the lion and tin soldier dance around their past;
Who: Lillian Maine (The Lion), Charlie Toussaint (The Tin Soldier)
What: Bumping into each other for the first time since the Super Bowl.
When: Wednesday afternoon.
Where: The Pentamerone.
Rating: PG
LILLIAN: It wasn't often that Lillian Maine found herself with a free afternoon with no other engagements. Usually, if she wasn't at the office, she was at a restaurant, or meeting someone for a lunch date, or catching up on her blog, which she seemed - sadly - to have less and less time for. But, she'd known about this Wednesday for about a week, and had gladly penciled a brief visit to the Pentamerone, scheduling all other events that came up around it. So it was that around 2 pm on Wednesday afternoon that the blonde food critic extraordinaire came through the great big doors of the old house, stomping slush and snow off her feet. John Fields was very warmly greeted, chatted up for a minute, and offered some of the cookies she held in a great big tin beneath her arm. Then, she started up the stairs, gingerly unpeeling hat and gloves and scarf as she went, careful not to upset the balance of the cookie tin.
CHARLIE: It hadn't been a great week for Charlie Toussaint, and Wednesday wasn't looking too good either. Between packing seven years of his life away in plain brown boxes, the case work, and Bradley's constant whining, Charlie hadn't had a great deal of time to sleep, and when he did - he couldn't. By 2 pm he was dragging, his eyes tired and his expression almost vacant as he dropped off more information for Anser. (Luckily he hadn't been in at the time; the last thing Charlie needed was to endure another half-hour of Anser's one-sided sense of humor.) As Lillian was delayering, Charlie was bracing himself for the oncoming cold, tying his plain black scarf around his neck. He gave her a slight nod as they met on the stairway. "Hello, Lil," he said out of reflex, but thought very little of it. His mind was already on the next task at hand: Buying flowers, a task easier said than done.
LILLIAN: "Hey!" Lillian replied in turn, all enthusiasm and sunshine in direct contrast to his soporific, cloudy demeanor. This was also reflex for her - she saw a face she recognized, they greeted her, and she did the same. It was only a split second after that cheerful syllable that she remembered her discomfort around Charlie (and the nightmares endured after Sunday's party). Her smile faltered, visibly, and while in any other situation she might have just let him continue down the stairs, her discomfort embarrassed her. So she recovered her grin, and tilted the cookie tin towards Charlie. "Edible Valentine? Oops!" The demonstration of the treats she brought for Pentamerone consumption upset the fine balance of déshabillant, sending a single glove and lilac scarf tumbling to the floor.
CHARLIE: There was a brief pause as Charlie's eyes moved from the tin, to Lillian, and then to the lone glove resting on the floor. "A day early?" he asked goodnaturedly, that private smile spreading through his features as he stooped for the glove. That simple motion was enough to send a creak through Charlie's artificial leg. (The harsh weather was the culprit, making the plastic and steel brittle and so easy to crack-it would not last another two months, he imagined.) He retrieved the glove with an apologetic look, but whether it was from his leg's shortcoming due to the current weather or because of the events of the Super Bowl party, it was hard to tell. He stared at the glove for a moment before returning his gaze to Lillian. "I, ah," he stumbled through his words. "I'm sorry, if I said anything to upset you at the party."
He wasn't a fool. The discomfort her smile was so obvious. "Lot of people there, and things got out of control, and I might have lost my temper once-"
LILLIAN: "Too busy tomorrow!" Lil replied, returning the good nature, and still smiling when he retrieved her glove. At the creak, her gaze shifted involuntarily to his leg - again, she had to recover herself with another smile, and 'thanks', as she took back the fallen winter wear. Smile turned to mortification as Charlie indicated that he did, in fact, notice how oddly discomfiting she found his presence. "Oh! No! Not at all, you didn't do anything!" she assured him, hurriedly. "I'm the one that should be sorry, really, it's just..." She trailed off. How, exactly, do you approach the subject? It's just, when you were around I heard the screams of my dying friends in the back of my head? Or maybe, It's just, y'know, after the party I couldn't sleep for three nights in a row because of the memories? Not exactly the best conversation starter.
"...you remind me of someone? It was a little weird," she finished, fully aware of how her answer fell flat and unsatisfactory (she wrinkled her nose, and pursed her lips self-effacingly). "But, seriously, take a cookie. Or five," she offered, again. When faced with a problem, throw food at it.
CHARLIE: Her quick reply was met with a breathless laugh and a shake of his head. "Everyone has plans for the 14th," he murmured, his smile broadening. For a moment, his eyes followed hers to his leg. Although it was well-hidden by the material of his trousers, he felt for a moment as if it was on display for everyone to look at. His smile disappeared, and then his expression softened at her response; a recognition. "I...yeah. I know," he admitted, his eyes moving away again before he laughed from humility. "We've all crossed each other in so many lives. It's a surprise any of us can stand to be around each other."
He didn't mention the sounds of sirens, or the bombs that dropped as he slept. That wasn't something that Lillian needed to be privy to. And quite frankly, Charlie wondered if he wasn't finally going crazy sometimes.
"Are you sure?" he asked, once again turning his attention to the tin of cookies. "I mean. There's a lot of mouths to feed at the Pen."
LILLIAN: Lillian's mouth opened a fraction, for a just a moment, as though she were going to continue on the subject of Charlie's particular familiarity. The hesitation was palpable, but yet again she shook it off, replaced her reticence with a smile and pushed the cookies again. "Absolutely! There's a lot of mouths, but between you and me, I'm sure half of these bums aren't nearly so deserving as you," she joked, winking theatrically. Some shuffling, gloves finally shoved into pockets and scarf thrown over her shoulder, and she opened the tin, holding it out for Charlie. Within lay an array of pretty cookies - heart-shaped sugar cookies with pink icing, heart-shaped ginger snaps, chocolate cookies with cherries in the middle (and drizzled again with chocolate), and prettily-piped meringues. Fully aware of the awful choice before Charlie, she smiled and said, "You can take however many. One of each, even!" (The subtext here would be, 'I'm so sorry that you kinda creep me out for no good reason, please take all these cookies to make up for it.')
CHARLIE: Charlie's smile wilted as he realized that no words were going to erase the eerie feeling that hung over them. He faltered for only a minute, though, before he recovered. "You know that isn't true," he said, his voice thick with sentimentality; his resignation from their conversation. For a moment Charlie studied the cookies before he plucked only two, a couple of the gingersnaps. (They were probably the easiest to travel with, Charlie imagined.)
"Thank you," he said. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced a handkerchief, tucking the cookies inside before putting the bundle away. He rocked back and forth on his heel. "And - thanks again for helping with the party. You're a wonderful cook," he said with finality, signaling the resolution of their conversation. Charlie nodded to her one last time before continuing his way down the stairs.
"Have a nice 14th. And mind your gloves."
LILLIAN: "Just two?" Lillian teased, sliding the cover back over the tin nonetheless, as it's obvious Charlie isn't going to take any more, and would much rather be on his way. "You're welcome - and it was a fantastic party," she said, enthusiastically. "I should've thought of sticking around to clean up, though - sorry." A chagrined smile, and then again she shifted the tin so she could give Charlie a cheery little wave as he headed down the stairs. "You too! Have a good one."
She watched his back for a moment as he descended, the cheer fading from her expression and being replaced by disconcertment. By all means she should reach out to him, discover what shared past they had so that an evening with him gave her a slew of nightmares. But she couldn't. All she could do was frown, and turn, and guiltily hope, as she climbed the stairs, that she wouldn't have trouble sleeping that night.
What: Bumping into each other for the first time since the Super Bowl.
When: Wednesday afternoon.
Where: The Pentamerone.
Rating: PG
LILLIAN: It wasn't often that Lillian Maine found herself with a free afternoon with no other engagements. Usually, if she wasn't at the office, she was at a restaurant, or meeting someone for a lunch date, or catching up on her blog, which she seemed - sadly - to have less and less time for. But, she'd known about this Wednesday for about a week, and had gladly penciled a brief visit to the Pentamerone, scheduling all other events that came up around it. So it was that around 2 pm on Wednesday afternoon that the blonde food critic extraordinaire came through the great big doors of the old house, stomping slush and snow off her feet. John Fields was very warmly greeted, chatted up for a minute, and offered some of the cookies she held in a great big tin beneath her arm. Then, she started up the stairs, gingerly unpeeling hat and gloves and scarf as she went, careful not to upset the balance of the cookie tin.
CHARLIE: It hadn't been a great week for Charlie Toussaint, and Wednesday wasn't looking too good either. Between packing seven years of his life away in plain brown boxes, the case work, and Bradley's constant whining, Charlie hadn't had a great deal of time to sleep, and when he did - he couldn't. By 2 pm he was dragging, his eyes tired and his expression almost vacant as he dropped off more information for Anser. (Luckily he hadn't been in at the time; the last thing Charlie needed was to endure another half-hour of Anser's one-sided sense of humor.) As Lillian was delayering, Charlie was bracing himself for the oncoming cold, tying his plain black scarf around his neck. He gave her a slight nod as they met on the stairway. "Hello, Lil," he said out of reflex, but thought very little of it. His mind was already on the next task at hand: Buying flowers, a task easier said than done.
LILLIAN: "Hey!" Lillian replied in turn, all enthusiasm and sunshine in direct contrast to his soporific, cloudy demeanor. This was also reflex for her - she saw a face she recognized, they greeted her, and she did the same. It was only a split second after that cheerful syllable that she remembered her discomfort around Charlie (and the nightmares endured after Sunday's party). Her smile faltered, visibly, and while in any other situation she might have just let him continue down the stairs, her discomfort embarrassed her. So she recovered her grin, and tilted the cookie tin towards Charlie. "Edible Valentine? Oops!" The demonstration of the treats she brought for Pentamerone consumption upset the fine balance of déshabillant, sending a single glove and lilac scarf tumbling to the floor.
CHARLIE: There was a brief pause as Charlie's eyes moved from the tin, to Lillian, and then to the lone glove resting on the floor. "A day early?" he asked goodnaturedly, that private smile spreading through his features as he stooped for the glove. That simple motion was enough to send a creak through Charlie's artificial leg. (The harsh weather was the culprit, making the plastic and steel brittle and so easy to crack-it would not last another two months, he imagined.) He retrieved the glove with an apologetic look, but whether it was from his leg's shortcoming due to the current weather or because of the events of the Super Bowl party, it was hard to tell. He stared at the glove for a moment before returning his gaze to Lillian. "I, ah," he stumbled through his words. "I'm sorry, if I said anything to upset you at the party."
He wasn't a fool. The discomfort her smile was so obvious. "Lot of people there, and things got out of control, and I might have lost my temper once-"
LILLIAN: "Too busy tomorrow!" Lil replied, returning the good nature, and still smiling when he retrieved her glove. At the creak, her gaze shifted involuntarily to his leg - again, she had to recover herself with another smile, and 'thanks', as she took back the fallen winter wear. Smile turned to mortification as Charlie indicated that he did, in fact, notice how oddly discomfiting she found his presence. "Oh! No! Not at all, you didn't do anything!" she assured him, hurriedly. "I'm the one that should be sorry, really, it's just..." She trailed off. How, exactly, do you approach the subject? It's just, when you were around I heard the screams of my dying friends in the back of my head? Or maybe, It's just, y'know, after the party I couldn't sleep for three nights in a row because of the memories? Not exactly the best conversation starter.
"...you remind me of someone? It was a little weird," she finished, fully aware of how her answer fell flat and unsatisfactory (she wrinkled her nose, and pursed her lips self-effacingly). "But, seriously, take a cookie. Or five," she offered, again. When faced with a problem, throw food at it.
CHARLIE: Her quick reply was met with a breathless laugh and a shake of his head. "Everyone has plans for the 14th," he murmured, his smile broadening. For a moment, his eyes followed hers to his leg. Although it was well-hidden by the material of his trousers, he felt for a moment as if it was on display for everyone to look at. His smile disappeared, and then his expression softened at her response; a recognition. "I...yeah. I know," he admitted, his eyes moving away again before he laughed from humility. "We've all crossed each other in so many lives. It's a surprise any of us can stand to be around each other."
He didn't mention the sounds of sirens, or the bombs that dropped as he slept. That wasn't something that Lillian needed to be privy to. And quite frankly, Charlie wondered if he wasn't finally going crazy sometimes.
"Are you sure?" he asked, once again turning his attention to the tin of cookies. "I mean. There's a lot of mouths to feed at the Pen."
LILLIAN: Lillian's mouth opened a fraction, for a just a moment, as though she were going to continue on the subject of Charlie's particular familiarity. The hesitation was palpable, but yet again she shook it off, replaced her reticence with a smile and pushed the cookies again. "Absolutely! There's a lot of mouths, but between you and me, I'm sure half of these bums aren't nearly so deserving as you," she joked, winking theatrically. Some shuffling, gloves finally shoved into pockets and scarf thrown over her shoulder, and she opened the tin, holding it out for Charlie. Within lay an array of pretty cookies - heart-shaped sugar cookies with pink icing, heart-shaped ginger snaps, chocolate cookies with cherries in the middle (and drizzled again with chocolate), and prettily-piped meringues. Fully aware of the awful choice before Charlie, she smiled and said, "You can take however many. One of each, even!" (The subtext here would be, 'I'm so sorry that you kinda creep me out for no good reason, please take all these cookies to make up for it.')
CHARLIE: Charlie's smile wilted as he realized that no words were going to erase the eerie feeling that hung over them. He faltered for only a minute, though, before he recovered. "You know that isn't true," he said, his voice thick with sentimentality; his resignation from their conversation. For a moment Charlie studied the cookies before he plucked only two, a couple of the gingersnaps. (They were probably the easiest to travel with, Charlie imagined.)
"Thank you," he said. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced a handkerchief, tucking the cookies inside before putting the bundle away. He rocked back and forth on his heel. "And - thanks again for helping with the party. You're a wonderful cook," he said with finality, signaling the resolution of their conversation. Charlie nodded to her one last time before continuing his way down the stairs.
"Have a nice 14th. And mind your gloves."
LILLIAN: "Just two?" Lillian teased, sliding the cover back over the tin nonetheless, as it's obvious Charlie isn't going to take any more, and would much rather be on his way. "You're welcome - and it was a fantastic party," she said, enthusiastically. "I should've thought of sticking around to clean up, though - sorry." A chagrined smile, and then again she shifted the tin so she could give Charlie a cheery little wave as he headed down the stairs. "You too! Have a good one."
She watched his back for a moment as he descended, the cheer fading from her expression and being replaced by disconcertment. By all means she should reach out to him, discover what shared past they had so that an evening with him gave her a slew of nightmares. But she couldn't. All she could do was frown, and turn, and guiltily hope, as she climbed the stairs, that she wouldn't have trouble sleeping that night.