(Untitled)

[couldbebatman]

WHO: Don Draper, Joan Harris, James Wilson
WHAT: Don and Joan find the boarding house, and Wilson
WHEN: Day 39, after this and this.
WHERE: Boarding House

Comments

[asadmagnifique]

Joan didn't like the lights. She didn't like the idea that something might have lit up this place like a Christmas Tree in order to bring them forward like a trap. Looking at the lovely painted sign above the door, Joan had a bad feeling about it.

Walking up the steps, Joan shivered as if a cat had walked over her grave and then she swallowed. This unnatural silence (feeling all the more unnatural for a woman who spent most of her adult life in New York City) pressed in on her and she wanted nothing more to be inside someplace warm and have a rather large drink.

She knocked on the door and then opened it quickly, spying someone laying on the ground. Quickly, she ran over to Wilson, and she put one hand on his shoulder, shaking him a bit. "Hey." Her voice was soft but firm, it was the Joan Halloway Harris business tone.

[manipulatvebtch]

It was dark and everything sounded muffled. He could hear what sounded like a door opening and a woman's voice, but he couldn't make out any words. He tried to move, but it felt like he was moving through mud and when he tried to open his eyes, it felt like they were glued shut.

"Mmmhemma," he mumbled, trying to think a coherent thought. He couldn't remember what happened or where he was. He just knew that he didn't feel very well and someone was trying to talk to him.

[couldbebatman]

Don was right behind her, but he was less inclined to kneel down beside prone bodies. But he did bend, smelling vomit but no alcohol.

"Well," he said dryly, "at least this is a familiar sight. I'll see if I can find some brandy or something."

He rose, glancing around. Looked like an old lady lived here. Maybe down this hallway...

[asadmagnifique]

Joan quickly looked to Don, and then she spoke mildly. "See if you can find a wash cloth, will you?" It was a request, and probably a needed one before she looked down to Wilson again.

"I'm Joan," she said quickly, and then touched his shoulder. "And I'm going to help you." Well, help him as far as he could offer her some sort of information. Looking at him, he didn't seem to particularly be from their time frame. His hair was different and his clothing was too.

"Can you tell me your name, dear?"