Mischievous & Beautiful

“I could tell you,” Peter began the old adage with a lopsided grin. “But then I’d have to kill you.” He wasn’t as phased as a boy should have been by graverobbing. In fact, Peter was incredibly interested in the topic now it had been brought up. “I guess if you tell me what cool stuff you found robbing graves, I could tell you where and why I’ve had to humiliate myself.”

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Elizabeth rolled her eyes with the shake of her head. The cliché of all secrets big or small. “I found a cursed mummy’s eye once. Wasn’t what we were looking for but it fetched a pretty price nonetheless. There was also the enchanted gut jar.”

“I suppose on that depends how long you intend on staying married for.” Cleo couldn’t even imagine herself married. Not because of any annoyance towards marriage in general, she just didn’t quite believe that anyone would choose to settle down with her. As though her life had any time for that silly nonsense.

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“Long enough to pocket enough to not have to work for awhile, at least.” Elizabeth nodded, a grin on her face. “I’m not quite the marrying type but for the right price I think anything is on the table.” Stability, a roof over your head, though she and Hattie seemed to be fairing well enough. It wasn’t an immediate concern.

“Well, most people would love nothing more to talk about themselves.” She shrugged, “Guess you’re not one of those people then?”

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“Gods no.” Elizabeth grimaced. “The idea of it—” Elizabeth shuddered, feigning a gag. “Not for me. The less people know the better.”

Sturgis bit at his bottom lip, then dipped his chin. After a moment passed, he nodded. “I’m trying.” Taking life one day at a time; sometimes, hour by hour. 

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“I’m proud of you.” She wasn’t sure what else she could say. She was in fact proud of him. For trying. For staying alive. She wasn’t sure how to articulate that in its entirety though, just that she was proud.

“I mean I wasn’t just going to do it, like, for fun.” Peter felt silly now that he’d said it at all. It had turned out not to be gentlemanly at all,  he noted. Being raised in the presence of very few gentlemen, could he really be blamed? “Uh,” he searched quick for something else to grasp onto, “Egypt. That’s cool. What were you in Egypt for? That’s one of my, like, bucket list spots.”

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“What kind of situations do you even get into that would require you to do that?” Elizabeth asked with a small amount of genuine curiosity. “Because you have to have done it before— something like that doesn’t just come to mind in this kind of situation.” He looked at him with a hint of skepticism. “Graverobbing.” She replied to his questions with an entirely straight face.

“That’s the one. Wealthy family. Strange hobbies.” Though, in Cleo’s estimation, rich people always had weird hobbies. That’s what having money did. It made people fucking insane.

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“Wonder if he needs a wife.” Elizabeth said with a raised brow. “I always thought I’d make a marvelous trophy.”

WHEN: 6 February 1981 WHERE:  Puddle Park, Puddlemere WHO: @elizabethdayal​

“I’m just going to tell you right now, so it’s not sommat we have to worry about later.” It was an odd way to introduce himself, but so too was having a pair of handcuffs slapped to each of their wrists for a chance at 10k so he didn’t worry too much about it. “I am willing to piss my pants and vanish it if going into the loo together would be too awkward. I won’t even tell you when it happens, if you prefer.” It was the gentlemanly thing to do, he thought. Probably. Peter had never been much of a gentleman, so it was hard for him to say. 

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Elizabeth blinked slowly at the boy she had been paired with. “If that’s your way of giving me permission to do the same I’ll pass. I had to squat in the desert for almost three months while I worked in Egypt” not to mention the far worse things she’d had to do as a homeless child “— I think I can manage to stand in the loo with you over the course of a day.” So— potentially walking away from this with someone new to sleep with was out of the question. “And if you so much as think about pissing yourself— just don’t.”

Sturgis was, admittedly, surprised to see Elizabeth answered his call to meet—especially after months of radio silence. And, if he were to be honest with himself, he was relieved to see her. In fact, he had actually grown to miss her, quite a lot. “I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the mechanics behind sobriety, but it isn’t a particularly pleasant experience. At least for me, it hasn’t been.” Brutal, but honest; that was Sturgis’s philosophy these days. 

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Elizabeth studied Sturgis as she spoke. She wasn’t sure what she was looking to find. Some big difference or shift in the way he held himself? Soft or hardened edges in the lines that created his face? Some noticeable difference from the work that he had seemingly put in. “But you’re doing it, yeah? Something to be proud of at least— that’s you’re putting in the effort.”

“You should talk to Killian Whitehorne. I’m sure he’d have a job for you. Nothing clean, mind you, but something.” She didn’t know why she was extending help. Maybe it was to fill a void. Maybe it was just the actual heart of herself showing through fabric and ink and sadness.

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She was familiar with the name only in whispers on the street. “He’s got the brother who runs the cloud racing brooms right?” An interesting combination of traits. Two seemingly successful businessmen— two very different trades.

“You could consider not getting a job.” Though, Cleo mused, even criminal activity was hard work. With the biggest factor being less mandated hours, and more time to do as one pleased. It was equaled out by the danger.

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“I have considered that. At length.”  It wasn’t like it would be hard for her. It was how she had survived most of her childhood, but she had hoped that things would be different, unfortunately those positive differences almost entirely ended with her return from Egypt.

“Depends what kind of job you’re looking for.”

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“No— it all sucks. Talking to people about myself and why I think I’m qualified.” She shook her head. “No thanks, I’d rather not.”

“Well, here you go. Just work in this Deli for the rest of your life. Maybe sliced meat is your calling.”

“Oh Gods, absolutely not. I’d much sooner become a lady of the night than make people sandwiches.”

“Had a good time finding yourself then?” Elizabeth grinned at the man standing before her. A sight for sore eyes and thicker skin.