Backposted Regain, Killdrone Time

[velesdonnersen]

[Tarvek is a weekend sight to see: he ambles from the house in neat chinos, with a short sleeved, blue-checked  oxford style sport shirt, with a pair of docksiders on his feet.  In his own opinion the only off-element would be the ugly glasses. Poor boy.  Such a blow to his amour propre. ]

[He waves to neighbors, considers the state of the grass (needs mowing, must ask Perry to do that chore for fifty cents), admires his convertible, and arrives at the mailbox.  Inside there is a small, slim box, longer than it is wide.   He is now enough of a Mayfield resident that his heartbeat picks up.  There was day when Ilsa was kill-droned... It would make sense for him to get a little "present' from Mayfield, now.]

[His hands tremble slightly, as he peels the celophane tape back with one thumbnail. Fearing to look, he slips a finger in, finding a piece of paper, first.  He draws it out. On the paper is printed, carefully, what he is just spark enough to see first as an infinity symbol.  Then his breath catches, and he can't bear it any more.  He shakes the contents out onto his palm.]

[The pince-nez, HIS pince-nez, glitter in the bright, eternal Mayfield sunshine. To his surprise and dismay, he finds he's almost crying.  More than anything so far, this gift shakes him up, forcing homesickness on him, making him aware that, for all the terrible things he doesn't miss, he does still miss HOME. And, yet, at the same time, they make him feel like himself again.  With great dignity he slips his horn rims from his face, folds them, and tucks them in the breast pocket of his shirt. (He knows a wise man is never without spare glasses.) He puts on the pince-nez.... Then he races inside, and picks up the phone.]

CLOSED PHONE CALL TO ILSA

Ilsa?  Ilsa, can I come over?  Please?  I... I want to see you.

Comments

[ooeeooahah]

Yes, of course, bibi. What's wrong?

[velesdonnersen.livejournal.com]

Nothing-nothing-nothing-nothing! I just... wait. Wait and see.

I'll be right over!

[ooeeooahah]

Still sounds like I either need to make tea or find the whiskey. Come on over.

2 of 2

[ooeeooahah]

[ Ilsa is in the kitchen, making iced tea and frowning in concentration. ]

Re: 2 of 2

[velesdonnersen.livejournal.com]

[Tarvek arrives just bouncing with satisfaction and glee. He's standing a foot taller, at least metaphorically, and he feels like he's in his own skin again. Standing at the backdoor he can see Ilsa moving around inside the kitchen. He considers tapping at the window and letting her see him and wave back, but he really wants the grand entrance of a door opening, so he raps a jaunty drum roll on the door, and waits for her to open it. When she does, he's grinning like the Cheshire can and bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes so bright she may not even NOTICE the glasses for a second.]

Hi, Ilsa! Mayfield sent me a present!

[ooeeooahah]

[ He might notice a tinge of relief, before she clamps down on her shields, but with the glee radiating from him, not likely. She tilts her head, smiling in reaction to his elation. Which might get just a touch deflated with her reaction to the pince-nez. ]

These were the glasses you had at home?

[ She reaches up, but then draws her hand back before touching them, instead letting her hand rest on his lapel. ]

They look... fragile.

[ Her tone might be doubtful, but her smile is wistful. ]

[velesdonnersen.livejournal.com]

[No, he doesn't catch the relief, but he does note that she's subdued. He will worry, while maintaining his facade of exuberance. Ilsa being what she is, she will probably be fully aware that he's watching and fretting even as he preens and brags.]

Fragile!?!?!? I will have you know these pince-nez have survived a ride on a giant mechanical tiger, battles with the Muse of Protection, floods, fire, assaults by stupid-annoying Wulfenbach, and more. They've come off on occasion, but they never break, and I have always gotten them back. They're small, light... and elegant! Do NOT forget that they're elegant!

[ooeeooahah]

[ Elegant, he says, as if that's the most important part. her smile changes slightly as she allows herself to take them off his nose. ]

Small, light and elegant would do you no good if someone got carried away. Durable is... much better.

[ Outwardly, she's examining the little glasses, but she's open to read his reaction to her words. Extremely open. ]

[velesdonnersen.livejournal.com]

[If she is wide open to read, she will notice that he's both worried about her, worried she doesn't LIKE him or his glasses, and at the same time he's amusingly affronted that she fails to recognize the superior sparky engineering of the pince-nez.]

But, liebechen,They are by far more secure and durable than those terrible horn rims you so admire! There are no major moving parts. Suspension depends on a more or less whole nose, rather than on two whole ear pieces. There is no unbalanced torque on the framework, and the entire thing depends on simple gravity and friction... it's hard to damage these, love.

The horn-rims? One screw works loose and the entire pair of glasses becomes useless. A broken ear piece? One is helpless. And the frames are much more easily broken than these: gold over tempered Baronium, developed by some of Herr Wulfenbach's captured spark liege men.

[He's studying her. She seems so wan and... hopeless? So much less stable than usual. What has hurt her?]

[ooeeooahah]

[ He's defending these glasses so diligently. Time to see what he'll do to keep them. ]

[ Her smile changes from resigned to mischievous. ]

I wouldn't have called them good eye protection for a lab, but at the same time, now I don't have to worry about them getting crushed.

[ ...and she tucks them into her blouse. ]

[velesdonnersen.livejournal.com]

[Stunned dismay! He starts to grab for them, then stops. He's still a Victorian gentleman, and it's one thing to paw at a lady's blouse when she's inviting the attention -- another to maul her bosom when she hasn't. But... his pince-nez!]

But...but... Iiiiiiiiiiislaaaaaaaaaaa! I just got those back!

[Forlorn. He wilts a little before her very eyes.]

Don't you like them? Even a little?

[ooeeooahah]

[ Ilsa inviting the attention? Surely not, and the moon is made of cheese. ]

Now that I know I won't damage them beyond a few smudges? [ She shrugs in a way that will create smudges, and chuckles. ] I like them much better.

[ She slides her hands up to his shoulders. ]

Willing to pay a forfeit for them?

[velesdonnersen.livejournal.com]

[Ah. A game. This he at least gets. He relaxes, and grins, just as mischievously. He steps forward, gently herding her into the house, and closes the door to block the view of neighbors, before slipping his hands over her hips and pulling her close. He cheerfully fails to go groping for his glasses, willing to see what sort of game she has in mind.]

A forfeit, eh? [Nuzzles her hair, smiling as he does. She will catch the fondness, the amusement, the willingness to play, and the intense curiosity. Whatever is she up to?] Well, love, what do you have in mind?

[ooeeooahah]

[ She backs up, leading him to the basement stairs. ]

Two items.

First, one serious item. I know I might be getting some not-quite-safe items back through the mail in the future.

[ Ilsa heads down the stairs, leading him into the public area of the apartment downstairs. ]

I was lucky Nall found me so quickly after I was blinded by the Sight. My last two have been sneakier. You've not had anything traumatic happen to you from the postman, that I know of, but...

[ She turns to face him, taking both hands in hers. ]

...if I agree to the same restriction, can you wait to open any new packages until you have someone with you?

[velesdonnersen.livejournal.com]

[Considers...and decides that makes sense.]

Yes. I think so.

And the second?

[ooeeooahah]

You can have your glasses back...

[ Her smile turns teasing again as she leads him into the private space. ]

... if you can retrieve them without using your hands.

[ She shuts the door behind them. ]