(Untitled)

[stoicsidekick]

For the first time in six years, William Bush didn't feel out of place with his uniform coat draped about his shoulders. Not only did the solid, heavy wool keep out the London damp that had descended upon Tabula Rasa along with the scenery, British naval blue also fit perfectly the cobbled streets, and billowing smokestacks, and smokey pubs that

Comments

[unbellegeste]

Marie is holding her cape tight around her shoulders, her cheeks pink from the cold and her hair dusted lightly with snow. Walking around London has become something she generally very much enjoys, but along with it being cold, her feet and back are aching and she wants to sit down.

"Bonjour," she says breathlessly as the door thuds solidly shut behind her, and makes her way to the bar. "Just a cup of tea, please," she says, and the landlord gives a gruff nod and sees to it.

[alittleofboth]

"I hope you have more luck with the tea than I have with the wine," Anthony said in French from a table near the bar. Ever observant, he had missed neither her breathless greeting nor the lilt of her accent, and saw no reason to pass up the opportunity to exercise a language he did not have many opportunities to speak anymore.

[unbellegeste]

Marie turns to smile at him, wearily. "The wine is appalling," she agrees. "But I just want something warm and to sit down for a while." She keeps finding people who speak French unexpectedly. It's promising.

[alittleofboth]

"One would think that if the island so wished to send us to an entirely different place for a short while, the least it could do was make it a place with a decent vintage available," Anthony said with a dry smile. "Tea, though, they can probably manage."

[unbellegeste]

"I hope so," Marie says dryly. "I'm told it's part of the national character. And I was only on the island a few days before it became this, so my perspective may be skewed." The landlord brings her the cup and she picks it up, balancing it carefully. "Might I join you?"

[alittleofboth]

Anthony inclined his head slightly to indicate the chair across from him. "Ah yes, I thought you might be new. When one has been here as long as I have, one can usually recognize most of the faces - or, at least, most of the real ones," he added with a glance at the landlord, who was never more than a wisp the moment you looked at him. Anthony was the first to admit that the charms of this winter's change were plentiful, but he didn't appreciate the ghostly figures that served as little more than scenery for their imaginary London.

[unbellegeste]

Marie has always considered other people to be peripheral characters in the story of her own life anyway; that some of them apparently really don't have lives of their own is less disturbing than it probably should be. She sinks into the with a sigh, resting the cup on the table. "That's better. My feet are killing me. I'm Marie, by the way."

[alittleofboth]

"Anthony," he offered in return. "Anthony Blunt. So, you have been here for only a few weeks, yes? How are you finding our humble home?"

[unbellegeste]

"Very, very strange," Marie answers, propping her chin on her hand in an entirely modern sort of way. "I feel like I'm on an extended holiday or a bad drug trip."

[alittleofboth]

"I'm afraid that impression never quite dissipates," Anthony said. "Though it might surprise you how swiftly both become incredibly dull. Where were you from before you ended up here, might I ask?"

[unbellegeste]

"Cap Ferret," Marie answers. "I was...on holiday with some friends. Originally from Paris." She cocks her head, looking at him quizzically. "Your name sounds familiar. English, yes?"

[alittleofboth]

"Oui. Though I lived in Paris for a time as a child." He took his cigarette case out and took one for himself, and then offered the case to Marie. "I don't suppose you follow art criticism?" That was never the reason people had heard of him, not here, not now, but the conversation had been too pleasant thus far for him to extrapolate upon his notoriety if he didn't have to.

[unbellegeste]

Marie shakes her head, absently stirring sugar into her tea. "I'm afraid not. I'm an anthropologist."

[alittleofboth]

"Oh yes?" Anthony smoothly sidestepped the original question. "What do you study?"

[unbellegeste]

Marie lets it go; it's perfectly likely that the man's name just sounds like someone else's. She's certainly forgot enough of them. "Rituals of the Tokano tribes in the Amazon," she answers, always ready to talk about her work. "Not really artistic at all, unless you do music as well."

[alittleofboth]

"Ah, goodness no. Only fine art, and only European. I'm told that's not quite Done these days," he added absently, thinking of the arguments he had once had about Miss Montenegro. "You've done a fair share of traveling, then, I imagine."