song_tra_bong | (no subject)

(no subject)

Placeholder! Suffice to say that MA has brought Kit in from the bar. They're standing in the entryway like they just came in through the front door. Technically, they did. The house has some rooms up on the second story, but mostly the house goes out rather than up. The rooms are bright and airy.

"Well, here we are. Home sweet home.'

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Marlowe is going to stand here, breeches and loose shirt from 1602, splint on his right hand, bag in the left, and feel...

Distinctly out of place.

"And this is...just for you and your husband?"

"For now," she says.

"I imagine if we still have it further down the line, it'll be for the girls, too."

Possibly Mary Anne is fidgeting a little. They've never really had company over to the house before.

"Four people." He laughs, and rolls a shoulder back. "This is...very nice."

Very big.

She ducks her head, hiding a blush.

"C'mon, let me give you the grand tour."

She leads him from the entryway through the living room, then down the hallway where they skirt the edge of the dining room.

"Up there--" She points up a flight of stairs. "--is the master bedroom. Also, there's a porch with a pretty good view. There's the kitchen," she adds as they continue a little further down the hall. "and here's your room."

The walls are a soft, pale blue; a bathroom is visible through one door, which makes the other door the closet. The bed itself is big enough for two--or just one person who likes to sprawl--and made up neatly. Through the window to the left of the bed, you can see the ocean.

He smiles, sort of.

"I...thank you."

"You're welcome."

She drums her fingers against her leg a moment before adding, "Our neighbors aren't exactly close by, so you don't have to worry about taking a walk and running into somebody and not knowing Greek. Unless you do know Greek?"

"Classic Greek, bits thereof."

"...not sure how helpful that'll be, but it can't hurt," she says.

"D'you want anything to eat?"

Bag is dumped on bed.

"Sure," he says, taking a good look at the ocean.

She smiles.

"Let's go see what we can find, then," she says, then heads back toward the kitchen.

He's an actor enough that he manages not to gawk. It's just so...

Big.

Clean.

It is big because neither Mary Anne nor her husband are much for confinement.

It is clean because...well, neither Mary Anne nor her husband spend the bulk of their time living here just yet.

The latter is no doubt why she's having trouble finding anything to eat in the kitchen.

"Um..."

Mary Anne stares into the open pantry, frowning. She heads over to check the fridge, then rifles through a few other cabinets.

"That snack may have to wait until I get do some shopping. Any requests?"

Peasant boy, living in a big city in the sixteenth century. Lets leave it at that, shall we?

He laughs, then. "Just some bread is fine."

She grins.

"Bread it is. And since I'm feeling generous, water too."

She gives him a kiss on the cheek, as she moves past him back into the hallway. "Feel free to explore, just don't set anything on fire. I'll be back soon."

After a moment, her footsteps do not so much fade out as vanish entirely. Marlowe is alone in the house.

Ruin thinks he heard Mary Anne come in, so he pads out from the master bedroom, freshly showered and in a low-slung towel, and heads into the kitchen, talking even before he sees who the occupant is.

"Decided to come home, huh? About time, Legs, 'cause someone's gotta do the cook--"

He stops, staring at the man in his kitchen.

"She brought home a stray," he says to no one in particular.

"Only a temporary stray. No collar," the decidedly shorter, one-eyed man replies.

He also wishes that his right hand currently wasn't in a splint.

He looks him over critically.

"How temporary?" he asks, yanking open the fridge and pulling out a pitcher of orange juice.

"Until the current state of Milliways nightmares-ending-in-grievous-bodily-harm stops, I suppose."

He snorts.

"Sounds like my sort of thing," he says as he pours a glass. He raises an eyebrow. "And she left you here? With a walking nightmare who tends to cause grievous bodily harm just 'cause he can?" Ruin looks around. "And where the hell did she go?"

"Maybe she thought we'd play nice. And she scampered to get food."

"I don't play nice," Ruin says. "Not even with her."

"My mistake."

"Or hers."

Marlowe raises his eybrow.

Slightly.

He downs his glass of juice, putting it in the sink when he's done, and then leans against the counter.

"You fucking her?"

Mild curiosity.

"No."

Ruin was using present tense, after all, and once does not present tense make.

Ruin laughs.

"I doubt that. I don't think anyone meets Legs and doesn't tumble her at least once."

"Once does not present tense make."

He's a poet. And a post-grad from Cambridge. Playing at sematics is what he does.

"Thanks for the clarification," he drawls. "'Cause I was worried about that."

Ruin eyes him.

"Why did she bring you here? It certainly couldn't be time for her to tag out and me to tag in. No offense, but you really aren't my usual type."

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