[Dollhouse] It Comes Down to Distance
There's just something weirdly quiet and lonely about the whole thing. dollhouse. topher, claire 568 words. pg.
The house, for the most part, shuts down on Christmas Day, but there's always a handler or two on the floor for emergency engagements and Topher, himself, never actually leaves. Dr. Saunders- the real one- had a family he went home to, once upon a time, but the new model doesn't have that luxury. Since the change in seasons and the passing of months and the advent of strange things they'll constantly have to forget about will only confuse the Actives whenever they see baubles and trees among the strict, unchanging architecture, nothing exists to acknowledge the holiday, and so Topher watches Dr. Saunders meander about her office like this is any other day, half-wondering if she's forgotten what day it is as easily as every other Doll in the house.
There's just something weirdly quiet and lonely about the whole thing.
Topher sometimes forgets the backstories in his own imprints, so he can't remember what excuse he gave Dr. Saunders for why she never seems to want to visit her family- it's beyond elaborate phobias meant to keep her inside, considering everyone has an excuse for why they won't face their loved ones. He sure as hell does, and somehow that makes him curious and one line of thought, mixed with insufferable boredom usually leads to impulsive action. He finds his phone and dials the number to Dr. Saunders' office.
She picks up on the second ring. "I'm busy, Topher."
"Whoooa there, Silver," Topher laughs, leaning over the balcony as far as he dares, squinting to see if he can see if she's been watching him this entire time. "What would you have done if this was De Witt?"
"Ms. De Witt's not here and neither is Boyd. Mr. Dominic has better things to do with his time than call me. Which leaves you and three of the handlers and, believe me, none of the handlers want to chat with me."
"Well, maybe if you weren't so lurky, Dr. Grinch. All the Whos down in Whoville would probably share their roast beast if you-" He winces as Claire hangs up in the middle of his sentence, frowns down at the phone in a way that's more of a pout, and counts to ten in his head before he dials her number again.
It takes four rings this time before she answers, which suggests that she was deeply considering not answering at all. "...What do you want, Topher?"
"Why are you still here? It's Christmas. Don't you have a family of scowly, disapproving relations to air grievances or something with?"
The pause before she speaks is long enough to make him wonder if she hung up again. "I haven't spoken to my parents in over a year, Topher, and, in case you haven't realized it, you're here too."
"No," Topher drawls, more than his fair share of sarcastic. "I don't do family gatherings."
There's another long period of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a sigh. "Neither do I," she responds, before hanging up again.
This time Topher doesn't call back, even though he considers it, and he's not entirely certain why on either count. There's just something unbearably lonely about being alone and working through Christmas when there's another person right there with you in the same exact circumstance.
But somewhere in some process that Dr. Saunders will never know about, some ship sailed, and Topher goes back to work without another thought on the subject.
The house, for the most part, shuts down on Christmas Day, but there's always a handler or two on the floor for emergency engagements and Topher, himself, never actually leaves. Dr. Saunders- the real one- had a family he went home to, once upon a time, but the new model doesn't have that luxury. Since the change in seasons and the passing of months and the advent of strange things they'll constantly have to forget about will only confuse the Actives whenever they see baubles and trees among the strict, unchanging architecture, nothing exists to acknowledge the holiday, and so Topher watches Dr. Saunders meander about her office like this is any other day, half-wondering if she's forgotten what day it is as easily as every other Doll in the house.
There's just something weirdly quiet and lonely about the whole thing.
Topher sometimes forgets the backstories in his own imprints, so he can't remember what excuse he gave Dr. Saunders for why she never seems to want to visit her family- it's beyond elaborate phobias meant to keep her inside, considering everyone has an excuse for why they won't face their loved ones. He sure as hell does, and somehow that makes him curious and one line of thought, mixed with insufferable boredom usually leads to impulsive action. He finds his phone and dials the number to Dr. Saunders' office.
She picks up on the second ring. "I'm busy, Topher."
"Whoooa there, Silver," Topher laughs, leaning over the balcony as far as he dares, squinting to see if he can see if she's been watching him this entire time. "What would you have done if this was De Witt?"
"Ms. De Witt's not here and neither is Boyd. Mr. Dominic has better things to do with his time than call me. Which leaves you and three of the handlers and, believe me, none of the handlers want to chat with me."
"Well, maybe if you weren't so lurky, Dr. Grinch. All the Whos down in Whoville would probably share their roast beast if you-" He winces as Claire hangs up in the middle of his sentence, frowns down at the phone in a way that's more of a pout, and counts to ten in his head before he dials her number again.
It takes four rings this time before she answers, which suggests that she was deeply considering not answering at all. "...What do you want, Topher?"
"Why are you still here? It's Christmas. Don't you have a family of scowly, disapproving relations to air grievances or something with?"
The pause before she speaks is long enough to make him wonder if she hung up again. "I haven't spoken to my parents in over a year, Topher, and, in case you haven't realized it, you're here too."
"No," Topher drawls, more than his fair share of sarcastic. "I don't do family gatherings."
There's another long period of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a sigh. "Neither do I," she responds, before hanging up again.
This time Topher doesn't call back, even though he considers it, and he's not entirely certain why on either count. There's just something unbearably lonely about being alone and working through Christmas when there's another person right there with you in the same exact circumstance.
But somewhere in some process that Dr. Saunders will never know about, some ship sailed, and Topher goes back to work without another thought on the subject.