(Untitled)

[phoinikothrix]

Despite his hypochondriac's respect for them, Francis has never liked doctors, not really--the way they poke, and prod, and ask absurd questions before ushering him out the door with an ineffectual prescription written in a careless hand, only to roll their eyes at him when he returned a few days later complaining of some new malady.

Three days

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[liliesfromluce]

Luce pauses for a moment when she sees Francis with so many books, not sure that she's ever really nosy enough to start seeing what the reading material is, but she likes Francis well-enough and she hopes he wouldn't mind if she made her way over. "Book club, is it?" she teases.

[phoinikothrix]

"Only if it's one for people who'd prefer not to read words," he laughs in response, holding up a book full of moody black-and-white photographs. "Frankly, I'm shocked there isn't a book club of any sort here already--this would be the perfect place for it, don't you think?" Nudging the chair across from him away from the table with his foot, he offers her a place to sit.

[liliesfromluce]

Luce wanders a little closer, crossing her legs under her body as she squeezes in, trying not to take up much room at all. "I thought someone had one, once," she says, but it might be something she's making up. "I'm not a big reader. I mean, I will," she insists, tying her hair back, "but it's not a passion."

She cranes her head to the side to study the pictures. "That's good, what's that?" she wonders, pointing at the next page.

[phoinikothrix]

"Wheat field before a thunderstorm," Francis reads from the caption on the facing page. "It is lovely, isn't it?" He pauses, taking in the impact of the photograph--the dark and roiling masses of clouds, contrasted with the paler waves of wheat. "I wonder if it would look quite that dramatic in color--probably not."

[liliesfromluce]

Luce leans forward in order to study it, thinking of Heck for some reason. She shakes her head to dismiss thoughts of him, forcing a smile onto her face. "I'm a fan of colour," she admits. "I think it's the flowers' affect on me, though."

[phoinikothrix]

"Ah, so you're the one to thank for the bouquet I found in my mailbox the other week?" he asks playfully. "It was a lovely surprise."

He wishes he had Luce's talent with flowers; though Dodge would probably laugh him out of the room if he arrived bearing a vase of island fauna (and rightly so), it would be a much easier gift to give.

[liliesfromluce]

"I was the one," she confirms, looking down to hide something of a blush. It's not something she's ashamed of, but she hardly wants to sit around and boast about that. "Did you like them? If they're not to your style, I can replace them with something you prefer."

[phoinikothrix]

"Oh, no, they were lovely," he assures her. "I have a friend, Camilla, who's been staying with me while she tries to find a place of her own--she put them in a vase right away, and they brightened things up considerably."

[liliesfromluce]

"Camilla?" Luce echoes, trying to be polite in her curiosity. "What's she like, your friend?" Luce reminds herself that she is not chatting up Francis in order to find out what age, appearance, and personality his friend has. She is not that desperate (not yet).

[phoinikothrix]

The question throws him off guard, just for a moment--not out of a lack of things to say, but because he's not sure how to describe Camilla, even to himself. A friend, surely, but a frightening one; a sweet and childlike angel, a coldly calculating ice queen.

"Oh, Camilla's lovely," he replies, sincerely polite despite his own uncertainties. "We were at school together before we arrived here--she's terrifically smart."