Appointment's Post

[talentsgirl]

For all your "Getting in touch with Molly" needs. Any extraneous voice, action, or written posts, flowovers, invitations (present drop offs, etc) can go here! Please label the thread using the following format:

[written, March 11]
[voice, June 6]
[action, December 15]

Comments

[talentsgirl]

"Done, then." Well. That was easier than she'd thought.

...okay, in lieu of an actual vase, she was apparently stuck with the big plastic water bottle she'd grabbed to keep her company on runs.

"I'll have to go into town and get a vase," she said, turning around with the water bottle and a pair of scissors.

She's just kept the provided furnishings spotless in the meantime, though she couldn't help adding a splash of color in a throw blanket here or a couple of cushions, bright against the white. She hadn't wanted to claim this place yet, hadn't wanted to make it hers... but she was beginning to accept that inevitability.

"I haven't done much decorating yet."

[greenjacketed]

"...The place looks lovely," he assured her. It was better than his own. He didn't know what to do with all the space or all the furniture.

"I do like the, uh..." Sharpe grappled and wrestled and fought for some compliment on her interior design -- not sure what to say. It was all so far above his head. "The colours. You chose excellently."

Was that good enough?

[talentsgirl]

...oh good Lord, this poor man. "Thank you."

She snipped the stems of the flowers and plopped them into water bottle.

"So what was the mission like?"

[greenjacketed]

"A success, I hope. Myself and Captain Sparrow retrieved many a, uhm, refreshed soul. We conducted ourselves about on a strange, noisome thing. Like a roofless, metal carriage. All coloured green."

A military jeep, really. But he was struggling to explain it.

[talentsgirl]

Her brow furrowed with concentration. "A 'refreshed soul?' What do you mean?"

...

"Did you just say Captain Sparrow?"

[greenjacketed]

With distaste on his tongue: "Those who've died, lass. Or so he said. Come back from the beyond."

He didn't like that thought. It showed. And so he moved gladly on to another explanation: "A sailor, of sorts. Calls himself a pirate but I've only seen him drink and fight. And he does well at both."

[talentsgirl]

Captain Jack Sparrow.

...well. Harry had said he'd had a drink with him.

This place...

"I guess it takes more than drinking and fighting well to be a pirate?"

...those who have died.

[greenjacketed]

"So I assume. But I haven't witnessed the man on his ship or on any ship, for that matter."

Sharpe watched the orchid; not her. "He made for fair company."

[talentsgirl]

"Well, that's good." She ran a hand up the side of her head, smoothing a few fly-away strands. She wasn't sure how to come back to the subject of dead-who-aren't-really-dead without asking very specific questions, and... she wasn't sure she wanted to do that either.

"Sorry, where are my manners? Do you want to sit down? Have something to drink?"

[greenjacketed]

"...Tea?" He coaxed the word out of his throat. Gently.

And nodded. "Aye, I'll sit. Where would, err..."

A crossroads. How could he sit if she would still be up, tea-making?

[talentsgirl]

"Come on," she said, picking up her water bottle full of flowers. "We'll go into the kitchen."

The orchids can keep them company.

[greenjacketed]

"You take point, Ensign Carpenter," he joked -- thick-voiced -- and hoped to clear the air heavy with thoughts of revivification and refused apologies.

[talentsgirl]

And again, that word provides her with an image of a red Star Trek uniform, and she laughed good-naturedly. "Oh, I'm an Ensign, am I?"

She walked to the door, reaching for and opening it for the both of them. "I guess I've been called worse."

[greenjacketed]

"Careful, lass. Or I'll knock you down to Sergeant for impudence."

That...wasn't how commissions worked. But he threatened it regardless -- raising his eyebrows when she grabbed the door before him.

He stepped through.

[talentsgirl]

"An Ensign's above a Sergeant?"

It had never sounded that way in Star Trek.

She let the door close, unlocked, behind them.

[greenjacketed]

"An Ensign's the first rank a commissioned officer holds. A Sergeant? Not an officer. A Sergeant's still only a man among the ranks."

And so an Ensign wasn't only above a Sergeant but part of a whole different ladder. Normally."

[talentsgirl]

She began to lead the way down the hall to the kitchen, "Oh, I see."

Hmm.

"I don't think they had Sergeants in Star Trek."

[greenjacketed]

He kept in step -- being sure to stand with his sword facing the corridor's wall, so as not to trip her up.

"Star Trek, Molly?"

[talentsgirl]

"It's an old TV show - like a play. The same one that had that drink I told you about, actually."

[greenjacketed]

"A play you like, then."

Not a question.

[talentsgirl]

"There was a marathon on once when I had the flu. Some things stick with you."

Or so goes her excuse.

[greenjacketed]

"I believe your play's mistaken, Miss Molly. For it goes private then corporal then sergeant amongst the ranks -- with the occasional sergeant major if they're well accomplished."

[talentsgirl]

"...it didn't really deal with the ranks so much. I mean, I'm not sure all the titles strictly translated over."

And she entered the kitchen and set her orchids down on the counter.

"The world the stories were set in was made-up."

[greenjacketed]

He stopped just within the doorway. Almost as though on guard. Strange, old habits.

"A mite like this place, then. So much of it seems imagined."

[talentsgirl]

"Mmm, I can see how it would seem that way." Her wings ruffled, restless, underneath the zippered shirt.

"What kind of tea would you like?"

She glanced back at him since he'd apparently... stopped. Hmm. Should she point to the tables in the kitchen? She'd wait and see.