flavour of the day, cookies 'n' cream and grapefruit with fresh peaches and malt
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: A Name to the Face
Rating: G
Challenge: FOTD: cosset, Cookies ‘n’ Cream #19: serve, Grapefruit #23: spare parts
Toppings/Extras: fresh peaches, malt
Wordcount: 945
Summary: Robyn Walshe and Edward Ashdown finally get around to a formal introduction.
Notes: It’s been ages since I’ve done any of the Culture Shock arc! This friendship has been ignored for too long. Cosset: To treat as a pet; to treat with excessive indulgence; to pamper. Grapefruit PFAH: Isaac : I’m a little teapot. Peaches: Following through on projects. Are they done right? […] And people are fascinating company-for the moment.
“What does this do?”
Robyn Walshe was a little annoyed that she got stuck with babysitting their newest arrivals from the past just because there was nobody else around and she happened to be available. It was probably better than hanging around feeling useless, but after the ordeal that had been the kidnapping, she felt that she deserved a bit of rest.
The guestroom that had been prepared for Ashdown was relatively low in the skyscraper, near to the black ops department, but the windows were covered by plastic casings that blended seamlessly with the walls and the door to the balcony was sealed off. They didn’t want to scare Ashdown quite so soon with the immense height. The room was off-white, shiny and dispassionate: everything was clean and sparse.
“Don’t touch that!” Robyn said, considering getting up from where she had collapsed onto the cream-coloured sofa. Ashdown was scrutinising an electrical socket as though it had personally offended him.
“Are you people spying on me?”
“Yes, but not through that,” Robyn sighed. She sat up wearily and watched as Ashdown paced to the other side of the room. “Why don’t you just sit down?”
“Don’t patronise me,” he said, clearly irritated. “Fetch some more tea.”
“Have you finished this pot already?” Robyn jumped to her feet and glared at the table with its empty teapot as though it had failed her. She calmed herself down before Ashdown could get offended though: she had been told that relations between Ashdown and Nutriware had to be kept nice and sweet so that they didn’t have to coerce him into working for them. Swallowing her pride, she smiled at him. “Big tea-drinker, eh? I’ll go get some more.” She nodded to Isaac Prowse, who had been stood silently to one side. “Come on, big man. Lend a hand.”
They both got to the doorway before she spun around.
“And don’t touch the socket. I’m warning you. The last thing we need right now is you being burned to a crisp. I’d probably have to go re-kidnap you, and I am not going through that again.”
Ashdown blinked at her innocently. He really did have a bit of a seraphical look about him, with a typical English-schoolboy face and-ever since he’d arrived in their time-a constantly nonplussed bemusement at the vastly different world around him. Sometimes she almost felt a little sorry for him and what she was dragging him into.
“Hurry up,” he said promptly.
Once the door closed behind them, Robyn scowled.
“Is he always like this?” she demanded. She didn’t really expect Prowse to respond, having proven himself to be a fairly silent type, but he did.
“Most of the time,” he said in a tone of voice that almost sounded like he was admitting to something he shouldn’t. He offered her more information, which was uncharacteristic of him: “I’ve been serving him since he was seventeen.”
“Seriously?” Robyn stared at him, brown eyes wide in something bordering admiration. “How?”
“He’s not so bad,” Prowse said inoffensively. “I mean, sometimes he’s quite… well, not nice, but… he’s not always so bad.”
“Right,” Robyn said, shaking her head and sending her gold tail of hair whipping down her back. “Don’t you ever feel like…?” She finished her sentence by miming a violent stabbing.
Prowse grinned a little and Robyn decided that he wasn’t so bad after all.
When they arrived back at the guestroom with another pot of tea and a set of cups stolen from the kitchenette belonging to the labs, Robyn was relieved to find that Ashdown had not managed to kill himself and seemed quite engrossed in turning the taps on and off. He flounced back across the room upon her re-entry to the room and threw himself onto a beanbag. He had grown father fond of those.
“Cute,” Robyn remarked as Prowse set the tray of tea-making equipment down.
“Get me some tea, you.”
“Do you mind not calling me ‘you’?” Robyn said-a little impolitely, but she felt she was entitled. She was getting rather sick of that.
“I don’t know your name,” Ashdown said, doe-eyes on full throttle.
“Oh!” Robyn wondered how in the world she had managed to miss that bit: circumstances, she admitted, had not been ideal. But she still wasn’t usually this rude. “Sorry. I’m Robyn. Robyn Walshe.” She stepped towards him and held out her hand-lowering it considerably because not only was she rather tall and Ashdown rather short, but he was sitting down.
He gazed at her hand uncertainly for a moment but eventually took it, rising to his feet.
“You already know who I am,” he said in his cat’s purr of a voice. Robyn was surprised by his handshake-he had small, elegant, pianist’s hands but the sort of strict handshake that told of determination and destruction.
“Well, would you look at that.” Robyn grinned as she released his hand. “The past and the present. Feels less momentous than it should, somehow.”
“I think you mean the present and the future,” Ashdown corrected her, but he did smile indulgently. “Good to have a name to put to the face at last, Miss Walshe.”
“Yeah… sorry. It’s been a bit of a strange day,” Robyn said. She glanced at Prowse to try and include him in the conversation. “You can both call my Robyn if you like.”
“I don’t think so,” Ashdown scoffed, reseating himself on the beanbag. “That makes it sounds like we’re friends.”
“Oh, yeah. Right. Can’t have that.” Unable to help but laugh, Robyn walked over to the tea tray. “How many bloody sugars is it, Your Worshipfulness?”
Title: A Name to the Face
Rating: G
Challenge: FOTD: cosset, Cookies ‘n’ Cream #19: serve, Grapefruit #23: spare parts
Toppings/Extras: fresh peaches, malt
Wordcount: 945
Summary: Robyn Walshe and Edward Ashdown finally get around to a formal introduction.
Notes: It’s been ages since I’ve done any of the Culture Shock arc! This friendship has been ignored for too long. Cosset: To treat as a pet; to treat with excessive indulgence; to pamper. Grapefruit PFAH: Isaac : I’m a little teapot. Peaches: Following through on projects. Are they done right? […] And people are fascinating company-for the moment.
“What does this do?”
Robyn Walshe was a little annoyed that she got stuck with babysitting their newest arrivals from the past just because there was nobody else around and she happened to be available. It was probably better than hanging around feeling useless, but after the ordeal that had been the kidnapping, she felt that she deserved a bit of rest.
The guestroom that had been prepared for Ashdown was relatively low in the skyscraper, near to the black ops department, but the windows were covered by plastic casings that blended seamlessly with the walls and the door to the balcony was sealed off. They didn’t want to scare Ashdown quite so soon with the immense height. The room was off-white, shiny and dispassionate: everything was clean and sparse.
“Don’t touch that!” Robyn said, considering getting up from where she had collapsed onto the cream-coloured sofa. Ashdown was scrutinising an electrical socket as though it had personally offended him.
“Are you people spying on me?”
“Yes, but not through that,” Robyn sighed. She sat up wearily and watched as Ashdown paced to the other side of the room. “Why don’t you just sit down?”
“Don’t patronise me,” he said, clearly irritated. “Fetch some more tea.”
“Have you finished this pot already?” Robyn jumped to her feet and glared at the table with its empty teapot as though it had failed her. She calmed herself down before Ashdown could get offended though: she had been told that relations between Ashdown and Nutriware had to be kept nice and sweet so that they didn’t have to coerce him into working for them. Swallowing her pride, she smiled at him. “Big tea-drinker, eh? I’ll go get some more.” She nodded to Isaac Prowse, who had been stood silently to one side. “Come on, big man. Lend a hand.”
They both got to the doorway before she spun around.
“And don’t touch the socket. I’m warning you. The last thing we need right now is you being burned to a crisp. I’d probably have to go re-kidnap you, and I am not going through that again.”
Ashdown blinked at her innocently. He really did have a bit of a seraphical look about him, with a typical English-schoolboy face and-ever since he’d arrived in their time-a constantly nonplussed bemusement at the vastly different world around him. Sometimes she almost felt a little sorry for him and what she was dragging him into.
“Hurry up,” he said promptly.
Once the door closed behind them, Robyn scowled.
“Is he always like this?” she demanded. She didn’t really expect Prowse to respond, having proven himself to be a fairly silent type, but he did.
“Most of the time,” he said in a tone of voice that almost sounded like he was admitting to something he shouldn’t. He offered her more information, which was uncharacteristic of him: “I’ve been serving him since he was seventeen.”
“Seriously?” Robyn stared at him, brown eyes wide in something bordering admiration. “How?”
“He’s not so bad,” Prowse said inoffensively. “I mean, sometimes he’s quite… well, not nice, but… he’s not always so bad.”
“Right,” Robyn said, shaking her head and sending her gold tail of hair whipping down her back. “Don’t you ever feel like…?” She finished her sentence by miming a violent stabbing.
Prowse grinned a little and Robyn decided that he wasn’t so bad after all.
When they arrived back at the guestroom with another pot of tea and a set of cups stolen from the kitchenette belonging to the labs, Robyn was relieved to find that Ashdown had not managed to kill himself and seemed quite engrossed in turning the taps on and off. He flounced back across the room upon her re-entry to the room and threw himself onto a beanbag. He had grown father fond of those.
“Cute,” Robyn remarked as Prowse set the tray of tea-making equipment down.
“Get me some tea, you.”
“Do you mind not calling me ‘you’?” Robyn said-a little impolitely, but she felt she was entitled. She was getting rather sick of that.
“I don’t know your name,” Ashdown said, doe-eyes on full throttle.
“Oh!” Robyn wondered how in the world she had managed to miss that bit: circumstances, she admitted, had not been ideal. But she still wasn’t usually this rude. “Sorry. I’m Robyn. Robyn Walshe.” She stepped towards him and held out her hand-lowering it considerably because not only was she rather tall and Ashdown rather short, but he was sitting down.
He gazed at her hand uncertainly for a moment but eventually took it, rising to his feet.
“You already know who I am,” he said in his cat’s purr of a voice. Robyn was surprised by his handshake-he had small, elegant, pianist’s hands but the sort of strict handshake that told of determination and destruction.
“Well, would you look at that.” Robyn grinned as she released his hand. “The past and the present. Feels less momentous than it should, somehow.”
“I think you mean the present and the future,” Ashdown corrected her, but he did smile indulgently. “Good to have a name to put to the face at last, Miss Walshe.”
“Yeah… sorry. It’s been a bit of a strange day,” Robyn said. She glanced at Prowse to try and include him in the conversation. “You can both call my Robyn if you like.”
“I don’t think so,” Ashdown scoffed, reseating himself on the beanbag. “That makes it sounds like we’re friends.”
“Oh, yeah. Right. Can’t have that.” Unable to help but laugh, Robyn walked over to the tea tray. “How many bloody sugars is it, Your Worshipfulness?”