(Untitled)

[2dchanceexcess]

Who: Ichabod Crane and John Wilmot
Where: Ichabod's room, since he was invited
When: Not long after this little exchange
What: Ichabod has questions, and John finds him curious.

Comments

[fractured_will]

Wilmot's history was thoroughly fascinating, enough to the point he'd read it over twenty times now. He sat at his desk, the papers on John set neatly on the left. Beside that were a single document, upon which Ichabod wrote out his questions. At the knock he set down his pen and made his way to the door.

"Welcome, John," he greeted after opening the door. "Do come in. I'm afraid my room is not used to guests. There's a chair near the desk, however." Ichabod stepped aside to let him in.

The first thing to notice about Ichabod's room was that gray was the primary color; secondly, there was very little luxury, or really, anything soft. Once an attic, the aged wood and dusty stone were the primary elements. The only color to be found was his blanket, folded and tucked in neatly as though it'd never been slept in. Seating arrangements were hardly comfortable, as none of the chairs had pillows, and were not made for slouching. The room was lit mainly candles set throughout, and what little light filtered in through the windows

[2dchanceexcess]

It was a rather austere room, far more plain that he had been accustomed to in his life. The relative low light didn't bother him at all, and it wasn't as though he had never seen anything so bare before. He just hadn't preferred to spend his time in such places- save the back rooms of the theater. Or the pubs...

"No, Constable. I believe I might manage for a time without wine," he answered before he leaned enough to give the man a small kiss on his cheek- which seemed odd, because he had not considered doing so prior to his arrival at the door. A quick look up revealed mistletoe above the other man's door and he smiled before entering. He offered no apology for the kiss, instead he merely turned to face Ichabod, his hand upon the back of a chair. "I believe you have questions?"

[fractured_will]

The kiss was quite sudden and left him thoroughly surprised. He blinked, uncertainly, but already John was moving past him into the room. What--? A glance up revealed the small plant to him. Even so, he was still feeling flabbergasted.

"Um. Yes...questions," Right, okay. Focus on John's purpose for being here. Forget the invasion of personal space. He straightened his posture, becoming once more the rigid professional, all emotions buried beneath.

Ichabod strode back to his desk and took a seat. "Several, actually. First of which will be something simple: do you regret anything in your life?"

[2dchanceexcess]

It was fascinating how quickly Ichabod could pull his formality around him and recover from something that appeared to be unexpected. Had he not put that plant in place? It didn't explain the sudden urge to offer a kiss, but no matter; he was not offended by the idea of offering a kiss to another man, and a quick memory of young Downs passed through his mind before he shoved it away.

"Do I regret anything in my life," he repeated as he took a seat on the Constable's neatly made bed, which seemed to be the most comfortable place to sit by far. "I should think you would prefer the truth to a lie, and yet I cannot say that there would be many. What is the purpose of fostering regret?"