Dr. Linden Cress (zugzwangplay) wrote in theunboundic, @ 2020-06-29 19:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! time: july 3 - 9, ava mercier, linden cress |
When life gives you lemons, you don't make lemonade
Who: Linden & The Phone & Ava
What: A Private Phone Conversation
Where: Rosier Manor, front Parlor
When: Wednesday, July 6 (very late in the evening)
Viola had given Doctor Cress much to reflect on following their conversation in the car on Monday night. For the briefest moment he considered the possibility that he might not be successful in his goals; or at the very least, his victory would be temporary. He’d have to make a play that she couldn’t run away from again. Her little escape to Glynn would have to be a single flight of fancy, and the most important person to convince wasn’t Viola - it was her father. After the terrorist had been taken to Castyll and the larger cultural situation worsened, Linden weighed the phone call he’d delayed since early in the week. Senator Rosier needed to be informed of his daughter’s imminent nuptials - and confident enough in that imminence that he would actually come to Glynn and force the issue right where Linden wanted it to go.
There was a delicate balance; move too quickly and he would be called on his bluff and his upper hand would be wasted, perhaps to the point of being unsalvageable. Move too slow, however, and the declining tension would sap the urgency and sincerity out of Viola’s hypothetical deal. After dinner he’d excused himself to his room (as many of the occupants, himself included, were not predisposed to sociability), prepared his words, and then waited for the household to tuck in for the evening.
Back in Belailles, it was the middle of a busy week. No one from the Senate’s offices would be asleep for at least another hour, and Dr. Cress had the privilege of generally knowing Senator Rosier’s schedule. In the parlor, where the phone sat very nicely on a pretty little table, Linden crept inside and flipped on one of the electric lamps and picked up the receiver and dialed out to the capital.
It took a few moments for the various operators to make the connections. He stood there in silence, the silly little instrument held up against his ear, until finally it was time to speak.
“Yes, good evening Senator. I hope I didn’t wake you. How is Veronique?” A friendly chuckle, then a pause to listen.
“The manor looks to be in good shape, yes. Your children have maintained it beautifully. I am happy I was able to come visit, the climate is more agreeable here. I suspect that’s why Beau has done so well.”
No words, just the shifting of weight. He puts a hand on his hip, looks down at the plush carpet.
“Well, that’s not the only good news. I’ve had many talks with -- yes, with Viola. She’s charming as ever, and,” another chuckle, “yes, I believe the climate has been better for her, too.”
He doesn’t sit. He prefers to stand, pacing around, a dog tethered to the telephone by that coiled wire.
“The matter of the terrorist has been distracting, true, I’m sure you’ve seen the news already. Ghastly. I’m sure it’ll come up tomorrow in committee -- but, I have some news. Yes, hah. Good news.”
He parts his lips just slightly, the way a man might before taking the shot at the pigeon, or diving from a cliffside into the sea.
“Viola has apologized; we’ve reconciled. She has - she’s asked me to reconsider her proposal. Attributed everything to temporary nerves. I think - yes,” a pause, another chuckle, everything quite chummy, “of course, yes, I think so, too.”
“However, there is Margot to consider. She’s a sweet thing, I don’t think she could bear to leave a room without looking at me, the dear. Besides, I don’t want to be presumptive, given our prior --,” he hums, then makes a noise of feigned surprise. “Come visit? Pierre. I know we’d discussed your surveying the house properly, but I anticipated returning to Belailles tomorrow--” There is a delay now that he’s been interrupted, but he doesn’t mine. He has to swallow his eagerness and replace it with ambivalence. “If you are coming in person, then I would appreciate the opportunity to be your guest. No, no, Margot won’t mind. She’s young, what’s another few days to her?” He laughs, almost triumphant.
“Shall I tell them?” A pause. “Either way it doesn’t really matter, you’re right. I will make my judgement in the morning. Give Veronique my affection.” The smile in his voice is tangible. “Yes, once I am back in Belailles, we shall. Goodnight, my friend.”
The phone met the receiver, and he stood there and basked in the dim electric light alone.
Or well, mostly alone.