S. (lauraparis) wrote in write_lab, @ 2014-09-15 20:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | instance one, ~brontesaurus, ~lauraparis |
instance one.
PLAYERS: brontesaurus (is never without a hat) & lauraparis (is carrying something expensive and precious)
SCENARIO: On a train to nowhere
WARNINGS: None.
“Excuse me. Excuse me,” Gloria pushed her way through the train carriage hallway, suitcase dragging behind her, a large hat box in her other hand and the feather on her hat bobbing as she tried to maneuver her way to an empty seat. Coming across a pair of seats she carefully placed the hat box down on one and then with great struggle and a rather unladylike “oof” lifted the suitcase into the luggage racks, her feet wobbling in her heels as she struggled with the weight. With that done she brushed some imaginary dirt off her clothes, straightened the elaborate hat on her head and took a seat next to her hat box, hoping no one would come along and need that spare seat. Trent wanted to be alone with his thoughts. When he boarded the train, he was alone. He wasn't supposed to be alone on this trip; he was meant to be with his fiancee. But she wasn't his fiancee, and she wasn't with him, and he couldn't find an empty row of seats. Every row was a couple or a single and finally, he decided, that whatever single row he came to next, he'd sit at. It happened to be Gloria's row. He stared at the back of her large hat, in particular its feather, and then at the hat box taking up the seat beside her. Maybe he shouldn't … "Excuse me," he said, clearing his throat. "Mind if I sit here?" Gloria looked from the man to her hat box then back to the man as if considering this very carefully. Then, gently, she lifted the hat box from the chair and onto her lap, clearing the seat for Trent. “Please,” she replied, gesturing at the now empty seat with a tight-lipped smile. “The train is awfully busy.” He suspected that she wasn't too keen on having him join her, but she looked friendly enough, more so than the elderly man a few rows ahead of them who was coughing and sputtering as he rustled a newspaper to read. "Thank you," he said. Before Trent sat, he slid a small box out of his overcoat pocket and replaced it in his front pants pocket. He folded his coat carefully and placed it and his small bag on the rack above them, next to her luggage. When he sat, the box dug uncomfortably into the place where his hip met his thigh. He tried to ignore it. When he glanced at Gloria, he realized she had moved the hat box formerly taking his seat into her lap. If she had a long train ride ahead of her, that would probably get uncomfortable as well. "May I move your hat box up along the luggage rack as well?" he asked politely. "I think there's some room just across the aisle here." Gloria hesitated before answering, her grip on the hat box tightening before reminding herself that the point of the box was to protect the hat inside it and so it should be fine. “If that’s not too much trouble. Thank you,” she replied politely, passing the box over to him. It wasn't too much trouble, so Trent stood up again, taking the box from her. The train jerked forward, and he stumbled, but not enough to fall or to drop the hat box. He placed it into the spot between two suitcases just across the aisle. She would have a clean view of it if she needed to see that it was safe. Then he sat down again. Once sitting, he stuck his hand in his pocket and rubbed the pad of his thumb against the corner of the box. He sighed heavily then turned to his seat companion. "I'm Trent," he said. "Figured I might as well introduce myself if we're going to be sitting next to each other for the foreseeable future." He stuck out the hand that wasn't in his pocket. She surveyed the hand carefully before reaching hers out to shake it. It seemed clean enough, hopefully he wasn’t one of those guys that didn’t wash their hands. “Gloria,” she replied. “Are you travelling for business or pleasure?” For a moment he wasn't sure how to answer that. It had been for pleasure, but now there was nothing pleasing about returning to the train alone. But there was nothing business-like about it either, he realized. He was just … traveling. "Neither," he chose to say as he shook her hand firmly. "What about you?" For a moment she was going to question how that was possible, to not be travelling for either, but when she opened her mouth to answer the question for herself she realised just how possible it was, her mouth closing again before she could speak, lips quirking up into a smile. “Neither as well,” she replied. “Usually it’s pretty easy to tell with other people though,” she added, gesturing to a man a couple of rows ahead of them. “Briefcase - business,” then to a couple holding hands, “Pleasure.” A smile tugged at his mouth from inside but never quite appeared. Maybe he just looked like he had a twitch in his cheek. "You have a hat and a hat box," he said. "I have an overcoat and an -- well, I had an umbrella but I appear to have misplaced it." He also had a box in his pocket that he almost wished he had misplaced as well. “I would say that, wherever it is that you are going, you are not expecting the weather to be pleasant,” Gloria decided. “Though perhaps you are hopeful that it might not be as bad as you expect and that is why you have misplaced your umbrella.” "Or perhaps it's where I came from that wasn't pleasant, and I'm looking forward to leaving that all behind." How true it was, Trent realized, though it had little to do with the weather. “I do hope your journey becomes more pleasant for you, in that case,” Gloria told him politely. “I’m sorry to hear that where you came from wasn’t what you wanted.” He wasn't sure how much of what she said to believe, but he wasn't about to be rude about it. "Thanks," he said, but that was all he said for a moment. He had initiated the conversation with her, after all. And he had been the one to sit with her, too, so silence wasn't the best course of action going forward. "I like your hat," he said, nodding to it. "Especially the feather. What bird is it from?" He reached out to brush his fingers against it. Gloria tried her best not to grimace as Trent’s hand touched the feather on her hat, again questioning the cleanliness of his hands. “Pheasant,” she replied curtly. “Thank you,” she added moments later, remembering he had first complimented her hat. “I don’t think people wear hats nearly enough these days, wouldn’t you agree?” she asked. “It’s only to the races or to Royal Weddings, or beanies in winter.” The last was said with a great deal of disappointment and disgust in her voice. As if anyone could really count a beanie as a proper hat! He wasn't sure that he had an opinion either way about hat-wearing, but he found himself nodding in agreement with her. He thought of his own naked head. "Well, not everyone can pull a hat off so well as you," he said. “I’m sure you could find a hat that suits,” she assured him. “Hats just make everyone look so much more dashing!” She smiled to herself, happy in thoughts of a society where hats were important again, where social class could be easily distinguished by what type of hats people wore. “Perhaps you can find yourself one wherever it is you are travelling to.” "Perhaps," he echoed. But he left it at that. He wasn't looking forward to the destination, he knew, especially now that he was going at it alone. He stuck his hand back in his pocket and heaved a heavy sigh. What would his mother say when he handed it back to her instead of showing it to her on his fiancee's finger? Trent felt a headache thump behind his temple. "Excuse me," he said, "but you don't mind if I take a short nap while we get underway, do you?" Maybe it would be the only way he could get everything else off his mind. “Not at all,” Gloria replied, actually looking forward to some silence. “Pleasant dreams.” |