Fic: Symposium, PG, Madame Vastra/Jenny
Winter was a quieter time among the dark street forces of London town. Even predatory humans left their homes with reluctance, stumbling through the murkiness in ice-cracked boots.
Jenny thought this just as well, since her mistress was now obliged to make frequent stops indoors, if she was to avoid brumation.
A smokescreen, and the haze engulfing the seasoned drinker, were both deemed preferable for these sojourns. There was a kind of chaotic, disinterested warmth in such places that did much to revive the spirits after a night’s hard work.
Though with the couple’s burgeoning confidence there came avid curiosity; not all, as it turned out, from foreign quarters.
“That one is surely a Racnoss. Why else would its clothes bulge so wide?” Madame Vastra swept closer, drawing her hood back from her line of vision. “And the face is very red. Do you think we should-”
Jenny took advantage of their linked arms to co-ordinate a retreat. “Crinoline, rouge and drink, ma’am. All work great magic.”
They soon located a spot near the hearth, brushing the thin film of rain off their clothes. By firelight Vastra’s eyes seemed immense, the pupils squeezed to threads. She rested her head on Jenny’s shoulder, the hood falling like a curtain between them.
“Poor thing, I’m sorry. You’ll overheat.”
Jenny chuckled. “Always overheated, aren’t I?”
“ Like the underworld streams from home.” A collapsing log sparked at them, and they moved back. “We can be on our way before-”
She broke off into a low hiss, mouth hardening. Her free wrist had been claimed by a man at the next bench, who turned now to study them; each motion careful and punctuated by many pauses, as though a dangerous balancing act was in progress.
“So gimme a clue, cos I’ve been trying to figure this out.” He hauled one leg clear from under the table, and stayed there, the other limb apparently forgotten. “Gorgeous girl like you shouldn’t be up here. Not for another-” He withdrew to make a calculation on his fingers; then took account of both shoulders, just to be sure. “Twelve hundred years.”
Jenny shifted her weight towards the scabbard against her left thigh. It would take a moment to escape her lady’s hold; perhaps another quarter-second to get within striking range. Beside her, Madame’s gaze was set like a spring trap; her voice, with her tongue, withdrawn to the roof of her mouth, poised to fly.
Too far-gone, or perhaps too stubborn, to be fazed by anything less than physical assault, the stranger leant forward, his grasp now restored.
“Captain Jack Harkness. Just passing through.” A thought occurred, and he reached for his drink, supporting himself with Vastra’s forearm- the fingers of which had already assumed a death-grip. He downed the contents at a single go, grimacing. “Doctor’s orders.”
Madame Vastra blinked a few times, in softly audible snicks. Then she withdrew her other arm. “Jenny. Why don’t you find the proprietor, while I get us all acquainted? Captain; Madame Vastra.”
They shook hands, Jack rocking gently with each down-swing.
“Ladies. The pleasure is all mine.”
Vastra laughed, displaying a full armoury of teeth. “That’s for sure.”
“This concoction is supposed to make you mammals...happy, correct?”
Jenny surveyed the drooped rag-doll shadows cast by their fellow customers, thrown into grotesque array beneath oily lamplight.
“Yes, ma'am. Though I think the proof is in the pudding.”
“Hnngh.” Jack raised himself on one unsteady elbow, patted his shins for reassurance, and thudded back against the wall in a graceless diving movement. Jenny adjusted the buttons below his collar.
“We won’t have many truths from him tonight.”
Madame Vastra whipped her tongue around the dregs of Jack’s glass, with as much tact as the occasion entailed. “How do you propose we go about this?”
“I, ma'am?”
A rolling shrug of crested shoulders. “Mammals are no use to me senseless. It’s your ape.”
“It’s your ‘doctor’.”
They studied their new charge, who was now half-asleep, eyes white crescents beneath their lids.
Vastra dabbed at the smuts gathering upon her dress skirt. “We can’t leave this here. Even if he knows nothing- or won’t, by tomorrow.”
Jenny was arranging the empty tumblers into a zigzag pattern. “He can have my room.”
“Well, really, Jenny-”
“ 'Course, the bed's scarcely slept in.”
“Hm.” Her mistress clacked her jaws shut, critically. “Good. So we’re decided. Do you think he can walk, or will we be dragging the thing across town?”
Jenny shook ‘the thing’ by his shoulder. “Hey. Captain. You’re coming back with us.”
Jack was manoeuvred into a standing position, whispering ‘thank you’ to a vague point on the ceiling.
“Hands to yourself”, Jenny ordered. “Else she’ll bite your ears off.”
“I will, you know.”
Huddled together in the alleyway, they stepped out for home.
Jenny thought this just as well, since her mistress was now obliged to make frequent stops indoors, if she was to avoid brumation.
A smokescreen, and the haze engulfing the seasoned drinker, were both deemed preferable for these sojourns. There was a kind of chaotic, disinterested warmth in such places that did much to revive the spirits after a night’s hard work.
Though with the couple’s burgeoning confidence there came avid curiosity; not all, as it turned out, from foreign quarters.
“That one is surely a Racnoss. Why else would its clothes bulge so wide?” Madame Vastra swept closer, drawing her hood back from her line of vision. “And the face is very red. Do you think we should-”
Jenny took advantage of their linked arms to co-ordinate a retreat. “Crinoline, rouge and drink, ma’am. All work great magic.”
They soon located a spot near the hearth, brushing the thin film of rain off their clothes. By firelight Vastra’s eyes seemed immense, the pupils squeezed to threads. She rested her head on Jenny’s shoulder, the hood falling like a curtain between them.
“Poor thing, I’m sorry. You’ll overheat.”
Jenny chuckled. “Always overheated, aren’t I?”
“ Like the underworld streams from home.” A collapsing log sparked at them, and they moved back. “We can be on our way before-”
She broke off into a low hiss, mouth hardening. Her free wrist had been claimed by a man at the next bench, who turned now to study them; each motion careful and punctuated by many pauses, as though a dangerous balancing act was in progress.
“So gimme a clue, cos I’ve been trying to figure this out.” He hauled one leg clear from under the table, and stayed there, the other limb apparently forgotten. “Gorgeous girl like you shouldn’t be up here. Not for another-” He withdrew to make a calculation on his fingers; then took account of both shoulders, just to be sure. “Twelve hundred years.”
Jenny shifted her weight towards the scabbard against her left thigh. It would take a moment to escape her lady’s hold; perhaps another quarter-second to get within striking range. Beside her, Madame’s gaze was set like a spring trap; her voice, with her tongue, withdrawn to the roof of her mouth, poised to fly.
Too far-gone, or perhaps too stubborn, to be fazed by anything less than physical assault, the stranger leant forward, his grasp now restored.
“Captain Jack Harkness. Just passing through.” A thought occurred, and he reached for his drink, supporting himself with Vastra’s forearm- the fingers of which had already assumed a death-grip. He downed the contents at a single go, grimacing. “Doctor’s orders.”
Madame Vastra blinked a few times, in softly audible snicks. Then she withdrew her other arm. “Jenny. Why don’t you find the proprietor, while I get us all acquainted? Captain; Madame Vastra.”
They shook hands, Jack rocking gently with each down-swing.
“Ladies. The pleasure is all mine.”
Vastra laughed, displaying a full armoury of teeth. “That’s for sure.”
“This concoction is supposed to make you mammals...happy, correct?”
Jenny surveyed the drooped rag-doll shadows cast by their fellow customers, thrown into grotesque array beneath oily lamplight.
“Yes, ma'am. Though I think the proof is in the pudding.”
“Hnngh.” Jack raised himself on one unsteady elbow, patted his shins for reassurance, and thudded back against the wall in a graceless diving movement. Jenny adjusted the buttons below his collar.
“We won’t have many truths from him tonight.”
Madame Vastra whipped her tongue around the dregs of Jack’s glass, with as much tact as the occasion entailed. “How do you propose we go about this?”
“I, ma'am?”
A rolling shrug of crested shoulders. “Mammals are no use to me senseless. It’s your ape.”
“It’s your ‘doctor’.”
They studied their new charge, who was now half-asleep, eyes white crescents beneath their lids.
Vastra dabbed at the smuts gathering upon her dress skirt. “We can’t leave this here. Even if he knows nothing- or won’t, by tomorrow.”
Jenny was arranging the empty tumblers into a zigzag pattern. “He can have my room.”
“Well, really, Jenny-”
“ 'Course, the bed's scarcely slept in.”
“Hm.” Her mistress clacked her jaws shut, critically. “Good. So we’re decided. Do you think he can walk, or will we be dragging the thing across town?”
Jenny shook ‘the thing’ by his shoulder. “Hey. Captain. You’re coming back with us.”
Jack was manoeuvred into a standing position, whispering ‘thank you’ to a vague point on the ceiling.
“Hands to yourself”, Jenny ordered. “Else she’ll bite your ears off.”
“I will, you know.”
Huddled together in the alleyway, they stepped out for home.