Intermission (Ch. 3a: Day 3)

psikeout · Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2011 8:55 pm

Dureau stared at the painting for a moment. The look in his eyes was as if he was suddenly thinking a million things, a million miles away. He examined the details of the familiar painting without really pausing to take them in. It was like each feature was just reminding him of something else.

"We were teenagers," he began, voice quiet like a croak. "About fourteen. It was late fall, and Father had just purchased his first automobile... Had never seen the need for one, you know, but he figured it was time to 'get modern'. So, they went out for a drive, the three of them—Father, Mother, Deverell." He looked down. "I wasn't around at the time—I was out in the countryside, you know, running away from home, pretending I was some kind of gypsy... I only heard the story weeks after it happened."

It was probably predictable that he was leading up to something entirely unpleasant. He spoke of it as one effectively distanced from the ordeal, not exactly shuddering with emotions, but not unaffected, either. Consciously or not, he was squeezing her hand, not hard, but just a tiny bit.

"They went on their drive, down around the river—you know, the local 'scenic' route—and Father let Deverell take the wheel. No real... regulations on autos at that time, here. Not many people owned them. And... I don't know entirely what happened, but... it was very cold out; it had rained the previous night; there was some ice... And they ended up in the river."

He chewed his lower lip for just a second, still looking down; he shook his head and continued.

"The river's ice cold that time of year. Deverell managed to get out; Mother and Father didn't. Deverell was scared, confused... like anyone would expect. He didn't handle it well. Came back frostbitten, in shambles... No sense in him. They tell me he didn't speak a word for a week. When he did, though, he made up some... elaborate story, with roadside robbers, and what have you. It didn't stand up when a boat ran aground the roof of the car a short while later, though."

He drew a deep breath, looked squarely at the painting again, and concluded his depressing story with a voice that was just a bit stronger.

"They took him to trial. He was too... stricken to defend himself, even hardly speak. He was stripped of his title; the estate and inheritance went entirely to me. He spent a few years in prison before we managed to bargain to have him serve out the rest of his sentence here. He's been head steward ever since... It's been about ten years since it all happened, but, it just... isn't something he's ever gotten past, you know? There isn't a day I don't see him visit them—Mother and Father, I mean."

He looked to Jack with a weak smile. "So... now you know."

Rachel · Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2011 10:30 pm

The golden cowgirls empathy got the better of her as Jack's own emotions bubble up while Dureau told the story. She held onto his hand and when he faced her with his wry smile she immediately threw her arms around him and gave the baron a hug. This is the second time she hugged him, but this time she didn't immediately pull away with some awkward stammering.

"I'm sorry Dureau. I know it's hard to lose your parents." Jack spoke softly, knowing first hand what that was like. "It must of been even harder to see your brother go through that. I am truly sorry."

After she hugged the adorable weasel she released him and gave him her own weak smile. "You know I have to ask.." she started, knowing this was a difficult question to ask even when she wasn't so close to whom she was asking. "Does your bother hold any grudges or resentment over what happened? I need ta know."

psikeout · Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2011 11:16 pm

He was a little surprised, but he didn't just stand there like a scarecrow; the warm gesture was returned with hands light on her back, as he looked off toward the fire and wondered just... why it had hit so close to home for her. It was clear that there was more to the situation, and that it wasn't just a reaction to some sob story. His morose-tinted thoughts about the griffin's own past were momentarily pushed aside, though, when she stepped back and asked him that additional question.

His arms crossed loosely, low-hanging over his stomach, and his head lowered. He wanted to answer reflexively, but actually contemplated it for a second first, just to be sure.

"... No," he said fairly decisively with one shake of his head. "He and I never got along very well, even before the incident, but... it's only our personalities," he explained. "He may always seem cross, but that's just the sort of person he is, now. Uptight, but— honestly, the estate is for all intents and purposes his domain, he lacks nothing Father would have otherwise left him, and he's never hurt anyone, and I— I can't even begin to fathom why he would have anything to do with all of this."

There was a pause. He suddenly looked worried, as if suddenly realizing the implications of her question.

"Have you found something to... to suggest he would...?"

Rachel · Posted: Fri Sep 09, 2011 5:06 am

"No." Jack answered him immediately, shaking her head. "Of course not. I just wanna be sure hes not secretly some sorta super villain. 'cause I'd have ta tell Ivan an' the others, And ya know they just wont have it."

She grinned at him, offering the joke to defuse the situation a little. She hadn't meant anything by her questioning, it was just her investigation. Granted Jack had a hard time turning off work mode, given the situation. She didn't want to have to revisit this given the personal nature of his brother's situation.

psikeout · Posted: Fri Sep 09, 2011 6:08 pm

"Of course, of course," the ermine uttered with one small, exhaling laugh, but said no more on the matter of Deverell. He just looked at the close-standing griffin and smiled.

Eyes locked on hers, he opened his mouth to speak. It took a couple seconds before words came out.

"I... must confess a conflict of interest," he admitted quietly.

Rachel · Posted: Fri Sep 09, 2011 7:32 pm

Jack blinked twice at the baron, staring back into Dureau's eyes it was clear she was more then a little confused. So of course, she asked "How so?"

psikeout · Posted: Fri Sep 09, 2011 7:59 pm

"When we... figure everything out — solve this,... find the missing people — everything will return to normal," he murmured with a tinge of embarrassment, but without looking away. "S'ridiculous, 'tis, an' I knowit, it's- it's only been what now, three days," he said with the most rare of haste and slurring, his normally perfect enunciation set aside, "but it'll just be... strange. This place," his head did a sort of nervous, gesticulating bobble, as if to motion to the walls and ceiling around, "all empty again, everyone... including you, back where you belong again, so soon."

He dipped his head. "Oh, this's- this is just pathetic, agh, I'm sorry."

Rachel · Posted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 2:24 am

"I've been thinkin' the same thing." Jack answered with a small smile, taking his hand in hers, attempting to comfort him. Despite the dreaded return looming over them, the stress of the case, having been gassed, robbed, and nearly kidnapped she still found peace in the company of the charming weasel.

"I thought about stayin' longer. I gotta thing fer small towns an' It's not like I'm employed er' anything..." She confessed to him, her expression became increasingly troubled as she went on until the normally strong cowgirl felt her cheeks growing warm, this was a terrible thing to say on a first date. The idea of staying was a purely selfish one. So of course, it didn't sit well with Jack. She just wasn't brave enough to look at him when she said so, instead she spoke gently to the floor. "I realized I can't, not now. People are goin' to get hurt, and I wouldn't be able ta live with myself, knowing I didn't even try ..."

She took a steadying breath when she looked at him again, speaking in a much stronger voice with a more bitter sweet smile. "That bein' said, have you considered a vacation? I could show ya around South Island, take ya to exciting new craters, possibly get ya blown up, attacked by robots, or mutated by radiation. The mutation thing only happened the one time, though."

Her volunteer activities (she can sleep better calling it that then vigilantism) where by far the most dangerous thing she'd ever done in her life. Far more so then being a sheriff had ever been. So she wasn't going to sugar coat the sort of life she now lead, but she was also unwilling to retire. Even for a charming ermine with a fancy hat.

psikeout · Posted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 3:21 am

The ermine watched her so closely; his face seemed to almost... glow a little at the affirmation, head lifted just so again, smiling through the tenseness of it all. He still felt a little doofy somewhere inside, but her words warm, and touch warmer yet, left him afloat.

Dureau bit his lips together to stifle a chuckle at the hazards of South Island. "Ha, I... that sounds... wonderful," he said airily. "Really," he added quietly with a direct glance and tilting nod, to show he really wasn't kidding about it, craters and mutation and all.

He smiled at her silently, as if imagining some ridiculous, far-off island adventure. Then, he very nearly jumped out of his boots when a terrible racket came from behind him, sounding like a combination of some kind of thud, thump, turning gears, and zipping rope. (All the normally neat white fur around the edges of his face quite literally jutted straight out in spikes for an instant, and his eyes looked like dinnerplates with little orange and black specks in the center.)

"Aaaahokay it's— it's, that's, that's the dumbwaiter," he realized aloud, sheepishly. Indeed, it was the little tiny door on the wall on the other side of the room, and their food coming up the hand-pulled elevator inside it. "Ahrm." He stood straight again. "I'll just go get that for us." With that, he salvaged his dignity, smiled kindly, lifted her hand and gave it a kiss, then let it slip from his own hand as he headed away to collect dinner.

Really, the debonair air was all he could use to avoid grinning like a kid. (Not that he didn't do that anyway as soon as his back was turned, though.) What a night.

Rachel · Posted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 5:39 pm

The reaction form the golden sheriff to the dumbwaiter, was about the same as the barons. She jumped, eyes wide, looking around as if she expected another bell-bot to pop down from the ceiling.

"Ah course, the dumbwaiter." she repeated after he'd excused himself. She remained pink in the face as she watched him walk away. She couldn't believe how well this had turned out either, which was obvious because she couldn't stop smiling.

"Need any help?" She offered hanging her coat up and turning to face Dureau once more. The highly self-sufficient griffin was unaccustomed to this chivalry thing where guys kiss hands, pull out chairs, or really go out of there way for a woman at all. That's not to say that her mother never taught her how a lady is supposed to behave, but no one ever treated the cowgirl like a lady in the first place.

Seafarinhare · Posted: Mon Sep 12, 2011 8:16 pm

Once the door was opened, however, not only would he find food, but a certain one-eyed rabbit. He was sitting on the rope, which was tied in a loop, holding the rope on the other end of the pulley with one hand, the tray of food in the other. A stupid grin on his face.

"I gotcher back, matey." He said, attempting to wink. Along with whatever classy dishes were on the tray, there was also a bottle of rum with a note attached.

Should he investigate the note, he'd find that it read "This'll help loosen her up."

With that, he would wheel himself back down the way he came.

psikeout · Posted: Mon Sep 12, 2011 11:06 pm

Oh, what a lovely little exchange shattered.

"Perhaps!" he had replied brightly. "The chef overdoes the portions sometiii—" Dureau froze as soon as the little cupboard-like door was swung open. He literally just stopped there in mid-word and stared.

It took him a full five seconds to respond. Though he tried to act unaffected, he still seemed a little breathless.

"Ahah, yyyes," he exhaled, and took the in one hand and bottle in another. "Thank... thank you, Ivan."

Cue an uncomfortable glance to Jack.

[Now, in lieu of actual description, we ask that the reader just try to imagine what the baron's face would have looked like when he read the note on the bottle he was carrying, unable to do anything about it with both of his hands full.]

Intermission (Ch. 3a: Day 3)

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