M. Fournier

an exaggerated shrug of both shoulders. "expert dawdler? yet another title to add to my already... incredibly long list." and it was perhaps the most accurate of them all. "nothing of substance?" he repeated, incredulous. "that lovely woman has essentially told you you will become famous and find romantic success and you are... asking for more?" feigned disappointment creeped across features, dark brows drawn together and he shook his head slowly. "though, yes. you should be disappointed she did not also promise great wealth. it is practically unbelievable she didn't. i hope you didn't pay her!"

"You'll have to add 'unreasonable optimist' to that ever growing list of yours." He groused, no real heat behind the complaint. "If you'd listened closely you'd have noticed that she said nothing of success in the romance; half of London is within a stones throw right now. And I've no craft to speak of-" He would not grace the writing with the distinction of craft "-which makes the thought of becoming famous for one particularly alarming." A hand pressed against his chest, as though he'd actually managed to take a fright from the thought. "I do have to be at least a bit cautious, Albert! What if she is better at curses than fortune telling?" Marcel paused, eyeing his old friend with a mixture of speculation and mischief. "...As a matter of fact, I may well have to pay her again." His fingers were already reaching out to curl around the other man's wrist.. "Aren't you interested in knowing what your future entails?"

sophie remained quiet at the question of visiting her brother. ever since he was in jail, the woman didn't think about going there. first of all, because jails were filthy and she wouldn't want to feel the smell of it on her clothes. there was also this anger boiling within her whenever she thought about the situation he put his siblings through. sophie had a lovely life before the scandal: great friends, a promising future and a few interesting prospects. alas, the moment the scandal came to light, her whole world collapsed and she lost her friends. it seemed that people put the whole carlisle family in the same back. sophie was hurt, afraid of never finding a man who would love her for who she was. taking a deep breath, the woman shook her head. "no, i do not intend to go there." she turned her head and smiled briefly at her friend before adding: "it would be too painful also. and i am not a cruel woman. i have ethics, unlike him." she looked down and chuckled at his words: "i thank you for the idea though." she looked back at her friend and shrugged: "some have a clearer destiny, some have unexpected events. and then, you have those who let themselves carry by life." she chuckled and added. "i would rather not keep going on the topic, i would fear that we both end with a headache, don't you think?"

Unlike him. It is barely a jab at all but it is a jab and he’d even managed to get a laugh for his efforts. Marcel remembers enough to his good manners not to crow with delight at that small victory. “I think I have no choice but to agree.” He acquiesced easily. There was no need to sidestep one loaded cannon only to step right into the barrel of another. “I have my reputation to think of after all. I’m not certain I could ever recover socially, if the ladies come to think of me as an inducer of headaches. My prospects would be ruined.” Shaking his head, he turned to peer over the increasing- though thankfully not nearly so much as some of the other exhibits- crowd, confirming that they were all but upon the flower arrangements. “Shall I tell you the solution I’ve come up with to our problem instead?” He questioned, leaving her in suspense for only the span of a few seconds before continuing. “It’s quite obvious, really. You will pick the flowers for us and I shall pick the colors and, between the two of us, we will hopefully craft something that is both beautiful and doesn’t tell it’s poor recipient that we find them odious and never wish for them to speak to us again.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the familiar voice, sheepish as though he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. "It is just my luck that you are an expert dawdler. I've had a most informative demonstration of the saw and still found myself with time to spare." Marcel made a shooing motion with both hands,laughing at his own foolishness. "Nothing of substance. It seems that I am destined to become known for my craft and the great romance of my life is but a stones throw away. Should I be disappointed that she didn’t think to promise me a great fortune as well?"

sophie chuckled at his words as she simply walked by his side. "classes are always far better with company, indeed." she glanced at her new friend before looking down. it felt good to have a friend like marcel, at least she could be herself and not worried to be judged. as he spoke his words, the woman chuckled. "is that a way of treating your friend?" she teased back as she looked down at her dress. "truth is, i am not particularly liking this dress. alas, i didn't have the opportunity to buy a new one. not since my brother..." she stopped talking. the scandal was still fresh and sophie didn't want to add oil to the fire. "anyway..." she looked back at marcel. "i find it quite in general that a lot of things don't make sense. sometimes life itself doesn't make sense."

“That is exactly how I treat my friends. It’s the risk one assumes when making such an investment.” They were not in a ballroom, or even in entirely polite company and Marcel simply couldn’t justify the farce of looking the other way whilst an elephant trampled about the room. “Have you considered visiting your brother...perhaps with produce? It is a touch early for tomatoes, but you should be able to find some decent cabbages this time of year.”  His lips pursed, a finger tapping against his jaw as though he were truly giving the plot serious thought. “I’m confident that if you face a guard sounding just that forlorn they would look the other way whilst you practiced your aim. If you could manage a tear or two, they might even come to offer their assistance…It is just a thought, of course.” He shrugged, flashing her an innocent grin that even he did not believe. “Do you think life is meant to make sense? Certainly the philosophers and their thousands of years of research don’t seem to be making much progress on the matter.”

sophie chuckled and nodded at his words. "well then, shall we go?" she asked, feeling the need of having a distraction. lately, her mind was only thinking about the gentleman who came to call on her but never gave her a sign of life since then. she tried not to be too affected to the matter, however, she couldn't help but wonder if this had to do with her name. "let's be poor studies together, then." she said, offering him a gentle smile on her face as she then added. "oh but believe me: i can't understand how one comes with such beautiful creativity where i am incapable of picking two colors matching together."

“Of course.” He lowered his arm and shifted into motion at last, the flowers were not going to get any closer after all. “Being the most troublesome student in the class is always far better with company.” Marcel chuckled at her words, casting a sidelong glance at her. “Odd, I hadn’t noticed that you were dressed in the garb of a clown or a stage extra. Does your ladies made keep you firmly in hand then? …Or should I be seeking out a pair of spectacles?” Despite the teasing, he wasn’t completely without sympathy, offering up as commiseration. “I find the meanings to be my Achilles heel. There seems to be an entire language that doesn’t make a bit of sense.”

"Marcel..." She whined, embarrassed by the jabs. They were kind, in their own way. She could tell he cared. Like, honestly cared about her wellbeing. That felt rare. Her own parents didn't worry about things like that, only asked her how many men had called on her, danced with her.

“Good.” Marcel found that he believed her, at least enough not to insist on getting her word on the matter like he might with a member of his own family. Still, it never hurt to have a little extra emphasis, just to be certain. “Know that I intend to hold you to that- regardless of how handsome, charming or good at spouting poetic nothings they may be.”

sophie looked at marcel and smiled at him. his enthusiasm was heart warming and she truly appreciated it. "well, let's go to the flower arrangement stand. i would rather be in a place not too crowded. i don't do well with crowds." she admitted, her brown hues showing a slight hint of vulnerability. "perhaps we could even learn? i would certainly be happy to make flower arrangements in the future." she chuckled as she slowly walked down the path leader to the stand.

"Likewise. One always finds themself unable to move about freely and ends wondering why they were foolish enough to enter the throngs in the first place." He offered Sophie both a reassuring smile as well as his arm. "I wouldn't be opposed to further education on the subject. Though, I've been told I'm quite the poor study." He shook his head, laughing at his own expense. "I'll have the colors just so only to discover that I've committed some unforgivable floral faux pas."

did they like you? Enough to call? Well, no. not yet. He was the first to arrive, and polite visiting hours would be over soon. So, at least today, he was her only suitor. And he seemed right grossed out at the idea of being labeled as such. Creating demand by showing that other people are already interested. Yes, maybe. "Or reminding them that I'm even being sold at all." She offered, although sold felt strange. Wouldn't her parents be the ones providing a dowry?

“Reminding them? You speak as though you are already on the shelf when you aren’t even five and twenty.” He scoffed, listening intently as Tilly sketched out her idea husband…Or rather didn’t sketch much at all. Perhaps it shouldn’t have some as a surprise that the answer was so vague, given that she had only just decided that she was in search of a husband. “So he must be kind, like you and get along with horses? I suppose if we can’t find a gentleman that meets those requirements we could find you a great many hounds.” Still, it seemed like he would need to prod, at least a little, if they were going to get anything of use.

“…I think, perhaps, the problem is that you assume that it is meant to be enjoyed.” He commented, gesturing at the display to encourage his new found conversation partner to look again. “The meat is certainly in the can but how, pray tell, is one expected to get it out?”

It wasn’t the first whiff of indecision he’d caught amongst the crowds that day, but it was the first that had been directed at him specifically. Marcel considered the question for a moment before throwing his hands up in a show of exasperation. “Everything!” Laughing, he turned to study the crowds and exhibits on offer seriously. “I think the flowers are the safest gamble. The crowds will be the thinnest with all the marvels but the arrangements will get no fresher than they are today.”

"precisely," he exclaimed, triumphant -- as if the prize had been anything other than the maintenance of the status quo they had long established for themselves. feigned shock returned, lasting several seconds under marcel's appraisal before morphing into what albert was starting to think had to be the hundredth pouting session of the conversation. dark eyes narrowed as he considered a rebuttal. "i cannot say i remember any such instances... perhaps you dreamt them, darling." he reached out, a condescending pat administered to marcel's nearest hand.

His chin lifted stubbornly, his own eyes narrowing. “Here I had thought to spare your ego. I had not realized that your memory was starting to lapse after so many seasons.  A look of utmost sympathy was directed Albert’s way, as his free hand settled atop the other mans. ”Or is it that you simply dream of being left in the dust by me?“ Pulling both hands free of his companion, he raised them in a show of helplessness. ”Of course, if you are truly so confident in your own speed, you could always best me in a proper foot race…or attempt to at the very least.“ The challenge was delivered with all of the innocence that Marcel could muster, somewhat belied by the smirk on his face.

"Thank you." Matilda smiled, letting her tone stay hushed as it had been during her whole explanation. She certainly didn't want Miss Chambers overhearing and telling Albert- or worse, her parents.

Marcel leaned forward in his seat, elbows propped on his knees and  chin propped on fist as he eyed her curiously. “And did they? Like you when they spoke to you?” The words had hardly left his mouth before he realized how harsh they’d sounded, quickly adding. “That is to say, did they like you enough to call? It is still early in the season; only fools, fortune hunters and the truly love struck are beating down ladies doors after the first ball.” He assured, waving a hand as if dismissing the very idea of  any of those options. “Creating demand by showing that other people are already interested? It works for shop owners, why shouldn’t it work on the marriage mart as well?”

Her face flushed, a bit nervous with the line of questioning. The truth was, there was more to it than that. But she didn't want to say, didn't want anyone else knowing what was hanging over her head. Wasn't this what was expected of young girls? To fall in love? To be wed and off the mart?

Marcel could only nod in understanding; Matilda had been out far too long for polite platitudes on why boys might not approach her and he himself spent enough time avoiding nervous debutantes who might chatter incessantly about nothing (or worse, say nothing at all) for an entire set that he risked being accused of hypocrisy. Well then. He’d suspected that something was afoot at the Sari’s ball, hadn’t he? It was one mystery solved for the season and would make a hilarious anecdote to tell Albert…In a few years. His eyes darted to Ms. Chambers, the more concerning candidate for secret spilling amongst the three of them.

a sideways glance afforded to older brother, before eyes rolled. "at least in a field i might have some peace and quiet. i could find one all to myself and spend the whole day there uninterrupted," spoken as if he hadn't done that very thing countless times. once or twice, perhaps, marcel had had to rescue him from a tree or some other sticky countryside situation. laurent conceded marcel's music point with a raised brow and an upwards jut of his chin. "perhaps if i were inclined to performance, even hidden in a stage box, i could have pursued that line." as it stood, the very thought had him breaking an ever so slight sweat. a solemn nod. "when we next see the bloxam family, i will put on my best performance, i promise."

“I would be truly impressed if you managed to find a field in London that is peaceful and quiet and not already being occupied by men trying to settle debts of dishonor. Regardless, my day would be interrupted when someone finally realized that you were missing and you would find yourself in this very same situation.” Marcel had long lost track of just how many times that had happened, nannies or their parents seeking him out when they once again lost the families second son to the lure of peace and quiet. “It’s never too late, you know. I’m sure with oh…half  a dozen or so years of work we could get you on a stage.”