"What now," Wilson muttered to himself as he felt the same tug in his chest that he had felt when he was dragged into town when he first met Alec. He'd just managed to dig up the perfect table for the poker game that night and was about to drag it to the common room when it started.
He tried to fight it at first, annoyed that after barely seeing his partner and being stuck inside most of the time that Alec would choose to try and leave the house now, right when Wilson actually had something to do.
Something felt off though, different. Alec knew the score, he wouldn't attempt to just leave without saying anything. Now Wilson was curious and seeing as there wasn't really anything he could do to avoid that tug, he decided to just go with it.
It wasn't long before Wilson found his way to the town square again and came face to face with someone he hadn't yet met who most certainly was not Alec. The guy reminded him of the time he'd gone to see Phantom of the Opera in New York with Bonnie, except this was far creepier.
"Um, hi," Wilson said uncertainly. "Looks like Mr. West is having his fun again."
"Indeed, very strange," Wilson agreed with a slow nod. He was trying not to stare, but the man's mask was intriguing. It looked so smooth, especially in contrast to the rest of his outfit, and Wilson had to forcibly stop himself from wanting to touch it.
"I'm Dr. James Wilson, but you can call me Wilson," he said, offering his hand for shaking. He was still apprehensive, but his deeply ingrained social skills over-rode that.
Erik had no deeply ingrained social skills. But he had some deep-seated instincts that were not going to be shaking anyone's hand anytime soon. He merely stood, tall and still, staring at he hand.
"I am Erik," he said, "but I see no reason to call you anything. I am going to return to my room."
Wilson cleared his throat nervously and wiped his offered hand on his leg awkwardly. He vaguely rememered having a brief and strange conversation with this guy via the journals. This realization did not make Wilson feel any better.
Wilson frowned slightly and cocked his head to the side. He'd been mildly annoyed by the tug to the town square at first, but now that he was outside again, he kind of wanted to stay out. At least for a little bit. The town was creepy, for sure, but sitting around the boarding house all day wa boring. "Back to your room? I was kind of hoping for a bit more fresh air. You sure I can't interest you in a walk? Check out the town a bit?" his words were tentative and hopeful, though somehow Wilson didn't think this guy really cared at all about what he wanted.
"Seen by who?" Wilson asked, honestly curious. Other than the other transplants, this place was a ghost town. "There's only a handful of people in this town and most of them have bigger worries than looking at you. No offense."
If I have excess typos, I'm sorry. I'm replying from my phone while at work. :DmanipulatvebtchAugust 18 2010, 23:15:25 UTC
Wilson furrowed his eyebrows. The whole talking in third person was really throwing him off. "No, I'm not mocking you. I'm sure that there are people here was would stare at least, but that's not everyone. I've come across a number of people here that have seen much worse. I honestly think there are people here that wouldn't think twice about how you look""."
Wilson felt sad suddenly. He'd come across many people who had been teased and ridiculed in his profession and he never thought it was right. It always brought back memories of his brother and all the crap he'd gone through before he'd disappeared.
"You clearly have little understanding of human nature," Erik sneered. "And you have not seen Erik." As much as he pitied himself, there was a perverse sort of pride at being so very ugly. Of course, he'd lived before the Great War, before society began to come to better terms with people like him.
"Also," he continued as if this was related, "it is very hot out here."
"I don't think you know me well enough to say that. I'm a doctor and I've dealt with all sorts of ailments. You don't know what I've seen or what I think. I also know that there are people here that don't come from the same place or time as I do and they've seen things stranger than I can even imagine. I understand why you don't trust people. My best friend has a similar mentality, I'm just saying that not everyone is the same and not everyone thinks or acts the way you're used to."
Wilson wasn't sure what he was saying was getting through, and honestly he wouldn't be surprises if it was falling in deaf ears, but he had to try. He always does.
"It is a little warm," he admitted, but he still didn't want to go back in yet. "Why don't we look for some shade? I'm sorry, I've just been cooped up for a long time and just want a bit of fresh air."
Erik understood what he was saying. But he did not believe it, or understand Wilson's motives in doing so. The daroga had always maintained that he was overly dramatic, but had also admitted that Erik was hideous. And Erik had been all over Europe and Asia. He thought he was as well-traveled as one could expect, and had seen enough of human nature to judge.
"Very well," he said after a moment, and turned on his heel, moving fluidly towards Main street.
Wilson stood stock still for a moment, thrown by Erik's sudden seeming agreeance. He was so surprised that he didn't move until the magical whatever it was yanked him in the direction Erik took off in. He stumbled slightly and then jogged to keep up.
"Thanks," he said honestly. He was sure that everything he said meant nothing to the other man, but he was too relieve to not have to go back inside for a bit.
Wilson stumbled along behind him, and Erik was intensely conscious of the presence. However, he made no move against Erik.
"Erik is in need of supplies anyway," he deigned to explain. "Do you know where I might procure red ink and clean dress shirts?" He paused, thinking he had forgotten something. "Oh. And food."
"Um, well," Wilson stuttered slightly as he recovered from his stumble and tried to think if he saw any stores that would suit Erik's needs on one of his few trips to town.
"I would say we try the main street. I've been in a dry goods store there that had some food and clothes. Not sure about red ink, but I'm sure there's got to be a place that at least has pens, if you're looking to write."
He tried to fight it at first, annoyed that after barely seeing his partner and being stuck inside most of the time that Alec would choose to try and leave the house now, right when Wilson actually had something to do.
Something felt off though, different. Alec knew the score, he wouldn't attempt to just leave without saying anything. Now Wilson was curious and seeing as there wasn't really anything he could do to avoid that tug, he decided to just go with it.
It wasn't long before Wilson found his way to the town square again and came face to face with someone he hadn't yet met who most certainly was not Alec. The guy reminded him of the time he'd gone to see Phantom of the Opera in New York with Bonnie, except this was far creepier.
"Um, hi," Wilson said uncertainly. "Looks like Mr. West is having his fun again."
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"This is a strange idea of fun," he said, his sense of humor clearly differently developed. "Who are you?"
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"I'm Dr. James Wilson, but you can call me Wilson," he said, offering his hand for shaking. He was still apprehensive, but his deeply ingrained social skills over-rode that.
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"I am Erik," he said, "but I see no reason to call you anything. I am going to return to my room."
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Wilson frowned slightly and cocked his head to the side. He'd been mildly annoyed by the tug to the town square at first, but now that he was outside again, he kind of wanted to stay out. At least for a little bit. The town was creepy, for sure, but sitting around the boarding house all day wa boring. "Back to your room? I was kind of hoping for a bit more fresh air. You sure I can't interest you in a walk? Check out the town a bit?" his words were tentative and hopeful, though somehow Wilson didn't think this guy really cared at all about what he wanted.
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This was suitable.
"No," Erik said. "Erik is too easily seen in the daytime."
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"Do you mock Erik?" he demanded finally. "All his life he has been a figure of ridicule, mystery, or fear. Never indifference."
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Wilson felt sad suddenly. He'd come across many people who had been teased and ridiculed in his profession and he never thought it was right. It always brought back memories of his brother and all the crap he'd gone through before he'd disappeared.
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"Also," he continued as if this was related, "it is very hot out here."
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Wilson wasn't sure what he was saying was getting through, and honestly he wouldn't be surprises if it was falling in deaf ears, but he had to try. He always does.
"It is a little warm," he admitted, but he still didn't want to go back in yet. "Why don't we look for some shade? I'm sorry, I've just been cooped up for a long time and just want a bit of fresh air."
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"Very well," he said after a moment, and turned on his heel, moving fluidly towards Main street.
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"Thanks," he said honestly. He was sure that everything he said meant nothing to the other man, but he was too relieve to not have to go back inside for a bit.
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"Erik is in need of supplies anyway," he deigned to explain. "Do you know where I might procure red ink and clean dress shirts?" He paused, thinking he had forgotten something. "Oh. And food."
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"I would say we try the main street. I've been in a dry goods store there that had some food and clothes. Not sure about red ink, but I'm sure there's got to be a place that at least has pens, if you're looking to write."
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