said, mouth full of food.
“Tonight's activity.”
“I thought we were gonna hang out and talk.”
“We are, but we're gonna do this too.” Reggie unlatched the side of the box placed on the table between them, revealing an ornate chessboard, with alabaster and marble pieces.
“Awww, chess? I thought we made it abundantly clear I'm horrible at this game.”
“Yes, and you're going to get better. Chess is your price of admission for storytelling. Your great-grandsire wouldn't have it any other way, which is appropriate.”
“Fine, but I'm white. Ladies first.” Reggie smirked and turned the box so Mattie could pull out her set of pieces.
“So, my great grandsire.”
“Alstair.”
“He was into chess?”
“He was a fanatic.” Reggie pulled back the box and removed his own pieces, quickly setting them up.
“Mattie, your king and queen are reversed.”
“I like them this way.”
“Tough cookies.”
“Can I play the queen as a king, and be all girl power?”
“No.”
“Fine.” She moved them back with a final whine of defiance, and moved out her king's knight for her opening move before Reggie had even finished setting up the last of his pawns.
“Aha, I see how it's going to be.” Reggie moved his knight in response and watched his pupil's nose scrunch up as she thought.
“So... we got all night, so start at the beginning.”
“Right. You want the full deal?”
“Everything that mom always leaves out.”
“Fine... then we start in Chicago.”
###
(To be continued...)