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Ravi
harsh:
Severe, cruel, or exacting: harsh punishment; a harsh overseer.

subtle:
1. Characterized by skill or ingenuity; clever.
2. Crafty or sly; devious.
3. Operating in a hidden, usually injurious way; insidious: a subtle poison.

reserved:
1. The keeping of one's feelings, thoughts, or affairs to oneself.
2. Self-restraint in expression; reticence: “One feels it everywhere, a quality of reserve, something held back” (Rollene W. Saal).
3. Lack of enthusiasm; skeptical caution.

independent:
Free from the influence, guidance, or control of another or others; self-reliant


Dr. Silas Redbourne

A member of the Fleet's department of magic, though he does not mention it, Silas has moved to Gaia in effort to alleviate a modicum of bordom born of the peaceful and settled nature of the Neighborhood. With peace coming to the Fleet, the pressure to bother completing his own stated course of research in a timely manner has been lifted and Silas has found himself drifting on one tangent after another, coming to Gaia in part to offer his young feien Ravi an atmosphere in which to easily bond with other feien.

Silas dresses in the high collars, thin ties, and tailored jackets of a Victorian gentleman, and behaves to fit the part. He addresses strangers as sir or madame, bows, opens doors for ladies, and holds to a set of manners as archaic as his garb. He sits primly, and straight, as though afraid to wrinkly his jacket.

His voice is soft, but his diction is precise. He speaks in the unnecessarily complex manner of an educated gentleman, and with an accent that might be placed as upperclass English. He has a kind and patient manner, and seems very nearly impossible to upset.
In spite of the neatness of his manner, there are hints of things that don't quite fit. His shoulder length hair is a ginger color that clashes with his subdued clothing, and though worn neatly clasped back it always appeared to be making its best attempt to escape the clasp, and whisps drift perpetually around his face. His clothes make him look thinner and frailer then he truly is, and his hands, though slim and thin, are not as pale and unused as a gentleman's should be.

When reading or working on something small and precise, he wears round wire rimmed glasses that cover eyes of such imprecise color that people dub them hazel. He can, more often then not, be found reading. He engages in polite conversation, but rarely offers personal information, prefering instead to stick to topics of a general nature. He seems part absented minded professor, part careful precise doctor, and part gentleman born to education and nobility.

[reserved for...something]

Upon Meetings in Bookshops
chapter the first

Gaia drew a fair number of odd folk to it, so that the gentleman strolling into the bookshop on Goddet Street was hardly the oddest patron that the twinkling of the bell might have heralded. Gentleman for indeed, gentleman he was, in a nearly victorian sense, with high collar,thin necktie, tailored jacket and shoulder length hair clasped neatly at the nape of his neck. He smiled softly and nodded to the shopkeeper, who looked up at the bell, and that was the most attention he drew to himself. His presence was almost unnaturally unassuming, so that you found yourself looking automatically away after a glance as if you were already convinced of his unimportance.

After wondering the store briefly, in a manner that might have suggested his thoughts where elsewhere, he appeared to settle randomly infront of a shelf of books on gardening - coming to himself as if he wasn't entirely sure how he arrived at that particular shelf. He set about browsing the selection, however, as though this was exactly what he'd been looking for.

As he stood there, though, a polite cough interrupted his thoughts and he looked up to see a lanky man, dressed like either a perpetual college student or a man on his laundry day, who stood to his right with a crooked grin... Holding a little glass cup filled with sparkling red liquid.

The gentleman paused with his fingers resting lighting on the spine of the book they had been reaching for, to look up at the fellow with the cough ang the cup, with his brows lifted in an elegant expression of someone to polite to suggest they'd been interupted. The bland expression stayed in place as he took in the clothing and the grin and most notably the cup, which his eyes lingered on a moment,
"Might I be of service sir?" He had the crisp pronounciation of someone who had a fondness for words in general, but his voice had soft edges that tempered the crispness.

"Just wanted t' slip by, mate," came the slightly horrific response. If Silas was posh Oxford, the other man was one step above Apples and Pears Cockney. "Sorry t' disturb you but the aisles here are the tightest layouts I've ever seen. Can't get by without nudgin' someone else out o' the way."

There was a certain air of doubt about the way the gentleman regarded the statement, as though he was either surprised that the man had bothered to ask or surprised that he hadn't simply known to step out of the mans way.
"My apologies," He said, considering the other man's face as he stepped closer to the shelf - notably without removing his fingers from the spine of the book.

"No worries." Edging behind him, the man paused for a moment and craned his neck as he registered the book Silas seemed interested in. "You can get a better book on that topic if you go over t' Hopewell an' hit Thompson's," he pointed out mildly.

"Thank you for the suggestion." He answered, in a tone that suggested it was an honest thanks as opposed to a forced pleasantry. He did not, it seemed, find it overly disconcerting to be speaking to someone standing just behind him where he couldn't study their expression.
"I don't suppose you might be able to direct me as to how one might get to Hopewell and Thompson's?"
His fingers slid down the spine of the book, almost affectionately, and settled on the lip of the shelf.

"'Course." With a tilt of his head and his free hand touching the other man's shoulder for an instant, the stranger moved a few steps past to allow Silas room to turn around. "The name's Jack, by the by."

The gentleman extended a hand to Jack.
"Silas, a pleasure to make your aquaintence," he had an odd way of making the formal pleasantry sound sincere. Close up, the victorian image was spoiled somewhat by the fact that the small smile that graced his fine features held something a touch to roughish and sincere, and his ginger colored hair seemed to be slowly rebelling against its neatly pulled back style freeing wisps to make an effort to hang in his face.

"Likewise." Jack's grin was as roguish as Silas's threatened to be and he motioned the other man to follow him out of the shop. When they were safely outside and the ringing bell a faint echo, he laughed. He angled his thumb over his shoulder at the store. "Nice place for somet things," he explained. "Not herbology, though. Definitely not exotic herbology."

"It was rather the first store I passed," Silas admitted pleasantly, sounding as though he might have simply meant to go to every bookstore he could find. He probably had. In fact, he probably still would eventually.
"Though I did intend to look for texts covering the local flora - exotic or otherwise."

"Anythin' more specific or are you goin' general, then browsin' downwards?" Jack began to walk down the sidewalk, trusting Silas to follow. His pace was easy to keep up with - a gentle, swinging step that just went even further to cementing the idea of a man who had not quite grown up and moved into an adult circle.

Silas walked without really looking where he was going, as though he expected the world to merely step out of his way, which curiously enough it seemed to generally do. Less out of deference then simply shifting as though the current of the world tended to part around him.
"A general overview would be exceptionally useful, though I intend to explore the topic quite thoroughly as time allows."

"I was right then. You're a proper book man." Jack's free hand dug absently in a pocket and emerged with a battered pack of cigarettes. His other hand was busy enough trying to keep the little glass steady.

"Might you get your glass a lid, or does it need to breath?" Silas asked mildly, the commenting so lacking in sarcasm that it seemed clear he didn't quite mean it as a pun about wine. He didn't comment on his being a 'proper book man', as he quite agreed with the assessment.

"Not a clue," came the easy, amused answer. Jack looked at the cup ruefully and then brought it carefully into Silas' view for better inspection. His other hand shook out a cigarette with a neat flick and he brought up the pack to snatch the white stick between his lips before pocketing the pack once more. Easily, he talked around the new obstruction. "Allegedly, it's supposed t' be turnin' into a kid o' some sort. It's one o' those Gaia things."

Silas peered at the glass with a new spark of interest, "Then I should imagine it does need to breath, otherwise I suspect it might have been sealed for safe keeping when it was created. Is there a reason you feel it necessary to carry it with you?"

"Because I've got a wee devil at home just waitin' t' make it into a jacuzzi for his lady friends."

A single eyebrow arched in response, and it appeared all Silas could say to that was "Oh."
I did seem a good reason, if a somewhat vague one.

"He's got no notion o' property an' I reckon he's jealous t' boot," Jack added by way of extra explanation.

That not having been the part that Silas had considered vague, the added information didn't help much.
"Better I suppose, to keep it with you then."

"Pretty much." Jack flashed another smile. "'Sides, it pisses Brunswick off."

"Brunswick, I presume, being the jealous wee devil with the lady friends and no proper sense of the ownership of material goods?" It seemed that Silas' smile always threatened to be roughish and never quite allowed itself the freedom.

"Exactly." Jack fished a lighter from his pocket and tilted his head to the right to indicate they should turn.

Silas followed Jack's indicated direction, pondering the dexterity with which his new aquaintence started his cigarette one handed.

"And I am given to assume that Brunswick is small enough that it would be feasable for him to make a jucuzzi out of a small cup?"

"Mmhm." Jack lit his cigarette, returned his lighter to his pocket, and savored his first long inhale before neatly blowing the smoke in the direction most clearly opposite Silas. "New t' town, are you?"

"Quite." Silas saw no harm in stating the obvious. That is, he expected that Jack was really a very observant person - of the sort that would have already gathered from the course of the discussion that Silas was new to the area.

"Don't worry. You'll get used t' the place soon enough. It's... Homey."

"I wasn't particularly worry, but thank you for the assurance." He said and folded his hands behind his back.

"No worries." Striding along easily, Jack devoted some attention to his cigarette again and they had covered nearly half a block by the time he released a slow exhale and tapped some ash onto the sidewalk, turning to glance at his companion. "So, then... Do you usually leak magic like a bucket with holes?"

One eyebrow lifted again, "I hardly think its quite so bad as a perphorated bucket." It was hard to tell if he was amused or slightly taken aback.

"Slightly perforated. But I cheat, y'know. I'm sensitive t' that sort o' stuff."

"That's hardly cheating, but thank you for pointing it out, I haven't been paying proper attention to that sort of thing lately." He meant, presumably, the magic leaking.

"No worries." Jack shot him a roguish sideways grin. "I reckon you never had it whipped into you."

Silas made a non-commital noise and didn't comment. Instead he allowed the focus to shift to Jack, "If you prefer anonymity yourself, you oughtn't to have touched my shoulder earlier."

Jack laughed. "Yeah, I know. Couldn't help it, though. It really -was- tight in there, mate. An', livin' here, I kinda forget about others who might pick up on it."

"I suppose I'm burdened with the opposite problem then, I'm quite too used to living where everyone is perfectly aware of that sort of thing and there's really no point in worrying about it." He didn't look particularly burdened though, in fact he was grinning again, and more of his hair had escaped the clasp which gave him a curiously energetic look.

"Diff'rent strokes an' all that." Jack flicked his dying cigarette into the gutter, took a few more steps, and then suddenly stopped. Automatically, he doubled back and put his foot down into the gutter to grind the butt out. Then he was back and walking beside Silas again as if he had never left. "So do you have a discipline?"

"I depends on your definition there of." His companion answered, "Once upon a time I was a doctor, and spent a long time focused on medicine."

"That counts."

"Very well, I'll stick with that as my answer then."

Laughing, Jack shook his head and shifted his glass to his other hand. "Bloody magicians."

"I imagine that might be a bit of the pot calling the kettle black." Silas pointed out mildly, apparently settling easily into comfortable conversation.

"Well, -yeah-. Never said it wasn't."

"With that being said, I'm now greatly assured that you are in fact leading me to the correct bookstore."

Eyebrow raised, Jack regarded the other man out the corner of his eye. "Are you now?"

"Not that I meant that as an invitation for you to lead me astray." He said to Jack's raised eyebrow, "Although I can't imagine being at the wrong bookstore to be a life altering set back in this case."

"Ah, I follow. Here I thought you were bein' subtle again an' meant something otherwise."

"No, I simply have a habit of prefering to reserve judgement until the necessary facts have been actually admitted, rather then implied or infered." He affected an almost innocent look, "Was I being subtle before?"

"Not a bit." Jack had the world's best poker face.

Silas didn't seem like the sort of person who played poker. "Then I am correcting in presuming you know your business in regards to books, and where to find them?"

"Mmhm. That would be a correct assumption."

"Good, because I haven't been paying particular attention to where we have been walking, and it would be bothersome to have to try and find the original shop again today." It was oddly difficult to tell if he was joking.

[reserved for something else entirely]

Secrets Over a Cup of Tea
chapter the second

Silas nodded, and sipped his tea again, curling his thin hands around the cup as if he wished it were full again to warm his hands. After a moment, he seemed to take a page from Jack's book, and return without warning to an earlier topic. "You said you were working on confinement circles?"

Caught mid-step, Jack almost spluttered. "Mmhm. Important things an' no one bloody does 'em."

"Are you implying that you know people who summon things without the use of some manner of confining spell?" Silas asked, smoothly, attempting to gracefully gloss over his sudden change in subject.

"I know plenty o' people, Dr. Silas."

"Who continue to survive their lack of preparation?" 'Dr. Silas' asked, smiling slightly, perhaps at the use of his title with his first name.

Jack grinned wickedly. "Mum always said there were special guardian angels for idiots." He paused and let his expression go thoughtfully innocent. "An' Dexters but that's beside the point. We're idiots, too."

"And here I thought you only meant to imply that you were trouble makers." Silas said, with equal innocence.

"Oh, we're lots o' things. Jacks o' all trades... As it were."

"Ah, I see." Silas grinned, "And what do you intend to confine within your refined circles?"

Jack leaned back in his chair, sprawling a bit as he considered the question. "Whatever ends up in them, I reckon," he hedged.

Since they were both aware that one generally had to summon something for that to be the end result, Silas allowed the evasion without comment. He was not one to press others for information they didn't wish to give - the golden rule and all.
"Do you use patterns scribed onto room, or are you working on a more contained method?"

"I've done both. This time, though, I'm lookin' for somethin' a bit more practical, like. Simpler to execute. Less set-up time. Of course," and his accent once more steadily improved to show his education as he talked about his studies, "the trade off lies in the concentration and will reserves. Not everyone can cut the corners."

"Certainly, it is, I expect, one of the more challenging aspects of magic to determine which corners one is capable of cutting." Silas nodded, sounding for all the world as though he was speaking to a fellow professor over tea. "Have you considered the possibility of using a trigger object? One can prepare the containment spell and seal it in a small object which can later be used to release the spell. Of course, once it has been released the object is frequently damaged in some way, though that is avoidable with appropriate care. And obviously the spell, once released, would have to be re-prepared."

"Makes sense and it -is- convenient but I wouldn't want a lot of those about. You can't control them and there's no Better Business Bureau for magic." He grimaced. "I know too many people who are just kept in check because they -can't- cast circles and have enough sense to not play with fire."

"True enough. Though it would take some effort to understand how to trigger someone elses spell. There is, of course, an entire field of magic utterly devoted to understanding and dissecting other magic." He shrugged slightly and glanced about in an attempt to find someone from whom he might order another cup of tea.

"Hackers," Jack replied shortly. He rightly interpreted Silas' look and lifted a hand lazily. Catching the attention of a young woman, he flashed a grin and motioned her over. "More tea, mate?" he drawled.

Silas looked only mildly curious at the ease with which Jack summoned a waitress. "Yes, thank you." He proceeded to order another cup of the same, with the overabundant politeness of a victorian gentleman, before turning back to Jack.
"That is an indelicate term for it, though I suppose the essence is there. I've made a number of studies into deciphering and countering spells cast by others. Though admittedly, deciphering the make up of a simple containment spell confined to a trigger object is hardly the most complex task you might find."

"Oh, I don't mean anything immoral when I say hackers. Hackers are necessary or all sorts of things would die out with the originator."

"Quite." Silas nodded, apparently easily accepting his misinterpretation of Jack's use of the term. "At any rate, regardless, one would do best to keep any empowered objects either on ones person or in a safe place."

"Definitely." Jack added some sugar and cream to his tea, his face thoughtful. "No, I reckon I could try for trigger stones and contained spells but I'm a selfish git. I'm tailoring my studies to my own styles."

"Practical of you." Accepting his new cup of tea without additions again.

Jack grinned. "Practical sounds so much better."

"Then selfish git? Yes it does rather. That's what phrasing will do for you." Silas attempted to look innocent, but he had said selfish git in a fairly accurate immitation of Jack's pronounciation, and was clearly amused by it.

The combination of his mimicry and his expression was rewarded by Jack inhaling his tea improperly and collapsing in jagged, laughing coughs.

Silas looked quite torn between concern for the coughing, and being really quite pleased with himself for eliciting the laughter. As a comprise with himself he tried quite hard not to look smug. He sort of generally failed, but he did try hard. "I shall work on my timing, and pay more attention to when you are preparing to sip your tea."

"Th-thanks." Jack grimaced, picking a napkin to cough into.

"I really do apologise." Silas said, frowning slightly as concern won a bit more ground. "If you'll hold your breath a moment, and then inhale and exhale once slowly, I can do something to help clear your breathing."

"N-no. I'm fine. Just, ugh, give me a minute."

Silas folded his hands in front of him and looked at them, restraining himself from performing the spell anyway. Jack, he suspected, would be aware of it regardless of how surrepticiously he performed it.

Another minute passed and Jack shook his head, set down the napkin, and reached once more for his tea. Sipping slowly, he relaxed. "It's always the quiet ones," he murmured.

Silas' hands appeared to be almost locked around his teacup. "Beg pardon?"

"You, mate." Jack grinned.

"I, what?" He lifted an eyebrow slightly, but looked vaguely relieved when Jack grinned.

"You look so proper there an' then you do that to me."

"Make you choke on your tea, you mean?"

"Make me laugh so that I choke on my tea."

"Ah...I think I've still managed to miss your point."

"Never mind. Most do."

"If you insist...I'm afraid I've entirely lost my place in our original discussion." He paused, "Oh, yes, focusing your studies on your personal methods."

Jack chuckled and absently ran a finger along the edge of his teacup. "I reckon we've exhausted that one. What about -your- studies?"

"In general, or recently?" He appeared satisfied for the moment just letting his cup warm his hands without drinking his tea.

"We'll start with recently an' work our way back."

Silas lifted an eyebrow delicated, as if to suggest that Jack was requesting a fairly major recitation. "Most recently, for some time actually, though admittedly with a fair number of tangents, I've been exploring the way the functional form of magic varies between dimensions. That is, a standard method for constructing and performing a spell will only work, I have found, in a limited number of similar dimensional settings, before it encounters one where the forces that are being acted upon work under differing laws."

Jack nodded to encourage him. His face had immediately gone thoughtful.

"The basic idea, originally, was to attempt to catagorise sets of dimensions by relations in there comparative magical elements and laws. That shifted, rather quickly I admitt, to merely known dimensions. Its still a rather time consuming field of study, one is required to make a fairly exhaustive set of experiments to understand even the basic differences between dimensions." There was something about his expression, and even his posture, that intensified with his explaination, hinting at the less then subdued interest behind his neat and quiet exterior.

"Hm, can't say I've been to other dimensions. Not rightly speaking, that is. But it makes sense. the theory."

"To be perfectly fair, my previous studies were for some time centered around managing to shift between dimensions. It turns out to be a fairly difficult and draining sort of thing to manage on ones own."

"I can imagine. It's bad enough steppin' over into Faerie here."

"One might suggested that would be mostly the same thing as shifting between dimensions, save that the way has been well paved previously and remains somewhat open, and the two dimensions exist particularly close together." Silas paused for a moment, "Of course that would be supposition on my part."

"I'd say it was fair supposition, sure."

"And that is, for the most part, what has been occupying my time. Although as I admitted, I'm prone to a truly astonishing number of tangents."

Jack chuckled. He shook his head and relaxed back in his chair. "I'd never have guessed, mate," he murmured. "seriously, though, it sounds deadly interesting."

Silas chuckled quietly, "It is, in between long stretches of performing the same basic spells and trying to understand just exactly how they worked and what bits might have worked different, or not at all."

"Still, it's gotta be done. Better beforehand than when you really need it."

"That is the idea, yes." Though if Silas had been comfortable admitting it, the idea had come only after the first occassion of 'really needing it'.

Jack grinned. "Like packing matches as well as a lighter."

"Like knowing how to cast a free form containment spell even though one had gone about scribing one out carefully upon the floor." Silas replied finally sipping his now less then hot tea.

"Very sensible of you."

"Practical." Silas answered, grinning slightly.

"Does your assistant help much in these practical studies o' yours?"

"Not especially, no, which is why its somewhat difficult to classify him as my assistant. Hence I landed on the term companion."

Jack grinned. "Makes the tea, does he?"

"No, not often." Silas admitted, "He assists me with specific spells, and otherwise tends to do whatever he likes."

"Good job, that."

"I suppose you could say so."

Secrets Over a Cup of Tea
chapter the fourth

Jack nodded, picking up his teacup again. "What's Ravi like then?"

Silas paused, considereing. He was not in the habit of describing other people, and he was intrinsically hesitant to accidentally paint someone in a poor light.
"Somewhat private, I suppose. Observant, though I sometimes wonder if he doesn't have a predisposition towards jumping to the wrong conclusions." He paused and then admitted, "More difficult to get on with the I might have expected."

"Probably because he's just as human as anyone else," Jack replied gently. "Bruns is the same way. Once I got over that entire fairy thing... Well, best just to treat them normal."

Silas shrugged lightly, feeling his shoulder blades move against the back of the chair as he did, "More honestly, I expect I wasn't properly prepared for a housemate."
True, having a creature less then a month old lecturing you took some getting used to, but Silas had found the personality conflict more difficult to surmount then the identity of his new 'companion'.

Jack merely grinned. "Well, take my advice, mate. Stick to one while you can. It's easier."

"I firmly expect that I would be told to leave my own house were I to attempt to add a member to the household without Ravi's blessing." Silas shook his head, chuckling.

"Bruns knows better than t' try." Jack sighed. "It was easier when she wasn't, well, -her-."

Silas sounded sympathetic, "Ravi isn't utterly unreasonable, and I doubt Brunswick is either." He paused and studied Jack's expression for a moment, then said gently, "You sound quite taken with her."

Slightly sheepish, Jack nodded. "You'd have t' be a heartless b*****d not t' like her," he admitted.

Silas smiled, a smile that lacked the wreckless edge but warmed his hazel eyes, the sort of smile that inspired a certain amount of trust all by itself. "Then your Brunswick will come around, there are few truly heartless bastards in the world."

"Oh, I don't know." Jack chuckled. "Bruns doesn't know what t' do with a girl he can't flirt with an' he sure as hell can't flirt with Evie. She calls him brother."

"I expect once he gets properly used to the idea of her as his sister, he'll become as protective as most old brothers seem to be."

"I'd pay t' see that."

Silas shook his head, "I could be entirely incorrect, of course."

The corner of Jack's mouth curled up with amusement. "Does that happen often?"

"I like to think I'm more often correct then not." He answered, "Though I have not been motivated thus far to keep a running count."

"That's modesty. I hear it's attractive."

"Is it? I think it probably more that I don't particularly wish to dwell on the times I'm wrong."

"That's just -wisdom-."

"It does help one keep a more generally positive outlook." He grinned, "Not to mention doing wonders for one's self confidence."

"I imagine so." Jack nodded, considering. "But you've gotta be careful not to forget 'em."

"The old addage, 'those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it'." Silas replied, his grin fading a bit.

"That's the nice way o' sayin' it, yep."

"You may have noticed," Silas said benignly, "That I prefer the nice way of saying things, for the most part."

Jack grinned. "I don't mind. It's refreshin'."

"I'm glad. Some people, I've been told, seem to find it frustrating."

"I'm an easy sort."

"Which is also refreshing."

Jack grinned widely. "I'll try not t' blush."

Silas found himself deciding that Jack blushing had the potential to be one of the most amusing things he would ever get the chance to see. Silas lifted his teacup to him slightly in an almost toast, and sipped tea. "I don't expect to run across the circumstance that might make you blush in my life time."

"We'll see." Jack finished his tea and settled it back on the saucer, leaning back in his chair lazily. "I'm hard t' embarrass but you never know."

"I shant be waiting with bated breath."

"Good idea."

Silas sat with his cup craddled in his hands. His version of leaning back in his chair was still somewhat more prim then Jack's posture, as though he naturally tried to avoid wrinkling his jacket. He allowed the conversation to drift into silence, perhaps because he didn't feel comfortable switching topics, or pressing his companion with questions.

Jack allowed the silence to lay between them for long moments, not inclined to break it. It was rather comfortable. Finally, though, he tilted his head. "Wanna meet them some day?"

"Yes," Silas answered, feeling curiously pleased to be asked, "I should like to."

"Just promise you'll say hi t' Bruns first," he laughed.

"I shall bow, and call him sir as well, if you think it would suite him." Silas said, the mischief back at the edges of his smile.

"Huh, you could try it."

"The way you describe him, I suspect he will doubt my sincerity. More's the pity."

Jack laughed. "Don't take it personally if he does.'

"I wouldn't dream of it. I'm quite used to my sincerity being doubted. Apparently its commonly believed that being properly polite hides some devious alterior motive."

"Well, most o' us in this world end up cynics sooner or later. That's why you suffer. We're all hard hearted idiots who don't know what t' make o' a bit o' manners."

"Alas, here I sit, martyr of civil vocabulary and proper manners." He said, laughing.

"If it bothers that much, I can take you t' a few dives. You can learn to be a b*****d."

"I don't want to shatter your image of me, but I should admitt that its all really quite intentional."

Jack put his hand to his heart. "It is?"

"More or less."

"Good show, that. You do it well. It suits you."

"Thank you." Silas said galantly, inclining his head slightly, "I was born to it, more or less, but after a certain distance one chooses what social standard they wish to adhere to. I rather prefer this one."

Jack nodded. "I've got about a half dozen, myself."

"I have noticed your vernacular shift previously." He admitted.

"That'd be my Oxford voice, prob'ly," Jack agreed. "It gets me into the Bode without a problem. Then there's Da's voice, Mum's voice, Little Cousins' voice. Y'know."

Silas nodded, "I've managed to stay generally with the one, although on occassion I'm forced to stray from it far enough to properly express annoyance with words inappropriate for a gentleman."

"Now -that- I would pay t' see."

"Ask Ravi about it," Silas answered sardonically, "Or spend long enough about when I'm working on something."

"Well, I reckon we're mates now. We'll just spend more time together an' see."

Silas generally reserved his harsh language from when things shattered, exploded or just generally went horribly wrong. It was a sort of small personal lapse he allowed himself because it helped his mood so immensively when things were going badly. He considered and decided he didn't particularly mind letting Jack slip behind those lines, so to speak. "I expect you'll end up disappointed by the lack of creativity in my curses."

"I'll rate 'em. If need be, I'll teach you some new ones."

"One should never turn down an opportunity to expands one's vocabulary."

"Very wise words."

Silas hesitated slightly, then said, "You're welcome to call when you like, I'm more often home then not. Though I can't guarentee I will be working on anything particularly interesting."

Jack nodded. Then he reached into the pocket of his coat, scrabbled around for a moment, and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. "An' you can come 'round my place any time, too. If I'm not home, just scribble a note on the door." Smoothing out the paper with one hand, he scratched out his address and handed it over to Silas.

Silas, slid a note card from some hidden interior jacket pocket, and wrote his own address on it, in the same proper penmanship with which the letter to Jack had been scribed, exchanging it for Jack's paper and address. Knowing Silas, a note on Jack's door would probably begin 'Dearest Doctor Bierce'.
In spite of the fact that he had extended the invitation to Jack first, he seemed curiously flattered to have it extended in return. "Thank you."

"No worries. I like havin' company." Jack grinned. "It might keep me home more."

"If you don't mind someone who can deconstruct your process watching, I should very much enjoy seeing some of your work."

That earned Silas a sheepish grin. "Sure. I reckon that'd be okay.

Silas smiled, "I would be very much oblidged."

"Maybe. I'll try not t' let anything eat you."

Something very suspiciously like pride was hiding somewhere behind Silas' expression, behind the quiet grin, "I wouldn't want you to go out of your way worrying about me."

"Pfft. No trouble."

"I'll trust in you to defend me then."

"You can be the fair lady, sure." Jack again reached into his coat and tugged out a wallet. "Hate t' do this 'cause it's been fun but I oughta go. I need to go down the shops an then get back t' the kids."

Silas nodded, straighting in his seat minutely, and unnecessarily adjusting his collar and tie, "Thank you for joining me."

"No worries. Ta for invitin' me." Jack tugged a couple of bills from the wallet and neatly dropped them on the table between his companion and himself. "Like I said, it was fun."

"Yes," Silas said sincerely, noting the amount paid and stalling his own hand on its way to his jacket pocket, "it was quite enjoyable."

"An' we'll do it again."

"Such would be my sincere hope."

"Pukka." Pushing back his chair, Jack stood and slipped his coat from the back of it. It took only a minute to shrug into it and then his hands were already digging in the pockets for cigarettes and lighter. He had gone over an hour without, he figured, and he wasn't letting himself smoke in the house anymore and... God, he needed a fix. "Soon."

"Whenever you like." Silas answered, standing and straightening the minute wrinkles sitting had left in his clothes.

That was accepted with a wink and then, cigarette in hand and lighter flickering to life already, Jack nodded and was out the door.