Tom Branson (thefirebrand) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-05-18 17:38:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, sybil crawley, tom branson |
Who: Sybil and Tom.
What: A meeting/birthday gift giving.
When: A few days after Tom’s birthday.
Where: The library.
Rating: Low.
Status: Complete.
With the new waves of dreams Tom had been having, he decided it might be a good opportunity to catch up on the history around World War One. Having already refreshed himself on the Irish side of things, he was moving on to the English involvement, and so found himself spending a lot of his spare time at the library. He didn’t mind it. It was the sort of thing he enjoyed learning about, anyway, and it wasn’t as if he had much else on at the time.
Sybil had wanted to get Tom a nicer gift. She wasn't sure exactly what, but something nice. A nice watch, cologne.. Well, the only man she'd given gifts to was her father, and that wasn't exactly Tom's style. It didn't matter much at this point, since her father had restricted her access to the family money.
Tom's official birthday celebrations had been at a pub, and Sybil wasn't old enough to attend. So they'd agreed to meet up later. They were planning to meet at what Sybil had begun to think of as 'their cafe'. It wasn't far from the library, and she wanted to check out a book for school. She was surprised when she spotted Tom. "Branson," she called brightly. "I thought we were meeting later."
Tom blinked at his name, and stood up as he gave Sybil a nod. And then he paused, and nearly laughed.
“You call me Branson and I stand up like you’re the daughter of an earl,” he teased. He put a marker in his book and closed it, then shrugged with a smile. “Odd coincidence, this, I guess. But good, since I was losing track of the time.”
Sybil blushed. "I should have said 'Tom', I'm sorry." She didn't want him to feel obligated to treat her a certain way. It was awkward enough when people knew she had money, the idea of having them treat her like nobility made her squirm.
"Happy birthday," she said, smiling.
"It's all right," he replied. He decided not to tell her that in her dreams she might come around to calling him Tom sooner than later. No point in making any of this awkward, right?
"Thanks. I'm sorry you couldn't come along. I don't think you'd have enjoyed it much, at any rate. Lots of drunken hooligans."
Sybil shrugged, smiling. "Oh, I don't know. Have to live life at some point." Besides, as long as Tom was there, she was sure she would've had a nice time. Though, maybe it was for the best. She wasn't sure what she would think of a drunk Tom.
"Well, I brought you this," she said, pulling a hat-shaped wrapped package out of her bag.
"Aw, you shouldn't have." But Tom looked delighted anyway as he took the gift from her, then started to unwrap it.
"It isn't much," Sybil said. "It made me think of you." Inside the wrapping was a gray, wool newsboy cap. Not quite like the ones from their dreams, but there was a familiarity about it that spoke to Sybil. "I hope you like it."
He laughed when he opened it, then slipped it on his head. “Well, how does it look, then?”
She grinned, relieved that he seemed to appreciate the gift. She had been a teensy bit worried he might find it patronizing in some way. "Very handsome," she answered, her tone overly proper. "Dapper, even!"
Tom’s smile faltered a bit, if only because of his dreams and nothing more. He laughed again, taking off the hat with care. “I’ll wear it with utmost pride.”
Sybil's smile softened. "I'm glad you like it." She seemed to be doing okay on a budget, so far. "So what were you reading?" she asked, sitting down at Tom's table.
"Just some history stuff," he replied, sitting next to her. "I learned about all this stuff in school, but dreaming about the war, or Downton during the war, makes me want a refresher."
"Oh. Well, have you found anything? Are the dreams historically accurate, so far?" History hadn't ever been Sybil's favorite subject, and she was sure she'd missed a few things.
“Yeah, it’s not too bad. I mean, from what I can tell. At Downton we don’t really see the front lines, so I can only assume our dreams are on the money.” Tom shrugged a bit. After a moment of hesitation, he asked, “Have you dreamed anything more? Since we last talked about them.”
Sybil nodded. "I've dreamed about Cousin Matthew arriving," and all of the drama that brought. Funny, how mellow Mary seemed now. "And Gwen--you know her, don't you? Helping her find a job she liked. And..of the count at Ripon." Sybil blushed. "I'm very sorry about that, by the way. I shouldn't have lied to you."
Ah, so she was a little behind him, it seemed. Which was perfectly fine. He needed more time to figure out how they were going to start discussing, well, other things. So instead he laughed a bit.
“I know Gwen. I like her, everyone seems to think it’s some terrible thing she wants to do something more with her life. And as for Ripon, well.” Tom shrugged, amused. “I should have known, really. And I shouldn’t have encouraged you, at that.”
"Well, I think it's amazing that she had the drive to teach herself to type." Suddenly, the excitement in Sybil's voice sounded strange in her ears today. It seemed like being impressed by something so minor, by today's standards. But it really had been surprising, back then! Sybil admired Gwen a great deal in the dreams. Maybe there was a part of her that wished she could get away, as well..
She frowned when he said he shouldn't have encouraged her. "Oh no, Tom! I'm glad you did! I feel like I learned so much!" He wasn't a major player in her dreams--not the way her sisters were--but she felt like her dream life would have been markedly different without him in it. He was helping her form her identity. Without their talks, she would've been just another debutante. Her cheeks flushed pink.
“And it nearly cost me my job,” Tom teased. He didn’t mind much. He knew that there were other things on the horizon that would cost him his livelihood in his dreams.
“You shouldn’t be so quick to give me such credit. You do a lot of great things in those dreams, I promise. You never needed me nor anyone else to figure out who you were, I reckon.”
Sybil's blush deepened, though not only from Tom's praise. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the wish to be swept up in a great romance, wanting to lunge into his arms for a passionate kiss... But her recent experience with Kim's unwelcome kiss made her hesitate. And, given that they were celebrating Tom's birthday, there was also the matter of his age.
Things were different here, weren't they? She wasn't nobility, and he didn't work for her. "Tom..." Sybil started slowly. "What would happen if I kissed you?"
His smile faded and be blinked, then cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, trying to work out his words, “I suspect it might not be a fantastic idea. You’re not even eighteen yet,” he reminded her. “Why on earth would you want to kiss an old man like me?”
“Oh.” Sybil’s excitement sank, like a quickly deflating balloon. “I just meant on the cheek,” she lied. “For being so sweet.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Tom blushed a bit. “I shouldn’t have assumed - I think that’d be all right. My mind’s just not all there with this dream thing, you know?”
"No, it's fine; I wasn't clear." And she'd completely misread the moment. A moment that was becoming more and more unbearable. "I should probably go," she said, glancing at her watch. "I'm supposed to meet Mary soon."
“Oh.” Tom tried not to feel so stupid. He hadn’t meant to offend Sybil, really. Was there a nicer way of saying it? Instead, he put on a smile. “Well, I’m glad got to see you for a bit at any rate. And thanks for the cap. I need something to keep the sun off my fair Irish skin.”
Sybil gave him a small, if a bit forced, smile. “You’re welcome. Happy birthday, again.” She got up and waved to him before heading for the door.
All Tom could do was offer a smile in return and wave back, and he let out a long exhale once she’d gone. He hadn’t expected this to happen, of all things, and he wasn’t sure how he was meant to deal with it. Hopefully it’d pass.