New Year's Eve/New Year's Day

[velesdonnersen]

[As usual, if it weren't for the crazy elements, Tarvek could just curl up and adore Mayfield.  Now, he's invited Ilsa out. He's wearing his best suit, and he's taking a Mayfield Risk: he's taking her to dinner, and to a restaurant afterward

Comments

[ooeeooahah]

[ Though the phrasing is not what she would of chosen, she knows what he means by it. Ilsa knows why he chose the restaurant, because even though she could do better. He had said he wanted her to relax, the idea was she didn't have to cook. Even though it was nice to have a night out, L'Déplaisant lived up to its name. ]

I do appreciate the effort, 'bibi. Are you sure you want to be in a crowd at midnight?

[ Her eyes dance as she sips her wine. ]

[ooeeooahah]

Illusion, perhaps. You know how I am when I have to dissemble.

[ She smiles, and places her hand briefly on his. ]

I can be socially invisible, if needed. So while you flirt, I check in, and nobody notices the secretary.

[ Settling back in her seat, she chuckles. ]

I can take the time to soundproof the rooms while you pick the lock on your door.

[velesdonnersen]

[Oh. Soundproofing.]

That sounds...or doesn't sound...fascinating. By all means, liebchen, silence our rooms.

[He pulls into the parking lot, helps her out with studied indifference, then takes two suitcases from the back seat. He establishes his indifference by simply handing her one, and carrying the other, rather than carrying both. He checks them in very tersely, then wanders away with barely a grunt to Ilsa as he heads for the bar.]

[ooeeooahah]

[ The non-entity takes her key, and not waiting for the bellhop, who likely does not see her anyway. ]

[ When she gets there, the first act is to blockade the entry to the hallway with a chair, and take a few items from her purse. Tools in hand, Ilsa starts securing the room. ]

[velesdonnersen]

[He flirts wildly with a very ordinary young drone waitress, while drinking a single scotch on the rocks. He doesn't rush, but he also doesn't linger, or show any sign of intending to seriously hit on the waitress: this is Mayfield. He saunters to the desk, asks if they have any magazines, flips through a few and pulls out a Mayfield-ized copy of LIFE, tips the clerk, and ambles away to his room. Once there he takes his time, stepping out long enough to hang a "Do not disturb" sign. He goes to the bathroom, brushes his teeth, and then quietly slips over to the connecting door, picking it in seconds. He cracks it open, and says, simply,]

I'm going to shower and change, liebchen. Take your time, and either join me when you're ready... or drag me in with you.

[ooeeooahah]

[ He had been gone long enough she could physically secure and ward her room with time to spare for looking through the suitcase he packed for her. ]

[ There wasn't a question of if it would fit, or if it would suit her, knowing what he had made for her before. But after she hung up the suit for tomorrow, she was faced with a number of items most definitely not suitable for the office. ]

[ Setting aside some of the more complex pieces that she wasn't sure she could don alone (though getting them off wouldn't be a problem), she chose a nightgown made of lace so fine she could have drawn it though her wedding band. ]

[ So she had time while he was in the shower to add her contributions to security to his room, and still put the finishing touches on her appearance. ]

I had thought we could start in one room and see where the night takes us.

[velesdonnersen]

[He's clean, and smells nice, and he's scrubbed his hair as dry as he can manage. He looks at her, eyes widening even if he did pick out the options for her.]

[Soft.] You look lovely. [Mischief] Grrrrrrr.

[He's wearing a red silk robe he found in a package under her tree, with his name on it.]

[ooeeooahah]

[ Luckily for her, robe sizes can be approximate, as can most pajama styles. Sewing that, while he helped with her presents for Egon and John, had been one of her better slights of hand. ]

You make me look good, 'bibi.

[ She's turned out most of the lights in her room. Leaving the candle burning on the dresser, she advances on him. ]

[velesdonnersen]

[He's got happiness radiating out of every square inch of him, along with the shocked, almost awed uncertainty of someone who had come to expect a certain steady-state misery. He flows against her, wrapping her close in his arms, and then displaying some sparky strength by scooping her up and cradling her.]

Where to, love? Bed? Floor? Shower? Chair? Your pick. We can always try another spot next time....

[ooeeooahah]

[ She wraps herself around him, drinking in his joy and returning hers while cutting off his conversation by kissing him soundly. ]

[ When she decides to move on to his earlobe, she murmurs, ] ...closest spot.

[velesdonnersen]

[He's an effete Europan prince, and honestly does think beds are usually more comfortable and stable. He carries her over to hers, returning her kisses, nuzzling behind her ear, slipping a strap from her shoulder. Soon enough he's very busy...and fails to notice when the candle goes out...]

[ooeeooahah]

[ Timing is everything in certain circles. Ilsa has always found Tarvek to be a cooperative partner, even when he's not aware of everything involved. So riding the crest at midnight was not a difficult thing to arrange. ]

[ Later, much later, as they are snuggled in together, half-way between sleep and sensuality, the radio crackles to life. The message is long enough to catch Ilsa's attention that she is fully aware by the time the wish is spoken. ]

What was that? Or who?

[velesdonnersen]

[Tarvek woke quickly, at the first sound of the radio. He's trained his whole life to be hyper-vigilant. Much of the context escaped him, though he has seen enough movies at Quin's to understand "It's a Wonderful Life," the more so because of the past holiday season of reverse-theme. But it's the voice at the end that shatters him

[ooeeooahah]

There's only so much you can do for an unwilling patient, 'bibi.

[ That applies to more than one "patient" in Mayfield. She understands his position more now than she did this summer, now that he's let slip more of his past. She is able to insulate some of his frustration, and nudge a little bit of hopefulness. Just a little, as much as he hates being manipulated, she doesn't push too hard. ]

Then there's the problem of finding them, of getting the message to them. With so many layers, so many issues... and not many edges to grab. I'm wondering if the "Lucy" facade is intended to be protective coloring, or if there's another story there.

[velesdonnersen]

[He lets her hope seep into him. He knows the flavor of her nudges, and doesn't feel so much manipulated as comforted... as though she placed a warm hand over an aching muscle. He lets himself curl closer again.]

I know. But--Ilsa, if I weren't worried she'd drone me and leave you alone, I'd simply go up to the door and knock, and tell her how many ways I like Mayfield. And how much I wish I could help her work out how to stop making the people here angry, when she wants them to be happy with her.

[ooeeooahah]

[ She wraps herself around him as he settles in. That he's worried about leaving her alone is a selfish relief, but a relief nonetheless. She begins to spin out some threads of contemplation. ]

There's also the possibility that the personality behind the terrors just doesn't care that others are angry, or hurt, or fearful... and in extreme cases, the personality enjoys the pain of others.

[ There is the thought that they should sleep, and the likelihood that they won't be able to sleep for some time. ]