(no subject)

[livinginmyglass]

As ever, Viola has responded to what seems to have been a narrow escape from possible death at the hands of a blood-drinking aristocrat by problem-solving. The problem in this case being the question of who the hell was he, and the solution being retreating to the library.

She has collected a formidable stack of books, but her progress through them proves slow, as the slightest sounds make her jump.

Comments

[livinginmyglass]

"O, I have no others, I do assure you," she says. "I have too little craft to weave a web of lies-- I can manage but the one."

[wings_of_a_swan]

Combeferre smiles, and absently marches the toy dinosaur up and down the table.

"I thank you, then, for your graciousness in dealing with one who has stumbled on your only secret. Do you intend to keep your disguise at Milliways? You must have seen there are women here, who all go freely and unmolested--but perhaps you feel it's better to maintain the habit, so you won't slip when you return to your employer."

Combeferre knows a thing or two about keeping secrets himself.

[livinginmyglass]

She bites her lip, trying not to laugh at the marching dinosaur.

"Well, yes. I--" She breaks off. She knows it doesn't really make sense-- in fact, she suspects it would be far more useful to be herself in Milliways, to have a place to come and let down her guard, wear a dress, tell the truth. But the thought of giving up her boy's clothes (her brother's clothes-- is that a secret, she wonders? or just something she can't bring herself talk about?) fills her with a strange kind of panic.

"I think it best. So, as you say, I do not forget what I must seem."

[wings_of_a_swan]

Combeferre nods. "Perhaps one day, you will be able to shed your disguise in Milliways, at least--if you feel secure enough in it, or if it becomes altogether unnecessary," he suggests.

[livinginmyglass]

She nods agreement.

"There is also the question of-- well, I do not think all would be as patient as you upon learning they have been lied to."

...no, she hasn't really thought through her end-game, why do you ask?

[wings_of_a_swan]

"Some may be churlish enough to blame you for that," Combeferre says gravely, "but hopefully not many, and no one worth regretting in any case. But I swear again, no one will learn it from me. Nor my friend Prouvaire who told me. We agreed on that. He told me in confidence, since the play is publicly available and he felt I should warn you, but it will go no further from us." He pauses. "Others may find the play, of course."

[livinginmyglass]

"--I did not think of that." She casts a slightly nervous glance towards the shelves, as if expecting them to suddenly be filled with the story of her life. She runs a hand through her hair (a gesture which leaves most of it curling off in rather odd directions).

"I will think on what to do," she says firmly.

[wings_of_a_swan]

"I suppose I'll leave you in peace to your thoughts, then, if you'd like," says Combeferre. He gives a self-conscious laugh. "I realize I've interrupted your anxious study of a threat with unwelcome news."

[livinginmyglass]

"You need not-- and you have not," she says sincerely. "I had far rather learn it of you than of some stranger, and I am very grateful. If it is your aim to sit in study, why-- sit here, if it please you, and we may keep silent company."

[wings_of_a_swan]

"Then I will," Combeferre says. Not only does he rather like Viola's company, but it would be annoying to have to haul his stack of books back to Room 89. He smiles. "I, and our friend here." He sets the dinosaur between them.

[ooc: wrap here or in the next tag?]

[livinginmyglass]

[ooc: i mean clearly the dinosaur deserves the last word :D]

[wings_of_a_swan]

[ooc: Heee. Wanna post it, or should I?]

[livinginmyglass]

[ooc: I can do it!]