simplestgift | Twenty-one Bells: [ACTION/VOICE]

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Twenty-one Bells: [ACTION/VOICE]

[Archie has barely been around town lately, but he does appear in town this afternoon, dashing about to various shops and stores and picking up various one-use items and lots and lots of groceries. He seems to have one thing on his mind.

Later, he'll sit at the fountain and send out the voice message:]

This is Mr. Kennedy. If anyone is in need of me, I shall be at the beach house for most of the week. You can reach me there or on the journals.

Moreover, Mr. Hornblower and I are wondering if anyone would be interested in helping to build a ship. A sloop-of-war, to be specific, with room and ports enough for eighteen or twenty-two guns. I cannot claim we have a practical use for itm besides exploration, but it would be something to do. We have the plans drawn up, and all we need is enough hands to make it possible. We would be grateful for any help at all.

[After this, he'll be walking back to the beach house, where he's been babysitting Jack Sparrow since yesterday.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I don't have to talk.

Not saying you have to.

Just saying -- if you want to...well -- [ i'm here can't make it to her lips. ]

[Talk to someone else?

...Oh. Buffy is one of these professionals. Suddenly everything she's been saying clicks into place. If he doesn't trust her as a friend, he can trust her as a professional? And she wouldn't talk, and she wouldn't judge. That's...more than he ever expected of her.

It's a long pause before he speaks, voice softened.]

Thank you.

[ a quiet breath. not quite a sigh -- it's not nearly so melancholy. ]

We're all of us more than our titles, Archie. [ that is to say that she hopes to function not just as the slayer and not just as the barmaid but as the guidance counselor, too. and somewhere between all those different titles sits buffy summers, no matter how much she usually fails to strike a balance.

but it dovetails sweetly back into their first argument. that doctor mccoy is not simply a doctor. captain hornblower not simply a captain. nor admiral norrington just an admiral.

there is, after all, a reason why it always upsets her when she's referred to simply as 'slayer'; it denies all else -- somehow, only those holding the position of enemy ever use it to the exclusion of every other name.

jack had no doubt used it in their fight. she could barely remember that blur, now. but the sting was still there. ]

[There's no promise he'll ever take her up on her offer, but it means a lot that she made it.

He thinks for a few seconds about what she's saying, and perhaps for the first time since he's known her, gets what she's saying even though it contradicts all the indoctrination attempted by his previous life.]

I understand.

[A beat.]

But it's polite.

[His smile can be heard.]

...Screw politeness.

[ and an audible smirk to match. ]

I think you've been in Scotland long enough to become a bit Scot yourself, my dear.

...Does this mean I have to wear plaid? Because tartan and this complexion? Not happening.

Only on very formal occasions.

[ brb, the slayer is imagining a plaid prom dress and gagging. ]

Fine. Next formal occasion? You pick my outfit. Except for the part where I'm serious about not wearing plaid.

[ she had, after all, picked out his clothing for dawn's birthday. and now he was tender over how people expected HIM to change while they remained the same. perhaps she ought to give ground, here. no matter how banal that ground may be. ]

[A laugh.] Luceti will never have a formal occasion for which I know how to dress.

[ a beat. ] Halloween.

Halloween is a formal occasion?

Formal enough. [ hah. ] And I have a precedent for wearing outdated stuff. It all works out.

Whatever happened to the customary capers of the holiday, I wonder?

Don't ask me. I try to remain caper-free on Halloween. Back home, it's my one night off. Or it's supposed to be, when costumes aren't magically turning people into what they're pretending to be.

Costumes, is it? Gone the route of the pagans, you Americans.

It's called fun.

Invent that, did you?

Mmhm. Right after I invented eating Chinese on birthdays and was the first person to ever wear an odd number of earrings.

[He laughs. Getting a few things off his chest has done wonders for his spirits, although he won't admit it.] I meant Americans in the future. They don't have fun in my time because it hasn't been invented yet?

People've always have fun. I can't claim we invented it when, if I'm lucky enough, I'll see centuries of other people's fun in my dreams.

[ it's not always young girls dying, after all. ]

In your dreams? [He thinks this is another joke. He hasn't heard about her dreams yet.]

In my dreams. We...Slayers? We have dreams. Dreams of things that might happen. Dreams of things that have happened -- to other Slayers. Past Slayers. In my dreams, I've been all kinds of girls. From a few decades behind me, to your time. To older. All the way back to the first.

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