(Untitled)

[i_martha_adams]

Martha is, again, in to check for messages.

There are, again, none.

However any night she doesn't have to cook for herself in a house that was supposed to hold two or more people is a good night. She orders a dinner, finds a table, and commences watching the stars die.

There are two plates, if anyone is interested in keeping her company.

Comments

[politestpirate]

The next table over holds a young man, in a very old-fashioned uniform, studying a couple of books and making notes and drawings on papers in front of him. The mun does think this justifies using the geek icon. Really.

Wellard still is not the best at approaching new people- but is certainly friendly enough to those that ask questions about what it is he is working on. Or even just hello.

[i_martha_adams]

After a moment she does, indeed, cough slightly,

"You seem very intent. May I ask what you are doing?"

[politestpirate]

He looks up, startled, then gives Martha a bit of a sheepish smile. "Oh. Working on designing a ship, ma'am. In between mapping out the stars before they start exploding. My apologies, I didn't notice you."

[i_martha_adams]

"Quite alright. I have just been watching the stars."

She waves toward them, and it takes in the other plate,

"Would you care to join me? I would like to hear about your ship."

I get lonely, and I miss my son. Who is, I think, a little older than this boy...

[politestpirate]

He blinks, and then nods, picking up a few papers and moving over. "... If you would like, certainly, though these are just ideas a friend and I are working on. A few others have told me of the flying ships from their own times, so we thought to perhaps try to see if we could make one ourselves."

[i_martha_adams]

"An airplane?"

She blinks a little, and leans to look at them,

"I have no idea how they work, to be honest, but I'm certain you could get books."

[politestpirate]

"Mister Maxwell did give me a picture of the building plans for one, but I think we're going to go more with a ship, rather. We have gotten books, we're... working on figuring them out." He gives her a sheepish smile, then blinks.

"Though- my apologies, ma'am, for not introducing myself. My name is Wellard, Henry Wellard."

[i_martha_adams]

"Martha Adams."

She says in return, with a faint smile,

"Good luck? I do not think that ships are aerodynamically shaped."

[politestpirate]

"Well, it is the flying part we are trying to figure. Or really, more of the 'lift' part. The rest of it should be like sailing, we think." He gives her a wry smile.

"After we have all of that figure out, then we can see about making them faster."

Some things about men and their toys never change.

[i_martha_adams]

"I think that I am rather glad that my son isn't here."

She says with a soft laugh,

"His wife would never forgive me if Buzz tried, and he wouldn't if I tried to stop him."

[politestpirate]

"... Well, hopefully they won't be too dangerous." Wellard eyes the sketches with dry amusement. "But we would be careful, so if he was here, his wife shouldn't have much reason to worry."

[i_martha_adams]

"You have never been married."

She says with a shake of her head,

"It is part of what we do, worry about our husbands. And what they do, for us."

The smile dies slowly, and she looks out at the stars again. Mrs. Martha Adams, Widow, does not grieve loudly. She just looks at the stars for a moment.

[politestpirate]

Wellard was hardly old enough to be married, so he blinks, at that. Then he bites his lip, watching Martha quietly. He fiddles with his papers, and lets her have her moment, uninterrupted.

[i_martha_adams]

"Well."

She comes out of it, Josh and Daniel are both dead. Life goes on.

"Have you been here long, Mr. Wellard?"

[politestpirate]

He looks back up to her, and shrugs with a faint smile. "A few months, I do not know if that is considered long or not. Last fall, by any rate."

He frowns faintly. "Time... was not the easiest to keep track of, then."

[i_martha_adams]

"I suppose that was also a very silly question that I asked."

She admits ruefully,

"After all, I have yet to meet someone from my own time, so how could it be easy to ask? However, I have only been here three or so times. So I am very new, by visits."