#corpatrem

she doesn't register him fully at first as she pulls back the curtain. he's asleep. she's looking at his chart. bad leg wound. it isn't until she starts fussing with the bandaging, blood - soaked from the last time it had been changed, that he startles awake. " i'm sorry, i know it's late. i was hoping i could get it done without waking you. " her gaze lifts then, and she stops cutting through the old bandage all together as she registers his face. gapes at it, more like — as though she's seen a ghost. " dom? "

TO EVEN BRING UP MARYANNE'S CAPACITY TO FEEL FEAR IN THIS MOMENT FEELS LIKE A PRETTY GOOD INDICATION THAT SHE SHOULD BE AFRAID.

That's not the sort of thing you can admit to on the floor, though. You can't even let it show up in your eyes. Maryanne smiles and dutifully pretends like Vito and his shitty, creepy friend Joe don't make her want to call it all quits (which she rationally knows she cannot do).

PROMPTS FROM MISSION IMPOSSIBLE - ROGUE NATION / accepting .

she's almost aghast , perhaps the governess did teach robert a thing or two about appreciation . the dowager leant against her cane , pale marine eyes watch him closely as she almost takes off from the ground in delight . withered features lighten as her son , the earl of grantham , finally sees the work she has been doing for decades .

the family had always been the centre at what she did , and despite cora and robert's reservations , they always saw her as meddling . but when it came to the girls , she'd do anything to ensure the survival of the estate and the family , for their sake .

she looks past him , pretending to look for one of the servants . . . where was carson when you required his trusting services ? thirty years of managing downton was at stake and finally , robert came to his senses . ❛ forgive me , i was looking for a pot of ink and a quill .   ❜ she said flippantly , chuckling to herself . she takes a few steps forward , her cane echoing against exposed wood . robert was her legacy by linear lines , but it was mary would would carry her spirit .

Fingers on a piano, lips parted for a song. This isn't her standard gig, her standard place, but the talent on display makes it easy to overlook the subtle things that are wrong about her, things that make it clear she doesn't belong in a place like this. A clearly borrowed men's jacket might cover her tattoos, but the tells are there all the same.

It's those eyes, those green eyes rimmed with dark makeup and heavy lashes that watch the crowd too closely. She watches the wealthy dine, talk, indulge -- watches their hands move, the way waiters and servers drift in and out of their orbits; specters filling cups.

She watches him for a while, as she sings songs that feel like heart break and long fingers kiss keys. Why him? She couldn't say. Maybe his face is just interesting, maybe it's his posture, maybe maybe maybe.

Her set is over for now. The bar where she lurks is apart from the sitting area of the restaurant but not far off. It's not busy, most people prefer having their drinks just delivered to the table it seems, so it's only natural that her gaze lifts from her glass when she hears someone order.

And she's watching him again.

"Seeking refuge?" She doesn't hesitate in speaking up. "Can't blame you, your table looked boring."

               olivia   had   a   long   day   in   court,   and   the   unfortunate   thing   is   the   trial   only   just   started.      tomorrow   was   another   day   sitting   around,   waiting   to   be   called   for   her   testimony.      carisi   had   told   her   they   were   going   to   call   her   today,   but   apparently   the   first   witness   was   late   and   pushed   everything   back.      so   her   time   in   the   hot   seat   wasn’t   until   tomorrow   now,   and   when   she   finally   got   home   she   ensured   her   ten   year   old   son   was   okay   and   got   him   settled   into   bed.

               now   she   was   on   the   couch,   the   television   on,   but   more   of   a   background   noise   as   she   sipped   on   a   glass   of   red   wine.      the   bottle   ben   had   gifted   her   a   few   weeks   ago.      she   had   planned   on   thanking   him   over   text,   but   she   couldn’t   resist   sending   him   something   a   little   more   flirty   instead.      she   saw   him   rushing   out   of   the   courthouse,   looking   busy   as   ever.      still   hot   though,   and   still   made   her   wish   she   could   have   approached   him.

               olivia   smiles   when   the   message   is   replied   to,   unable   to   control   the   breathy   chuckle   that   leaves   her   before   she   begins   her   own   response.

               [   TXT   :   ben   ]      end   up   with?      you   already   have   one.

               [   TXT   :   ben   ]      where   to   tonight?      do   i   get   a   souvenier?

               the   promise   of   a   date   has   her   feeling   giddy.      she   doesn’t   know   how   she   would   define   whatever   this   relationship   was,   but   she   was   having   fun   which   she   hadn’t   had   in   some   time.      it   was   also   very   hush   hush,   because   olivia   wasn’t   the   biggest   fan   of   people   knowing   her   business   or   who   she   spent   her   time   with.      especially   when   it   was   a   lawyer…

               [   TXT   :   ben   ]      you   let   me   know   so   i   can   arrange   for   my   son   to   spend   the   night   somewhere.

          BEN SELFLESSLY PROFESSES his share of fries - Dr. Ong makes a face as if he's just been offered a dead rat. ❝ No. ❞ He forces himself to try again: ❝ no, thanks. ❞

          BEN COULD MAKE friends with a stop sign. Eeeeveryone liked him - sporty people, smart people, artsy people, everyone ! Maybe he can give you some pointers, Beeya had teased. Harold's best defense mechanism is to insist - sometimes to the point of delusion - that everyone is beneath him. Despite his efforts to cling to this, reality is becoming too obvious to ignore: Ben makes him outright radioactive with envy. He tries to get to him, pulling out every trick he can think of: mile-long species taxonomies, overcomplicated scientific jargon, vicious attempts to illicit disgust - but Ben's cool does not break. His smile even seems genuine. It makes Harold seethe.

          ❝ I PICKED PARASITOLOGY because it's a field overlooked by narrow minded idiots who'd rather barrel towards what'll get them more money or attention. ❞ Harold is actually quite hungry - the fries do look good - but he still refuses to take them.

i'm going to fuck it up a little . me too .