02 - Public / Video

[domesheriff]

[Linda comes onto the network today actually dressed casually rather than in her patrol uniform; she's wearing a red T-shirt under a gray sweater jacket over jeans and boots. her hair is pulled back in a braid, and the ever-present engagement ring is on her hand. today of all days, she wants to be wearing it. because despite the dome and her relocation, she's still counted the days, and she knows that if none of that had happened, this would be it--this would be her wedding day. and having realized that, it's a thought she can't get out of her head]

Hey, is anybody free today? [her tone is casual, but there's something a little anxious in the way she's standing. she has her hands in front of her and is unthinkingly playing with the ring as well] I'm off, and I don't want to spend the day sitting around alone. I'll take you to lunch--my treat. Or...I don't know, a walk in the gardens, or even some games in the arcade? Maybe a drink at Pugsy's tonight. Sound good to anybody?

[she smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. still, despite the feelings she's fighting, she's determined not to spend today moping. she's going to distract herself with new friends and fun instead]

Comments

[domesheriff]

[she can't help looking slightly taken aback by this very...proper and British man. he's definitely not the type of person she's used to encountering, and her first question is a rather confused:] Old nosebag?

[but then she recovers herself enough to say:] Uh, Linda Esquivel. Nice to meet you.

[she'd repeat his name, but she can't decide in this case whether to call him by his first name, which is her instinct, or if someone like this should be "mister" on...some sort of principle related to meeting strange well-dressed people from foreign countries]

[what_ho_jeeves]

How do you do, Miss Esquivel.

[Bertie chooses his mode of address based on the rules of society that he grew up with and are second nature. One of which is that you don't address an adult lady by her first name unless she invites you to.]

Yes, putting on the nosebag, like a horse feeding, although with knives and fork and not actually a bag at all.

[domesheriff]

[she raises an eyebrow at his description, but as he continues her expression finally settles into understanding] Lunch, you mean? Sure, that'd be nice. [she gives him a slightly uncertain smile]

Linda's fine. [now that she's had time to consider it--and heard him use her full name--she decides to try to get him to be informal if she can] Where would you want to go?

[what_ho_jeeves]

In that case, Linda, call me Bertie. All my friends call me Bertie. [One friendly conversation and being on a first name basis is enough to qualify as a friend in Bertie's book. Two friendly conversations and one graduates to "good friend."]

The hotel restaurant has a menu that is very pleasant on the old tongue.

[And is a bit expensive, but Bertie rarely notices money because he always has it.]

[domesheriff]

[her eyebrows go up at his suggestion, but since he's already insisted that he won't let her pay, she figures there's no harm in accepting the offer] Okay, Bertie. How about we walk around the gardens and then head that way?

[what_ho_jeeves]

Right-o! An ankle around the gardens sounds like just the thing. I usually enjoy a stroll 'round the grounds between breakfast and lunch. There is no better way to work up an appetite.

[Back home a walk around gardens with an unmarried lady would usually end in him being accidentally engaged by the time the walk is finished, but he has had much better luck avoiding that here.]

[domesheriff]

Did you want to go now, or should I meet you later?

[Bertie is in luck this time. Linda might be worlds away from Rusty, but that doesn't make her consider herself any less engaged, as evidenced by the ring on her finger. so Bertie has nothing to fear--not from her, anyway]

[what_ho_jeeves]

I have no immediate plans for the day, or later plans for that matter, so I am entirely at your convenience.

[domesheriff]

[his way of speaking is still baffling, but she understands it well enough to smile in amusement] Then how about I meet you at the entrance to the gardens?

[what_ho_jeeves]

I shall be there forthwith, awaiting your arrival.

Cheery-o!

[domesheriff]

[Linda heads straight for the gardens, as agreed, wondering what a walk and lunch with someone as odd as Bertie is going to be like. because who ends a conversation with "cheery-o," really? she didn't realize people like that existed outside of movies]

[what_ho_jeeves]

[Bertie is waiting in the gardens for it, hat on his head and walking stick in his gloved hands. He was sniffing the flowers as she approaches but once he sees her, he stops and straightens and tips his hat to her.]

What ho, what ho, Linda! What a blustery winter's day, what? The sort of day that stirs the blood and makes one want to read gothic novels about fair fillies standing forlorn on dark and windswept moors.

[domesheriff]

[Bertie continues to defy expectations with his appearance and his manner--or maybe at this point "live up to them" is more accurate. Linda's not sure]

[in any case, her expression is a little bemused as she comes up to him] Hey, Bertie. Uh, yeah, it's...definitely getting pretty cold. [she understood that much of what he said, at least]

So you...like gardens? Or just walking?

[it's the best conversation-starter that's coming to her mind at the moment]

[what_ho_jeeves]

Gardens are all well and good, but it's more the walking than the gardens qua gardens...if qua is the word I want. I like to ankle about every day, take in the fresh air, see the sights. When staying at a country house, this usually means taking a turn or two around the gardens, but back in the metrop I percolate...perspirate...perambulate! that's the chap, I perambulate around the neighbourhood.

[domesheriff]

[she really understood less than half of that but is, on the bright side fairly confident that she's managed to infer about three-quarters of what he's getting at despite the odd words]

Where are you from? I mean, England, but...

[she trails off, still trying to work out what a "metrop" is]

[what_ho_jeeves]

The family has estates all over the south, but I dwell mostly in my London flat, punctuated by the occasional sojourn to New York. Corking place but that they've outlawed the drinking and selling of alcohol there. That's positively inhumane if you ask me.

[domesheriff]

Wait, they've what?

[she did understand him this time, but she can't believe it. then again, she reminds herself, different universe. if people can be here from different worlds and even the future, both possibilities that she's already come to terms with, then why not the past?]

Bertie, what year is it where you're from?

[what_ho_jeeves]

It is the year of our Lord, 1930. I thought everyone knew that. Except for Barmy. Good old Barmy. He forgets his own address. Jolly fine chap, though.

[domesheriff]

[Linda shakes her head, still not sure she can believe this and wondering how she might convince Bertie if she's having trouble convincing herself]

[but it is the only answer that makes sense, and she knows it] Not for me. When I left Chester's Mill, it was 2013.