ʀᴏᴡʙᴏᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴛʟᴀɴᴛɪs

► Name ➔ "Milo James Thatch" 

► Will you answer all questions truthfully ➔ "I don't see anything wrong with that." ► Are you single ➔ "Eh-heh um...mm...yes...." ► Are you happy ➔ “I feel pretty good." ► Are you angry? ➔ “Not right now, no." ► Are your parents still married ➔ “Well I doubt they need marriage wherever they are now--but given their circumstance I don't  see why they wouldn't be?" 

TEN FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “Fishkill, New York."  ► Hair Color ➔ “Kind of a light brown? I wouldn't know too much on colors, I wasn't an art major."  ► Eye Color ➔ “Brown."  ► Age ➔ “Thirty-two."  ► Mood ➔”Content." ► Gender ➔ “Male."  ► Lefty or Righty ➔ “Right-handed."  ► Summer or winter ➔ “I'm more of a fall type of guy--summer is too hot, especially working in a boiler room; and winter is way too cold--and the boiler often stops working."   ► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Well I enjoy a cup of coffee in the mornings--but I'm also one not to turn down afternoon  tea. Hmm..."

TEN THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE 

► Are you in love ➔ “I was, sorta...."  ► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “Depends on the bond you feel with that other individual."  ► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “She did...." ► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “I don't believe so?" ► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “Not really--maybe when I was younger, but not so much anymore."  ► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “...my cat..." ► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “I had admires like how vikings sent flowers to the villages they were going to raid." ► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “Well I have had my heart broken--but I'm fairly certain I didn't cause it, the breaking that is. She made it very clear that she was leaving because of me." 

TEN CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “Libraries--oh, eh love?"  ► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Iced tea."  ► Cats or Dogs ➔ “Cats.” ► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “A few good friends."  ► Television or internet ➔ “A book."  ► Pepsi or Coke ➔ “Coke."  ► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “Romantic night in."  ► Day or night ➔ “Day, or sometime during the early evening."  ► IM or Phone ➔ “Carrier pigeons?" 

TEN HAVE YOU EVER

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ “Which implies I would go sneaking out?"  ► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Several times. Both ways."  ► White water rafted ➔ “My grandfather took me once--I'm fairly certain I blacked out. Although if you want to call the chase with the Leviathan white-water-rafting than I am the crowned champion."   ► Finished an entire jawbreaker ➔ “Yeah, you're supposed to suck on them. But I don't really eat them any more--got kinda old for those types of candies."  ► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “you mean the thing which drove my grandfather to his grave. More than you could ever know...." ► Prank called a store ➔ “Why would I do such a thing?" ► Skipped school ➔ “I didn't get a double doctorate by skipping school."   ► Wanted to disappear ➔ “On occasions--but I seem to have a knack for becoming unseen." 

TEN PREFERENCES 

► Smile or eyes ➔ “Smile.” ► Light or dark hair ➔ “Light hair I suppose--but both are good."  ► Fat or skinny ➔ “Well it's bad to be too far on either end of the spectrum, as it is not conducive to one's health. But I don't mind either personally."   ► Shorter or Taller ➔ “Someone shorter than myself."  ► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ “Intelligence, after all building up conversations are the key points to any thriving relationship. Not that I would know." ► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ “Relationship--I think I'd be getting a bit old for hook-ups even if I never partook in them during my university days."  ► Funny and poor OR rich and serious ➔ “Well Mr. Whitmore was rich and funny, so I'd rather be on whatever ship he's sailing." 

RELATIONSHIPS

► Are you in a committed relationship ➔ “No." ► When was your last relationship ➔ “January---of 1905...."  ► Do you still love them ➔ “I think about her from time to time, but I think for the most part I've come around." 

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along  ➔ “Me and my grandfather were practically inseparable--I only vaguely recollect on my actual parents."   ► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “Not truly, although 'Thatch' is a name you can rarely say in the historical society without being laughed at."  ► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “No.” ► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “Of my home? Never.” ► If so, how long ➔

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “Vinny, that carving took at least two-hundred years. And you turn it into a bridge."  ► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ ”Good friends? Yes, although some of their morals have been a bit questionable from time to time--they have plundered tombs after all.” ► Who is your best friend ➔  ”Vinny? Sweet? Audrey? It's sort of a hard call--I mean after all I'm a man in my thirties, who am I going to establish as a 'best friend'.” ► Who knows everything about you ➔ “Mr. Whitmore seems to have a knack for pulling dossiers on people." 

MORE

Instead he whipped his head upwards, locks whipping accordingly, and he spoke in a matter of fact tone: 

▏The clogs and clanks began turning in the boy's head. Wheeling around trying associate, the stranger. The climate of the dense jungle certainly matched that as being located somewhere off the coast of Africa. And while the location was not Milo's strongest suit--he had gathered enough basic information from various colleagues whom happened to be studying at the time. No doubt, the scholar figured, this man had been isolated here from any form of civilization--even tribal cultures seemed lost on him.▕

▏Fearing that he would offend the man for his sudden outburst--and likely toss the mangy man off from one of the towering treetops, or send him flying across half the continent itself. A gulp trailed down his throat, collecting the cotton taste which had developed in the would-be adventurers mouth. Slowly, a trembling hand extended out towards the native, hoping that in whatever culture he was apart of--one that the linguist was still having a time trying to identify--the greetings were not overly drastic from any that he had learned in Sub-Saharan studies.  ▕

What a silly sort of country it was, reflected Jane over the satisfying crunch of gravel at her feet. She could claim only a narrow familiarity with the history of the place, but it seemed to her incredibly silly that anybody could make such a brouhaha about being English, only to turn round and cling to the chains that had bound them. For example: “the Castle,” the quaint name which the citizens of the capital had given to the Smithsonian Institution. It ought probably to have been impossible, to get lost in a park that comprised a straight line…but then, Jane had never had the keenest sense of direction. ”The Castle”: a name redolent of royal pageantry and kingly authority—funny, that, when they’d had done with kings for more than a hundred years.

    It was easier to laugh at, now she was no longer lost.

    In fact Jane now paused to appreciate the prettiness of the long, bright avenue she’d blundered through for the past quarter of an hour. Never mind the ridiculous “Castle,” one got the impression that the entire city was a source of great pride to Americans and, as first impressions went, it was not a bad one.

    Given the choice, Jane might have preferred to see Baltimore, where her mother and aunt—but there! She was seventeen, not a child; she knew very well that it was no use wondering about her mother’s family. But, being Jane, she had also come to the conclusion that there was no harm in curiosity, whether one could act on it or not.

    She gave a small shake of her head, effectively banishing regret. That could wait, at the very least until she’d returned to the hotel. For the time being, Jane stepped purposefully up to the Institution—it was rather small, and red, for a Castle—trying not to look small, or red-faced, herself. She had come about the papers involved in funding, and documenting, Daddy’s expedition; the rub was that Jane was not, entirely, sure that anyone she spoke with would appreciate the role she must play in the Porters’ business here. Though her stomach was doing somersaults inside of her, the petite woman in the sensible tweed walking suit closed her parasol with a soft click and squared her shoulders, turning the handle of the door and sweeping in with the confident bearing of a queen…

    …into “the Castle”—oh, bother.

    Jane looked round quickly, cheeks flaming, but no-one had spotted her elegant entrance, of her subsequent mortification. In fact there was no-one round at all. The room had the drafty bright quality of a church—an empty one.

    She sighed, loudly, since no-one would hear.

▏Spending another day in the boiler-room would have put the young man out of his mind. The labyrinth of the Smithsonian had been marked and cataloged into sections and subsections, blueprinted out as though waiting to be used for a daring escape. But there would be no such-a thing if Milo Thatch was concerned. A "daring escape" might perhaps consist of tumbling down a set of stairs and still finding himself in the boiler-room. He did not fully mind it, at first the solitary confinement nature of the four walls settled in--hovering around him as though Mr. Harcourt himself created a realm of banishment for anyone baring the name "Thatch". ▕

▏These thoughts only plagued the young scholar when he was feeling twenty-thousand leagues beneath the ocean. Hand tracing over his face, running beneath the spectacles and massaging tired eyes as he pulled himself from the crypt. Another rejected expedition funding. His stomach sank somewhere between misery and self-disappointment. The form crumpled into his back pocket, gathering lint from the tweed pants. Washington was becoming a harder city to survive in; a breath breathed out of his gangly form. At least he had a job. There was that. And despite the out-of-sight out-of-mind location of his workroom, it was proving to be a superb location to chart his maps and take care of the restoration.   ▕

▏Stay positive, Milo. Was his own credo chanting mantras through his skull. Rolled up maps lugged under one arm, eyes dreary from the long night spent charting the would have been expedition. There was a saying Milo often heard in France when he visited the foreign country during his college days: c'est le vie. It seemed to be the only truth in the world. Thankfully in the middle of the week, on a graying Wednesday morning, certain sections were not to be as crowded. Cutting through medieval England, passing by the model constructions--some of which he himself helped build--of castles and wax reenactments of sieges. Then booking it down the stairs and over a floor into what was often referred to as the "Hall of Mammals". That was when the quiet clicking of heels against the nightly polished floors caught the man's attention. Strange, he pondered, how someone was here so early--and in such a strange section of the museum. From a distance, and with his poor vision, Milo could just make out that she was carrying stacks of papers filed together neatly one by one as though it was her first attempt in requesting aid from a museum. Better Thatch than Harcourt at such an early hour, he thought. ▕

▏" Miss, can I help you with something? Mr. Harcourt's office isn't quite open yet--but I'd be happy to assist in anyway that I can.  ”▕

▏ It was only on the woman turning around, something about the way she carried herself--he had seen it before, typically in English women. The air about them always seemed crisp, like the morning mist he recalled rolling down the hillsides and seeping into the towns. While it had been some months, and how a person with a wild spirit can change in that time, eight to be exact. Not since his grandfather's funeral.  ▕