|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Nov 14, 2015 10:21 am
He almost threw the wallet away.
He could have, if he'd been mean. She'd left it behind, after all - left it behind after trying to analyze him like he was just some test subject that she could observe. Or, even worse, like she was a friend who knew better than he did about who he was, what his life was like.
He almost threw it away, but he didn't, because he could not actually bring himself to be that mean.
Instead, several days after the dreadful Carnival incident, he finally sent her a message, sitting, not at home, but outside on a crowded sidewalk, his easel in front of him, tubes of paint lined neatly along the little shelf that he had built into it on the front.SMS:
Are you going to come get your wallet or not.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 14, 2015 7:45 pm
Desdemona was fully aware of the possibility that even with her insurance policy in place, she'd never hear from him at all. But without risk, there was no reward. And to see that text flash across her screen from a number that was technically unknown, even if it never left her guessing for the source, made her smile.
Yes, she knew where he lived, and she could've just as easily just gone knocking on his door for her things back - but that could've easily just led to a door slammed in her face. That was less likely when he had to take steps to reach out to her.
Her days had been busy, between the efforts to prepare for the meeting for what would hopefully become her team, the whole debacle at the carnival, and - she said that as though her constantly busy pace were anything but normal for her. She didn't like idling, hated not having things to do. Even as she received Fritz's text, she had just finished compiling some primary records on the New Year's captives and everything that had gone into that. There would be more, so much more -
Not the point right now. This was, somewhat uniquely, about Desdemona, not Amphitrite.
SMS:
Hello to you too handsome. I was wondering where that went. Should I come to your place?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 16, 2015 5:29 am
He'd left the phone sitting in his lap while he took the time after texting her to paint. It was a familiar process - Fritz would gather together canvases, easel, paints, and brushes, and carry them to a street corner where he would be out of the way, but also right in the thick of things. His paintings were usually of people that came and went, sometimes of storefronts and patrons; but whatever he did always garnered at least some attention, as people had a tendency to stop and watch as he worked.
He never minded this. In fact, it was almost reassuring most of the time.
This was not one of those times. Fritz felt strangely out of sorts, unsettled with so many eyes on him, and the colors were coming out more bright than he wanted, the faces still accurate but not quite how he wanted them. To any outsider watching, it would have seemed just fine, but to Fritz the discrepancies were there, blatant and obvious.
He felt his phone vibrate, but did not answer for at least twenty minutes, lost in his painting, and the feel of the brush in his hands, sweeping over the canvas. When he finally did look at it, Fritz's lips pressed together as a wave of annoyance washed over him.SMS:
No. SMS:
I'm at the corner of Mulberry and Torgus streets if you care to join me. He did not care, but she would, if she wanted her wallet back.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 16, 2015 2:32 pm
It was fine that there was a long pause in between. It wasn't like she'd been ready to go anywhere. Frankly, after a long night of energy harvesting (and a couple of fresh bruises here and there from a starseed she'd grabbed - for Umber, naturally) and a morning that'd involved getting Poppy up and ready for school, she'd just been lounging around in her pajamas doing some of the work for her GED and trying not to doze off in the process. And naturally she wasn't about to turn up in a set of rather comfy flannel pajamas.
Desdemona had finally just settled on a short dress and a pair of leggings with a jacket thrown on top for good measure - fall weather and all - and then there was her response from him, finally. Her smile returned at the sight of the blunt 'no', shaking her head lightly with a soft laugh.
Still sore about last time? Probably.
That was fine.SMS:
Be there in ten, freckles. <3 She slipped on a pair of boots in addition to grabbing a few other things to shove into her bag before she headed out. And in what felt like no time at all, she spotted him, rather conspicuous with his canvas and his paints and his vibrantly bright hair.
And something else, too, although Desdemona only realized that as she came closer, her lips pursing. Bandages, very visibly patched over his cheek. "Fritz?" she greeted, maybe surprisingly tentatively for her - granted, maybe less so when she went on to ask, "What happened?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 19, 2015 7:24 pm
He kept up painting throughout the majority of time that it took for Desdemona to come find him, the canvas full of various faces that had passed while he stayed seated. Fritz had paint spattered on his fingers, but this, out of all things, did not bother him as much as other things did. The slide of the paint on his skin was familiar, too familiar, almost reassuring in a way that little else was.
By the time she did arrive, he'd already worked himself up into a state of vague annoyance at having to deal with this in the first place. And at the very least, she did not call him freckles, but, in fact, by his real name, which made it easier. For some reason, the pet name seemed to grate on his very nerves, already frayed, maybe because it was a nickname he'd heard a few times already growing up, usually in relation to both twins.
Stop thinking about it.
Fritz didn't answer at first, then said, "Nothing. It's nothing. I'm fine."
If fine meant bandages, bruises, and the like. He nodded towards the bag by his feet.
"Wallet's in there."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 19, 2015 11:49 pm
Desdemona's lips pursed in a thin line at his answer. She opened her mouth, then shut it again, unsure what exactly she wanted to come out. 'You look like hell.' 'Don't bullshit me.' 'And I'm the queen of England.' 'You should really take care of yourself.' Either way, she was showing either too much concern for his well-being or too little.
"That's a whole lot of nothing, " was what she finally settled on, resisting the urge to squeeze his shoulder only for the fact that he was painting. It was still a challenge; Desdemona always had been and would always be entirely too comfortable with touch, even with superior officers. "Tell me the other guy got it worse."
Without waiting for an answer, she flashed him a quick smile as she slid smoothly into a crouch, going into the bag and riffling through it for her wallet. (And if she happened to see anything else she wouldn't exactly be complaining about it.) "I'm putting something else in here, " she declared once she'd gotten what she'd come for, swinging her bag carefully around so she wouldn't bump him as she deposited her wallet and pulled out a small(ish) package, one of the gift bags Elle had also left behind. "For your trouble, freckles." Whether or not he'd come to much effort at all beyond the task of sending her that text.
"My old roommate - sort of - " Elle was less a roommate and more of a mother and sister rolled into one. But Fritz didn't need to know all about that, and she doubted he'd asked; fine by her, really. "She had a lot of different kinds of tea. I don't usually drink it myself, so... "
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2015 12:01 am
He let out a little snort that was almost derisive, entirely uncharacteristic for Fritz. A blot of green was dabbed at the collar of one of the portraits he was working out, his hand working quickly and efficiently to smooth it into the start of a shirt, sliding to form the curve of a shoulder.
"I told you," he said, without looking at her. "I'm fine."
It was far from the truth. In fact, it was so far from the truth it was almost laughable, almost comical. But like hell Fritz was going to show that to Desdemona of all people. Desdemona, who thought she knew him, who thought that because they'd had one drunken night of confessions together, that she was suddenly an expert on all of the goings on inside of his head.
Just thinking about it made the anger rise, made his throat tight with the feel of it. Fritz accidentally pressed too hard on his brush, leaving a deeper shade of green than he'd intended, and swore under his breath, dipping his brush into the water to clean it.
"What?" He almost hadn't heard her. But then it started to click, the nickname first, making him wince, and then the rest of what Desdemona was telling him falling into place behind it.
"So," said Fritz slowly, as he swirled his brush into a shade of cobalt blue now. "You're giving me...tea."
It was said flatly, almost suspiciously.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2015 6:27 pm
Desdemona, if asked, would have certainly never claimed to be an expert - but an interested party with some unexpected insight? Maybe that, yes, would be the best way to describe whatever this was. Honestly, what came easier than anything else was to say what it wasn't.
Her gaze followed the sweep of the brush, and her lips were still pursued, although she pressed no further. Not yet. He'd already pressed too hard on the brush, and although Desdemona knew next to nothing about painting, tension was easier to read in people than they thought - although was he really trying to hide it?
The cosmos knight came to mind, and Desdemona wondered idly if maybe it wasn't in her worst interest to question so much. But it was hard not to.
She laughed lightly, shifting a bit away from Fritz and sitting on the ground so her legs were tucked to a side, her bag resting beside her. "Yes, tea. I swear it's not poison - it's good, really. Elle had impeccable taste in that sort of thing." A lot of manner of things, really. Her apartment didn't look the way it did because of Desdemona's sense of aesthetic, that was for sure. It felt homey and elegantly rustic and comfortable, something she honestly didn't think that she'd be able to replicate on her own.
She glanced up at the canvas again, her head canted lightly to a side, as she tugged a book out of her bag - another GED prep book. It was less that she thought she'd pass and more that it was something to do. "By the way. I don't know if I said it before handsome, but I like your style."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 08, 2015 8:11 pm
He wished she would walk away. Fritz was no stranger to people watching him paint, and he would not have picked such a public place to work if he had felt uncomfortable having eyes on him. But Desdemona was not just some idle passerby stopping for a few moments. She was someone else, and she was jarring him with her presence, irritation flaring in his veins.
Especially since now she was sitting, as though she intended to stay where she was for a while. Fritz resisted the urge to get up and walk away, refusing to give her the satisfaction, and swirled the brush tip in a mason glass jar of water, watching as the green diffused into lighter shades that ebbed and flowed.
He was not going to ask who Elle was. Fritz withdrew the brush and reached for the palette again, this time choosing a lighter shade of yellow to be applied near the collar of the shirt.
"Why, exactly, are you giving me tea?" he asked, skating over the last of her questions, which was probably rude, as she was complimenting him, but Fritz did not feel in the mood to accept compliments - especially from those who he couldn't trust actually meant them.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 10, 2015 8:09 am
Desdemona propped her elbow up on one knee, and her cheek on her hand as she regarded him with an enduring, if fond, smile. "You're still hung up on the tea darling?" she asked with a light peal of laughter, then tucked her hair behind her ear.
Just before she proceeded to count off on her fingers, "Let's see - first off, to thank you for returning my wallet. Second off, because I ate your food and you made me a rather wonderful cup of tea last time. Third off, because I upset you last time, so I thought a peace offering might be the way to go. Fourth off, Poppy and I are never going to drink it all. And finally, " she held up her entire hand. "Because I know you like tea, and as previously established, I like you, so. There you have it. Tea Logic 101."
She gestured to the bag with a sweeping motion of her hand. "Does that suffice?" Desdemona flashed him a playful wink. "Should I draw a diagram?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 10, 2015 8:53 am
He was not amused by her flippant attitude. The last time Fritz had seen Desdemona, he'd all but thrown her out, and he was under no illusions now that things would be different. She was still acting as though she knew him somehow, as though she knew better than him, and it grated on his nerves like a knife.
"No," said Fritz flatly, adding a line of yellow and blending it easily with the green to make a lighter shade. "I don't need a diagram, and I don't need your...pity gifts, or whatever it is that you think. I'm not a fan of being treated as though I'm a child."
He pressed too hard on the canvas again and eased up, twisting the brush around slowly to add a bit of texture.
"And don't think I don't know that you probably left your wallet on purpose."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 11, 2015 5:15 am
"Do I do that?"
Desdemona suddenly regarded him with curiosity, perhaps even a trace of wonder, leaning with her arms crossed on her knees and the book spread across them. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Huh. I hadn't realized I did that." Strange. No one had ever said any such thing of Amphitrite - to her face, anyway. Was she like that as Amphitrite, too? Or was there perhaps something unique about Desdemona after all?
A silly thought, really, although the idea left her strangely tickled nonetheless. Maybe it wasn't a good thing to be, patronizing, but it was maybe better than having no personality at all. "It wasn't my intention." As though remembering it was, in fact, not something that would do much to endear him to her. "Sorry."
She shifted and turned her gaze back to the book on her lap, although Desdemona was shaking her head with a smile. "Even so, though. You're saying you don't need it spelled out, but - honestly, freckles, how on earth did you get pity from any of that?" She flipped the pages idly. "I wanted to thank you. I ate your food. I made you angry. I'm trying to apologize. I wanted to give you something. I want to be friends."
With a thoughtful frown, she tapped her pencil against her lips. "I believe I've made it pretty clear what it is I think - and what I think now is if anyone looks pathetic or pitiable here - well, you might be the one with the bandages, but that aside, it's certainly not you."
The fact that he'd caught on with the wallet did catch her by surprise, her eyes widening just a fraction as she looked at him - and then she simply smiled and went back to her book again. "Well. That'd be a silly thing to do, wouldn't it?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Dec 16, 2015 9:49 pm
He looked at her properly, finally, and for the first time she seemed almost surprised, genuinely so. Fritz stared at her, still suspicious of her motives, but there was a thread of confusion in his expression, as though he couldn't quite understand what her angle was.
"Considering the fact that I'm relatively certain I'm older than you by a few years," said Fritz flatly, "And the fact that you hardly know me, you always seem to put on this air of knowing better, as though I'm simply a child who can't face the facts, or what's right in front of him."
She'd apologized, and he wasn't even sure if she meant it, but he still said what he did anyway, Fritz's hand trembling. He ignored it and turned back to the painting.
"I know how my life is, and you don't. That's the basic premise of how things are."
He was making too big a deal out of this. Fritz ground his teeth together, took a breath, and tried to concentrate on the painting. It was difficult when he kept remembering that Desdemona was still there, and that she was still talking to him.
Some of the tension eased from his shoulders, the smallest fraction. He wanted to laugh, but didn't, Fritz giving a little snort.
"I'm sure. The picture of innocence, you are not."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 22, 2015 7:53 am
He'd acknowledged her at last, and she felt a familiar little surge of satisfaction, however it'd come about. Rather than being offended by his flat explanation, though, if anything her curiosity (and perhaps even a touch of wonder) dominated her expression.
An air of knowing better. "I don't do it on purpose, " she said truthfully, giving a shrug of her shoulders that was less to disregard what Fritz was saying and more because - she hesitated to say it was a helpless shrug, because Desdemona was anything but helpless, but -
"That much I know though." Desdemona didn't see much of a reason not to say it, rocking back and then forward again. "Not your life, I mean - I didn't mean to be like that, but someone sort of did the same thing to me. I'd say it felt like the universe was trying to tell me something, but I don't really subscribe to the whole - " She waved a hand in the air and wrinkled her nose. "Karma system or what have you. But you know what I mean, right?" Whether he did or not - "If I do it again, just slap me or fling paint at me or something, I'll get the idea - probably."
She brushed her hair out of her face and tilted her head to a side, inwardly mulling over the quiver of his hand. "For the record, though - if I'm pissing you off, I mean - you can just tell me, you know. Just like that." Desdemona laughed lightly. "It's not like you're going to fracture my delicate ego, freckles."
Some tension was another small victory. She'd take it; Desdemona batted her eyes, doe-like, and leaned closer, but not too close. "What on earth do you mean, Fritz, darling? - look it up, I'm definitely there."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 22, 2015 9:46 am
Maybe she hadn't known what she was doing at the time, but it didn't excuse the fact that she had done it in the first place, at least not in Fritz's mind. He tried to calm down, tried to ease the way his chest kept tightening unpleasantly, the way that his hand kept jerking, sending unexpected lines across his painting.
"I'm not going to fling paint at you," Fritz grumbled, smoothing a line of yellow across the shirt. "That would be a waste of perfectly good paint."
Privately, he appreciated the apology, but outwardly he said nothing at all, because if there was one thing that Fritz St. James was good at, it was faking it. He'd done it for years, after all, a lifetime of pretending to be something he wasn't, of pretending to be good when he wasn't. The facade was slipping now, and he kept grasping at it with desperate fingers, but his life was slowly dwindling down to a point he was unable to control.
It made him antsy, made him anxious.
"Stop calling me that," he said instead, bypassing the rest of her words, which was still rude, but at present, he was more focused on holding on to what little he had of himself. "I have a proper name, and I'd like it to be used."
Or maybe he just did not want to be tied to anything involving his brother. Fritz leaned deliberately away from Desdemona, though he kept his eyes on the painting.
"You're really not. Under a great number of other things, I'd say, but innocent you are not."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
